Recent events have highlighted large-scale systemic racial disparities in U.S. criminal justice based on race and other demographic characteristics. Although criminological datasets are used to study and document the extent of such disparities, they often lack key information, including arrestees’ racial identification. As AI technologies are increasingly used by criminal justice agencies to make predictions about outcomes in bail, policing, and other decision-making, a growing literature suggests that the current implementation of these systems may perpetuate racial inequalities. In this paper, (...) we argue that AI technologies should be investigated to understand how they recognize racial categories and whether they can be harnessed to fill missing race data. By bridging this gap, we can work towards better understanding racial inequalities in a wide range of contexts, most notably criminal justice. Using a multidisciplinary perspective, we rethink the design and methodology used in facial processing technology (FPT) based on supervised deep learning model (DLM) image classification. By modifying standard FPT pipelines to tackle multiple sources of DLM bias, we propose an experimental methodology based on ethical AI principles to generate binary (Black and White) racial categories using mugshots. We go beyond simply reporting DLM accuracies and address fundamental issues such as generalizability and interpretability by using a “self-auditing” approach. First, we evaluate the inference performances of 42 fine-tuned DLMs using unseen test images from the same dataset but subject to varying data augmentations. Next, to interpret and validate our methodological approach, we apply gradient-based saliency maps to assess the consistency of facial region relevance and attribution. Finally, drawing upon insights from three areas (computer science, sociology, and law), we investigate the efficacy of our DLM-based method as a tool for detecting racial inequalities in criminal justice. (shrink)

