How law perceives the world is often grounded in systems of values and beliefs adopted by the legal practitioners: their interpretive frameworks, prejudices and dispositions, which shape the very ‘paradigms’ upon which they choose to see the ‘facts’ and frame their methods of inquiries. In other words, ‘truth’ in the eyes of the law is but ex post facto (re)construction of ‘reality’ achieved through narratorial articulation of relevant events and chosen facts. Taking off from here, this article sets out to (...) understand: how do we unpack the social ‘constructivism’ of the a priori assumptions that cloak the idea of the ‘vagabond’ in the legal imagination? How does law ‘frame’ the vagabond as a subset within the ‘human’? What conflates this idea with the notion of the ‘abject’? Why at all is vagabondage perceived as a punishable in the eyes of the law? Invoking a few case studies, both from India and beyond, this article points to the arbitrariness in the juridico-political imagination and the ambiguity in the legal articulation of the ‘vagabond’. (shrink)

L’article étudie le mouvement vers un« grand renfermement » des « folles », notamment des « hystériques », qui culminaau tournant des xixe et xxe siècles. Les mesures de placement étaient de la responsabilité des maires et du préfet qui les confiaient aux aliénistes des asiles rouennais. La psychiatrisation des « vagabondes » contribuait ainsi au maintien de l’ordre à l’intérieur de la ville deRouen mais aussi à atténuer la « nocivité » des migrations des femmes aliénées indigentes, journalières ou (...) ouvrières du textile, autour de la capitale de la Haute-Normandie. De renommée régionale ou nationale, les aliénistes qui se succédèrent à la tête de ces asiles produisirent des études statistiques et des observations qui confortaient l’hypothèse que les pathologies féminines avaient des causes sociales et ne pouvaient trouver d’autre solution que l’isolement. (shrink)

This essay examines French filmmaker Agnès Varda’s Le Bonheur (1965) and Vagabond (1985) for their critical invocation of the persistent and patriarchal association of women with plants. Both women and plants are thought within the metaphysical tradition to have a deficient or negative relation to freedom. Varda’s films, however, link the liberation of women in postwar France to the liberation of vegetal being; her female protagonists pursue their liberation by accessing the vegetal freedom that subtends human freedom. In Le (...) Bonheur, Varda uses visual irony to critique the processes of idealization that turn both women and flowers into signifiers of ideal beauty in thrall to the enchantments of happiness. In Vagabond, the enigmatic female drifter at the center of the film enacts a plant-like refusal of self-preservation. In both films, female liberation takes vegetal shape, as their protagonists embody a vegetal silence or vegetal indifference in defiance of the patriarchal situations they encounter. (shrink)

Metamorphoses of Satan.--The obligation of being immortal.--The spiritual vagabond.--The moral zodiac.--The fighting chance for peace.--Absolution for heretics.--Providence by accident.

Twenty years after the demise of apartheid, a typical South African city remains bifurcated. The mushrooming of squatter camps, mekhukhu, in our big cities, symptomises a history that defined the majority of South Africans as sojourners and vagabonds in their motherland. Destined to die in the rural reserves after the extraction of their labour and confined to 'locations' in-between the 'city' and the rural 'home', black experience in the post-1994 city continues to be a manifestation of a life disintegrated from (...) an integrated vision of ikhaya - household - and urban life in democratic South Africa. By critiquing the policies of the post-1994 government on urbanisation, the article argues that for inclusion in the city, the colonial and apartheid polis is not adequate redress to the black experience of urbanisation in South Africa. The quest for the transformation of a city in order for an integrated city in the post-1994 South Africa to be achieved is ostensibly the best starting point, this article argues. (shrink)

The interest shown in marginal groups is explained by a diversity of factors. On the threshold of the modern era appeared an abundant literature devoted to a description of the world of delinquency. More particularly, these were treatises on the mysteries of the forbidden quarters of the cities of the time and on the behavior and way of life of social groups living by swindling or fraud. This being drawn to the exotic and the unusual in society, which was not (...) unrelated to an awakening of ethnological curiosity, was also seen in the flowering of a type of literature which could be called “picaresque.” It had already appeared in the last centuries of the Middle Ages, but it came into full bloom only in the 16th and 17th centuries. The Spanish picaresque novel, because of its literary brilliance and its wide acceptance by the reading public, left in the shade a multitude of similar works coming from other European countries, from the English “rogue pamphlets” to the “rogue” literature of Germany and Holland to the tales of Polish and Czech vagabonds. These literary works are closely related to treatises which claimed to be based on eye-witness accounts or which claimed to report authentic events. In reality, they were all taken from fiction and demand comparison with documentary evidence. But the abundance of this type of literature and the success it enjoyed also indicate an early awareness by modern society of the growing importance of social groups living in contradiction to the norms, manners and customs in force at the time. (shrink)

