What does it mean to be truthful? What role does truth play in our lives? What do we lose if we reject truthfulness? No philosopher is better suited to answer these questions than Bernard Williams. Writing with his characteristic combination of passion and elegant simplicity, he explores the value of truth and finds it to be both less and more than we might imagine.Modern culture exhibits two attitudes toward truth: suspicion of being deceived and skepticism that (...) objective truth exists at all. This tension between a demand for truthfulness and the doubt that there is any truth to be found is not an abstract paradox. It has political consequences and signals a danger that our intellectual activities, particularly in the humanities, may tear themselves to pieces.Williams's approach, in the tradition of Nietzsche's genealogy, blends philosophy, history, and a fictional account of how the human concern with truth might have arisen. Without denying that we should worry about the contingency of much that we take for granted, he defends truth as an intellectual objective and a cultural value. He identifies two basic virtues of truth, Accuracy and Sincerity, the first of which aims at finding out the truth and the second at telling it. He describes different psychological and social forms that these virtues have taken and asks what ideas can make best sense of them today. Truth and Truthfulness presents a powerful challenge to the fashionable belief that truth has no value, but equally to the traditional faith that its value guarantees itself. Bernard Williams shows us that when we lose a sense of the value of truth, we lose a lot both politically and personally, and may well lose everything. (shrink)

1. ‘Reason is and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can pretend to no other office, but to serve and obey them.’ 2.3.3) Unfortunately, Hume uses ‘reason’ to mean ‘discovery of truth or falsehood‘ as well as discovery of logical relations. So suppose we avoid, as Hume I think does not, prejudging the question of how many ingredients are requisite for action, by separating these two claims out: A. Reason is and ought only to be (...) the slave of the passions. B. Reason ) is and ought only to be the slave of the passions. (shrink)

According to Wollstonecraft. This suggests that for her ethical judgement is based on reason, and so she is an ethical cognitivist. This impression is upheld by the fact that she clearly believes in the existence of ethical truth and has little sympathy with subjectivism. At the same time, she places a great deal of importance on the role of the emotions in ethical judgement. This raises the question how the emotions can be relevant if ethics consists in a realm (...) of truths, discoverable by reason. The paper answers this question and clarifies Wollstonecraft's model of the interaction of emotion and reason by comparing it with those of Rousseau, Godwin, Price and Adam Smith. It argues that the originality of Wollstonecraft's position resides in the way she understands the role of the imagination in ethical reasoning. (shrink)

This paper argues that Descartes conceives of theoretical reason in terms derived from practical reason, particularly in the role he gives to the passions. That the passions serve — under normal circumstances — to preserve the union of mind and body is a well-known feature of Descartes's defense of our native make-up. But they are equally important in our more purely theoretical endeavors. Some passions, most notably wonder, provide a crucial source of motivation in the search after truth, and (...) also serve to reinforce memory. Our cognitive successes and failure scan also be tracked by passions and trains of passions. (shrink)

Bernard Williams’ last book is the most interesting set of reflections on the values of truth and truth-telling in living memory. Its grasp of philosophical arguments is astonishing. In many cases it is rightly speedy: Three lines to set up an argument, two to demolish it, three to revive it, a total of perhaps thirty lines to set the whole matter to rights. The book manages to be both learned and passionate without being pretentious. And of course witty; (...) some will mutter, ‘too clever by half.’ Laughter can usefully accompany the gravest matters, and sometimes an aphorism can express your thought better than a disquisition. One example with which Williams concurs: ‘the famous and deep joke ascribed to Sydney Morganbesser: “Of course pragmatism is true; the trouble is that it does not work”’. (shrink)

David Carr argues that the intelligibility of spiritual development as an educational activity is dependent upon there being a framework of propositions that relates to spiritual experience and that there is a methodology for establishing their truth. These propositions and the accompanying methodology need to be constructed along the lines of a traditional but re-worked form of religious education. Michael Hand argues to the contrary that there can be no methodology for the evaluation of the truth claims in (...) relation to 'spiritual'propositions since they invariably psychologically, if not logically, involve reference to a transcendental being and are therefore seen as substantially matters of faith. Since the presentation of faith-based propositional knowledge is inappropriate to the secular school, the only route for spiritual education is in terms of those emotional qualities that we identify with the human 'spirit', that is, generosity, magnanimity, good heartedness, etc. In this paper it is argued that neither position is satisfactory in addressing the existential anxieties and tensions that underlie the construction of religious and other spiritually relevant forms of articulation. We do not need Carr's 'true' spiritual propositions. Analysis of spiritual discourses can take the same epistemological form as enquiry in arts criticism, one that recognises the elasticity of its propositions in terms of meaning and a fluidity in terms of its boundaries. The 'truth' of such propositions depends upon how they answer to the existential tensions felt by the pupil. Insofar as Hand's analysis is concerned, to reduce spiritual education to a form of emotional and social development neglects the clear intelligibility of spiritual discourse to the religious and non-religious minded alike. The unifying element in spiritual discourse is those existential questions that lie at its foundations. Spiritual education seeks to address these questions as ones of both passion and intelligibility, helping pupils to make choices in light of their own experience of the tensions and anxieties that are embedded within them. (shrink)

This essay presents William Wainwright’s conception of religious reasoning. He rejects the view that proper reasoning in religion must be limited to “neutral technical reason” (NTR), modes of reasoning that are neutral and acceptable to all parties in a religious disagreement. He emphasizes that religious reasoning, as seen in outstanding practitioners from different religious traditions, incorporates additional elements, such as appeals to revelation, emphasis on religious reading, rhetoric, acknowledgment of mystery, and especially “passional reason,” in which the arguments presented and (...) the conclusions accepted depend essentially on the state of the reasoner’s heart. The essay goes on to consider how Wainwright deals with issues surrounding religious diversity: he rejects all of the standard methods by which it has been argued that differences in belief between traditions either do not really exist or do not ultimately matter. Special attention is given to religious pluralism, as advocated by John Hick and Peter Byrne. This leads to a consideration of exclusivism, in which it is held that the fundamental doctrines of one religion are true, and those of other religions, insofar as they differ from those of the favored religion, are false. Wainwright finds the standard objections against exclusivism to be ineffective or inconclusive. Finally, the essay addresses a question suggested but not resolved by Wainwright’s work: Does religious diversity have the consequence that truth in religion is not accessible to us? (shrink)

The present book reflects on the life, work, and legacy of an exceptional and enigmatic woman: the philosopher and French Jewish mystic Simone Weil. It constitutes a testimony so unique that it is impossible to ignore. In a Europe where authoritarian regimes were dominant and heading, in a sinister manner, toward World War II, this woman of fragile health but indomitable spirit denounced the contradictions of the capitalist system, the brutality of Nazism, and the paradox of bourgeois thought. At the (...) same time, her spiritual journey was one of zeal and sorrow--that of a true mystic--but her radical intransigence and passion for freedom kept her from actually approaching the institutional church. Curious and insatiable, she wanted to experience, in the flesh, the suffering of society's least fortunate and the truths of other religions. The reader will need to develop a discerning empathy for Simone Weil's sensibility, beyond her particular passion and zeal, in order to appreciate her in depth. But undeniable are this truly singular woman's authenticity, her capacity to suffer, her identification with the other, her inner passion, her almost magical perception of the depths of the human spirit. And that is why her story merits being told as one of the great witnesses of our age. (shrink)

Intellectual virtues like open-mindedness, clarity, intellectual honesty and the willingness to participate in rational discussions, are conceived as important aims of education. In this paper an attempt is made to clarify the specific nature of intellectual virtues. Firstly, the intellectual virtues are systematically compared with moral virtues. The upshot is that considering a trait of character to be an intellectual virtue implies assuming that such a trait can be derived from, or is a specification of, the cardinal virtue of concern (...) and respect for truth. Secondly, several (possible) misconceptions of intellectual virtues are avoided by making the required distinctions. For example, it is argued that our concept of an intellectual virtue should not be confused with a normative conception of intellectual virtuousness. (shrink)