Im Archäologischen Museum in Izmir sind 227 Gefäße inventarisiert, die einen der größten Bestände von Unterwasserfunden byzantinischer Keramik in der Türkei bilden. Aus dieser Sammlung stellt Lale Doğer in dem vorliegenden Band, einem Ausschnitt ihrer Doktorarbeit, 123 dieser Vasen vor. Die Keramiken des Museums Izmir wurden zwischen 1967 und 1974 im Kunsthandel gekauft bzw. als illegales Gut beschlagnahmt. 166 Gefäßen wurden aus anderen türkischen Museen nach Izmir überwiesen (Vorwort S. 1-2) und stammen wohl ebenso aus ungeklärten Fundzusammenhängen. Eine genauere Fundortangabe (...) besitzt daher keines der Stücke. Die Autorin verbindet die Exponate in ihrem Schlusswort (S. 74) mit einem unmittelbar vor der türkischen Küste gesunkenen Boot oder aber auch dem bekannten Schiffswrack bei der wenig vor der türkischen Küste gelegenen griechischen Insel Kastellorizo (neu auch bei: D. Papanikola-Bakirtzi (Hrsg.), Byzantine Glazed Ceramics. The Art of Sgraffito, Athen 1999). Die größte Gruppe bildet die von Megaw definierte Ägäische Ware (A. H. S. Megaw in: G. Robertson u. G. Henderson (Hrsg.), Studies in Memory of David Talbot Rice, Edinburgh 1975, 34-45) mit 114 Stücken. Andere Vasen gehören zur Engobebemalten Ware („Slip Painted Ware”) oder zu mit Farboxyden bemalten Warengruppen (S. 2). In der vorliegenden Abhandlung behandelt Doğer ausschließlich die Ägäische Ware. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Byzantine Matters by Averil CameronPanagiotis RoilosAveril Cameron. Byzantine Matters. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2014. xviii + 164 pp. 3 black-and-white maps. Cloth, $22.95.From C. P. Cavafy to W. B. Yeats, Ezra Pound, and more recently, Julia Kristeva, literary authors and intellectuals have eloquently (and as a rule more effectually than academics) shown that Byzantine matters are of noteworthy relevance to broader, i.e., not only scholarly, domains of (...) (post)modern culture too. Despite (or, at times, even because of) certain rather ineluctable limitations mainly deriving from its marked genre (general survey of the state of the field), Byzantine Matters belongs to that rare group of scholarly books that contribute considerably to the promotion of the Byzantine “cause” beyond the confines of the specific research and academic area. Written by one of the most eminent and influential scholars of late antiquity and early Byzantium, this book fulfills its valuable self-imposed aims: in a commendable, as a whole, interdisciplinary manner, it outlines the research trajectories that Byzantinists should pursue today, if they wish to expand their field’s methodological self-awareness and achieve a competitive level of theoretical sophistication.An important constituent of Averil Cameron’s critique of widespread preconceptions about Byzantium even in contemporary scholarly discourses (either in [End Page 719] the specialized research field or, more explicitly, in relevant ones) is her exposure of the detrimental ideological parameters of the exoticism and exceptionalism that often inform approaches to that past culture. The author’s task is not easy; on the contrary, it is bound to cause some distress or uneasiness in conservative scholarly circles (or “schools”).Cameron begins her discussion of the present state of Byzantine studies and of the related research desiderata by diagnosing the “absence” of Byzantium from hegemonic historiographic discourses in the so-called Western world. Origins and causes of this “absence” are astutely (albeit partially) traced back to influential Anglo-centric interpretive paradigms, these being of entirely derogatory (see Edward Gibbon’s notorious “history” and more recently the dogmatic conservatism of Arnold Toynbee and Samuel Huntington) or exoticizing, Orientalizing orientation (as exemplified in the activities of, e.g., Robert Byron and David Talbot Rice). Byzantium is shown to have been reduced to the state of the historical and historiographical “subaltern” of the West (9). Although I would have preferred to describe this idiosyncratic position of Byzantium in the dominant historiographic practice and the imaginary of the West in terms of what elsewhere I have defined as “para-marginality,” I must stress that Cameron’s