continent. 1.3 (2011): 201-207. “Poetry is experience, linked to a vital approach, to a movement which is accomplished in the serious, purposeful course of life. In order to write a single line, one must have exhausted life.” —Maurice Blanchot (1982, 89) Nikos Karouzos had a communist teacher for a father and an orthodox priest for a grandfather. From his four years up to his high school graduation he was incessantly educated, reading the entire private library of his granddad, comprising mainly (...) the Orthodox Church Fathers and the ancient classics. Later on in his life he sold the library for money, only to buy a little more time before he went broke again: “I carry sorrow like a cage/ I got no birds/ as I come back from her hair/ I see the profit emptied/ cool from terror.” (1993, Ι, 101) Nowadays—and ridiculously recently—we are more than apt to speak of a certain insouciance pertaining to the Greek form of expenditure: expenditure without any type of investment, sometimes not (even) symbolic. In the vaults of the European unconscious, this imprudent stance still conjures a “capital punishment” in the form of de-capitation, reflecting back the fear of excess and the terror of its consequences.1 Thus the Greek way of living is very close to what a stranger could have termed as “the Greek way of dying.” Yet, what is not often understood is that the Greek esprit , the same one that invented the maxim μηδ?ν ?γαν (“nothing in excess”), does not experience death solely as an imminent fear of bankruptcy. For it miraculously combines its unconditional acceptance with the promise of a resurrection that is always there in the scents of Spring, from Dionysus to the orthodox Christ: “Everyone resurrects himself through dying [….] Resurrection is the switching of mortalities.” (2002, 94) Hence, if an entire library was imprudently traded for a plate with seven olives, a sliced tomato and some fresh goat cheese, let us not be fooled: this is not the meal of the pauper, but that of “an aristocrat from God” (1993, II, 491) feeding his eloquent loudmouth, ridiculously cut open in an otherwise rock-solid caput . *** To speak of the Greek experience is to speak about a half-dead language that still utters in life what is seemingly excluded from it and thus forbidden to be talked about: death. Death as anything that is out of this world, as something that will never return . Still, along with an experience of death that recently waned as a worn-out academic fashion, the Greek experience is dead too. Nearly 2300 years of written words separating Homer from the fall of Byzantium equal 500 books on a library traded for money: “I am with the killed. Hence my deepest solitude. I do not feel this tremendous macho society, beyond from the fact that it is a ruthlessly consuming one. It is me who pays all the time .” (2002, 57) Let us do the math and see how much this dealing with the Greek experience is costing the poet and how much dealing with the Greek experience might cost us today. *** “I do not guarantee a single word.” (Karouzos, 1993, II, 454) Through its various dialects and forms, the Greek language speaks through an incessant historical dissemination. Anyone who is aware of this terrifying polymorphy and still calls himself a poet, must stand against a white sheet of paper, pen-in-hand, with a very particular duty: to be as fully inconsistent as possible. In the formally ironic uniqueness of the poem, the poet functions as “a band-aid for lesser and greater antinomies.” (1993, I, 251) Of course these antinomies are not exhausted in language—they are historical, political and, alas, existential. Yet, beyond appearances , it is language that ruthlessly encodes them through history, submitting the poet to the temptation of placing them one next to the other on a single white sheet. The closer their neighboring, the greater the scattering of the writer in the ironic uniqueness of the paper. In a work where poetic license is described as a “freedom-impasse” (2002, 51), this task is undertaken in full conscience of its personal consequences: “what I am interested in is to escape my individuality (envisioning the non-ego) […] Nevertheless, my dissociations never achieve duration.” (2002, 74-75) Hence, though poetry is the “deserted direction of will,” (1998, 62) the stance of the poet is not that of a Nietzschean “great man.”2 Whereas drunkenness provides a thread between the poem and the excess it both presupposes and infuses (“Poetry always enlarges. ‘Drunkenness’ is nothing more than that,” (2002, 85)), whereas language flashes in loudmouth spurts of déraison (“When I am alone I do something else. I utter words. For example, while having my ouzo and listening to music I am most likely capable of randomly shouting ‘Electricity!’” (2002, 138)), the poet never gives in to the double affirmation that would eventually risk the “element of pleasure in discourse.” (2002, 80)” It is exactly because the gap of the antinomies is so vast that poetry is not meant to be written with a hammer. Neither does writing consist in a reevaluation of those elements. In short, poetry is not an affirmation of difference, but the surprising beauty of chiming antinomies. We might never transcend them, but it is up to us to put them together. Yet again, this voisinage is not to be identified with the necessity of chance as an eternal return.4 On the contrary it is a return from that very return : Let us treat Yes as a No to No and No as a Yes […] And let us not forget that this pissed affirmation crumbled down Nietzsche’s intellect in the dark paths of this world. (2002, 88) This return from the “vicious circle” should in no way be taken as a form of artistic prudence. Rather it can be seen as a dribble of demonic inconsistency as Dionysus transforms himself into a Christ that is in turn de-theologized: “Who can forbid that? Every man is capable of his own theology, nothing can stop him.” (2002, 73-74) This is a turn towards an existential vision of the world, historically coinciding with a particular political defeat of the Left, to which the poet devoted all his life: after the defeat of the popular front I raised the question “why do we exist?” while others were asking “why we failed.” (2002, 57)5 But most of all it is a return to poetry that exceeds the existential question itself, going beyond the issue of faith. Poetry comes in as a question of return after a defeat that is confessed in full profanity. Though it accepts the necessity of the defeat, it does not affirm it. Though it negates it, the negation is not in the name of a promise to be delivered in the kingdom of heavens. Following a historical and existential defeat, poetry is born post mortem . It signals a return to Christ as “groundless religiousness in the surprise of the real as such” (2002, 72) which is at once a return to the refuge of childhood. It is not a question of endurance towards an eternal return. Rather it is a question on the possibility of an existential return. Returning in a world as someone who cannot enjoy any returns exactly because he is averse to guarantees. A return without returns. *** PHOTOCOPY OF HAPPINESS When I was young I used to pin down cicadas and step on ant nests. I used to stand there silent for hours. With threads I decapitated bees. Now I am a dead man breathing. (Karouzos, 1993, II, 336.) The return to the “paradise of childhood” (2002, 68) constitutes the devouring refuge of its own memory when defeat becomes the synonym of adulthood. The political struggles of a young communist in a country torn up by a civil war right after World War II fraught with incarcerations and exiles. Historically they resulted in the defeat of the communist movement in Greece and opened up a long turbulent road that would peak in the dictatorship of 1967. Existentially they led to a series of disillusionments: mental breakdown, divorce, abandonment of studies in law school. To the question “why do we exist” the answer was poetry. Still this exposé should not be read as a sweeping chronography of a man. For it actually happens to coincide with the historical fate of a nation that after its modern constitution never stopped dreaming of the glories of its past youth, in a present