This volume contains substantially revised versions of eleven papers delivered at the Fifth Symposium Hellenisticum in France in 1989. Approaches vary from the philosophical to the historical-philological, and the scholarship is consistently excellent. The three French contributors offer exhaustive historical studies. Best of this lot is André Laks's brilliant effort to disentangle threads of the Cyrenaic tradition in Diogenes Laertius 2.8696. He argues that the later Cyrenaic Anniceris is not an innovator as has been argued recently, but that, despite his (...) emphasis on psychic pleasures, Anniceris upholds the traditional line on the primacy of somatic pleasure. The point at issue, really, is whether considering altruistic feelings like friendship and gratitude as pleasures amounts to innovating. J. -L. Labarrière traces the debates between Stoics and Academics concerning animal faculties, especially phantasia. Carlos Levy looks at how the term doxa was wielded as a polemical weapon by early Stoics, the New Academy, and Middle Platonists. Next come three fine papers on Epicurus. Gisela Striker relieves our perplexity at Epicurus's conception of complete pleasure as the absence of pain, illuminating the Epicurean distinction between "kinetic" and "static" pleasures in Cicero's De Finibus. Epicurus identifies happiness with the greatest pleasure, or complete pleasure, which is complete absence of pain--not the accumulation of particular pleasures. Epicurus's views on free agency, surviving in the fragments of book 3 of On Nature, lead Julia Annas to conclude that rationality is associated with flexibility of response and ability to learn, and that rational capacity may very well develop in ways that are not fixed by our atomic constitutions. One might quarrel with her observation that this simple commonsense view is attractive. Finally, David Furley points out that Democritus doubted the senses' ability to reveal truth, while Epicurus claimed that "all perceptions are true." Yet both atomists deny that sensible qualities exist at the level of primary elements. The explanation? Epicureans accept perceptible qualities as properties of external objects, not merely "affections" of the senses; for Democritus aisthem;ta have no reality independent of us. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume's Classification of the Passions and Its Precursors James Fieser Hume's theory ofthe passions appears in book 2 ofhis Treatise (1739), and, in shorter form, in his "Dissertation on the Passions" originally from Four Dissertations (1757).1 When the "Dissertation" first appeared, two reviews criticized Hume's theory for being unoriginal. The first appearing review, which was in the Literary Magazine, says of the "Dissertation" that "we do not perceive any (...) thing new. This we should notmentionifwe were not talking ofan authorfond ofnovelty."2 The Critical Review opens its account noting similarly that "in our opinion [the "Dissertation"] contains nothing new or entertaining on the occasion." After presenting excerpts, the reviewer concludes: "This whole dissertation, to say the truth, appears to us very trite and superficial; and unworthy of so eminent a writer. But no authors are always equal to themselves."3 Hume, by contrast, believed that his account of the indirect passions, which dominates both book 2 and the "Dissertation," was unique.4 William Rose, in his review of the "Dissertation" in the Monthly Review, agrees with Hume, noting that "[h]is theory depends entirely on the double relations of sentiments and ideas, and the mutual assistance which these relations lend to each other. What he says upon the subject, is extremely ingenious, and deserves the philosophical reader's attentive perusal."5 Few today would dispute the uniqueness ofHume's account ofthe indirect passions. Why, though, did two reviewers consider Hume's theory unoriginal? Part of the answer rests in the degree to which Hume's general classification of the passions follows traditional classifications. By understanding how Hume was in line with tradition, his uniqueness may be better appreciated. I will first sketch the traditional classifications of the passions. Second, I will draw comparisons between aspects of Hume's classification and other Enlightenment accounts. Finally, I will criticize the interpretations of Hume's classification offered by Kemp Smith, Ardal, and Loeb, and suggestwhatIbelieve is the most textually soundclassification. In each of these sections, my focus is on taxonomy. However, since many divisions of the passions derive from the psychological mechanisms which produce various passions, some account will be given of these operations. Volume XVIII Number 1 JAMES FIESER Traditional Classifications ofthe Passions The passions have been traditionally understood as disturbances ofthe mind or soul, the key ones beinglove, hate,joy, grief, hope, fear, desire, and aversion.6At therisk ofover-simplification, afairlyunified account ofthe passions can be found beginning with Plato and lasting until the mid-nineteenth century. One feature of this tradition is that the passions fall into positive and negative classes. This is first noted by Aristotle who argues that the passions are "feelings that are accompanied by pleasure or pain."7 Following Aristotle, most accounts divide the passions in reference to good or bad objects and experiences. Good experiences, such as dining, are pleasing, whereas bad experiences, such as illness, are displeasing. Consequently, passions such as joy and griefare mirror images according to the good (pleasing) or bad (displeasing) nature of the experience. A second feature of most theories is that there is a small foundational class of passions which gives rise to others through variation. The most popular foundational set includes four:joy, sorrow, hope, and fear. Although the earliest reference to these four is by Plato (Laches 191C), Zeno of Citium and the Stoics are attributed with developing a theory of the passions based on these. The fullest surviving account ofthe Stoic theory is given by Cicero in his Tusculan Disputations.8 In Cicero's discussion, the four most primitive passions are joy (laetitia), grief (aegritudo), desire (cupiditas or libido), and fear (metus). Joy and desire are the result of good circumstances, whereas grief and fear are the result of evil. Further, joy and griefresult when a circumstance or object is actually present, in contrast to desire and fear which arise when one anticipates a future circumstance. The division is as follows: Present Anticipated Good Object joy desire Evil Object grief fear In Roman and medieval philosophy, the Stoic division of the passions was widely endorsed by writers such as Virgil, Augustine, and Boethius.9With Thomas Aquinas, though, an alternative classification arose. Thomasrecognized... (shrink)

Aryel Sanat's meticulously researched and cogently argued exploration of Krishnamurti's inner life and experiences explodes a number of popular myths about Krishnamurti, particularly that he denied the existence of the Theosophical Masters and disdained the esoteric side of the spiritual path. Rather, Sanat persuasively demonstrates, Krishnamurti had a rich and intense esoteric life. Moreover, the truths of the Ancient Wisdom, as revealed through the Masters, were a reality to Krishnamurti every day of his life, from his boyhood until his death. (...) The real story of Krishnamurti's inner life is shown to have critical implications for our understanding of Krishnamurti's life and ideas and for our views of Theosophy, Buddhism, the teachings of Gurdjieff---indeed, the entirety of contemporary spiritual thought. (shrink)

In recent years the humanities, social sciences and neuroscience have witnessed an 'affective turn, ' especially in discourses around post-Fordist labor, economic and ecological crises, populism and identity politics, mental health, and political struggle. This new awareness would be unthinkable without the pioneering work of Gilles Deleuze, who replaced judgment with affect as the very material movement of thought: every concept is an affective experience, a becoming. Besides entirely active affects, the highest practice of thought, there is no thought without (...) passive affects or passions. Instead of a calm and rational philosophy of passions, Deleuzian thought is therefore inseparable from "isolated and passionate cries" that deny what everybody knows and what nobody can deny: "every true thought is an aggression." This inseparability of reason and passion is by no means an anti-intellectualist or irrationalist stance. Rather, it is critical, since it protects reason from its self-imposed stupidity (betise) by relating it to the unthought forces that condition it. And it is clinical, because thought becomes possessed by a power of selection. The purely active, i.e. free-floating, unrecorded desire, is never enough to produce a consistent relation to the future, which is why we need the passions to give us an initial orientation, to force and enable us to think. Passions are the beliefs, perceptions, representations, and opinions that attach us to the world; they make up the very material of which our lives and thoughts are composed. Instead of truth as the ultimate criterion of judgment, the only principle according to which affective becomings can be selected and evaluated is the extent to which they proliferate joy. Spinoza and Marx show how the recruitment of desire traditionally takes place through the tyrants and priests who inspire sad passions in us. Similarly, the work of Deleuze and Guattari on capitalism and schizophrenia can be read as an encyclopedia of the passions that constitute the affective infrastructure of the socius of contemporary capitalism. If it takes a lot of inventiveness or imagination to be able to diagnose our present becomings, this is because becomings are always composites of joyful and sad passions. Capitalism could not exist if it did not also inspire happiness, love, courage, and perhaps even beatitude. That is why, today, we witness "the spectacle of the happily dominated" (Frederic Lordon) of the self-entrepreneur, the managerial class, the flex worker, the citizen-consumer, the bean-roasting hipster, and the self-managed team. It is within this field of contradictory and heterogeneous passions that the authors of this volume pursue the diagnosis of our past and present becomings. Their contributions add up to a systematic taxonomy of the passions and indicate their importance for a thinking that reaches beyond itself. (shrink)

In this article, I probe the extent of Kierkegaard's skepticism and irrationalism by examining the nature and limits of his “objective” and “approximate” knowledge. I argue that, for Kierkegaard, certain objective knowledge of contingent being is impossible and “approximate” knowledge of the same is funded by the volitional passion of belief. But, while Kierkegaard endorses severe epistemic restrictions, he rejects wholesale skepticism, allowing for genuine “approximate” knowledge of mind-independent reality. However, I further argue that we cannot ignore his criticisms (...) of such knowledge because of its intrinsic dangers, and because epistemic limitations are crucial in developing religious selfhood before God. (shrink)