sensitive outline of the Byzantine “absence” from established scholarly paradigms attests to her openness to sophisticated methodological schemata that might contribute to a creative and, whenever necessary, critical dialogue of Byzantine studies with related disciplines and broader theoretical debates.In her reappraisal of current scholarly views concerning the status of Byzantium as an empire, the author rightly emphasizes the adaptability and flexibility of Byzantine sociopolitical and economic structures and mechanisms, thus exposing the widespread view of an “unchanging Byzantium” as a mere “popular myth” (35). Equally noteworthy is her focusing on the contribution of ritual occasions and performances of ideologically and politically manipulated rhetoric to the reaffirmation, communication, and effectiveness of imperial power in Byzantium.Cameron’s learned approach to Byzantine art, which is introduced with a general discussion of the attraction it held for British authors (where, however, Ruskin’s work is conspicuously missing), and to the current state of its research places a judicious emphasis on the tension between iconoclasm and iconolatry as well as on issues of periodization. Of special significance is Cameron’s reference to the performative functions of icons in Byzantium and her call for new, interdisciplinary approaches to Byzantine art. However, the opposition between the written word and the image that the author, endorsing Michael Squire’s approach (74), puts forward is an unconvincing rhetorical construct rather than an always valid hermeneutic tool. Theology and religious practice in Byzantium never really reduced the written word to a state inferior to that of the image, as is evinced not only by the frequent coexistence of text and pictorial representation in Byzantine art but also by the extremely... (shrink)

Many accounts of scientific modelling assume that models can be decomposed into the contributions made by their accurate and inaccurate parts. These accounts then argue that the inaccurate parts of the model can be justified by distorting only what is irrelevant. In this paper, I argue that this decompositional strategy requires three assumptions that are not typically met by our best scientific models. In response, I propose an alternative view in which idealized models are characterized as holistically distorted representations that (...) are justified by allowing for the application of various modelling techniques. (shrink)

This article considers two questions: Do democratic states have the right to deport non-citizens present or residing on their territory? And, if so, what principles should guide deportation in democratic states? The overall objective is to offer an account of what deportation should look like in a liberal democratic state. I begin by situating the practice of deportation in larger discussions of the extent of state discretion in controlling both borders and membership; here, I will argue that potential deportees occupy (...) an awkward middle space, i.e. it is not clear whether they should be treated according to the principles that regulate discretion at the border or discretion in admitting migrants to membership. I then consider more deeply whether deportation can be rendered non-arbitrary, or whether it is bound to remain unjustly applied; where it cannot be rendered non-arbitrary, it must be rejected, or so I shall argue. To be non-arbitrary, the practice of deportation must meet three criteria: a publicity criterion, a justification criterion, and a collective interest criterion. In the final section of the article, I disentangle deportation into its component parts – I distinguish just cause for deportation from just action in deportation – and consider how the criteria that stem from a commitment to non-arbitrariness constrain its application to non-citizen residents. The consequence of requiring deportation to be applied, if at all, in a non-arbitrary way is that there will certainly be cases where liberal democracies find themselves unable to deport those who might otherwise be thought eligible for deportation. Ultimately, I conclude that deportation from liberal democratic states can be fair only in a small number of cases. (shrink)