that was (and is) sweepingly disappointing. But isn’t this return to youth finally a way of compensating for a loss of youth that necessarily results in a losing adulthood? Will Greeks, the eternal children of Plato and Nietzsche, ever learn? How to return without dying, how to remember without wasting time? WE ARE IN THE OPEN MEANING Living the coldest mauve night right across Parthenon I went to take a piss on some foliage and I was enjoying the foliage as it was steaming. (Karouzos, 1993, II, 340) Beyond the historical tragedies of modern Greece and away from any personal disappointments, the relation that this land holds with language and history is mediated through the Greek light—whose omnipresence is the very condition of its transcendence. All historical contradictions from Dionysus to Christ took place under this light; all those disseminated dialects were spoken beneath its warmth. To paraphrase Lévinas,6 light is both the condition of the world and of our withdrawal from it—a withdrawal towards the invisibility of God, of the dead, of meta-physics, resulting from the temptation that all is still here, behind this light the visibility of which they once evaded: “birds, the allurement of God.” (1993, I, 17) Under that luminous sky, if Greeks can do anything at all, it is to envision a return that will never come. All they can do is write poetry—which is doing nothing; other than lending an ear to a disseminated language whispering a unity that cannot be promised, as an adulthood in defeat is ready to recognize. Trying “to trap the invisible in visibility” (1993, II, 483) they forget that they have grown up and one day they die—with the promise of return. Hence an additional meaning must be given to this return to childhood. It does not signal salvation but rather its promise. To the ears of an aged continent it means that the return to/of poetry is a losing game, a return without returns. “Europe, Europe… you are nothing more than the continuation of Barabbas.” (1993, I, 295) *** “Life is not there to verify theories.”7 The records show that Karouzos was finally given a second-class pension from the Greek government, at the time when he was being recognized by the literary press as one of Greece’s major contemporary poets. Being neither a bourgeois nor a nobelist, he proclaimed himself to be an anarcho-communist, unconditionally faithful to the utopia of a classless society. He also drank, heavily. “Capitalism made an animal out of man/ Marxism made an animal out of truth/ Shut up.” (1993, II, 369) Perhaps one of the most scandalous divides of our times has been the one between the living and the dead, the latent prohibition that the living should not be concerned with the dead based on the mere impossibility of the dead to be concerned with the living in the first place. What adds to this scandal is that this divide abuses anything that cannot return to us by subsuming it under the same futility. Hence death is no longer “loss” in the usual sense. It no more refers to the things we lost but to our “loss” (of time, money and well-being) as we insist to dwell on them. Death is a waste —of time. It is this waste that we find in the insouciance of Greek expenditure; the waste in dealing with a language that most of its historical part is no longer spoken (a dead language); the waste in translating a poet who is ex definitio untranslatable; the waste of his vision, his money, his life. The waste of dealing with anything that cannot return and that cannot bring in any returns . But it is also the waste of life that poetry itself presupposes, the waste of dealing with invisibility, with anything that is out of this world and thus invokes the fear of death that is in turn—and surprisingly— nowhere to be found. Instead of death, what is there, beyond the light, is the being without us (to recall the Lévinasian il y a ), the mumble of our own nothingness which constitutes the price to be paid for writing poetry under an evergreek light. To understand this to-and-fro, is to realize that poetry is something out of this world that nevertheless takes place in this world, by virtue of this world. But to ridiculously equate this to-and-fro with death as non-existence, is to exile poetry along with its own possibility from this same old world: I do not believe that poetry will ever disappear from this world. […] But I am also sure that it does not have many chances of playing, as you say, a redemptive role in our vertiginous technological future. Without being endangered as a creative need, it will be placed on the side of history. (2002, 32) It is mainly there that we would like to locate the meaning of Nikos Karouzos’s poetry today. If we are willing to include the Greek original it is because we consider that it will be both a waste of time for us to do so (since most of you cannot read Greek) and because it might induce you to the even larger waste of learning it. We would additionally be glad if this small introduction served as an equally wasteful, academically useless piece of reading, gesturing towards a taboo of investing in anything Greek—that is in anything dead among the living, in anything that will never come back and maybe was never here in the first place. This is the only way to reserve for ourselves the possibility of poetry and preserve the light of its promise. “To return: that is the miracle.” (1993, I, 17) Athens, Greece July 10, 2011 NOTES 1 “ Capitale (a Late Latin word based on caput “head”) emerged in the twelfth to thirteenth centuries in the sense of funds, stock of merchandise, sum of money or money carrying interest.[…] The word and the reality it stood for appear in the sermons of St. Bernardino of Siena (1380-1444) ‘… quamdam seminalem rationem lucrosi quam communiter capitale vocamus ’, ‘that prolific cause of wealth that we commonly call capital’” (Braudel, 1992, 232-233). 2 “A great man – a man whom nature has constructed and invented in the grand style – what is he? First : there is a long logic in all of his activity, hard to survey because of its length, and consequently misleading; he has the ability to extend his will across great stretches of his life and to despise and reject everything petty about him, including even the fairest, ‘divinest’ things in the world.” (Nietzsche, 1968, 505, §962) 3 Cf. Deleuze, 1986, 186-9. 4 “Return is the being of becoming, the unity of multiplicity, the necessity of chance: the being of difference as such or the eternal return.” (Deleuze, 189)5 In this 1982 interview Karouzos refers to the defeat of the communist movement in Greece after the civil war of 1946-1949 between the Governmental Army and the Democratic Army of Greece, the military division of the Greek communist party. Karouzos’s father was a member of the communist National Liberation front (EAM) members of which formed the mainl resistance movement (ELAS) in Greece during WWII. The poet was a member of the United Panhellenic Organization of Youth (EPON), which was a youth division of EAM. After the end of the war, ELAS was called to disarmament in view of the formation of a National Army. The members of EAM resigned from the government of national unity and a series of protests led to a 3 year civil war between ELAS and the Government Army. After the defeat of ELAS the Communist party was outlawed and many communists were exiled in deserted Greek islands. Karouzos, who took action in the Greek resistance and was active during the Greek civil war, was exiled in Icaria on 1947 and in Makronisos on 1953 where he was called two years earlier to do his military service. 6 “Existence in the world qua light, which makes desire possible, is then, in the midst of being, the possibility of detaching oneself from being. To enter into being is to link up with objects; it is in effect a bond that is already tainted with nullity. It is already to escape anonymity. In this world where everything seems to affirm our solidarity with the totality of existence, where we are caught up in the gears of a universal mechanism, our first feeling, our ineradicable illusion, is a feeling or illusion of freedom. To be in the world is this hesitation, this interval in existing, which we have seen in the analyses of fatigue and the present.” (Lévinas, 1988,43-4) 7from a TV interview. THE POETRY OF NIKOS KAROUZOS From Redwriter [ Ερυθρογρ?