Abstract:Working with students in ways that emphasize creativity and improvisation presupposes a posture of openness and self-regard for all stakeholders. The teacher in such a setting can neither impose an ideology nor fix expectations for growth. The students, composing and improvising collectively, will encounter opportunities to test beliefs and practice reflective thinking. Many questions are unresolved. How do students develop criticality in an open classroom? What assurances are there that they will choose projects that address justice, repair, and belonging? In (...) this essay, I grapple with the limitations that confront a truly creative and open-ended music classroom. I fear that I cannot ensure criticality, though other rewards may attend its risk. (shrink)

This article examines the educational function of the North American wind band program. Issues such as band education's methodological control, perceived lack of self-reflection or inquiry, its insecurity concerning program legitimacy, and the systemic fear that seems to permeate its history provide the framework for this exploration. With a philosophical eye toward the future of school-based instrumental music education each author brings perspective to the task of critiquing an institution that has taken on the seemingly sacrosanct and inviolable trappings of (...) tradition and ritual. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 13.1 (2005) 104-108 [Access article in PDF] A Response to Estelle R. Jorgensen, "Four Philosophical Models of the Relationship Between Theory and Practice" Randall Everett Allsup Teachers College, Columbia University Each of the four philosophical models that Estelle Jorgensen has put forth contests, adheres to, or adjusts the hierarchical relationships between dualities, specifically the theory and practice of musical learning. The dichotomy (...) model faces binary associations head on, splitting existence however defined into dualisms like "this/that," "us/them," and "mind/body." Models of polarity, according to Jorgensen, accommodate dualities by buffering edges, emphasizing the interconnectedness of binary relationships. The fusion metaphor is exemplified by Paulo Freire's notion of praxis in which action and reflection are welded together to create hope for a new world, one free of the oppression and conflict that is inherent in binary relationships. The dialectical model is contrapuntal by nature, Edward Said would say.1This relationship highlights our postmodern devotion to différence by embracing the tension created through inclusion so that "this is with that," "we are with them and they are with us," and "mind is with body, just as body is with mind."2Perhaps there is a fifth model, a new kind of relationship where the oppositional or hierarchical nature of binaries co-exists peacefully without tension. [End Page 104] Such an arrangement is, I think, an outgrowth of capitalist democracy—it is, most especially, representative of our global, information age. This type of relationship is problematic philosophically, we will see, lacking as Jorgensen has outlined "logic evidenced in principles," "internal consistency," and "coherence within a unity or whole." Likewise for Bennett Reimer, this new mind-set fails the test of philosophical scrutiny, unconcerned as it is with a "reasoned, structured set of propositions."3 Whether philosophy or mind-set, this new arrangement has as much to do with freedom and free markets as it does with the particular conditions of both modernity and postmodernity.In the novel, White Noise, by Don DeLillo, the postmodern condition is represented in part by an "Airborne Toxic Event," a cloud of gas, Nyodene D, which floats above a tranquil All-American college town.4 A sense of crisis is felt, but felt obliquely and no one knows exactly what harm has been done. In Albert Camus' The Plague, by contrast, the disease that infests the North African town of Oran acts to awaken its citizenry, confronting the populace with the moral imperatives to fight or flee.5 Perhaps the metaphor of quarantine symbolizes the hard boundaries of modernism.Capitalism seeks to dissolve conflict. It operates silently, in the realm of social production, like a cloud of gas. Denise, Jack Gladney's daughter in White Noise, mumbles over and over in her sleep, "Toyota Corolla, Toyota Celica, Toyota Cressida...."6 There is a sense of ontological change, that the expanding reach of media, information, and technology rewires the way we think, the way we dream. Tensions are willed away. The expansion and survival of market shares, after all, depend on the peaceful erosion of boundaries—boundaries that demarcate what we learn, what we buy, and who we are.Questions about what this new system means—this new mind-set—are explored in a book called Empire by Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri.7 These writers posit a global world of communication, cooperation, and affect, where an increase in hybrids creates a kind of "omniversality" where the virtual, natural, and ideological converge.8 In the dialectical relationship that Jorgensen shares with writers like Paulo Freire and Maxine Greene, there is no acceptable synthesis, no peaceful co-existence, between oppressors and oppressed. While according to Freire, the oppressed may internalize or house characteristics of the oppressor. In the global world of capital, the oppositional nature of the Other is replaced by niches or fragments, dissolving differences into marketing opportunities, really. That the avant-garde no longer exists is proof of this new state.As the essentialist nature of the Other fades away... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 11.2 (2003) 157-169 [Access article in PDF] Praxis and the PossibleThoughts on the Writings of Maxine Greene and Paulo Freire Randall Everett Allsup Columbia University Authors in a recent edition of the Philosophy of Music Education Review have assayed various understandings of praxis within the domain of music learning and teaching. 1 Leadened (perhaps) by history, this six-letter word sustains a multiplicity (...) of meanings. Philosophers as disparate as Aristotle, Marx and Engels, Sartre, Marshall Sahlins, Pierre Bourdieu, and David Elliott have represented praxis as a form of cultural-doing—but in many instances, this is where the similarities end. 2 By stirring up the pot, editor Estelle Jorgensen has sought to lighten history's burden, lest the word praxis suffer ossification, territorial over-use, or (worse) over-simplification.My first encounters with the word praxis were not particularly weighty or didactic. In graduate work with Maxine Greene, I would often hear praxis associated with the arts, with possibilities, openings, or alternatives. Greene does not construct a philosophical stance around the word; rather the conditions for praxis exist within the imagination, within "the capacity to look at things as if they could be otherwise." 3 Recalling Emily Dickinson, Greene writes that "imagination lights the possible's slow fuse." 4 Praxis, I think, is not simply the capacity to imagine alternative scenarios, but is instead the slow burning fuse of possibility and action. [End Page 157] This definition connects nicely with Paulo Freire, the revolutionary pedagogue who is of late often paired with Greene. 5 "Human activity," writes Freire, "consists of action and reflection: it is praxis." 6 The result is action upon our world.I must admit that as a long time fan of Freire (and as a student and friend of Greene), I have often wondered what exactly it means to act upon one's world, to name's one's world—especially as a music educator. Can such action lead to the creation of a love song? Can we say that certain art forms like the blues, be-bop, and jam band are more praxial than others? Might an encounter with Brahms lead to potentially transformative action upon my world?Freirian praxis, for sure, is non-neutral; it occurs when we disavow the traditional separation between abstracted learning and real life. After September 11, for example, my freshman music education majors created a requiem for the missing and the dead. This was the most difficult teaching I have ever facilitated. Before beginning our composition, we listened to several movements from the Faure Requiem, particularly the "In Paradisum": "May the choir of angels receive thee, and with Lazarus, once a beggar, mayst thou have eternal rest." We tried to attain Faure's sense of peace and hope; we admired his assurance that those who were gone were at rest, at peace. And we shared stories, and talked about our feelings and our pain. 7During this time, even the ordinary became infused with meaning. Banal pop music, like Enrique Inglesia's Hero, became a tribute song for many, including myself. Suddenly full of significance and relevance, I attended more closely to the simplicity of his chords and the sotto voce color of his voice: Would you die for the one you love? Hold me in your arms tonight. I wanna be your hero... The fact that this was an ordinary love song written some time before the terrorist attacks does not negate my feelings for it. Like Faure's requiem, it brought me a degree of comfort. In addition, I found solace in the music of Aaron Copland, particularly Quiet City. The open intervals seemed to speak of piece, quietude, and space. The opening trumpet recitative was defiant, but introspective—the English horn felt dark and mournful. I wanted to be back in an earlier New York, like the one that Copland knew and loved.Of course, acting upon our world requires inaction: thinking, perceiving, reflecting, reconceptualizing, connecting. For Freire and Greene, transformational or liberatory practice cannot... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 13.1 (2005) 104-108 [Access article in PDF] A Response to Estelle R. Jorgensen, "Four Philosophical Models of the Relationship Between Theory and Practice" Randall Everett Allsup Teachers College, Columbia University Each of the four philosophical models that Estelle Jorgensen has put forth contests, adheres to, or adjusts the hierarchical relationships between dualities, specifically the theory and practice of musical learning. The dichotomy (...) model faces binary associations head on, splitting existence however defined into dualisms like "this/that," "us/them," and "mind/body." Models of polarity, according to Jorgensen, accommodate dualities by buffering edges, emphasizing the interconnectedness of binary relationships. The fusion metaphor is exemplified by Paulo Freire's notion of praxis in which action and reflection are welded together to create hope for a new world, one free of the oppression and conflict that is inherent in binary relationships. The dialectical model is contrapuntal by nature, Edward Said would say.1This relationship highlights our postmodern devotion to différence by embracing the tension created through inclusion so that "this is with that," "we are with them and they are with us," and "mind is with body, just as body is with mind."2Perhaps there is a fifth model, a new kind of relationship where the oppositional or hierarchical nature of binaries co-exists peacefully without tension. [End Page 104] Such an arrangement is, I think, an outgrowth of capitalist democracy—it is, most especially, representative of our global, information age. This type of relationship is problematic philosophically, we will see, lacking as Jorgensen has outlined "logic evidenced in principles," "internal consistency," and "coherence within a unity or whole." Likewise for Bennett Reimer, this new mind-set fails the test of philosophical scrutiny, unconcerned as it is with a "reasoned, structured set of propositions."3 Whether philosophy or mind-set, this new arrangement has as much to do with freedom and free markets as it does with the particular conditions of both modernity and postmodernity.In the novel, White Noise, by Don DeLillo, the postmodern condition is represented in part by an "Airborne Toxic Event," a cloud of gas, Nyodene D, which floats above a tranquil All-American college town.4 A sense of crisis is felt, but felt obliquely and no one knows exactly what harm has been done. In Albert Camus' The Plague, by contrast, the disease that infests the North African town of Oran acts to awaken its citizenry, confronting the populace with the moral imperatives to fight or flee.5 Perhaps the metaphor of quarantine symbolizes the hard boundaries of modernism.Capitalism seeks to dissolve conflict. It operates silently, in the realm of social production, like a cloud of gas. Denise, Jack Gladney's daughter in White Noise, mumbles over and over in her sleep, "Toyota Corolla, Toyota Celica, Toyota Cressida...."6 There is a sense of ontological change, that the expanding reach of media, information, and technology rewires the way we think, the way we dream. Tensions are willed away. The expansion and survival of market shares, after all, depend on the peaceful erosion of boundaries—boundaries that demarcate what we learn, what we buy, and who we are.Questions about what this new system means—this new mind-set—are explored in a book called Empire by Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri.7 These writers posit a global world of communication, cooperation, and affect, where an increase in hybrids creates a kind of "omniversality" where the virtual, natural, and ideological converge.8 In the dialectical relationship that Jorgensen shares with writers like Paulo Freire and Maxine Greene, there is no acceptable synthesis, no peaceful co-existence, between oppressors and oppressed. While according to Freire, the oppressed may internalize or house characteristics of the oppressor. In the global world of capital, the oppositional nature of the Other is replaced by niches or fragments, dissolving differences into marketing opportunities, really. That the avant-garde no longer exists is proof of this new state.As the essentialist nature of the Other fades away... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hard Times:Philosophy and the Fundamentalist ImaginationRandall Everett Allsup"Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and (...) this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to the Facts!" So admonishes headmaster Gradgrind in the very beginning of Hard Times, Charles Dickens' prescient tale of education in the industrial world.1 Facts—"addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, settle everything somehow and never wonder"—Facts form the essence of Gradgrind's philosophy.2A close reading of Gradgrind's opening monologue will provide the starting off point for an examination of the role and place of philosophy in the music curriculum. I am particularly intrigued by the question Reimer posed in his opening. He asked us to consider, Who is philosophy of music education for? We will return to this question at the close of this brief reflection.For the moment, however, I would like to continue on to the second paragraph of Hard Times, where Dickens does something very interesting. Following Gradgrind's inglorious monologue, he casts the scene of a small schoolroom, a "plain, bare, monotonous vault."3 Headmaster Gradgrind stands in front; he is described with a "square wall of a forehead," his mouth is "wide, thin, and hard set," his voice "inflexible and dry."4 His hair "bristled on the skirts of his bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plum pie, as if the head had scarcely warehouse-room for the hard facts stored inside."5 A square wall of a forehead, a lumpy head like the crust of a plum pie: these words give us more than "hard Facts"—they are more than mere descriptors. It seems that Dickens, through metaphor, mood, dynamic contrast—through the aesthetic imagination—has imbedded a quiet rebuke to the bold commonsense of Facts.The Gradgrind philosophy finds easy parallel to current thinking in American education. In the fundamentalist imagination, sources of ambiguity must be rooted out—basic skills make adults out of reasoning animals. "Children should be tested on basic reading and math skills every year, between grades three and eight. Measuring is the only way to know whether all our children are learning—and I want to know, because I refuse to leave any child behind."6 The speaker, of course, is George W. Bush whose call to basic skills and episodic testing appeals [End Page 139] to our sense of reason. Like Gradgrind suggests, it is the principle on which we brought up our own children, and this is the principle on which we will bring up today's children. Such a philosophy of education proudly combines folk beliefs about teaching and learning with the hard science of thorough assessment.The President further recommends that our children "must also be educated in the values of our civil society. Some people think it's inappropriate to make moral judgments anymore. Not me. We must be willing to draw a clear line between right and wrong. Those clear lines must be supported by political leaders, public schools, and our public institutions. Educating our children about their moral and civil responsibilities will serve them—and the nation—every bit as well as the academic learning they require."7 In addition to discipline-based standards of knowledge, Facts (in this view) govern the rules of citizenship, provide moral clarity, and as we will see shortly, inform the aesthetic. It is worth noting that such a linear equation—those clear straight lines—currently places skeptics in the category of unpatriotic, miseducative, and morally corrupt.8The fundamentalist philosophy of education is a governing philosophy—it is a philosophy for, not with, its initiates. Judgments are passed, not reached; answers are given, not argued. Teachers in this setting—whether willing accomplices or not—define what needs to be known and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 11.2 (2003) 157-169 [Access article in PDF] Praxis and the PossibleThoughts on the Writings of Maxine Greene and Paulo Freire Randall Everett Allsup Columbia University Authors in a recent edition of the Philosophy of Music Education Review have assayed various understandings of praxis within the domain of music learning and teaching. 1 Leadened (perhaps) by history, this six-letter word sustains a multiplicity (...) of meanings. Philosophers as disparate as Aristotle, Marx and Engels, Sartre, Marshall Sahlins, Pierre Bourdieu, and David Elliott have represented praxis as a form of cultural-doing—but in many instances, this is where the similarities end. 2 By stirring up the pot, editor Estelle Jorgensen has sought to lighten history's burden, lest the word praxis suffer ossification, territorial over-use, or (worse) over-simplification.My first encounters with the word praxis were not particularly weighty or didactic. In graduate work with Maxine Greene, I would often hear praxis associated with the arts, with possibilities, openings, or alternatives. Greene does not construct a philosophical stance around the word; rather the conditions for praxis exist within the imagination, within "the capacity to look at things as if they could be otherwise." 3 Recalling Emily Dickinson, Greene writes that "imagination lights the possible's slow fuse." 4 Praxis, I think, is not simply the capacity to imagine alternative scenarios, but is instead the slow burning fuse of possibility and action. [End Page 157] This definition connects nicely with Paulo Freire, the revolutionary pedagogue who is of late often paired with Greene. 5 "Human activity," writes Freire, "consists of action and reflection: it is praxis." 