Located in Kleinbasel close to the Rhine, the Kaskadenkondensator is a place of mediation and experimental, research-and process-based art production with a focus on performance and performative expression. The gallery, founded in 1994, and located on the third floor of the former Sudhaus Warteck Brewery (hence cascade condenser), seeks to develop interactions between artists, theorists and audiences. Eight, maybe, nine or ten 40 litre bags of potting compost lie strewn about the floor of a high-ceilinged white washed hall. Dumped, split (...) open, the soil mixed with iridescent specks of green, blue and red glitter. On the walls hang large black and white photographic images—negative and positive prints barely clean, hardly sharp, scavenged from the world and presented half processed. On a third wall, hangs a framed golden and charcoal surface. Finally, a huge stain of black dye runs down a wall that descends into a sunken quarter of the Kaskadenkondensator gallery space. The results of a collaboration between Oliver Minder and Walter Derungs reflect on themes addressed in the recent Aesthetics in the 21st Century conference held by the department of English, University of Basel. In particular, the joint show questions how an aesthetic experience may be other than a human-world interaction, hinting at the withdrawal and veiling that objects perform, while demanding that different works engage with each other and play out this game under the non-supervisory eyes of a human audience. Things here are becoming—sometimes it’s a movement towards a more complete ontic whole in a projection of finality, other times it’s a dispersal, an atrophy to rather disarrayed entities. Yet, in the moment and place in which the objects are, we take them as here and now. Let’s get to the material of the stuff that Minder and Derungs have assembled. Oliver Minder employs organic materials—potting earth, cuttlefish ink secretion, rice, and insects; yet his works hardly seem natural in the sense of a harmonic relation between material and the form they are constrained into, the objects they are compelled to occupy. For the substrates on, through, or within which these natural materials are mediated are harshly inorganic substances—Plexiglas, safety glass, acrylic resin, boat varnish, spray paint. Minder, thus, generates a conflict within the materiality of his work between two polar opposites—from the human perspective—in the contiguity of materials engaging with each other in a thrown together formation that nonetheless appears to keep the materials and the objects they make in happy accidental relation to each other. Let me expand a little: on the one hand, the things Minder makes query our belief in substance as belonging in a particular domain, an environment suited to precisely that stuff. We are focused on thinking categorically where things belong, both in terms of natural place and natural relations they might extend to each other. Hence, we are driven to think of environment and order. On the other hand, while extracting things from their conventional place and arranging them within awkward constellations that we as observers feel isn’t quite right, Minder manages to persuade the viewer that the materials are nonetheless “doing alright.” So, simultaneous to our awareness of the appropriateness of the world according to our global notions of accord and uniformity, we are forced to accept the local discrepancies of disassociation, inappropriateness and misplacement. The tension between these two vectors generates a vacillation that intensifies Minder’s work. In the Kaskadenkondensator works, then, it is vital to first consider the material of Minder’s works: potting compost—what is it doing here in the first place?—seems to enjoy being “polluted” by sparkly glitter. Glitter has a long history, used in cosmetics by the Egyptians, and in cave paintings, too, earlier made of beetle shells and mica, nowadays glitter is made of plastic cut to minute sizes down to 50 microns. So what’s the point here? Well shiny bits of dust-like material are actually generated from ultra-thin plastic sheets and are normally cut into shapes that fit contiguously on a two-dimensional surface: squares, triangles, hexagons etc. What then appears to be totally random, chaotic decoration, is actually an array of extremely regular identifiable objects. 1 Of course scale has a role to play here. The minuteness of the dimensions means the regularity is beyond our recognition—all we see are the twinkling surfaces of the multi-coloured grains of plastic. In contrast, potting compost, which appears to be unary in its dull unresponsive lumpen disposition, is in fact an amalgam of a variety of organic and inorganic materials: peat, bark, mushroom compost, and sand and perlite, and should perhaps be more proactively exciting to the viewer because of this complexity. Yes; we can (if we care to) identify different textures, different sizes in the mixture of the medium, but I claim that we tend to treat this organic/inorganic assemblage as just a simple substance. Further and crucially important to our consideration here is that the medium is partially contained, but also partially spilling from the split plastic bags in which it is sold in garden centres. That the compost spills out gives it a movement suggesting life; that the bags are cast here and there in a random fashion by Oliver Minder, lying like discarded carcasses, hacked torsos, dismembered bodies, suggests a horrific murder scene, a Tatort. 2 The glitter flourishes in the medium, lies happy and decorative; that is simply what it does, how it is—always already broken, made-for-scattering, designed to be incomplete; the taken-to-be-natural compost, in contrast, cannot rest content but is forced to speak to us metaphorically in its abject overflowing of violence and rupture. While Oliver Minder’s elements in the installation direct our attention to material, Walter Derungs’ works raise questions around seeing and making in photography. There is a simultaneous flicker between the materials and their use in the production of a sense making representation, on the one hand, and on the other the very notion of what is worthy of picturing, framing, representing on the other. Derungs' images are of non-places. Ranging from archaic decaying monster buildings, buildings that have gone far beyond the ravages of a time that we can safely associate with the genteel preservation of a Bernd and Hill Belcher post-industrial decline, to the background “noise” of an urban world that is falling apart, and to which we most of the time seem to pay little attention, and habitually just pass by. In this respect, their non-ness differs somewhat from the conventional association of the term with Marc Augé 3 , where emphasis is on the specifics (if we do care to examine them for their non-placedness) of the spatial or place containment in which movement between multimodal coordinates occurs in supermodern late capitalist post-urban spaces. In other words, we might be in an Augéian non-place and (not) experience—be impervious to—that environment, or we might in Derungs’ manner look out from such a position at the “scenery” around us. I claim scenery, as this is what Derungs seems to do with his partial photography—construct