φος ], in Collected Works, Vol . II, Athens: Ikaros. 1993, 463-4. [Athens: Apopeira, 1990, 9-10.] JESUS ANTI-OEDIPUS* Why were we once saving till the fifth day the Paschal lamb? The scriptures say: with this victim’s meat we ought to cleanse all of our senses. To give life to the whitest wave miraculous odors in the extension of the chest. Ideals to death. For us to witness the illustrious dawns of Absinthe and for the soul to be a deeply carved ornament on the fore we named will. Then many deer running amidst the evergreen growth with watery hymns, then, the unintended angels descending with heights spiraling in their momentum offer themselves to the luminous Adventure. Whence the need for speech and our sufferings covered with flags like the glorified dead. An incorporeal finger pointing at the flamboyant and fragrant holocausts within the tired horizons and the exhausted breadths with joys of the mistletoe on fire and shivering all of the green-leaved love. Something would have chirped again had we not driven it away— maybe the ewe’s grass. Something would have called us to the eternal resurrection— maybe the grace of spring. But now our heart is fiercely blinded, withdrawn to the appearances of Hades. Silence and ice incessantly cover the Infant Spirit in thatched times. While the cherry trees are dreaming faintly glowing in absolute darkness there’s nothing the Babylonians can contemplate in labs with automatic colored lights. How to rejoice now in the fifth day of the lamb? We have forked the stars. We’ve gradually become supposedly sublime with plucked chimeras in our hands. Avenged relentlessly by science. *Though the poem appears in a 1990 collection, it was actually written in 1968. Hence the reader must be aware in not associating Karouzos’ Anti-Oedipus with the famous 1972 work of Deleuze and Guattari, given that the former precedes the latter. ΙΗΣΟΥΣ ΑΝΤΙ-ΟΙΔΙΠΟΥΣ Γιατ? κρατο?σαμε κ?ποτε ?ς την π?μπτη μ?ρα το πασχαλιν? πρ?βατο; Τα κε?μενα λ?νε: μ’ αυτο? του θ?ματος το κρ?ας ?πρεπε να καθαρ?σουμε ?λες τις αισθ?σεις. Για να δ?σουμε κ?μα στη ζω? λευκ?τατο θαυμ?σιες ευωδι?ς στην ?κταση του στ?θους. Ιδανικ? στο χ?ρο. Για να βλ?πουμε τα λαμπρ? χαρ?ματα του ?ψινθου και να ’ναι η ψυχ? στ?λισμα βαθυχ?ρακτο της πλ?ρης που την ε?παμε θ?ληση. Τ?τε πολλ?ς δορκ?δες τρ?χοντας αν?μεσα στην καταπρ?σινη φ?ση με τους υδ?τινους ?μνους, τ?τε, κατεβα?νοντας οι αθ?λητοι ?γγελοι με κυλινδο?μενο το ?ψος στην ορμ? τους χαρ?ζονται της αστραφτερ?ς Περιπ?τειας. ?θεν η μιλι? γι’ αυτ? χρει?ζεται και τα δειν? σκεπ?ζονται ωσ?ν τους τιμημ?νους νεκρο?ς με σημα?ες. Ασ?ματο δ?χτυλο δε?χνει τα φλογ?δη και μοσχοβ?λα ολοκαυτ?ματα στους κουρασμ?νους ορ?ζοντες στα εξουθενωμ?να πλ?τη καθ?ς αν?βουν οι χαρ?ς του νερα?δ?ξυλου και τρ?μει ολ?κληρη η πρασιν?φυλλη αγ?πη. Κ?τι θα κελαηδο?σε π?λι αν δεν το δι?χναμε— μπορε? της προβατ?νας το χορτ?ρι. Κ?τι θα μας καλο?σε στην απ?ραντη αν?σταση— μπορε? του ?αρος η χ?ρη. Μα η καρδι? μας ?γρια τυφλ?θηκε π?ρασε στα φαιν?μενα του ?δη. Σιγ? και π?γος αδι?κοπα σκεπ?ζει στους αχυρ?νιους καιρο?ς το Ν?πιο Πνε?μα. Την ?ρα που ονειρε?ονται οι βυσσινι?ς και λ?μπουν αμυδρ? μεσ’ στο απλ?τατο σκοτ?δι τ?ποτα δε στοχ?ζονται οι βαβυλ?νιοι στα εργαστ?ρια με τ’ αυτ?ματα χρωματιστ? φ?τα. Π?ς να χαρο?με πια την π?μπτη μ?ρα του προβ?του; Φουρκ?σαμε τ’ αστ?ρια. Γ?ναμε σιγ?-σιγ? δ?θεν υπ?ροχοι με μαδημ?νες χ?μαιρες στα χ?ρια. Μας ν?μεται σκληρ? η επιστ?μη. From: Redwriter [Ερυθρογρ?φος], in Collected Works, Vol. II, Athens: Ikaros. 1993, 472. [Athens: Apopeira, 1990, 18.] DIALECTΙCS OF SPRING Christ the straight angle; Christ the Pythagorean theorem. Christ the infinitesimal calculus from above the blessed Sets Christ. Christ the tessellation of massive particles Christ the zero mass. Hence we spray numbers and fields of lust. We are carabineers of diseased logic plus something— Observed means observer and Hekate The darkness luminous and light in the dark Astarte banqueters demons from today. ΔΙΑΛΕΚΤΙΚΗ ΤΟΥ ΕΑΡΟΣ Χριστ?ς η ορθ? γων?α· Χριστ?ς το πυθαγ?ριο θε?ρημα. Χριστ?ς ο απειροστικ?ς λογισμ?ς ?νωθεν ?λβια Χριστ?ς τα Σ?νολα. Χριστ?ς η ψηφιδογραφ?α στα μαζικ? σωμ?τια Χριστ?ς η μ?ζα μηδ?ν. ?ρα ψεκ?ζουμε αριθμο?ς και πεδ?α λαγνε?ας. Ε?μαστε τυφεκιοφ?ροι νοσο?σης λογικ?ς και κ?τι-- παρατηρο?μενο σημα?νει παρατηρητ?ς και Εκ?τη σκ?τος το π?μφωτο και φως εν τ? σκοτ?? η Αστ?ρτη συνδαιτημ?νες δα?μονες απ’ ?ρτι. From: Redwriter [Ερυθρογρ?φος], Athens: Apopeira, 1990, 18. [1993, II, 472]. CREDO (as we are used to say in Latin) Α I believe in one Poet expelled from heavens / fugitive from the god and vagabond, Empedocles / and here on earth / exile on the earth etc. of Baudelaire /. Β I believe in one Computer inside thunder and through matter. Γ Suffering undefiled / substantive / the Poet uplifts himself slow-burning suicidal implying lengthy sleeps. Δ Cutting down on prospective mistakes. Ε Of all things visible and invisible officiating the onion-peelings. Ζ The Poet has nothing / see the departed /. Η I believe in one Poet that says: madness I enjoy; he ridicules existence; let me light up from my mana. Θ Syntax he doesn’t care about when musicality commands him. Along with still more licenses, and Ts are played according to the concept sound anywhere. E.g. the winters here, he winters there; it will not come—I will not rest, etc. etc. Ι The Poet exercises thought until it’s stripped down. Κ And if he’s Greek he must always study the fineness of Attica, in light, mountains, fields and sea. For this fineness teaches language. Λ And if he’s deeply destined the Poet expresses the unexplainable of the explained; he happens to be a rightful heir to the scientist and his predecessor. Μ On the froth he does not last; the Poet blusters at the bottom of the pot. Ν Flamebred and never redeemed. Ξ The Poet must sometimes say: what a consumption of presence — be a bit lonely for a change! Ο The Poet is twilit. Π He is susceptible of deaths and resurrections. Ρ He looks from the corner of his eye and exists in a glance. Σ He follows behind the mother. Τ Eveningless when it comes to age. Υ I believe in one Poet who says: let the purities coincide. Until the Corinth of the Universe or even further. Φ In a higher despair. Χ In a brighter quintessence. Ψ In one sensation that lifts off. Ω Forgiving everyone. CREDO (ως ε?θισται να λ?με λατινιστ?) Α Πιστε?ω εις ?να Ποιητ?ν εκτ?ς ουρανο? / φυγ?ς θε?θεν και αλ?της, Εμπεδοκλ?ς / και επ? της γης / εξ?ριστος π?νω στη γη κ.λπ. του Βωδελα?ρου /. Β Πιστε?ω εις ?να Υπολογιστ?ν εντ?ς κεραυνο? και δια της ?λης. Γ Υποφ?ροντας ?χραντα / ουσιαστικ?ν / ο Ποιητ?ς ανατε?νεται βραδυφλεγ?ς αυτ?χειρας εξυπακο?οντας πολ?ωρους ?πνους. Δ Τα υποψ?φια λ?θη λιγοστε?οντας. Ε Ορατ?ν τε π?ντων και αορ?των ιερουργ?ντας την αποκρομμ?ωση. Ζ Ο Ποιτ?ς ?χει τ?ποτα / βλ?πε τους αναχωρ?σαντες /. Η Πιστε?ω εις ?να Ποιητ?ν που λ?ει: η τρ?λα μ’ αρ?σει· γελοιοποιε? την ?παρξη· ας αν?ψω απ’ τη μ?να μου. Θ Συνταχτικ? δεν το γνοι?ζεται στην προσταγ? της μουσικ?τητας. Μαζ? και μ’ ?λλες ακ?μη λευτερι?ς, και τα νυ πα?ζονται κατ? την ?ννοια ?χος οπουδ?ποτε. Π.χ. τον χειμ?να εδ?, το χειμ?να εκε?· δε θ? ’ρθει – δεν θα καταλαγι?σουμε, κ. λπ. κ.λπ. Ι Ο Ποιητ?ς γυμν?ζει τη σκ?ψη σε απογ?μνωση. Κ Κι αν ε?ναι ?λληνας οφε?λει να σπουδ?ζει π?ντοτε της Αττικ?ς τη λεπτ?τητα, σε φως, βουν?, χωρ?φια και θ?λασσα. Διδ?σκει γλ?σσα η λεπτ?τητα το?τη. Λ Κι αν ε?ναι βαθι? πεπρωμ?νος ο Ποιητ?ς εκφρ?ζει το ανεξ?γητο του εξηγητο?· τυγχ?νει ν?μιμος δι?δοχος του επιστ?μονα και προκ?τοχ?ς του. Μ Στον αφρ? δεν ?χει δι?ρκεια· στο πατοκ?ζανο μα?νεται ο Ποιητ?ς. Ν Φλογοδ?αιτος και ποτ? ξελυτρωμ?νος. Ξ Ο Ποιητ?ς κ?ποτε πρ?πει να λ?ει: μεγ?λη καταν?λωση παρουσ?ας – γενε?τε και λ?γο μοναξι?ρηδες! Ο Ο Ποιητ?ς ε?ναι αμφ?φλοξ. Π Επιδ?χεται θαν?τους και αναστ?σεις. Ρ Ακροθωρ?ζει και υπ?ρχει σε ξαφνοκο?ταγμα. Σ Ε?ναι ουραγ?ς της μητ?ρας. Τ Αν?σπερος απ? ηλικ?α. Υ Πιστε?ω εις ?να Ποιητ?ν που λ?ει: να συμπ?σουν οι αγν?τητες. Μ?χρι την Κ?ρινθο του Σ?μπαντος ? μακρ?τερα. Φ Σε αν?τερη απελπισ?α. Χ Σε φαειν?τερη πεμπτουσ?α. Ψ Σε μια α?σθηση που πτηνο?ται. Ω Συγχωρ?ντας τους π?ντες. From Large Sized Logic [ Λογικ? μεγ?λου σχ?ματος ], Athens: Erato, 1989, n.p. [1993, II, 521-3]. (shrink)