Johannes Corrodi Katzenstein offers a contribution to the current debate on Kierkegaard, mostly concerning the rationality of religious belief and the presumed religious neutrality (autonomy) of philosophical and scientific thought. More specifically, his book is an attempt to relate Kierkegaard's theory of the stages of life (aesthetic, ethical, religious) to issues that have been of utmost concern to Anglo-American (analytical) philosophy, such as the nature of truth, rational knowledge, objectivity, etc. From this angle, Kierkegaard turns out to be not (...) the irrationalist he has often been made into but rather the outspoken witness of a passion that guides all thinking, i.e. the passion to think what cannot be thought. An attempt is made to show that for Kierkegaard, anticipating some of the arguments of contemporary postsecular philosophy, the ideal of pure or autonomous reason inevitably has its basis in a pre-rational, often tacit commitment to an origin whose primary home is in religious faith. Rather than precluding dialogue, awareness of these deeper forces and starting-points of our various philosophical and scientific outlooks is a critical requirement for mutual understanding between secularist and religious perspectives and traditions competing for cultural and political dominance. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 25.1 (2001) 169-171 [Access article in PDF] Book Review The Passion for Happiness: Samuel Johnson and David Hume The Passion for Happiness: Samuel Johnson and David Hume, by Adam Potkay; 241 pp. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000, $42.50. This book is a sustained attack on the widespread impression that Samuel Johnson and David Hume were antithetical characters, a notion largely nourished by that memorable (...) moment when Boswell brings up Hume "and other skeptical innovators" and Johnson replies, as we all remember, "Truth will not afford sufficient food to their vanity; so they have betaken themselves to error. Truth, sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they have gone to milk the bull." Professor Potkay feels that this image has radically distorted our perception of the truth.A large part of the problem, as Potkay sees it, is that the Johnson of the biography is not the same as the Johnson seen in his writings. Boswell, he claims, "superbly fashioned a Johnson after his own heart" (p. 29). Biography is beset with the misapprehensions we all have of another individual, but personal writing is equally subject to rhetorical posturing, selective memory, and other histrionics of the ego.Potkay makes a strong and interesting case for the proposition that Johnson and Hume were in accord as to their ideas of happiness. "Johnson and Hume set forth largely compatible visions of human happiness that, while rooted in Cicero, draw as well on modern authors..." (p. 5). In this view, happiness is intrinsically social, the inverse of Sartre's L'enfer, c'est les autres. We are estimable in our own eyes only if we are so in the eyes of others. The astronomer in Rasselas finally surmounts his delusion that he controls the weather only by leaving his solitude for the society of others. Hume declared that perfect solitude is the greatest punishment that we can suffer (p. 60). Hume and Johnson both agree that cities afford the greatest happiness through a multiplicity of agreeable consciousness--London for Johnson and Paris for Hume.Potkay argues that the chief ethic in the writings of both Hume and Johnson [End Page 169] "is the eclectic, Ciceronian brand of Stoicism Hume delineates in 'the Stoic', a sociable Stoicism whose end is 'the moderating of our passions, the enlightening of our reason'" (p. 77). The path to happiness lies in cultivating reason and moderating passion. However, unlike ethicists that downgrade the passions, Hume and Johnson see the passions as necessary and good. As against the whole duty of man, they think that pride is good, unless it causes pain to others. This is fresh news for those of us who have squirmed in Sunday school classes when pride was severely denounced and humility recommended--squirmed in spite of our reverence for Milton. Johnson and Hume viewed pride and the pleasure derived from praise as inspiring progress in trades, professions, arts, and science. It excites ingenuity. This is what we didn't dare say in Sunday school.Potkay searches indefatigably for parallels between the two men. We are told that they both rejected the hard determinism that some thinkers derived from Newtonian physics. In the midst of all this we have another discussion of tragedy, pity and fear, etc., the sort of thing that requires the reckless exuberance of youth in order to relish. Are we expected to feel astonished that here too we find them in accord? The parallels between the two men are pushed to the point that a reader might begin to suspect that there is a hidden half of the text that is being withheld, perhaps countervailing evidence. We begin to feel that lurking suspicion evoked by someone too zealously dedicated to a thesis.By the middle of the book, a reader is likely to be convinced that far from going forth to milk the bull, Hume was almost an intellectual twin of Johnson. At the same time, though, sepia thoughts begin to seep into the mind. We notice that these parallel thoughts... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume Studies Volume XXIII, Number 2, November 1997, pp. 195-212 The Moral Self and the Indirect Passions SUSAN M. PURVIANCE David Hume1 and Immanuel Kant are celebrated for their clear-headed rejection of dogmatic metaphysics, Hume for rejecting traditional metaphysical positions on cause and effect, substance, and personal identity, Kant for rejecting all judgments of experience regarding the ultimate ground of objects and their relations, not just judgments of cause (...) and substantiality. Nevertheless, each argues that practical activity is not compromised by the rejection of metaphysical claims that others had taken to be crucial. Kant and Hume thought that political and moral life did not depend upon theoretical knowlege of the nature of the self, free will, or knowledge of the true motives of actions or the character of the agent. Because the grounds of morality and politics were too important to leave to the mercies of speculative metaphysics, each moved their foundations to higher ground, insulating the grounds of practical activity from the threat of metaphysical turmoil and skepticism. Contemporary philosophers have generally followed Hume and Kant in this regard, but often select very different strategies. Some think that the best way to avoid the problems associated with contemporary scientific ontologies is to separate ethics from the factual domain entirely. Some give moral and political language a noncognitivist interpretation, and others have interpreted values as a projection of the passions and affections of the subject or as the constructions of suitably situated practical reasoners.2 At the same time there has been a resurgence of interest in moral realism. Moral realists think that the objectivity of moral discourse, and hence the Susan M. Purviance is at the Department of Philosophy, The University of Toledo, Toledo OH 43606-3390 USA. 196 Susan M. Purviance possibility of moral truth, depend upon the existence of moral facts.3 Moral realists have tended to concentrate on the role of facts in establishing the truth of general moral principles, or the Tightness or moral value of particular individual actions. For moral realists, moral facts are the states of affairs that make general moral principles or particular moral judgments true. Whether these facts are of a naturalistic sort or not, whether they are literally on a par with natural facts, or whether they simply play the same role in practical knowledge that natural facts play in theoretical knowledge, is an open question. Moral realists often are naturalists, like David O. Brink and Jonathan Dancy, but they may be nonnaturalists, like G. E. Moore.4 Ethical naturalism accounts for moral motivation and the cultivation of good character in terms of moral qualities, and many hope to ground it in (or at least show that it is compatible with) the scientific understanding of objects and their relations and qualities. Naturalism is only one option, but realism has received support because it is not clear that antirealists have developed a convincing alternative to the grounding of concepts of moral agency and moral judgment in some sort of moral facts. Questions abound about what it means to ascribe responsibility to a moral self and how we can defend a notion of enduring character. Although moral realists have paid less attention to the ontological status of virtues and character traits than to moral principles, their status is equally important. Here the concern is with the sort of metaphysics of the self thought to be necessary to account for moral agency, responsibility, praise, and blame. I shall argue that there is a class of moral facts that justify or perhaps merely vindicate the ascription of moral powers to agents, and that these are the sorts of facts another sort of theorist is interested in, whereas the states of affairs that make moral judgments true are the sorts of facts that moral realists have been interested in. In order to distinguish this use of moral facts I shall call this sort of theory a Fact of Agency Theory, and it is a version of this theory that can be found in Hume's discussion of the problem of the self and the indirect passions. A realist metaphysics of morals needs to address two questions, the question of the reality of the... (shrink)

The paper begins by challenging a received view of Descartes as preoccupied with scepticism and setting out entirely on his own to build up everything from scratch. In reality, his procedure in the Meditations presupposes trust in the mind’s reliable powers of rational intuition. God, the source of those powers, is never fully eclipsed by the darkness of doubt. The second section establishes some common links between the approach taken by Descartes in the Meditations and the ‘faith seeking understanding’ tradition. (...) So far from insisting on the autonomy and independence of human inquiry, Descartes sees the meditator as finding freedom in spontaneous submission to both the natural light of reason and also the supernatural light of faith. The approach to God which lies at the heart of the Meditations in some ways resembles a direct cognitive encounter as much as a formal demonstrative proof. The paper’s final section deals with Descartes’ ‘incarnational’ theodicy of the passions. Lacking the clarity and transparency of intellectual perceptions, the passions can often lead to confusion and error. Nevertheless they are part of the (divinely bestowed) endowment of our human nature, which is not a pure intellect plugged into a machine, but a genuine psycho-physical unity. The passions can serve as valued auxiliaries of reason in the search for goodness and truth. (shrink)