6 The result is action upon our world.I must admit that as a long time fan of Freire (and as a student and friend of Greene), I have often wondered what exactly it means to act upon one's world, to name's one's world—especially as a music educator. Can such action lead to the creation of a love song? Can we say that certain art forms like the blues, be-bop, and jam band are more praxial than others? Might an encounter with Brahms lead to potentially transformative action upon my world?Freirian praxis, for sure, is non-neutral; it occurs when we disavow the traditional separation between abstracted learning and real life. After September 11, for example, my freshman music education majors created a requiem for the missing and the dead. This was the most difficult teaching I have ever facilitated. Before beginning our composition, we listened to several movements from the Faure Requiem, particularly the "In Paradisum": "May the choir of angels receive thee, and with Lazarus, once a beggar, mayst thou have eternal rest." We tried to attain Faure's sense of peace and hope; we admired his assurance that those who were gone were at rest, at peace. And we shared stories, and talked about our feelings and our pain. 7During this time, even the ordinary became infused with meaning. Banal pop music, like Enrique Inglesia's Hero, became a tribute song for many, including myself. Suddenly full of significance and relevance, I attended more closely to the simplicity of his chords and the sotto voce color of his voice: Would you die for the one you love? Hold me in your arms tonight. I wanna be your hero... The fact that this was an ordinary love song written some time before the terrorist attacks does not negate my feelings for it. Like Faure's requiem, it brought me a degree of comfort. In addition, I found solace in the music of Aaron Copland, particularly Quiet City. The open intervals seemed to speak of piece, quietude, and space. The opening trumpet recitative was defiant, but introspective—the English horn felt dark and mournful. I wanted to be back in an earlier New York, like the one that Copland knew and loved.Of course, acting upon our world requires inaction: thinking, perceiving, reflecting, reconceptualizing, connecting. For Freire and Greene, transformational or liberatory practice cannot... (shrink)

Education in the twenty-first century witnessed a profound shift in emphasis from the teacher to the learner, or from pedagogical inputs to learner outcomes. According to neoliberal logic, the teacher is the primary value-add in a relationship that is best characterized as cause (instruction) and effect (learner outcome). As a result, the problem of teacher quality has emerged as the central question of our day. What is effective teaching? What does teacher quality look like? Traditional music educators will posit that (...) excellence in norm-governed forms is the most reliable measure of teacher quality. This essay makes a case for a richer and more varied conception, embracing diversity and openness as defining ideals. (shrink)

Consistent throughout his writings on aesthetics and education, Bennett Reimer maintained the idea that music must be understood and studied as non-conceptual. Music’s forms of knowing point to the subjective realms of life and operate effectively without the assistance or necessity of language. An education in the arts is an education in feelings, a claim that became untenable in an age of evidence and standardization. Critics hostile to a characterization of music as unknowable pointed to very clear concepts, locating the (...) activity of music in both social and sonic contexts whereby extra-musical delineations could be articulated and musical conventions taught. The authors of this essay argue that music can be understood in ways that are both conceptual and non-conceptual, if by the latter one draws upon post-structural notions of the text, particularly Roland Barthes’s explorations of what he called the third meaning or the third space. We leave open the idea that Reimer, in his own explorations of the non-conceptual, shared in this discovery. (shrink)

This essay interview with Joan Tower is a meditation on the importance of composing, understood as a process larger than the making of new sound combinations or musical scores, suggesting that the compositional act is self-educative and self-forming. Tower's musical life, one of teaching and learning, one of composing and self-composing, is an exemplary model for a lifetime of risk, curiosity, and hard work. Her own struggles to balance the rich traditions that funded her growth as a composer with the (...) freedom to push against that tradition invite music educators to reflect upon the way that self-agency is found within this tension. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hard Times:Philosophy and the Fundamentalist ImaginationRandall Everett Allsup"Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and (...) this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to the Facts!" So admonishes headmaster Gradgrind in the very beginning of Hard Times, Charles Dickens' prescient tale of education in the industrial world.1 Facts—"addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, settle everything somehow and never wonder"—Facts form the essence of Gradgrind's philosophy.2A close reading of Gradgrind's opening monologue will provide the starting off point for an examination of the role and place of philosophy in the music curriculum. I am particularly intrigued by the question Reimer posed in his opening. He asked us to consider, Who is philosophy of music education for? We will return to this question at the close of this brief reflection.For the moment, however, I would like to continue on to the second paragraph of Hard Times, where Dickens does something very interesting. Following Gradgrind's inglorious monologue, he casts the scene of a small schoolroom, a "plain, bare, monotonous vault."3 Headmaster Gradgrind stands in front; he is described with a "square wall of a forehead," his mouth is "wide, thin, and hard set," his voice "inflexible and dry."4 His hair "bristled on the skirts of his bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plum pie, as if the head had scarcely warehouse-room for the hard facts stored inside."5 A square wall of a forehead, a lumpy head like the crust of a plum pie: these words give us more than "hard Facts"—they are more than mere descriptors. It seems that Dickens, through metaphor, mood, dynamic contrast—through the aesthetic imagination—has imbedded a quiet rebuke to the bold commonsense of Facts.The Gradgrind philosophy finds easy parallel to current thinking in American education. In the fundamentalist imagination, sources of ambiguity must be rooted out—basic skills make adults out of reasoning animals. "Children should be tested on basic reading and math skills every year, between grades three and eight. Measuring is the only way to know whether all our children are learning—and I want to know, because I refuse to leave any child behind."6 The speaker, of course, is George W. Bush whose call to basic skills and episodic testing appeals [End Page 139] to our sense of reason. Like Gradgrind suggests, it is the principle on which we brought up our own children, and this is the principle on which we will bring up today's children. Such a philosophy of education proudly combines folk beliefs about teaching and learning with the hard science of thorough assessment.The President further recommends that our children "must also be educated in the values of our civil society. Some people think it's inappropriate to make moral judgments anymore. Not me. We must be willing to draw a clear line between right and wrong. Those clear lines must be supported by political leaders, public schools, and our public institutions. Educating our children about their moral and civil responsibilities will serve them—and the nation—every bit as well as the academic learning they require."7 In addition to discipline-based standards of knowledge, Facts (in this view) govern the rules of citizenship, provide moral clarity, and as we will see shortly, inform the aesthetic. It is worth noting that such a linear equation—those clear straight lines—currently places skeptics in the category of unpatriotic, miseducative, and morally corrupt.8The fundamentalist philosophy of education is a governing philosophy—it is a philosophy for, not with, its initiates. Judgments are passed, not reached; answers are given, not argued. Teachers in this setting—whether willing accomplices or not—define what needs to be known and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Extraordinary Rendition:On Politics, Music, and Circular MeaningsRandall Everett AllsupThe purpose of this symposium is to look at music, education, and politics. I will begin with an examination of how musical meanings are politically rendered, and how these understandings are attached to moral consequences. Highly resistant to classification, musical meanings are those things we come to understand about ourselves through music, as opposed to musical knowledge which is demonstrable know-how. (...) While marching bands and flute sonatas can be judged with scores estimated to the 100th decimal point, the meanings that are created between the standards of practice of a given genre and the worldview of the listener or performer are provisional at best. Seen in this light, even seemingly secure or knowable realms like Christian heavy metal or anti-war movies are in fact highly un-objective and unpredictable. (More on Christian rock and movies in a moment). The challenge this paper seeks to uncover is participation on the hither side of fact, where understandings are