L’iconologie traditionnelle a fixé la représentation d’un être « inspiré », immobilisé par une soudaine et visible illumination, main levée ou en suspens, regard fixe et aimanté. À l’inverse de cette image arrêtée, on souhaite mettre en valeur la dynamique d’une quête, d’un « voyage des idées ». L’idée même d’inspiration témoigne de glissements notionnels, de reprises et de refontes ; plus encore, elle permet de reconsidérer la métaphore du voyage — voyage des idées et par les idées. En soulignant (...) le lent déplacement notionnel qui ramène l’inspiration du ciel à la terre et de l’extraordinaire à l’ordinaire, on plaidera pour la puissance d’idées « vagabondes ». Les poursuivre oblige à transgresser délimitations et frontières, à construire l’itinéraire hasardeux d’une pensée risquée. (shrink)

Femmes de grandes tribus commerçantes, filles de bonnes familles ou de groupes statutairement méprisés, héritières rebelles ou épouses prospères, ou encore amoureuses vagabondes, les quatre businesswomen présentées dans ce travail sont, sans doute, les pionnières de la classe d’affaires féminine mauritanienne. De la fin de la période coloniale aux premiers pas de la Mauritanie indépendante, l’analyse des trajectoires professionnelles et des itinéraires personnels de ces Dames – constitués d’une multitude d’opportunismes et de pieds de nez à l’ordre social établi – (...) donne à comprendre leurs capacités à s’établir comme des notables fortunées et incontournables dans la sphère commerçante transnationale balisée par les hommes. Elles incarnent tout simplement, aux yeux du chercheur, une mise en réseau du monde bien antérieure aux théories postmodernes d’un capitalisme désorganisé. Elles incarnent en Mauritanie les protagonistes principales de success stories au féminin. (shrink)