This paper looks at the situation first described by Dreyfus :369–378, 2002) in his seminal paper, in order to find out whether and, if so, to what extent the use of Internet in education is still characterized by anonymity and commitment in today’s social media and ‘post-truth’ era. Current form of web technology provides an occasion for us to rethink what the Press and the Public, two main Kierkegaardian themes, actually consist in. The very ease and rapidity of how (...) information is shared and the blurring of the line between journalists and consumers have made it very difficult to find where the Public actually is so that one can conform one’s own thoughts and beliefs to it. In addition, an effect of social media is that the Public does not seem to be monolithic, but has splintered into many smaller groups, each one overlapping with one another in a highly complex way. In Kierkegaard’s time the Press consisted of nothing more than a rather small number of newspapers, but now we have countless number of sources of information, so much so that it is almost impossible to see where the Press actually is. This situation has a way of diluting Kierkegaard’s contention that it is the Press that anonymized the people, rending them faceless and eliminating their individuality. Furthermore, the effect of Facebook is such that, not only does one still retain much of one’s commitment, but the commitment can be very passionate. As Petrik et al. have pointed out, it is possible for someone to be passionately committed to something while remaining very active on the Internet. This shows that the direction can go both ways. On the one hand, fragmenting the Public can go along with lack of commitment and other ills that Kierkegaard mentioned. On the other hand, fragmenting the Public, thereby creating many smaller groups existing in the online world can also bring about specific and well-directed commitments than would be possible if the Public remained a single monolithic entity. Furthermore, Kierkegaard’s insistence on lack of commitment by the Public seems to foretell the current malaise of what is known as ‘post-truth’. For Dreyfus the Internet is ultimately responsible for this. Indeed, however, both lack of commitment and too much commitment seem to be both responsible. A way out of this is proposed where a commitment to rational and critical thought is needed. (shrink)

The purpose of this text is to confront some Paul Ricoeur’s and Michel Foucault’s significant reflections on Greek tragedy, in order to discuss their interpretation of its truth and the knowledge it makes possible. Ricoeur supposes that tragedy implies a theology that, though it is not explicitly developed, points to the knowledge of the self, his conflicts with others, and even to a possible redemption. For his part, Foucault determines that in tragedies a set of discourses opposing against each (...) other is at stake, without the possibility of overcoming their conflict in a higher knowledge. Does tragedy allows knowledge through the spectacle and the emotions aroused? Is the truth of tragedy manifested in the confrontation and intensification of passions, but cannot be developed as knowledge of the self and his reconciliation with others? (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Peter Lamarque TRUTH AND ART IN IRIS MURDOCH'S THE BLACK PRINCE "Art," writes Bradley Pearson, protagonist and narrator in The Black Prince, "is concerned not just primarily but absolutely with truth." Bradley Pearson is also concerned with truth. And understandably so, as he has just taken the rap, and been imprisoned, for a murder he claims he never committed. There are two rather different concerns here (...) with truth: there is the high-minded concern of the artist and there is the more pragmatic concern of the despised and falsely convicted man writing his "apologia." The careful juxtaposition of these two appeals to truth is a central theme in The Black Prince. The bulk of the novel purports to be a first-person narration of events in the later life of Bradley Pearson. Bradley is a writer who has been waiting patiently and silently for the inspiration, "the dark blaze," to produce a great work of art. This "dark blaze" eventually shows itself as the "black Eros," in a passionate but short-lived love affair with the youngJulian Baffin. Bradley is reflecting on these events from his prison cell, guided by his mentor and fellow prisoner, the "editor" P. Loxias (a witty reference to Apollo, god of truth). He sees his art and his love as stemming "from the same source" (p. 172) and, although sensitive to his shortcomings as an artist, he believes that through a divine inspiration he has attained a kind of Platonic tranquillity in the presence of truth and self-knowledge. However, through the device of "postscripts," purportedly written by other characters, we are presented with another picture of him rather different from his own. His former friends, more down to earth, though variously self-interested, depict him as a pitiful, even contemptible, charlatan lost in fantasy and delusion and a suitable case for psychoanalysis. What, then, is the real Bradley Pearson? Is he the pathetic, fantasy-ridden creature of the "postscripts"? Or is he, as he thinks, the great artist inspired by the gods and by Eros who has seen the revelation of truth? 209 2 1 0 Philosophy and Literature By forcing us to raise these questions about the novel, Iris Murdoch, I suggest, is inviting us to reflect on, and relate, two concerns we might have with truth in works of fiction. The first is with truth internal to the novel, truth-within-fiction, which informs us about the fictional characters and events. In The Black Prince, our attention is focused on unravelling and assessing the "truth" of Bradley's account. The second is with truth proper, as it might be revealed through fiction. This is truth not about the fictional world but about the non-fictional real world. It is often maintained that novels can instruct us in acquiring knowledge of the world. This, I suggest, is the type of truth that Bradley, so grandly and solemnly, and frequently, identifies with art. The nature of such truth is the main topic of this article. II What sense can we make of Bradley's repeated claims to the effect that "good art speaks truth" (p. xi)? One answer, reflecting an obvious feature of literary works, is that propositions about the world are often expressed, explicitly, within a fictional context; they might be uttered by one of the characters or directly by the author. The Black Prince offers many such propositions, some of which, on the nature of art, I shall be considering in detail. Examples are plentiful. Thus, Bradley remarks on marriage: "People who boast of happy marriages are, I submit, usually self-deceivers, if not actually liars. The human soul is not framed for continued proximity..." (p. 64). He meditates on love: "The foreverness of real love is one of the reasons why even unrequited love is a source of joy" (pp. 173-74) and discusses jealousy (p. 207). He also reflects on human consciousness and responsibility (p. 155) and on selfishness and goodness: "The burden of genuine goodness is instinctively appreciated as intolerable, and a desire for it would put out of focus the other and ordinary wishes by which one lives" (p. 149). Such explicit propositions carry us beyond the... (shrink)

According to Stoic moral psychology, emotions are cognitive responses to perceived value in the contingent world. This dissertation begins by defending a contemporary version of this descriptive theory; it then proceeds with a critique of the Stoics' normative thesis that emotions involve amorally deplorable kind of cognitive error. I distinguish two senses in which this thesis is historically put forward, and show that both are thematically pertinent. The structural variant, as I call it, is a qualified critique of the particular (...) cognitive flaws to which emotions are liable; the fundamental argument, on the other hand, is that emotions are categorically unreliable. My goal in the rest of the dissertation is to respond to each aspect of normative Stoicism with a positive account of how it might be possible for a moral agent to avoid false emotion without doing away with emotion altogether. This means explaining how a person's emotional perception might become reliable rather than sentimental within a given moral context, and indicating what axiological conditions must generally obtain if emotion is justifiable in any case. In doing so, I draw largely upon Kierkegaard's pseudonymous and signed writings, while also engaging with other relevant philosophical texts along the way. I argue that a morality of virtue and narrative awareness is necessary for accurate emotional perception; then, I attempt to define the conditions on which a qualified value realism might be tenable. It is one thing to argue for the importance of emotion in human life, as a number of recent studies have done, but it is quite another to show how we might cultivate truthful, and avoid false, emotion. The outcome of this inquiry into the possibility of reliable emotion is a positive account of the ideal state in which one could trust oneself to be rational in being passionate. (shrink)

Is there a best way to live? If so, is this a form of ethical life? The answer, I believe, turns on what we can say about the nature and place of the passions – emotions and desires – in our lives, including in particular, our ability to be truthful about our passions and our relations with other people. I approach the question through the work of Bernard Williams. I consider first what it might be for a way of life (...) to be ‘objectively’ best, before looking more closely at the psychological conditions of such a life, using ideas from psychoanalysis on the way we hide our true passions from ourselves and the effect this can have on our understanding of both ourselves and others. I end by considering whether we can say that a truthful life is the best life, and whether it places universal and material constraints on how best to live. (shrink)

The construction of the modern subject and the pursuit of human freedom and autonomy, as well as the practice of human science has been pivotal in the development of modern education. But for Foucault, the subject is only the effect of discourses and power?knowledge arrangements, and modern human science is part of the very arrangement that has given birth to the subject who is thoroughly subjected. In his final years, however, a strong passion for human liberty reemerged, and he (...) proposed that a different truth game, the ancient ethical truth practices may actually constitute a self that is free and enjoys self-mastery. In this article, I analyze how modern human science, exemplified by Piaget's child developmental research, has become the means of unfreedom and domination and discuss the ancient ethical truth games Foucault so admired and how they bring self-mastery and freedom to the self. Furthermore, I discuss whether liberal education can ground its notions of autonomy and liberty on the Foucauldian concept of the subject and truth games. (shrink)