a very purposefully articulated, symmetric, flat world of image. Mostly depopulated, his images construct a space in which the direction of time is uncertain: are these partial structures falling apart, or perhaps terminated in a never-to-be-completed state, or are they a few steps from final completion? Temporal and spatial dimensions figure large in Derungs’ image-making: his world, and perhaps this is in fact the only way for it to be registered photographically, is already image before it is photographed. A key combination of images in this show is a matrix of six black and white negative prints measuring 300 x 215 cm that form the image of a semi-derelict (or is it yet incomplete) church, and adjacent on a perpendicular wall, a single black and white positive print 150 x 250 cm of two bricked-up windows of a late-Victorian industrial building. What are we led to believe that we see here? In the negative print, the conditions of perception 4 are sufficiently reproduced for us to recognise the structure of the building, to distinguish ground and form, to relate some partial elements of narrative, and to recognize symbols such as the alter cross and figure of Christ, a looming crane, a traffic cone, and banks of tiered seating. We piece the image together both from the individual forms which we recognize despite the tonal reversal, and we piece the six prints together as a whole, the matrix of lines between them emphasizing our purview onto the world. While we recognise the forms at work in the image and might possibly relate the negative reversals to other figurations such as Vera Lutter’s camera obscura exposures, we cannot but avoid seeing the partialness of the image in the sponge marks of the developer that was spread by hand across the prints. 5 Derungs’ thus intervenes with our usual conception of photography as the mimetic realist vehicle sine qua non , by exposing the viewer to tonal reversal and incomplete or over developed areas of the print. We thus confront both the idiom of such image making and its raw (chemical) materiality at once in the simultaneity of the recognition of what the image pictures and the recognition that it is in the act of picturing. The church image, taken from the series “BW Negativs 2011,” thus orients us towards how we see things in the world via photographs. The single image of the bricked-up wall presents us with a completely different visuality that relates to a faciality 6 which we cannot easily escape from. We look, or rather try to look with no success, through the face of the windows, through the classic Albertian screen 7 which has already been given to us in the church matrix beside. Yet although we should be able to make more of these concealed windows because they are a positive print, because they are complete, because they approach us on a more realistic scale, reproduced at life size, we cannot. The objects pictured here withdraw from us; furthermore, they merely mock our blindness at not seeing how we look. Blocked up with quite a hint of paned glass behind, one window is blanked out with a white blind, the other simply blankly dark. The apertures look like eyes with teeth in them, or a Dogon mask, or even Man Ray’s Noire et Blanche (1926) if we want to get really perverse. The height of elegant modernist chauvinist beauty thrown against the vacuity of post-industrial decline. Derungs thus catapults us consciously into a world enfolded with and through images, but in such a way that the images themselves become objects that stand resistant to us, impervious to our gaze, indifferent. We—and indeed they—do not attempt to reach out to a real that is beyond, rather the images play in a world that is just theirs, and we can only enter that world if we too submit to their regime: tonal reversal, segmented, partial, inadequate, still, wrenched out of time. In contemplation, in the flood of the image “falling” off the wall, we too become image-object. Perhaps enough has now been said about the works, yet enough can never really be said, we know the image will always exceed the word—let’s accelerate the critique: Derungs’ work continues in a second space partially partitioned from this first room. Opposing three more “BW Negativs” which figure yet more quotidian aspects of the world is Minder’s gold spray paint and cuttlefish secretion mix: things that just shouldn’t work together do in the dialogue between stuff that Derungs and Minder have constructed. Minder makes things; Derungs makes images; together they make objects which inhabit their own world which we can approach and sensually engage with and come to grips with only on those objects’ own terms. This is best summarised by a final work made by Oliver Minder which on a third wall faces these two semi-partitioned spaces. A deep black stain about 100 X 200 cm with streak marks running down a further 2 metres hovers positioned to observe the whole work, and also to be part of this installation, too. This liminal flat suzerain lies in/out of the whole work. The stain of cuttlefish secretion resonates with Derungs’ sponge strokes on the church image; it mirrors the iris of an all-seeing eye; it combines material in situ with the situation itself. Where Minder’s other works have material and medium or substrate upon which the material is exercised, this single black hole is image which sucks everything up into itself. It draws the viewer, who must otherwise look away attentively at the floor work, and imagine horror, or smile at the ironic play of glitter. Look away at the image constructions that suggest how it is we too look to our world. See the play of thing and image in a third area. Or, finally return to the base of the pyramid that triangulates, to realise the stuff-image that unlocks it all for us. Black on white, organic on inorganic, material to substrate, that which in the falling out of one on the other, in its running down the wall simply gives form to both content and expression in one direction, and content and expression to form in another. NOTES In fact, glitter is used as associative forensic evidence: the 20,000 or so varieties are all uniquely identifiable. Joel Sternfeld, Tatorte: Bilder gegen das Vergessen (München: Schirmer/Mosel, 1996). Marc Augé, Non­places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity trans. John Howe (London: Verso, 2006). An echo of the uneven paint strokes of light­sensitive chemicals in the paper preparations made by Henry Talbot some 170 years ago in the first sun drawings that also often pictured architectural forms. It was Talbot’s surprising discovery that where a weaker chemical solution was more thinly spread, greater light sensitivity was actualized, yet this virtual image had then to be chemically developed in a second step. Thus, Derungs unevenly finished spongings suggestively trace back to this originary technology (although his sweeps are the stains of uneven development and not those of the initial preparation of light–sensitive material). Umberto Eco, “Critique of the Image” in “Articulations of Cinematic Code” Cinematics 1, 1970. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2007). Geoffrey Batchen, Burning With Desire: the Conception of Photography (Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1999). (shrink)