This article reflects on the anthropological aspect of the pilgrimage, the human journey, as a metaphor for life, as a way of relating and understanding religion, spirituality, life itself and tourism as forms of pilgrimage. The pilgrimages of the Christian tradition will be analyzed, seeking to understand them of the anthropology of Victor Turner, analyzing the pilgrimage as a state of liminality and liminoid. Concretely we will look at the case of the Romarias da Terra in Brazil, as an example (...) of liminality/ liminoid and communitas. In addition, this article reflects on the "new centers" of pilgrimage, outside the religious scope, as spaces of pop culture or the visit to tourist sites and monuments of social and cultural memory. The goal is to understand where people have pilgrims and what the meaning of these pilgrimages. In this displacement out of the religious scope, one wonders if tourism would also be a form of pilgrimage. Or would tourism lack precisely the preliminary aspect, something that could be related to Bauman's analysis of the tourist and the vagabond? It is suspected that in a globalized world, places lose their content and identity. People pass through places, but places no longer pass through them. With this, walking also loses its liminal function. (shrink)

The main ideas underlying Bauman’s liquid modernity are explained and then extended to incorporate current ideas about complexity and turbulence. This combination is used to argue that although Bauman himself refuses to offer any resolution to the paradoxes of liquid modernity, complexity theory may be useful: in particular the argument that the seemingly chaotic may actually result in some sort of order. The section also points to the ways in which liquid modernity provides a constant reminder of the underside of (...) contemporary existence; vagabonds and waste as well as tourists and flexibility. (shrink)

The thesis of this essay is that Gertrude Stein plays an important role in The Differend, the brevity of her appearance in the book notwithstanding. Scarcely one and a half pages long, Lyotard’s discussion of a string of quotations from Stein is the most sustained consideration of a female author in his text. Lyotard is intrigued by Stein’s efforts to conceive of la phrase less as a form or building block than an event—or rupture—of language. Characterizing her work as écriture (...) féminine, he cannot decide whether her “vagabond prose” is one genre among others or a uniquely disruptive verbal praxis that unsettles his most basic ideas about phrases and genres. In the final analysis, the precise status of Stein in Lyotard’s thought remains uncertain, as if her unruly presence might simply be a quirk of the signifier stein. (shrink)

Perhaps due to the familiarity with the experience of travel, travel has remained a partial “unthought” in the history of philosophy. By bringing philosophy, literature, sociology and anthropology into dialogue, the volume addresses travel in its dual meaning of concept and experience, attempting on the one hand, to explore it as a cultural constant, and on the other, to describe its multiple manifestations, with particular attention to contemporaneity, in which the practices of mass tourism, virtual tourism, flânerie and urbex gain (...) increasing relevance. But travel also has an anachronistic dimension, because it puts us in relation to desire, which is timeless. Desire always follows a motion elsewhere: it is wavering, restless, vagabond, it pushes us to leave and change incessantly. The desire to be someone else, to be somewhere else. This volume reflects on the relationship we have with desire and identity through travel, which is capable of transforming both. (shrink)