This essay explores the relationship between fact and faith developed by two cinematic representations of the trial and execution of Joan of Arc: Carl Theodor Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc and Robert Bresson's The Trial of Joan of Arc. Both films are preoccupied with how to present evidence - the proof of Joan's supposedly divine visions - that is ultimately unverifiable, and turn this epistemological problem into their chief aesthetic concern. Through readings of Aquinas, Susan Sontag, and (...) Hayden White, the essay tracks what the stakes of such a problem might be, finding especially in Bresson's method a negative definition of truth or meaning through the sudden but persistent withholding of even its most pronounced historical, cultural, and material content. Whereas Dreyer's film pursues the total legibility of its subject through a constant focus on faces and gazes, showing us literally all that it can, Bresson's film insists on the integrity of that which is unseen, creating what I come to call a kind of meaning effect. (shrink)

The logical treatment of the nature of religious belief (here I will concentrate on belief in Christianity) has been distorted by the acceptance of a false dilemma. On the one hand, many (e.g., Braithwaite, Hare) have placed the significance of religious belief entirely outside the realm of intellectual cognition. According to this view, religious statements do not express factual propositions: they are not made true or false by the ways things are. Religious belief consists in a certain attitude toward the (...) world, life, or other human beings, or in what sorts of things one values. On the other hand, others (such as Swinburne, 1981, Chapers 1 and 4) have taken religious belief to include (at least) being certain of the truth of particular factual religious propositions. The strength of a person's religious belief is identified with his degree of confidence in the truth of those propositions, measured by the "subjective probability" which those propositions have for that person. I propose a third alternative, according to which, (1) contrary to the first view, religious belief does involve a relation to factual religious propositions, such as that God exists, that Jesus was God and man, etc., -- propositions which are made true or false by the way things actually are -- but, (2) contrary to the second view, the strength of religious belief is measured, not by the degree of one's confidence1 in the truth of these propositions, but rather by the way in which the value or desirability to oneself of the various ways the world could be is affected by their including or not including the truth of these religious propositions. Thus, religious belief does consist in what one values or prizes, not in what.. (shrink)

It is often asserted that Nietzsche's proposal that "there is no truth" is indebted to his views on aesthetics. That is, it is argued both that Nietzsche perceived art as exclusive of truth, and that he viewed the whole of existence as artistic in this sense. In this paper I attempt to supplement this argument by excavating the sense of truth that is available in Nietzsche's thought concerning art. "Dionysian truth" is not a property of objects (...) which represent the world. Rather, it arises in acts of artistic creation. I hope, here, to present a view of truth which is compatible with Nietzsche's attempt to understand the world as a process of conflicting forces rather than a collection of subjects and objects. ;The first chapter is concerned with Nietzsche's The Birth of Tragedy, in which music is offered as an example of Dionysian truth. Music, in this work, enables us to overcome our sense of ourselves as isolated self-consciousnesses, an experience which engenders artistic creativity. The notion of Dionysian truth, however, is not fully disassociated, in The Birth of Tragedy, from the view that music pictures or represents the "world will." ;In the second chapter I argue that Nietzsche's commitment to the Dionysian is apparent in his unique understanding of physiology. The authority of the ego is undermined by exhibiting it as an epiphenomenon of the more fundamental physiological drives. I argue that such an understanding subverts the claim that Nietzsche values art as a means of sublimating the passions, as well as the claim that Nietzsche ultimately identifies truth with that which serves our own self-preservation. ;The third chapter demonstrates how a specific artistic practice,Expressionist Painting, understands itself in Dionysian terms, and suggests reasons why a Dionysian view of art may not offer itself as a means for the evaluation of artworks. Finally, I attempt to show how the understanding of power which is structured by a Dionysian perspective may help us to overcome some of Nietzsche's negative and reactionary suggestions that the powerful are, or should be, cruel and manipulative towards others. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Novelistic Incarnation and the Question of TruthChristine Orsini (bio)Translated by William A. JohnsenINTRODUCTIONLike many of you, I was overwhelmed by reading René Girard's first book Mensonge romantique et vérité romanesque, published in 1961.1 But I belong to a special class: Compared to all the young and less young readers and researchers who make up this assembly, I am what in high places, at the ARM [Association Recherches mimétiques], (...) we do not hesitate to qualify as a "historical Girardian": I read this book in 1961, thanks to Michel Deguy. And, of course, all his other books in the order of their publication. So I'm probably the oldest surviving groupie of René Girard. It's not a claim to fame, but it's in this way that I find a fellowship with you and that I'm happy to be before you. Indeed, I think that between Girardians, the differences matter less than the similarities.It is about another event, very recent, but directly linked to the previous one and also moving for me, that I am going to talk to you: the discovery of René Girard, biographie, the forthcoming book by Benoît Chantre, that I had the chance, once again, to read before everyone else. I read it passionately because [End Page 1] of all the things it teaches us about the genesis of Girard's work and above all because it gives this work an extraordinary and indisputable unity.I had assumed the unity of Girard's work but Benoît Chantre's book confirms it: What is called the mimetic theory is not a whole made up of separate and detachable parts, like a three-stage rocket, to which we like to compare it. Even if the writing of mimetic theory has undergone the turbulence of world history and the biography of its author, the whole determines its parts; the whole comprehends the boundaries of the work, the first writings and the last, in both senses of the word: to be taken altogether, understood as a whole, or discarded altogether. Moreover, its radical nature prohibits any form of readjustment or compromise. Girard has said it expressly in his interviews: There is no "Girardian system" but at the outset, a very compact intuition that fertilized all his research. This same intuition allowed Girard to profit from the work of his contemporaries and to maintain real relationships with the thought leaders of his time, such as Goldmann, Deguy, Foucault, Lacan, Barthes, and Derrida, without ever turning away from his own path. This intuition takes shape even before the conception of a "triangular" desire on an individual scale, a desire that will subsequently become "mimetic" on the scale of human societies.By reading the biography of Girard by Benoît Chantre, I better understood the importance of literature in the genesis of what we call mimetic theory. Marx wrote that ideas are not born like mushrooms; they always reflect a state of social reality. Girard showed, on the contrary, that social reality is not merely reflected but revealed by great literature. And with Girard, brilliant ideas are of the order of an event, intuitions inspired by readings in tune with events in his life. Reading Girard's intellectual biography therefore holds some surprises, things we did not know and things that can shed new light on those we already know.A genuine surprise is to learn that the excellent title "mensonge romantique et vérité romanesque" of his first work was imposed on him by his publisher. Girard had titled his history of the novel, which is at the same time a history of desire, "L'incarnation romanesque." At first, we will see what this mysterious title can mean; then, we will see that there are not only circumstantial reasons, linked to his teaching, to explain the confidence that Girard placed in literature, and not in philosophy and the human sciences, in his search for truth. [End Page 2]NOVELISTIC INCARNATIONIt was in Girard's personal papers, described by him as "very important papers" and carefully preserved and carried around from one move to another, that Benoît Chantre found... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Robert C. Solomon L'ETRANGER AND THE TRUTH Lying is not only saying what is not true. It is also and especially saying more than is true and, as far as the human heart is concerned, saying more than one feels. Albert Camus What would it be—not to lie? Perhaps it is impossible. It is not difficult to avoid uttering falsehoods, of course. One can always keep silent. But (...) what if lying is also not seeing the truth? For instance, not seeing the truth about oneself even in the name of "not lying"? What then would it be not to lie?—to see oneself and one's feelings as brute facts, as matters already fixed and settled? The very idea of not lying would then be a lie. The lie—the very heart of French Existentialism. It is the infamy of the human condition for Sartre, the gravest sin for Camus. But where Sartre suspects that the lie—or what he calls mauvaise foi—is inescapable, Camus glorifies his characters—and apparently himself—as men without a lie. Meursault of L'Étranger, Camus tells us in a retrospective interpretation, "refuses to lie... accepts death for the sake of truth." Dr. Rieux of The Plague refuses to release information to Tarrou the reporter unless he reports "without qualification." Clamence of The Fall has been living a lie. He is now in purgatory (the seedy inner circles of Amsterdam), a judge-penitent: a judge, we come to see, of other people's hidden falsehoods, a penitent for his own past lie of a life. In The Myth of Sisyphus, it is "the absurd" that becomes the ascertainable truth, and it is the absurd hero who "keeps the absurd alive" with his defiant recognition of that truth. In the turmoil of French leftist politics through the Algerian crises and the Stalin show trials, Camus portrays himself in hisJournals and in The Rebel as the "independent intellectual," the spokesman for the truth who refuses to accept the necessary political fabrications of the left during a time of crisis and change. Accordingly, Camus has himself been interpreted and 141 1 42Philosophy and Literature praised as the hero and martyr for the truth, as "Saint Just," the absurd hero and existential champion.3 L'Étranger is the best known of Camus's works, and it is on the basis of this early short novel that the interpretations of Camus's philosophy reasonably begin. But virtually every interpretation of this work has resulted in what I shall argue to be a false claim—that Meursault is a totally honest man, the "stranger" who does not lie. In his own interpretation of The Stranger, Camus writes,... the hero of the book is condemned because he doesn't play the game. In this sense he is a stranger to the society in which he lives; he drifts in the margin, in the suburb of private, solitary, sensual life. This is why some readers are tempted to consider him as a waif. You will have a more precise idea of this character, or one at all events in closer conformity with the intentions of the author, if you ask yourself in what way Meursault doesn't play the game. The answer is simple: He refuses to lie. Lying is not only saying what is not true. It is also and especially saying more than is true and, as far as the human heart is concerned, saying more than one feels. This is what we all do every day to simplify life. Meursault, despite appearances, does not wish to simplify life. He says what is true. He refuses to disguise his feelings and immediately society feels threatened. He is asked, for example, to say that he regrets his crime according to the ritual formula. He replies that he feels about it more annoyance than real regret and this shade of meaning condemns him. Meursault for me is then not a waif, but a man who is poor and naked, in love with the sun which leaves no shadows. Far from it being true that he lacks all sensibility, a deep tenacious passion animates him, a passion for the absolute and... (shrink)