rendered in a world that is contingent, political, and always in motion. What better example of the unclassifiable than the moving axes of politics and art?So what occurs between art and human or so-called "world" experience? [End Page 144] Let's agree that there is always motion, non-neutral, political movement in this interaction. We need not be students of French post-structuralism to recognize that we are part of many ever-evolving human-made systems, some of control, regulation, reward, punishment, and pleasure, but each with their own gravitation pull.1 I like Susan Sontag's take the best when she wrote that every place, every history has its own "sensibility," its own ineffable way of being in the world.2 Sensibilities—perhaps a clearer way of referring to politics in the context of art and experience—do not exist apart from their environment, yet they are more elusive than an idea or recognizable behavior.3 The sensibility of a time and place makes possible multiple discourses through which we make meaning.4 Some discourses, Foucault would remind us, are intensified by a history's particular sensibility and so appear louder than others. Such a discourse might speak so loudly that it shapes the meanings we make, drowning out options, and thus appearing obvious or commonsensical. The logic of musical assessment and evaluation—scoring marching bands and flute sonatas to the 100th decimal—is one such example.In spite of authoritative voices and reasonable discourses, each history's sensibility has its own escape routes, its own distortions and contradictions. I am fascinated by how we comply with or resist these pulls, as they are matters of agency and identity, matters of equity and social justice. In the present-day context of neo-liberalism and conservative values, especially 21st Century American fundamentalism, we would do well to ask how—not whether—such a fundamentalist sensibility shapes our ways of doing and knowing.5 My attempt is to locate music education in such a project.Shortly after the invasion of Iraq, I wrote a short piece on the fundamentalist imagination and its pull on the arts and education.6 This research took place at the 2003 MENC biennial where Bennett Reimer asks philosophy SRIG participants to consider (among other things) the role of metaphor in music education.7 I viewed the fundamentalist imagination as antithetical to metaphor: to paraphrase, the fundamentalist philosophy of education was "a philosophy for, not with, its initiates. Judgments are passed, not reached; answers are given, not argued... [Most importantly,] it is an educational method that emphasizes and then measures what is literal."8Since then, the voices of American literalism have appeared in increasingly loud volume seeking to discourage interpretation and argument in favor of handed-down teachings and binary logic. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia decries the folly of a "living" constitution, in favor of a strict or literal reading. Retired Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston, in response to a common ground initiative by the late Joseph Bernadin, labels an appeal to "dialogue" a "fundamental flaw."9 Law sniffed, "Dissent from revealed truth or the authoritative [End Page 145] teaching of the church cannot... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist NarrativeRandall Everett AllsupEric Prieto, Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist Narrative ( Lincoln NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2002)Modernism. The Interpretation of Dreams, the assembly line, The Rite of Spring, the Panama Canal. The modernist sensibility is characterized above all by the "willful big idea"—history as text, a manifesto in conflict with itself and its past. Hopeful and revolutionary like (...) the writings of Karl Marx or progressive and corrupt like the Manhattan Project, such events-as-manifesto had a way of feeding off each other. Through collaboration, conflict, and competition, modernists from Robert Moses to Elliott Carter raced to explain and exemplify, often deliberately creating conflict as if crisis were its own rationale, its own sine qua non. One could hypothesize that this arms race of complexity collapsed—exhausted—about the same time that Communism did. Its failure to sustain its ideas (rather than outpace them one after another) may be one reason we live in an anti-dialectical world, an unmodern place of fundamentalisms and easy freedoms.Author Eric Prieto is at home in the modern world more so than the present; his heroes are French intellectuals after all, those lovers of complexity. In Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist Narrative, he investigates late modernist authors who looked to music as a way to exemplify the inward nature of mind [End Page 93] and the outward nature of place. To understand this book, we must revisit some formal aesthetic theories, namely that music's value resides in its ability to name without signifying, that musical properties like intervallic distance, dynamic contrast, and the space-time component that is rhythm put us in touch with the Kantian a priori—the-thing-in-itself, the Schopenhauerian will. Music as sound-in-itself (to riff on Kant and Schopenhauer) becomes a metaphor for the noumenal world or is mimetic at the very least of the abstract and non-linear nature of thought. Prieto argues that "wherever a music model is present [among his examples] it always serves to further this inwardly directed mode of mimesis I call 'listening in,' where the primary object of representation is not the outside world but the subtly modulating interactions between consciousness and world."1Prieto's book is highly consistent. He masterfully captures the spirit of cooperation from modernist writer to musician to thinker and back. Concentrating on three authors, Robert Pinget, Michel Leiris, and Samuel Beckett, Prieto cites the influences of composers like Bach and Beethoven, as well as philosophers like Wittgenstein and Schopenhauer on their literary works. He brings in thinking from Nelson Goodman and Ferdinand de Saussure. The result is literary criticism as manifesto. Reader beware, this is a book for an elevated audience, those rare folk who are comfortable with structural linguistics, nineteenth-century music aesthetics, specialized academic scholarship, and word puzzles. To explain for example why an author like Beckett is inspired by music to create abstract or associative narratives rather than traditional stories of cause and effect, Prieto writes:In music, this progression necessarily takes place on the level of audible resemblances, but in literature, by virtue of the properties of the two-tiered linguistic sign, analogical progression may take place either on the level of the signifier (via the principle of paronomasia), on the level of the signified (via metaphorical substitutions, as in the association of ideas), or between the two levels (punning, "imitative harmony").2This density of language and concept speak well of Prieto's intellect and one is likewise impressed by his broad understanding of music and letters, yet it is the musical scholar who gets the short end of the deal. Paronomasia? "Audible resemblance" is not a musical term I have heard used. In Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist Narrative, music serves as starting point, an inspiration, not as an equal partner. This holds true for Beckett and Pinget as well as for Prieto. The result can be disconcerting, even to readers like me for whom the cross-disciplinary study of music and literature is a fascinating endeavor.Difficulty, nonetheless, has its rewards and this is one lesson of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Species Counterpoint:Darwin and the Evolution of FormsRandall Everett AllsupMy intention is to tell of bodies changed to different forms; the gods, who made the changes, will help me—or so I hope—with a poem that runs from the World's beginning to our own days.1I.A recent article in a progressive monthly magazine asked by way of a thesis, "Whose music is the blues?" Under the title, the tag line read, "2003 (...) is the 'Year of the Blues.' But as a music born of oppression becomes a feel-good soundtrack for white America, just what are we celebrating?"2 I recall feeling puzzled by this rather old-fashioned topic of investigation. Anyone with access to the Internet knows that music is not for one group or another. Global file sharing has made ownership as easy as, well, sharing a file. Furthermore, the tendency to depart from ancestral forms, whether as rebellious teenagers, rock guitarists, or both, seems genetically built into us. Life is a metamorphosis and music—like life—evolves.To advance the notion that music is made for one people and not another, that it has absolute or essential qualities, opens a terribly large can of worms. We know, for example, that identity and music are linked, but the relationship is not [End Page 159] mono-directional, causal, or fixed. My relationship to the blues or Broadway show tunes for that matter is defined somewhere within a dense web of group associations, educational opportunities, even closet desires. With regard to psychological research on identity, slippery and impermanent as identity is, this research is really about similarities.3 Conservative in this light, such studies look for commonalities: their goal is to identify "what is."4Fear is often the dominant response to the evolution of a cherished form. Change, however, holds equal parts fear and promise. The Chinese word for crisis, wei-ji, means "opportunity with danger." This essay will contextualize the latter, but focus on the former. It is worth asking, for example, what might result from an examination of anomalies? Rather than attempt to identify "what is," such an inquiry would be concerned with "what else" [the abnormality] as well as "what might be" [the opportunity]. Located, I think, within the anomalies and mutations that seem to fit so well our globally connected world are new codes, altered methods for self-understanding, and interaction in the arts.Charles Darwin and The Origins of Species will provide the conceptual framework for this discussion.5 To look for help in the work of Darwin will require a crossbreeding of scientific theory and metaphor, a cross-pollination of hypothesis and the hypothetical. We will look at how the production of new forms, particularly musical forms, is shaped. Speaking metaphorically, a work of art or entertainment can be seen as an adaptation to and of its environment. We know that cultural products, like all living species, are not permanent entities. Change, Darwin stressed, carries with it purpose. To that end, he looked for variation to help him understand how and why an organism or system developed the way it did. What might be revealed if we apply this procedure to the field of music and music education? We might see eco-systems in various stages of growth, health, and decline. A look at musical forms as mutable, living creations that spring from and reflect a particular condition raises interesting questions about place and purpose.II.Only a hundred and fifty years ago, a single event—a theory!