An examination of the studies of the French historian of religion Jean Delumeau on the subject of ‘angst’ and awareness of guilt as a collective mode of being, characteristic of Europeans from the 13th to the 18th century, will not only provide the reader with a nuanced picture of the influence of the so-called Renaissance and Reform Movement on the liberation of the human person, but he or she will also find it difficult to resist the temptation to draw parallels (...) with current explanations for the present day increase in feelings of insecurity and ‘angst’.Both then and now the collective ‘angst’ resulting from epidemic, war, famine and natural disaster vented themselves against ‘outsiders’, those who were different; foreigners witches, gypsies, heretics, vagabonds, the insane and the crippled all became targets. Just as people today try to discern devilish plans afoot in a world stricken by AIDS, environmental and health dangers, by growing unemployment, fundamentalism and migration, and by plans intent on undermining Western civilisation as we know it, so also then people found it easy to identify demons in the ‘other’, disguised Antichrists and Satans whose sole purpose was to undermine Christian culture. In those days people tried to avert the danger by attempting to force Muslims by government decree and Cathars by the Inquisition to embrace the true faith of Christians. Today we try to do the same by submitting foreigners to an ever narrowing concept of integration.In pre-modern culture, just as today, subjective feelings of insecurity were disproportional to objective insecurity, and although the chances of falling victim to epidemic, war or criminal acts were much greater among the lower social classes, protests of insecurity from among the better situated classes, tended to set the tone, as they continue to do today.Two aspects of Delumeau’s evocation of the culture of ‘angst’ are particularly striking. Firstly, one becomes aware of the quasi evident moralising with which people tackled the most diverse social phenomena. Signs of God’s wrath were to be found everywhere as moral warnings. Difference and alterity was immediately understood in terms of godlessness, decline, guilt, sin, unworthiness, vice, wickedness or cunning. The Christian culture was in its very core a culture of meaning in which everything, as a matter of course, acquired a moral significance. In this regard, the advent of Protestantism did not essentially change matters: morality shifted towards individual responsibility, but its worldview did not become less moralising as a result. Actually, it became even more moralising. Secondly, one becomes aware of the sustained efforts of the Church to spread and intensify the culture of ‘angst’ and to view everything from the perspective of the contemptus mundi, vitae et homini. Every form of human joy, delight or pleasure was condemned as a manifestation of insufficiency in one’s fear of God. Although the world was never to become the ‘vale of tears’ of which the clerical authorities dreamed, ‘angst’ and fear were nevertheless an essential feature of the condition humaine of the time and the dominant religious cultural expressions of the day were solely directed towards the maintenance of such a culture of ‘angst’. (shrink)

In my research I will try to analyse Zugmunt Bauman reflection about human subject. This author applies rather identity than human subject, but I think we may admit Apple subjectivity instead of identity. Bauman's concept of model personality like a pilgrim on one hand and a stroller, vagabond and player on the other hand, link these categories of human subject. Identity of human subject is continually made "liquid" and has constant potency to change. In consequence, identity is an infinite (...) aimless process because its main determinant – certainty of future connected with values (truth or worth) – are to distort. Does identity in postmodern age is just a wish, which is not realized? Does identity prop on conflict in human existence and never is constant? I will try to go through that and another question and possible answers within Bauman philosophy. In the contemporary debate we see a strong tendency to make a distance to Maxim description. The main problems like truth, subject or knowledge are used in its context. This intellectual climate depends on the basic modernist guidelines. The Cartesian model of cognition especially the strong possibility of cognition is challenged. Lyotard, Foucault, Rorty or Bauman support that tendency. (shrink)

Søren Kierkegaard was an almost unbelievably prolific writer. At his death he left not only a massive body of published work, but also a sprawling mass of unpublished writings that rivaled the size of the published corpus. This book tells the story of the peculiar fate of this portion of Kierkegaard's literary remains, which flowed ceaselessly from his steel pen from his late teens to a week before his death. It is the story of packets and sacks of paper covered (...) with words and images that, after a vagabond existence in various homes, finally landed at the Royal Danish Library, where they are today guarded with great care.Readers are also introduced to a selection of this enormous body of material, including drawings and doodlings that escaped from Kierkegaard's pen in unguarded moments and complement the allure of the philosopher's strikingly variable, elusive handwriting. The authors of this book are among the editors of a modern critical edition of Kierkegaard's oeuvre currently being produced in Copenhagen.By the end of his life Kierkegaard had become a controversial figure, engaged in a furious assault upon "Christendom." From the very moment of their discovery in the days following his death, the unpublished words and images constituted a highly problematic bonanza, an intellectual and religious hot potato that was passed from hand to hand, suppressed, selectively and tendentiously published and republished. Written Images offers readers a fascinating tour of the misadventures of these written images that will, finally, soon be published in their entirety. (shrink)

Søren Kierkegaard (1813-55) was an almost unbelievably prolific writer. At his death he left not only a massive body of published work (25 volumes in the recently completed Princeton University Press edition), but also a sprawling mass of unpublished writings that rivaled the size of the published corpus. This book tells the story of the peculiar fate of this portion of Kierkegaard's literary remains, which flowed ceaselessly from his steel pen from his late teens to a week before his death. (...) It is the story of packets and sacks of paper covered with words and images that, after a vagabond existence in various homes, finally landed at the Royal Danish Library, where they are today guarded with great care. Readers are also introduced to a selection of this enormous body of material, including drawings and doodlings (often human profiles with high foreheads) that escaped from Kierkegaard's pen in unguarded moments and complement the allure of the philosopher's strikingly variable, elusive handwriting. The authors of this book are among the editors of a modern critical edition of Kierkegaard's oeuvre currently being produced in Copenhagen. By the end of his life Kierkegaard had become a controversial figure, engaged in a furious assault upon "Christendom." From the very moment of their discovery in the days following his death, the unpublished words and images constituted a highly problematic bonanza, an intellectual and religious hot potato (or sack of potatoes) that was passed from hand to hand, suppressed, selectively and tendentiously published and republished. Written Images offers readers a fascinating tour of the misadventures of these written images that will, finally, soon be published in their entirety. (shrink)

Globalization cuts both ways. Not only does it valorize the local in a cultural sense, it constructs the local as the tribal. Processes of geopolitical fragmentation give those in power even more room to manoeuvre. Glocalization involves the reallocation of poverty and stigma from above without even the residual responsibility of noblesse oblige. Geographical and social mobility are dichotomized; populations are refigured as tourists and vagabonds. Globalization thus reinforces already existing patterns of domination, while globalization indicates trends to dispersal and (...) conflict on neo-traditional grounds. The privileged walk, or fly away; the others take revenge upon each other. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction The Jamesian/Rortyian Pragmatist Account of Truth The Peircean Account of Truth Genuine Belief and Deformed Belief References.