Spinoza claims we can control any passion by forming a more clear and distinct idea of it. The interpretive consensus is that Spinoza is either wrong or over-stating his view. I argue that Spinoza’s view is plausible and insightful. After breaking down Spinoza’s characterization of the relevant act, I consider four existing interpretations and conclude that each is unsatisfactory. I then consider a further problem for Spinoza: how his definitions of ‘action’ and ‘passion’ make room for passions becoming (...) action. I propose two solutions to this problem, both of which yield a hint regarding what act Spinoza has in mind. Using that hint, I propose that we can appreciate Spinoza’s insight by considering how philosophizing about a feeling can 'kill the mood.' The act of grasping how a passion exemplifies certain general truths, I hold, is a distinctly rational activity that has all the features Spinoza describes. I conclude by showing how this interpretation fits with Spinoza’s larger views on rational knowledge, rational joy, the comprehensibility of passions, and the relation between second- and first-order ideas. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Only the Truth Has Grace:A Tribute to Father Romanus Cessario, O.P.Ryan ConnorsGod's providence arranged that I was first to meet Father Romanus Cessario, O.P., during my studies as an undergraduate at Boston College. One of the first occasions in which I was privileged to learn from him transpired at the 2005 priestly ordination of my friend and his student, Father Kevin Bordelon of the Diocese of Lafayette in (...) Louisiana. After I had driven to the ordination Mass and then to the lunch reception with the newly minted priest, I encountered Father Cessario who noticed my apparently stunned demeanor. In response to his inquiry about my well-being, I explained only that I was struck by the morning's events: "On the ride to the Cathedral Kevin was not a priest. But on the ride to the reception, he was." In his eminently imitable way, Father Romanus instructed: "Ryan, that is called a sacrament in which something really happens."Romanus Cessario is a realist. Indeed, what his Introduction to Moral Theology calls "moral realism" captures the decades of teaching and scholarship of our honored theologian.1 Various forms of idealism, illusions all, render Catholics unable to pass on the faith effectively and unprepared to confront the challenges that invariably arise. In point of fact, moral, sacramental, and ecclesial realism are the only expressions of Catholic theology that serve the Church's mission and do not cause harm to her members.2 In [End Page 1077] what follows, I offer five areas of Catholic theology necessary for flourishing ecclesial life today. A fulsome understanding of each of these aspects of Catholic faith presupposes the wisdom of St. Thomas Aquinas and benefits from the teaching of his noted—and much beloved—contemporary interpreter.SatisfactionAt the age of thirty-three, six years after solemn profession as a Dominican friar of the Province of St. Joseph, Father Romanus Cessario set out for the University of Fribourg to complete a doctoral dissertation under the direction of the Irish Dominican Colman O'Neill.3 The subject of this work, satisfaction in Aquinas, has remained a frequent theme of Father's writing in the ensuing decades. Put simply, sin requires a divine solution. People need redemption. Confessors do not stand as attorneys seeking the minimal punishment for their penitent defendants. There is no guiltless sin. Rather, the sacramental realist recognizes that sin carries its own consequence. The unfortunate state of original sin means fallen man stands in need of satisfaction. Christ's sacrificial love through his Passion and death enables the restoration and perfection of the imago Dei.The theme of Christian satisfaction relies upon the realism that grace does not merely cover over sin, but instead really heals and elevates the human person. Man requires—and in Christ can receive through the sacraments of the Church—divinely accomplished restoration.4 Pope Leo XIII, initiator of the Thomist revival of the late nineteenth century, observed: "Nothing is [End Page 1078] more useful than to look upon the world as it really is."5 In the words of Pope Paul VI: "Only the truth has grace." The ultimate error of casuistry lies in its inability to recognize the consequences of defective action.6 Pastoral practice today benefits from the knowledge that a parishioner's ignorance of moral truth does not provide consolation. The ignorance of many young persons, for example, about the defective nature of unchaste activity of whatever kind does not mean they are not harmed by such actions. Rather, the moral realist who observes St. Thomas's teaching, especially with the help of his authentic interpreters, comes to see that bad acts never perfect persons. Sinners stand in need of satisfying assistance. Only Christ provides such a divine remedy.7VirtueThe return to virtue-based moral reasoning in Catholic theology stands as a happy fruit of the post-conciliar period. In particular, Pope John Paul II's 1993 encyclical Veritatis Splendor remains among the most lasting intellectual contributions of his long pontificate. This much-maligned and misunderstood document has required explanation, especially to the English-speaking world. The United States, in particular, bears a long legacy of the misunderstanding... (shrink)

"Dishonesty inspires more euphemisms than copulation or defecation. This helps desensitize us to its implications. In the post-truth era we don't just have truth and lies but a third category of ambiguous statements that are not exactly the truth but fall just short of a lie. Enhanced truth it might be called. Neo-truth . Soft truth . Faux truth . Truth lite ." Deception has become the modern way of life. Where once (...) the boundary line between truth and lies was clear and distinct, it is no longer so. In the post-truth era, deceiving others has become a challenge, a game, a habit. High-profile dissemblers compete for news coverage, from journalists like Jayson Blair and professors like Joseph Ellis to politicians (of all stripes), executives, and "creative" accountants. Research suggests that the average American tells multiple lies on a daily basis, often for no good reason. Not a finger-wagging scolding, The Post-Truth Era is a combination of Ralph Keyes's investigative journalism and solid science. The result is a spirited exploration of why we lie about practically everything and the consequences such casual dishonesty has on society. American society has become permeated from top to bottom by deception. Its consequences for the nature of public discourse, media, business, literature, academia, and politics are profound. With dry humor, passionate fervor, and deep understanding, Ralph Keyes takes us on a tour of a world where truth and honesty are no longer absolutes but mutable, fluid concepts. (shrink)