Successful formulation and implementation of end-of-life care requires ongoing communication with the patient. When patients, for reasons of general medical or psychiatric illness, fail to verbally communicate, providers must be receptive to messages conveyed through alternate avenues of communication. We present the narrative of a man with schizophrenia who wished to forgo hemodialysis as a study in the ethical importance of attention to nonverbal communication. A multilayered understanding of the patient, as may be provided by both behavioral and motivational models, (...) can inform the provider’s ability to receive, process, and represent communicated content to the patient or his or her surrogate decision-maker. (shrink)

One of the obstacles facing massive modularity is how a pervasively modular mind might generate non-domain-specific thoughts by integrating the content produced by various domain-specific modules. Peter Carruthers has recently argued that the operations of the language faculty are constitutive of the process by which the human mind is able to integrate content from heterogeneous conceptual domains. In this article, I first argue that Carruthers's data do not provide support for either of two possible interpretations of his thesis. In addition, (...) I provide empirical and theoretical reasons for thinking content integration is performed external to the language faculty. (shrink)

European Journal of Political Theory, Volume 21, Issue 3, Page 594-600, July 2022. In The Shifting Border, Ayelet Shachar offers us two concrete proposals for combatting the danger posed by the shifting border, especially to those crossing borders in search of safety. One proposal suggests that human rights travel with migrants, so that agents who control the border must take responsibility for protecting their human rights at the border. A second proposal, which forms the basis of my commentary below, asks (...) that states consider alternative ways for migrants to seek protection safely. In responding to this second proposal, I make two proposals of my own that stem from Shachar's analysis: her analysis offers us the resources we need in order to expand, not only the channels available to migrants for seeking protection, but also our sense of who should be involved in controlling admission, and expanding the “who” that is involved in admission gives meaning to the concept of “moral proximity” which can help to overcome the territorial imperative that dominates the rules governing international migration, i.e., the imperative that protection travels with physical access to territory, only. (shrink)

Biomedical research today can be generally classified as human-based or nonhuman animal-based, each with separate and distinct review boards that must approve research protocols. Researchers wishing to work with humans or human tissues have become frustrated by the required burdensome approval panel, the Institutional Review Board. However, scientists have found it is much easier to work with the animal-based research review board, the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee. Consequently, animals are used for investigations even when scientists believe these studies (...) should be performed with humans or human tissue. This situation deserves attention from society and more specifically the animal protection and patient advocate communities, as neither patients nor animals are well served by the present situation. (shrink)

Upon initial publication in 1956, this book was an attempt to re-state certain problems concerning the aesthetics and ethics of the tragic form; to examine these in relation to contemporary work in psychology and anthropology; to enquire into the significance of ‘the fact or experience called tragedy’ in the modern world; and to suggest a synthesis in terms of the Christian tradition. This is a reissue of the corrected second edition of the work, first published in 1966.

Biofilms can be viewed as tissue‐like structures in which microorganisms are organized in a spatial and functional sophisticated manner. Biofilm formation requires the orchestration of a highly integrated network of regulatory proteins to establish cell differentiation and production of a complex extracellular matrix. Here, we discuss the role of the essential Bacillus subtilis biofilm activator RemA. Despite intense research on biofilms, RemA is a largely underappreciated regulatory protein. RemA forms donut‐shaped octamers with the potential to assemble into dimeric superstructures. The (...) presumed DNA‐binding mode suggests that RemA organizes its target DNA into nucleosome‐like structures, which are the basis for its role as transcriptional activator. We discuss how RemA affects gene expression in the context of biofilm formation, and its regulatory interplay with established components of the biofilm regulatory network, such as SinR, SinI, SlrR, and SlrA. We emphasize the additional role of RemA played in nitrogen metabolism and osmotic‐stress adjustment. (shrink)

The role of coffee in the land usepatterns and decisions of eastern Chiapas looms as akey ingredient in the social and political relationsof this conflicted area. Data from the municipios of Ocosingo, Altamirano, and Las Margaritas – threedistricts generally associated with the January 1994uprising – reveal similarities and distinctdifferences in land use patterns involving coffee. Theintroduction and spread of coffee, as well as themarket and production changes related to this export-oriented sector can be linked to the colonists whosettled this remote (...) region over the past severaldecades. The dynamics between grassrootscampesino producer organizations and the state'snow-defunct National Coffee Institute (INMECAFE)helped set the stage for the economic challenges thatfell full force upon the residents in the area in 1994and beyond. (shrink)

A number of thinkers today, including open theists, find reasons to attribute temporality to God. According to Robert W. Jenson, the Trinity is indispensable to a Christian concept of God, and divine temporality is essential to the meaning of the Trinity. Following the lead of early Christian thought, Jenson argues that the persons of the Trinity are relations, and these relations are temporal. Jenson’s insights are obscured, however, by problematic references to time as a sphere to which God is related. (...) Schubert M. Ogden gives the notion of divine temporality coherent content by arguing that God’s actuality is best understood as an unending succession of experiences. This paper was delivered in the APA Pacific 2007 Mini-Conference on Models of God. (shrink)

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work. This work is in the public domain (...) in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work. As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant. (shrink)

Talbot Brewer offers a new approach to ethical theory, founded on a far-reaching reconsideration of the nature and sources of human agency.