In so curious, lively, and passionate an epoch as that of Theophrastus Paracelsus, the life and work of few other persons generated as much admiration, as many repercussions and so much influence as did his. At the same time, few others caused as much animosity and hostility. And yet, there are few others about whose work and thought we are less informed. Who was this infamous vagabond? Was he a profound scientist, whose struggles against Aristotelian physics and classical medicine (...) supposedly laid the foundations of modern experimental medicine? Was he a precursor to nineteenth century rational science? Was he an erudite physician, or an ignorant charlatan? A peddler of superstition and quackery, an astrologist, a magician, a gold maker? Was he one of the greatest minds of the Renaissance, or simply a latecomer to Middle Age mysticism, a ‘gothic’? Was he a pantheistic cabalist, an adept of a vague Neo-Platonism and natural magic? Or was he ‘the physician’, ever watchful over suffering humanity; a man who found and formulated a new conception of life, the universe, of God and humanity? Was he, with a deeply Christian mind, one who attempted his own ‘reformation’ in the solitude of the Swiss mountains, who preached an evangelical, sophisticated form of mysticism, without clergy, dogma, and rites? Or was Paracelsus ultimately a Christian who, in spite of his frequently heterodox, even heretical opinions, remained faithful to his Church, preferring Catholicism to the new Protestant churches? (shrink)

These essays, first presented at a conference, “Coping with Sickness,” held in Italy in 1997, address ethical and regulatory medical issues within a historical context. Many of the essays, while addressing interesting topics, combine policy analysis and critical cultural theory. Critical cultural theory can be intellectually engaging at times but is generally irrelevant to public officials concerned with specific policy issues.Coping with Sickness is the third and final volume derived from a series of conferences cosponsored by the European Science Foundation (...) and the Euroconferences Activity of the European Union. The eight essays are organized chronologically and cover a range of disparate topics: medical practitioners and the Spanish Inquisition , the history of autopsy legislation in German since 1800 , the history of “sadism” as a medical term in the nineteenth century , folk medicine in Holland in the late nineteenth century , abortion in Weimar Germany , drug testing in Africa in the early twentieth century , comparative policies toward STDs , and the debate over brain death in Germany . As might be expected in an anthology of this sort, the quality varies considerably. Nonetheless, the subjects addressed in this volume are engaging—much to the credit of the editors.Two pieces in particular represent the range of these collected essays. In “Vacher the Ripper and the Construction of the Nineteenth‐Century Sadist,” Angus McLaren, one of the best historians writing on the history of sexuality today, explores the “discovery” of sadism in the late nineteenth century by focusing on the dramatic trial of Joseph Vacher, who was charged in 1895 for the brutal sexual murder of a woman in Champuis. He later confessed to the murder and the sexual violation of another seven females and four males. Vacher had a long history of mental illness; indeed, he had been institutionalized in July 1893 following a failed attempt at suicide that left a bullet lodged in his head. At the trial the criminologist Alexandre Lacassagne was brought in as an expert witness to testify that Vacher was not insane but an antisocial sadist, as revealed by his dabbling in anarchism, vagabondism, and homosexuality. As a consequence, Vacher was found guilty and given a death sentence.McLaren finds in this trial an example of the social construction of a new medical concept, “sadism.” The emergence of the concept of sadism, he argues, reflected a “gendered notion” of defining appropriate male and female behavior; physicians at the turn of the century believed that “civilized men were most threatened, not by excess passion, but by the enervation spawned by urban life” . The concept of sadism was also employed by doctors to enhance their own authority and to alert the public to the dangers of a male manifesting “feminine traits” and to “beat back” homosexuality.There is much interesting conjecture to McLaren's study, but what policy lessons should be drawn from this remains unclear. If every concept is actually a social construction, reflecting the social anxieties of the age, then is the fashionable concept of social construction itself socially constructed to enhance the authority of the medical historian?More interesting methodologically is Claudia Wiesemann's absorbing essay on the historical debate in Germany over “brain death.” Relying on Ulrich Beck's social theory of simple and reflexive modernization, she shows that, when confronted with complex scientific questions, the public has to decide between competing plausible scientific claims; as a result, political groups make use of scientific expertise and counterexpertise to push their favorite practical and legal solutions. (shrink)

The Institute of Social Research, from which the Frankfurt School developed, was founded in the early years of the Weimar Republic. It survived the Nazi era in exile, to become an important centre of social theory in the postwar era. Early members of the school, such as Adorno, Horkheimer and Marcuse, developed a form of Marxist theory known as Critical Theory, which became influential in the study of class, politics, culture and ideology. The work of more recent members, and in (...) particular Habermas, has received wide attention throughout Europe and North America. Tom Bottomore's study takes a new and controversial look at the contributions of the Frankfurt School to modern sociology, examining several issues not previously discussed elsewhere. He discusses the neglect of history and political economy by the critical theorists, and considers the relationship of the later Frankfurt School to the radical movements of the 1960s and the present time. His critical analysis makes the school's writers accessible, through an assessment of their work and an exploration of the relationship of Critical Theory to other forms of sociological thought, especially positivism and structuralism. (shrink)

Sixteen American college students spent a month in India with His Holiness the Seventeenth Karmapa. Together, they discussed topics ranging from food justice to gender identities to sustainable compassion. The Karmapa's teachings in this book are the product of those meetings. For those who wish to take up its challenge, this book can serve as a guide to being a friend to this planet and to all of us who share it. The Karmapa describes how to see the world as (...) a global community, in which people are linked by their shared concerns for humanity--and their wish to bring about real change. While acknowledging the magnitude of this undertaking, the Karmapa shows us how to go about it, using the inner resources we have already. (shrink)

ABSTRACTIn this volume, we include four commentaries to Larry Minear's important article ‘Conscience and Carnage in Iraq and Afghanistan’ from our 2014 volume, as well as a response from the author. The commentaries and the author's response ponder various aspects of the challenge of conscientious objection to military service. Is there room for such objection within an all-volunteer force? Do such objectors serve an important role in our society – and in the military? May one object to some wars conscientiously, (...) but not all? And where are these discussions headed today? The debates on conscientious objection arguably form an important part of the discipline of military ethics, and thus an important part of the conversations carried on in this journal. (shrink)