In a short piece written most likely in the 1690s and given the title by Loemker of “On Wisdom,” Leibniz says the following: “...we see that happiness, pleasure, love, perfection, being, power, freedom, harmony, order, and beauty are all tied to each other, a truth which is rightly perceived by few.”1 Why is this? That is, why or how are these concepts tied to each other? And, why have so few understood this relation? Historians of philosophy are familiar with (...) the fact that both Spinoza and Leibniz place strong emphasis on the notion of power in giving their accounts of the human passions. But, while many scholars have explicated the relation between power and the passions (especially in Spinoza’s philosophy), there has been considerably less attention given to the nature of perfection and its relation to both power and the passions.2 Consider the following passages from Spinoza and Leibniz in which these two thinkers seem to bring together the issue of perfection and passion. In Ethics IIIp11s, Spinoza says the following: We see, then, that the Mind can undergo great changes, and pass now to a greater, now to a lesser perfection. These passions, indeed, explain to us the affects of Joy and Sadness. By Joy, therefore, I shall understand in what follows that passion by which the Mind passes to a greater perfection. And by Sadness, that passion by which it passes to a lesser perfection. The affect of Joy which is related to the Mind and Body at once I call Pleasure or Cheerfulness, and that of Sadness, Pain or Melancholy.3 And, in the Monadology §49, Leibniz says this: “The creature is said to act externally insofar as it is perfect, and to be acted upon [patir] by another, insofar as it is imperfect.”4 In other words, for Spinoza, the primitive passions of joy and sadness are cases in which a being’s perfection is increasing or decreasing, while, for Leibniz, any passion, it would.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Job, Boethius, and Epic TruthJames G. WilliamsJob, Boethius, and Epic Truth, by Ann W. Anstell; xiii & 240pp. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994, $32.95.Ann Anstell succeeds in showing that the book of Job and Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy served as vehicles for the transmission and transformation of heroic poetry through the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance. The style is sometimes forbidding for the nonspecialist because of (...) dry descriptions of various texts and the extensive quotation of Latin without translation. There are certain sections, however, where the author is clearly passionately engaged in the subject and consequently comes across much more clearly and vividly to the reader; this is especially true of part of the discussion of Gregory’s Moralia in Job and the chapter on “Boethian Lovers,” particularly the treatment of Abelard’s Historia Calamitatum.The thesis and argument of the book are of great potential interest both to literary critics and literary historians and to philosophers and historians of philosophy. The “epic truth” of the title is a bridge between literary genre and transmission and the kind of philosophy concerned with concepts of self and [End Page 379] world. Anstell argues that the conventional distinctions between classical epic and medieval romance tend to overlook the historical continuity between the two genres. “The Middle Ages interpreted classical epic in a way that entailed its subsequent imitation in romance” (p. 212). Romance makes explicit what epic is implicitly about, namely a way or journey to self-knowledge.Boethius, writing about 525 as a prisoner, draws upon Virgil’s Georgics and Stoic and Neoplatonic writings. Lady Philosophy appears to him and educes him into recollection of his own true being through remembering the heroes of the past. He thus recognizes his own mortality and passions, the importance of reason, and the reality of his immortal soul. This journey to concrete awareness of the immortal soul is a key step towards the epic truth that emerged in Christian thinking, but in Boethius the centrality of Christ as Logos-Redeemer does not come into view. It does, however, in the tradition of reading and interpreting Job.Through his meditations and moral instructions on Job, Gregory (Pope, 590–604) used the precedent of Boethius’ Consolation to draw the classical form of the vir, the heroic mortal and the model of virtus, virtue, into the Christian configuration of sainthood. Using a Christian form of allegory, the “other-speaking” of a text that articulates its deeper structure and truth, Gregory portrays Job as a man of fortitude, courage, and patience whose suffering becomes the occasion truly to understand that his immutable soul is not the prisoner of the body that is sick and dying. “Job’s human nature, perfected in wisdom and power through suffering, reflects Christ’s own divine humanity, and far surpasses in heroic virtue the excellence of even an allegorized Aeneas” (p. 91).These two works, then, are the chief exemplars of the “heroic poetry” of the Middle Ages, which joined the literatures commonly designated as “epic” and “romance.” This medieval synthesis insisted on figural or allegorical continuity with classical antiquity but departed formally from classical literary conventions. Job and Boethius provided critical authorization for these tendencies. Job as Christ-figure was the model for legends of the saints, while the Consolation influenced the romance literature that featured stages of spiritual growth; this literature “extended into a history of personal salvation by assimilating the lover’s sufferings to those of Job and Christ” (p. 214). These two paradigmatic works, which provided models of the stable saint as Christ-figure and the emotional pilgrim on a spiritual journey, began to dissolve in the Renaissance. Boethius’s Consolation ceased to be understood in terms of the epic and Job came to be seen as a drama and a tragedy. Thus the author concludes that “the virtues... the Middle Ages attributed to Job, especially wisdom and fortitude, belong no longer to man but to God” (p. 215). Human beings must make their way in an inconstant, puzzling world separated from God.James G. WilliamsSyracuse UniversityCopyright © 1995 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Frankfurt's Meno Challenge Reliabilist Solutions Frankfurt's Puzzle about Bullshit A Social Epistemology Perspective References.

This article explores the question of truth in the work of Jacques Derrida and Alain Badiou. Specifically, it investigates Badiou’s claim that deconstruction is a form of sophistry. Badiou positions himself against Derrida in preference for a philosophy committed to Truth, Being and the event. The sophist, in contrast to the philosopher, denies the existence of truths and the category of truth. Despite this hostility, Badiou argues that the two must coexist. Badiou also explores the relationship between (...) existence and inexistence insofar as différence represents what Badiou labels the passion of Inexistance. The article concludes with how the two philosophers envision the place of truth in the future of philosophy: the flash of an event which punctures a hole in knowledge (Badiou) or the necessity of embracing the deconstructive nature of truth, language and knowledge (Derrida). (shrink)

The Physiological Library’s catalogue shows that Hume had access to Malebranche’s sixth edition of De la recherche de la vérité while a student in Edinburgh.1 The Recherche is also included in the David Hume’s Library.2 While Hume did not agree with Malebranche on all things, a number of commentators have argued that Hume borrowed many points from Malebranche, not only concerning causality and the famous example of the billiard balls3 but also on other subjects. Charles McCracken’s Malebranche and British Philosophy (...) compares Hume and Malebranche on causation, self-knowledge, kinds of truth, the relation between imagination and belief, and ethics.4 Peter Kail has more recently devoted three articles to the .. (shrink)

For over a century modern scholars have passionately debated whether Augustine’s conversion narrative from Confessions 8 is an accurate description of what ‘has really happened’ in 386 in a garden in Milan without reaching so far a consensus. However, long before modern scholars disputed the historicity of his conversion account Augustine was already confronted with the mistrust of his contemporaries who doubted the authenticity of his conversion and compelled to deal with their accusations. This article intends to show how in (...) the Confessions Augustine defends the truth of his narrative while admitting to his incredulous readers his inability to offer an exact picture of his past life, by looking at his views on memory, language and cognition, as presented mainly in the last non-narrative books of this work. (shrink)

The paper compares two intellectual traditions, that is, psychoanalysis and Russian philosophy. As a result, it demonstrates the kinship of the main methodological principles of both of these two trends of thinking in twentieth century. First, a psychoanalytic image of the Russian type of cognition is set - this is an existentially loaded experience of asking the truth, carried out by a person from the people. In culture, this image is presented as an agent of truth, usually in (...) need. The following demonstrates the attitude to this image in the work and personal way of knowing N.A. Berdyaev. In this part of the article, a psychoanalytic study of the work of the Russian philosopher is done. In particular, the neurotic nature of N. Berdyaevs letter, which is expressed in the excessive emotionality of the text and the prophetic emphasis, which sets the tone throughout his work, is noted. The main part of the article is devoted to the analysis of the intuitive-symbolic method of working with consciousness in the psychoanalysis of Freud and the philosophy of Berdyaev. Here the author emphasizes the practical side of the psychoanalysis and to how an emotionally and bodily tinted meaning arises in that context. This phenomenological reconstruction allows us to draw a parallel with what constitutes a symbol in the tradition of Russian religious thought, which also notes the experienced nature of the work of obtaining the meaning of a symbolic utterance. In this perspective, the author conducts a hermeneutic reconstruction of the continuity of the method of these two traditions from mystical Christian theology, in which the knowledge of God is understood as a passionately lived experience of communication with the Other, which occupies the status of a lover. This article represents the initial stage of a more detailed study of the relationship between psychoanalysis and Russian philosophy. (shrink)

What are the passions? And what, if anything, do they have to do with our intellectual lives? I argue that, according to Aristotle, the passions are complex states that carry information about the value things have. More specifically, Aristotelian passions are constituted by fine-grained evaluative appearances—a kind of truth-apt, cognitive, yet non-rational representation that non-human animals also entertain. Given that the passions are representations of value, they can be the basis for coming to know and understand the peculiar value (...) of things. So, the passions can serve as grounds for intellectual achievements that are essential to a good life. In particular, I argue that, for Aristotle, the passions contribute substantively to three intellectual achievements that are required for a flourishing life: practical wisdom, certain instances of contemplation, and the appreciation of art. Since Aristotelian passions carry rich information and discriminate value, they are cognitive states that can shape and enrich not only our lives as agents, but also our lives as knowers. The passions can play an epistemic role by serving as warrant for intellectually discerning the normative features of the situations we inhabit, the kinds of characters that surround us, and what is good and fine in them and us. Furthermore, in virtue of their epistemic role, the passions can be the basis for the intellectual aspects of a moral education. (shrink)

An exploration of the scientific mindset—such character virtues as curiosity, veracity, attentiveness, and humility to evidence—and its importance for science, democracy, and human flourishing. Exemplary scientists have a characteristic way of viewing the world and their work: their mindset and methods all aim at discovering truths about nature. In An Instinct for Truth, Robert Pennock explores this scientific mindset and argues that what Charles Darwin called “an instinct for truth, knowledge, and discovery” has a tacit moral structure—that it (...) is important not only for scientific excellence and integrity but also for democracy and human flourishing. In an era of “post-truth,” the scientific drive to discover empirical truths has a special value. Taking a virtue-theoretic perspective, Pennock explores curiosity, veracity, skepticism, humility to evidence, and other scientific virtues and vices. He explains that curiosity is the most distinctive element of the scientific character, by which other norms are shaped; discusses the passionate nature of scientific attentiveness; and calls for science education not only to teach scientific findings and methods but also to nurture the scientific mindset and its core values. Drawing on historical sources as well as a sociological study of more than a thousand scientists, Pennock's philosophical account is grounded in values that scientists themselves recognize they should aspire to. Pennock argues that epistemic and ethical values are normatively interconnected, and that for science and society to flourish, we need not just a philosophy of science, but a philosophy of the scientist. (shrink)

Forthright and wryly humorous, philosopher Susan Haack deploys her penetrating analytic skills on some of the most highly charged cultural and social debates of recent years. Relativism, multiculturalism, feminism, affirmative action, pragmatisms old and new, science, literature, the future of the academy and of philosophy itself—all come under her keen scrutiny in _Manifesto of a Passionate Moderate_. "The virtue of Haack's book, and I mean _virtue_ in the ethical sense, is that it embodies the attitude that it exalts... Haack's voice (...) is urbane, sensible, passionate—the voice of philosophy that matters. How good to hear it again."—Jonathan Rauch, _Reason_ "A tough mind, confident of its power, making an art of logic... a cool mastery."—Paul R. Gross, _Wilson Quarterly_ "Few people are better able to defend the notion of truth, and in strong, clear prose, than Susan Haack... a philosopher of great distinction."—Hugh Lloyd-Jones, _National Review_ "If you relish acute observation and straight talk, this is a book to read."—_Key Reporter_ "Everywhere in this book there is the refreshing breeze of common sense, patiently but inexorably blowing."—Roger Kimball, _Times Literary Supplement_ "A refreshing alternative to the extremism that characterizes so much rhetoric today."—_Kirkus Reviews_. (shrink)

In the Philebus, Socrates argues that pleasures can be false in the same way that beliefs can be false. On the basis of Socrates' analysis of malicious pleasure, a mixed pleasure of the soul and a passion, I defend the view that, according to Socrates, pleasures can be false when they represent as pleasant something that is not worthy of our enjoyment, where that means that they represent as pleasant something that is not pleasant in its own right because (...) it is not fine. Since these pleasures misrepresent the value of their objects, they involve an evaluative error. In contrast, a pleasure is true when it correctly represents the actual value of things. (shrink)

Johannes Climacus, Søren Kierkegaard's pseudonymous author of Philosophical Fragments, "invents" a religion suspiciously resembling Christianity as an alternative to the assumption that humans possess the Truth within themselves. Through this literary device, Climacus raises in a fresh and audacious way age-old questions about the relation of Christian faith to human reason. Is the idea of a human incarnation of God logically coherent? Is religious faith the product of a voluntary choice? In a comprehensive discussion of one of Kierkegaard's most (...) important books, C. Stephen Evans elucidates Kierkegaard's novel explanation that the tension between faith and reason must be understood as a consequence of the passionate character of reason itself. Passionate Reason situates Kierkegaard's philosophy in the context of postmodern religious thought, providing a contemporary reading of Fragments as a challenge to both the modern Enlightenment critique of reason and the postmodern abandonment of truth. (shrink)

The word "truth" retains, in common use, traces of origins that link it to trust, truth, and truce, connoting ideas of fidelity, loyalty, and authenticity. The word has become, in contemporary philosophy, encased in a web of technicalities, but we know that a true image is a faithful portrait; a true friend a loyal one. In a novel or a poem, too, we have a feel for what is emotionally true, though we are not concerned with the actuality (...) of events and characters depicted. To have emotions is to care about certain things: we can wonder whether those things are really worth caring about. We can wonder whether our passions reflect who we are, and whether they constitute fitting responses to the vicissitudes of life. So there are two aspects to emotional truth: how well an emotion reflects the threats and promises of the world, and how well it reflects our own individual nature. That is the starting point of this book, which looks first at the analogies and disanalogies between strict propositional truth and a looser, "generic" sense of truth. As applied to emotions, generic truth is closer to those original meanings: as in a portrait's fidelity or friend's loyalty. Taken in this sense, the notion of emotional truth opens up large vistas on areas of life essential to our existence as social beings, and to our concerns with beauty, morality, love, death, sex, knowledge, desire, coherence, and happiness. Each of those topics illustrates some facet of the dominant theme of the book: the crucial but often ambivalent role of our emotions in grounding and yet also sometimes undermining our values. Emotions act, in holistic perspective, as ultimate arbiters of values where different and independently justified standards of value compete. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:From Passions to Emotions: The Creation of a Secular Psychological CategoryMax RosenkrantzThomas Dixon. From Passions to Emotions: The Creation of a Secular Psychological Category. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Pp. x + 287. Cloth, $60.00Thomas Dixon's From Passions to Emotions defends a provocative set of theses. (1) The concept of "emotion" is of relatively recent vintage, having been designed by secular Scottish writers in the first half (...) of the nineteenth century. (2) That concept embraces a range of phenomena that earlier Christian writers such as Augustine and Aquinas understood in terms of a manifold of concepts such as "appetites," "passions," "affections," and "sentiments." (3) The concept of "emotion" is too crude an instrument for understanding human psychology. Further, (4) today the secular conceptual framework has completely displaced the religious one. This has nothing to do with the former's greater proximity to the truth, as is shown by the persistence of cogent Christian theories in the second half of the nineteenth century, the period of secularism's triumph; and (5) The opposition between reason and emotion arises only when theorists begin to think of "emotions" rather than "appetites," "passions," "affections," and "sentiments." Christian writers did not see the passions as simply the enemies of reason.The basis for Dixon's argument is his interpretation of nineteenth-century psychological theory in the English speaking world. Specifically he argues that the concept of "emotion" was invented by the Scottish thinker Thomas Brown (1778-1820). Brown's innovation was then appropriated and developed by Spencer, Darwin, and William James. The foil for this story is the Christian tradition represented most compellingly by Augustine and Aquinas and carried on by a host of lesser nineteenth-century figures. In my judgment, the story thus told cannot bear the weight Dixon places upon it.The centerpiece of Dixon's argument is his claim that Brown "invents" (109) the emotions and thereby initiates a conceptual revolution in western thought. While Dixon may be right in asserting that Brown is the first to use the word 'emotion' in a systematic fashion, this achievement is merely terminological. Brown deploys the term to develop a mechanistic account of human nature, one in which the springs of action are located not in the will and reason, but in the emotions. Replace 'emotion' in the preceding sentence with 'passion' and one gets a concise characterization of Hobbes's view. Dixon is aware that Brown and others work within a Hobbesian framework (250) but does not attend to that framework. Thus his claims for the significance of the developments he describes fail to convince. The real innovation in psychological theory—as in so much else—took place in the seventeenth century.Just as Dixon overestimates the importance and originality of the Scottish writers he discusses, so too he overestimates the intellectual importance of Augustine and Aquinas. His presentation of their views (26-62) is accurate, but he does not note that they take over the Platonic-Aristotelian view of the soul according to which reason can and should penetrate, educate and direct the passions. Thus the guiding thought that structures the work—the nineteenth century witnesses an ultimately successful revolt against Christian psychology—must be rejected. The revolt is against ancient, pre-Christian modes of thought and is undertaken and largely won in the seventeenth century. The events Dixon describes are skirmishes in that larger campaign.The rest of the theses Dixon defends can be dispatched with more quickly. The idea that the modern concept of "emotion" is insufficiently subtle is averted to frequently, but never adequately defended. At no point does Dixon demonstrate, or even claim to demonstrate, that Christian thinkers recognized something secular thinkers miss. Roughly the same can be said for his claims about the persistence of Christian psychology in the nineteenth century. What Dixon means is not just that such thinkers exist, but that their thought remains vibrant. Again I see no argument for such a verdict. Finally, there is the matter of the opposition between reason and passion. To his credit Dixon rejects the view according to which almost all Western thought is hostile to the passions. As he shows, this... (shrink)