—precipitated a cultural crisis that threw down two thousand years of scientific and philosophic thought. The popular revolt that Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species fueled (and continues to fuel) called into question fundamental beliefs about how the world is made. Darwin's theory that matter and energy are in steady flux, that life is in need of constant variation, implied that fixed or universal truths are nothing more than comforts created by the mind. The Origin of Species was therefore more than a scientific revolution.6 A core tenet of Western culture was challenged by its publication: the so-called immaterial spirit, whether viewed in the [End... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Extraordinary Rendition:On Politics, Music, and Circular MeaningsRandall Everett AllsupThe purpose of this symposium is to look at music, education, and politics. I will begin with an examination of how musical meanings are politically rendered, and how these understandings are attached to moral consequences. Highly resistant to classification, musical meanings are those things we come to understand about ourselves through music, as opposed to musical knowledge which is demonstrable know-how. (...) While marching bands and flute sonatas can be judged with scores estimated to the 100th decimal point, the meanings that are created between the standards of practice of a given genre and the worldview of the listener or performer are provisional at best. Seen in this light, even seemingly secure or knowable realms like Christian heavy metal or anti-war movies are in fact highly un-objective and unpredictable. (More on Christian rock and movies in a moment). The challenge this paper seeks to uncover is participation on the hither side of fact, where understandings are rendered in a world that is contingent, political, and always in motion. What better example of the unclassifiable than the moving axes of politics and art?So what occurs between art and human or so-called "world" experience? [End Page 144] Let's agree that there is always motion, non-neutral, political movement in this interaction. We need not be students of French post-structuralism to recognize that we are part of many ever-evolving human-made systems, some of control, regulation, reward, punishment, and pleasure, but each with their own gravitation pull.1 I like Susan Sontag's take the best when she wrote that every place, every history has its own "sensibility," its own ineffable way of being in the world.2 Sensibilities—perhaps a clearer way of referring to politics in the context of art and experience—do not exist apart from their environment, yet they are more elusive than an idea or recognizable behavior.3 The sensibility of a time and place makes possible multiple discourses through which we make meaning.4 Some discourses, Foucault would remind us, are intensified by a history's particular sensibility and so appear louder than others. Such a discourse might speak so loudly that it shapes the meanings we make, drowning out options, and thus appearing obvious or commonsensical. The logic of musical assessment and evaluation—scoring marching bands and flute sonatas to the 100th decimal—is one such example.In spite of authoritative voices and reasonable discourses, each history's sensibility has its own escape routes, its own distortions and contradictions. I am fascinated by how we comply with or resist these pulls, as they are matters of agency and identity, matters of equity and social justice. In the present-day context of neo-liberalism and conservative values, especially 21st Century American fundamentalism, we would do well to ask how—not whether—such a fundamentalist sensibility shapes our ways of doing and knowing.5 My attempt is to locate music education in such a project.Shortly after the invasion of Iraq, I wrote a short piece on the fundamentalist imagination and its pull on the arts and education.6 This research took place at the 2003 MENC biennial where Bennett Reimer asks philosophy SRIG participants to consider (among other things) the role of metaphor in music education.7 I viewed the fundamentalist imagination as antithetical to metaphor: to paraphrase, the fundamentalist philosophy of education was "a philosophy for, not with, its initiates. Judgments are passed, not reached; answers are given, not argued... [Most importantly,] it is an educational method that emphasizes and then measures what is literal."8Since then, the voices of American literalism have appeared in increasingly loud volume seeking to discourage interpretation and argument in favor of handed-down teachings and binary logic. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia decries the folly of a "living" constitution, in favor of a strict or literal reading. Retired Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston, in response to a common ground initiative by the late Joseph Bernadin, labels an appeal to "dialogue" a "fundamental flaw."9 Law sniffed, "Dissent from revealed truth or the authoritative [End Page 145] teaching of the church cannot... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Toward Mindful Music Education:A Response To Bennett ReimerSandra L. StaufferIn her book Composing a Life, Mary Catherine Bateson reminds us to acknowledge our antecedents—those who have gone before in whatever way or whatever path.1 I believe we should also acknowledge our co-conspirators—those who have listened to us and wrestled with our ideas. Following Bateson, I wish to recognize the contributions of my teachers and my colleagues, particularly the members (...) of the doctoral seminar at Arizona State University. I am grateful for your contributions to the life of my mind and the words of this morning. For the record, I also want to say that Bennett Reimer is both antecedent and co-conspirator for everyone in this room, and we are indebted to him."The first task of philosophy involves learning to ask a good question," says Walter Feinberg in his essay on the philosophical scholar.2 Reimer asks us, "Who is philosophy of music education for?"—a provocative question indeed. He also gives us an answer: K-12 students.I agree, but not really. How can that be? Imagine this. A music teacher I know, Stephanie, was engaged with some first-grade children in singing songs and moving and reading rhythms. She turned to write on the white board. When she turned back to the children, one boy, Alex, was standing, perfectly still, on his head. What happened next? I will tell you in few minutes. Reimer says, "Philosophical issues are not disconnected to or incidental to musical experience. [End Page 135] They are foundational for musical experience, because one's values, beliefs, desires, preferences, and so forth, directly affect how one engages with music and what one gets from doing it." Abridging those two sentences at my own peril, Reimer appears to be saying that philosophical issues are foundational to musical experience.That idea works for me only if I am standing, figuratively and metaphorically, not literally, on my head. It seems to me that experience is the foundation of philosophy or, put another way, that one's philosophy derives from one's experiences; the richer the experiences, the richer the philosophy. A philosophy based on limited or weak experience is a limited or weak philosophy. This, however, is only surface-level logic for a deeper epistemological question—where does one's philosophy come from? If I take the Deweyan perspective that philosophy derives from experience, then surely I am obligated, in this forum, to define my terms—particularly "experience." It would be easy to say that experience means making music and listening to music, and surely it does. By experience, however, I mean not only these actions—the doing of music—but also thinking, or what Ellen Langer calls mindfulness.3 Langer describes mindful learning as having three characteristics: "the continuous creation of new categories; openness to new information; and an implicit awareness of more than one perspective."4 I like how Robert Duke articulates the same idea: "Teach things that are intellectually interesting and functionally valuable."5 Engage students not just in doing, but also in thinking—in mindful learning. Rich experience makes for rich philosophy. If we are talking about music education at all levels that is not only participatory, but also mindful, then I am all for it.Reimer asks a second question: how are we to accomplish the teaching of philosophy to K-12 students? I want to know what we are trying to accomplish. Are we trying to teach the content of philosophy or are we trying to help students develop their own abilities to think about their experiences as musicians, whether as listeners or as music makers, in whatever contexts they find themselves? The former seems to be a reification of philosophy in which I am not eager to engage most K-12 students. I hope we are aiming for the latter. If so, then our task is to provide rich and mindful experiences in every music setting. Our task is to model the disposition of a philosopher—one who asks questions, is curious, and is engaged in the life of the mind.This seems so obvious. Why aren't we doing it already? There... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist NarrativeRandall Everett AllsupEric Prieto, Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist Narrative ( Lincoln NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2002)Modernism. The Interpretation of Dreams, the assembly line, The Rite of Spring, the Panama Canal. The modernist sensibility is characterized above all by the "willful big idea"—history as text, a manifesto in conflict with itself and its past. Hopeful and revolutionary like (...) the writings of Karl Marx or progressive and corrupt like the Manhattan Project, such events-as-manifesto had a way of feeding off each other. Through collaboration, conflict, and competition, modernists from Robert Moses to Elliott Carter raced to explain and exemplify, often deliberately creating conflict as if crisis were its own rationale, its own sine qua non. One could hypothesize that this arms race of complexity collapsed—exhausted—about the same time that Communism did. Its failure to sustain its ideas (rather than outpace them one after another) may be one reason we live in an anti-dialectical world, an unmodern place of fundamentalisms and easy freedoms.Author Eric Prieto is at home in the modern world more so than the present; his heroes are French intellectuals after all, those lovers of complexity. In Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist Narrative, he investigates late modernist authors who looked to music as a way to exemplify the inward nature of mind [End Page 93] and the outward nature of place. To understand this book, we must revisit some formal aesthetic theories, namely that music's value resides in its ability to name without signifying, that musical properties like intervallic distance, dynamic contrast, and the space-time component that is rhythm put us in touch with the Kantian a priori—the-thing-in-itself, the Schopenhauerian will. Music as sound-in-itself (to riff on Kant and Schopenhauer) becomes a metaphor for the noumenal world or is mimetic at the very least of the abstract and non-linear nature of thought. Prieto argues that "wherever a music model is present [among his examples] it always serves to further this inwardly directed mode of mimesis I call 'listening in,' where the primary object of representation is not the outside world but the subtly modulating interactions between consciousness and world."1Prieto's book is highly consistent. He masterfully captures the spirit of cooperation from modernist writer to musician to thinker and back. Concentrating on three authors, Robert Pinget, Michel Leiris, and Samuel Beckett, Prieto cites the influences of composers like Bach and Beethoven, as well as philosophers like Wittgenstein and Schopenhauer on their literary works. He brings in thinking from Nelson Goodman and Ferdinand de Saussure. The result is literary criticism as manifesto. Reader beware, this is a book for an elevated audience, those rare folk who are comfortable with structural linguistics, nineteenth-century music aesthetics, specialized academic scholarship, and word puzzles. To explain for example why an author like Beckett is inspired by music to create abstract or associative narratives rather than traditional stories of cause and effect, Prieto writes:In music, this progression necessarily takes place on the level of audible resemblances, but in literature, by virtue of the properties of the two-tiered linguistic sign, analogical progression may take place either on the level of the signifier (via the principle of paronomasia), on the level of the signified (via metaphorical substitutions, as in the association of ideas), or between the two levels (punning, "imitative harmony").2This density of language and concept speak well of Prieto's intellect and one is likewise impressed by his broad understanding of music and letters, yet it is the musical scholar who gets the short end of the deal. Paronomasia? "Audible resemblance" is not a musical term I have heard used. In Listening In: Music, Mind, and the Modernist Narrative, music serves as starting point, an inspiration, not as an equal partner. This holds true for Beckett and Pinget as well as for Prieto. The result can be disconcerting, even to readers like me for whom the cross-disciplinary study of music and literature is a fascinating endeavor.Difficulty, nonetheless, has its rewards and this is one lesson of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Response to Randall Allsup, “Species Counterpoint: Darwin and the Evolution of Forms”Lauri VäkeväI was thrilled to be asked to respond to Randall Allsup's paper as his standpoint appears to be close to my own.1 I take it that his interest in Darwinian metaphors [End Page 220] reflects at least moderate interest in naturalism—an approach that should be taken seriously in our field. However, there (...) are many varieties of naturalism. In the following, I will deliberately interpret Allsup's ideas from the standpoint of the so-called 'soft' or 'cultural' naturalism favored by later Dewey and his followers.2As I see it, the most powerful precept of naturalism is its attack on essentialism—paradoxically the doctrine which focuses most deliberately on the nature of things. The essentialist, however, thinks of nature as something inherent in how things are, making them ultimately what they are. This kind of ultimate nature is something that a contemporary naturalist can never touch, for she only relies on empirical inquiry that departs from and returns to the contingent realm of lived experience. It is the latter that we attempt to make sense of as to try to live our life as fully as possible. At its best, philosophy can help us in this undertaking.To a naturalist, then, the essentialist's use of the term 'nature' is an anachronism, a remnant of an age when philosophers searched for the "really real," certain, absolute, and immutable. Were we to follow philosophical naturalism today, we should rather be looking at how things become empirically realized for cultural agents in their various life-practices. Culture is not seen as distinct from nature but as continuous with it: both can be understood through same means. This also covers the realm of value, which naturalism does not conceive as transcendental in any metaphysically binding sense, but rather as something that is realized in daily life and that thus has an empirical stand.Applied to the philosophy of music, naturalism states that it is futile to look for the essence of this art (or for that matter any art) through philosophical introspection or through logical analysis for the simple reason that we are always in the process of formulating it in our lives. The nature of music depends on the interpretative horizons of cultural agents living in a situation. 'Situation' (understood here in the sense that Dewey used the term) is the existential point of departure of our understanding and as situations vary, so do types of inquiry; therefore, we do not have to take as inclusive any particular claims about music, as they are merely particular answers to certain types of problems. Any path of musical inquiry may be worth taking, not because they all lead to the same destination, but because they can guide us through the rich thicket of possible experience that gives music its significance. This implies an open attitude towards all things musical, a theme which I find strong in Allsup's paper.One can also read another important naturalist point in his essay: "music—like life—evolves." Evolution is indeed a recurring theme in contemporary philosophical naturalism: what was previously considered as static or as perennial in nature and in culture can be now seen as being under continuous change. [End Page 221] Even mountains (and this is one of Dewey's favorite similes3 ) can be considered as events in the long run and even the most persistent of culture's beliefs may crumble someday.This awareness of all-encompassing change may not be very comforting: it might be mentally healthier to cling to rationalizations of how things that appear to change in fact do not. It may be more comforting to think that there must be a stable principle, a system of universally set rules, governing the randomness. For centuries, philosophy has been driven by this belief. In the philosophy of music, this is reflected in the problem of how the most ephemeral of the arts can be explained as having everlasting value. Mutatis mutandis, when music educators have argued over the pedagogical significance of music, one of the most pervasive ideas has been that music... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Response to Randall Allsup, “Music Teacher Quality and Expertise”Bennett ReimerI am delighted to have this opportunity to reflect on Randall Allsup’s excellent, incisive, and wise paper. The issues he raises reach to the core of who we have been, where we are now, and how we must adapt ourselves to new challenges that deeply question both our ideals and our practices.Allsup’s opening questions relate (...) directly to the most pressing matters our profession is now facing—questions philosophical in essence. What kind of music teachers do our students deserve? What is the purpose of public education? And how do we get beyond our continuing and understandable desire for better-trained music teachers to ask the more pertinent question of what constitutes effective music teaching and learning in what the musical world is swiftly becoming. He has the courage to address this level of complexity seriously, and to make significant progress toward clarification. That deserves my respect and, I am quite sure, the respect of all of us.Allsup approaches his central premise on the significant changes needed in our professional identity by reminding us that we have “a long and distinguished [End Page 108] commitment to teaching and teachers.” That commitment, however, is based on the established assumption that music education is founded on excellence of performance as its ultimate goal and its greatest value. To achieve this musical end, he points out, requires mastery, attained through prolonged, careful apprenticeship. This “long running pedagogy of mastery and excellence appears closed to, or at least hostile to, innovation and popular input.”In addition, he argues, this belief system embroils all of us, teachers and their students, in the dichotomy of, on the one hand, replication of existing excellence as our goal, and, on the other, the need for emancipation from what was and what is, toward what might be; the need, that is, for transformation. The past, he recognizes, cannot simply be ignored: it is too precious for that. The future, however, also cannot be excluded. Within this antinomy we must find our way, honoring the past while not allowing it to constrict our future.At this point in his exposition Allsup approaches the proposition he is harboring, a proposition I want to explore for its potential in both clarity and complication. The basis of his key proposal is our need for teachers who are able “to think openly and less certainly about the design and implementation of musical instruction. Our pluralistic society,” he continues, “makes it imperative that we multiply the methods employed in the pursuit and construction of knowledge.”To accomplish this, Allsup presents a foundational dichotomy. There are “open forms of music” relating to “new and evolving ways of aesthetic participation that break with our traditional processes and our established codes and standards.” Contrasting with open forms are “closed forms,” representing the authoritative, the certain, and the canonic. “Closed forms,” he says, “represent culturally-structured and norm-driven literacies, where valuations of goodness pre-exist any aesthetic encounters.” Closed forms, he argues, are based on culturally agreed-upon modes of participation that are rigid in nature, such as in the prescribed and proscribed sequence of musical events proceeding inexorably in the order of composer-conductor-performer-audience.Such past (and present) rigidities, he points out, have become increasingly irrelevant. In every dimension of our lives significant and fast-occurring changes have become dominant, even expected, leaving us, as citizens and as educators, in confusion and uncertainty, and therefore in distress. We encounter aesthetic forms that are open-sourced and de-authored, unconnected to shared standards of practice. Technologies of music making and taking, he points out, have overthrown tradition to a startling degree, erasing distinctions among expert and amateur, between master and apprentice, between process and product, specialist and generalist, the classical and the vernacular.All this, and much more, is argued cogently and, I think, persuasively. It leads us to a central conception influencing how we must act as professionals. Our [End Page 109] obligation is to not only incorporate openness of musical engagements into our present culture of musical “closedness,” but to recognize the advent of openness as being a... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Remixing the Classroom: Toward an Open Philosophy of Music Education by Randall Everett AllsupJuliet HessRandall Everett Allsup, Remixing the Classroom: Toward an Open Philosophy of Music Education (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2016).As a leading voice in music education, Randall Allsup works continually to reconceptualize music education toward democratic and socially just praxis.1 He routinely challenges the field to become self-conscious of practices that (...) limit forward movement, providing powerful critiques2 and urging music education toward open possibilities.3 Remixing the Classroom: Toward an Open Philosophy of Music Education is work that will shift our field. His comprehensive philosophy of music education looks, longs, for moral openings4 through which twenty-first-century music education may become a space of possibility. His writing interweaves stories and theory toward what he calls an "open philosophy," drawing upon the ideas of John Dewey, Maxine Greene, and Roland Barthes. Allsup introduces stories of Dapper Dan, Jiro Ono, Kafka, Atul Gawande, and the Orpheus Orchestra in New York City to illustrate powerful points about current and possible paradigms of music education.Chapter 1, "Toward Open Encounters," discusses the making and breaking of the law (tradition) and explores how tradition and the Master-Apprentice model restrict what is possible in music education. Allsup explores the nature of music education and the limitations it places upon its participants. Chapter 2, "Music-Teacher Quality and Expertise," asks fundamental questions of our field and [End Page 100] explores and challenges the "place and purpose of public schooling in a democratic society."5 Allsup speaks to the function of education and critiques music education. Chapter 3, "learning in laboratories," puts forward a Deweyan laboratory model in which a museum is at the center of the school with learning laboratories situated around it. He explores what this structural fluidity might enable and develops notions of lawmaking and lawbreaking, extending possibilities of the open encounter. The final chapter, "looking, Longing, for Moral Openings," calls on music educators to embrace a more open music education paradigm. Allsup draws upon Greene to challenge music education to move "from the predictable to the possible."6 He puts forward the Orpheus Orchestra, a conductorless orchestra, as one possibility.I situate myself as an anti-racist, anti-colonial, feminist scholar rooted in anti-oppression scholarship.7 locating my review through this framework, I elaborate upon what I see as the major strengths and limitations of this work, drawing upon Judith Butler8 and postcolonial theory. significantly, Allsup's book calls upon music education to "give an account of [it]self" and promotes a self-consciousness crucial for our field in the age of high stakes accountability measures. I contend that he provides a music education philosophy for what stuart Hall terms the "postcolonial moment"9 and ultimately positions music education as a space of possibility. Alongside these strengths, I offer a challenge toward what I view as the open possibilities of closed forms and a critique of his "pedagogy of travel and surprise."Judith Butler points to the impossibility of giving an account of oneself. she notes,I speak as an 'I,' but do not make the mistake of thinking that I know precisely all that I am doing when I speak in that way. I find that my very formation implicates the other and me, that my own foreignness to myself is, paradoxically, the source of my ethical connection with others.10Butler notes the subject's "partial opacity to [her]self."11 In Remixing the Classroom, Allsup calls upon music educators to account for the practices and traditions continually reinscribed in the field. He poses challenging but fundamental questions in the work in music education, asking readers to consider what they do unconsciously. Butler asserts we can never fully account for ourselves. Allsup challenges the field to try, pushing music educators to face hard truths and limitations of what music education is and has been. In chapter 1, for example, he argues:To call a studying musician "unmusical" is to extinguish a light; it is to act as if the future is certain and that human potential is somehow fixed. It is to act [End Page 101... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:In Search of a Reality-Based Community:Illusion and Tolerance in Music, Education, and SocietyPatrick K. SchmidtThe two questions that arise in this symposium are: What kind of world engagement is required of music education? and Should music educators participate in political understanding? While my immediate response was and is: How we can afford not to? that is, not to engage fully with the world and not to do so politically, (...) at the same time I also recognize the ways in which that has been problematic in the music education profession. Particularly, in how we continue to experience what I would call events without future: ersatz events made of illusions. Such a proposition is implicated in the following questions: How seriously are we committed to rethinking our practice and re-engaging with our ideals, traditions, visions, and discourses? Has our conception and practice of democracy disappeared (or remained unformed) in the insubstantiality of shadows? How do [End Page 160] we react to political understandings that dismiss the communities in which we live, as well as the singularities and differences that mark us? Who are those of us supposedly living in the/a "reality-based community?"1An aide of the current administration explains the White House stance by saying, "We are an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality."2 The idea, of course, is that we not only can, but perhaps, must dissociate from such communities (particularly those that do not conform to such envisioned reality). An Empire, one might say, seeks power as well as expansion, confluence as well as stability, tradition as well as ideological certainty. It probably comes as no surprise then, that dictatorial regimes are often more stable, including economically, than new or recalcitrant democracies. (I myself grew up in such a regime in Brazil in the 1970s and early 80s.) The word "Empire" conjures up images that are localized, monocentric, confluent, and institutional. The reality today, however, seems much closer to what Antonio Negri and Richard Hardt portray:3 a reality modeled upon the production of subjects with increasingly similar desires and prone to a certain subservience to commodity and technology. But if this "we" is no longer "us" but an illusion, if this reality-based community no longer distinguishes, questions, problematizes, or engages with its own reality or realities, perhaps more than ever it is time that we began to think politically, that our assumptions and that of others be challenged, and that we seek understandings that, as Randall Allsup has proposed, "are rendered in a world that is contingent, political, and always in motion."Following the model adopted here I will address some of the concepts Estelle Jorgensen proposes, particularly those associated with the notion of supremacy and its propagation through "reductionistic and nationalistic forces." Such a vista will serve as a departing point for my own reflections on the shades, contradictions, complexities, and possibilities we might find when considering majority led silence and voicing, as well as the role of political and empathetic dialogue in our practices, be they professional and/or connected to citizenship.4A Search for the Ethical: Majority Rule?Today, music education as a society negotiates a reality that is more complex and multiple—one of a multitude of one5 —of separation through categories that, while preserving the impression of distinctiveness, allows for a larger invisible and uncontested majority to instill what Alexis de Toqueville called over a century ago the "tyranny of the majority."6 We need to consider here that, as Negri and Hardt propose, there is no one center to this Empire, "no tangible, nuclear element to be identified and/or resisted." This tyrannical majority is paradoxical, for while it dictates it is also silent.7 What is there, then, are spaces in and through which our disengagement allows for the strengthening of what is [End Page 161] perceived and experienced as inevitable, as a faceless majority that controls and decrees, that denies and structures.This tyranny of the majority, the underside of our democratic visions, can lead in politics, as in our professional practices, to a sense of the famous Foucaultian panopticon where total surveillance is... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Response to Susan Laird, “Musical Hunger: A Philosophical Testimonial of Miseducation”Estelle R. JorgensenSusan Laird’s lament of her “musical under-education,” her youthful lack of opportunity for the sorts of experiences for which she hungered and its life-long after-effects, and her invocation of hunger as a metaphor for music education raise compelling questions. In a feminized field such as music, particularly piano playing, her hunger is particularly poignant. Also, the (...) notion of “musical taste” takes on new meaning, and the musical, educational, and ethical questions this metaphor evokes reveal its richness as a means of thinking about music education. This metaphor joins others such as Barbara Thayer Bacon’s metaphor of the quilt, Jane Roland Martin’s metaphor of the home, Iris Yob’s metaphor of pilgrimage, Elizabeth Gould’s metaphor of the nomad, Virginia Richardson’s metaphor of the steward, and Randall Allsup’s metaphor of the garage band, each of which illumines music education differently.1 Without one, we miss important insights into the thought and practice of music education; when taken together, they offer a richer view than were we to see music education in terms of one alone. [End Page 75]Although metaphor evokes imaginative thought and practice in music education, it is also limited. As Nelson Goodman aptly puts it, metaphor is a “matter of teaching an old word new tricks” and an “expedition abroad in which associations with one realm are applied in another.”2 Its power lies in its evocative and imaginative quality as it startles and surprises, challenges familiar ways of thinking and doing, and opens new possibilities for how we might think, act, and be differently. Although Laird would not want to literalize musical hunger or equate it with physical hunger—physical and spiritual realms intersect but they are not equivalent—it is possible to freeze a metaphor or literalize the vitality out of it. Testing it systematically, we enter the ground between metaphor and model, or what Iris Yob thinks of as the metaphorical model.3 While metaphor may prompt an intellectual journey, it cannot take us the entire way. In its particularistic and imaginative appeal, it opens reflection though it cannot suffice. A metaphor may also have a dark side. For example, envisaging the teacher’s role as salvific in providing bread for the hungry or preventing gluttony or food addictions may foster a paternalistic view that substitutes the teacher’s view of a student’s long term interests for the student’s directly-known and immediately perceived needs and interests, thereby subverting Laird’s expressed interest in the student’s desires. The educational “sin” of addiction may also be “redeemed” in Schefflerian fashion by pointing to important contributions of musicians who were doubtless excessive in their musical engagements.4 These possibilities suggest that we shall need to examine critically the metaphor and what it means for music education and move beyond the metaphor to its related models of music education.One of the interesting questions that Laird’s metaphor of hunger raises is the possibility of spiritual hunger, especially in a pervasively materialistic world. Matters related to spirituality have been addressed variously by writers in music education, whether it be the “healing” and ecologically-oriented approach of June Boyce-Tillman, the evolutionary and anthropologically grounded holistic approach of Anthony Palmer, the ethically-based approach of David Carr, the introspective and politically-charged writing of Cathy Benedict and Randall Allsup, the feminist perspectives of Elizabeth Gould, Charlene Morton, Roberta Lamb, and Deanne Bogdan, or the religiously grounded work of Iris Yob.5 Notions of spiritual hunger might be seen differently within the various lenses that these writers bring to music education but they all underscore the importance of knowing that goes beyond the literal, utilitarian, generalizable, and vocational to address the life of mind and body that Susanne Langer terms “feeling” and with which the arts, myths, rituals, and religions have to do.6 As such, they rebuke general education that is limited to reading, writing, and arithmetic, and driven by tests, standards, and mandates that often give short shrift to matters of human spirituality. Still, as the recent unanimous resolution in favor of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 15.2 (2007) 150-160MuseSearchJournalsThis JournalContents[Access article in PDF]Songs to Teach a NationEstelle R. Jorgensen Indiana University, BloomingtonIn this symposium, I first briefly respond to Randall Allsup's piece, "Extraordinary Rendition: On Politics, Music, and Circular Meanings" with some general remarks on the distinctions between fundamentalism and liberalism, and internationalism, nationalism, and localism, and the importance of exercising judgment in order to find a middle (...) ground between extreme positions. Against this backdrop, I reflect on the songs we need to teach the nation to sing and, as a case in point, consider the National Anthem Project launched by the MENC—The National Association for Music Education. I suggest that at the very least the "Star-Spangled Banner" ought not be the only song to teach the nation at this time and it is important to carefully consider which songs we ought to teach the nation. And I propose that music teachers need to take a measured approach that eschews fundamentalism, rampant militarism, and excessive patriotism, embraces musically the tensions between internationalism, nationalism, and localism, and expresses a sensitive world-view through the choice of songs that cultivate and express liberal and democratic ideals and foster peace internationally.1Allsup's attention to the political character of research reminds us of the important consequences of any activity in the public and private spheres. Our endeavors as researchers are inherently ethical and have political consequences because as music teachers, we act on behalf of what John Dewey terms "the public."2 Dewey's "public" arises out of the need for social activities to be collectively organized, especially given the presence of the young, the poor, the ill, the elderly, the needy, and those who are otherwise dependent on others. Politics concerns the organization and governance of the public, that is the collective activities on behalf of society. For Dewey, educational activity cannot escape being ethical and political (construed positively) by the very fact of its undertaking on behalf of a public in the phenomenal world.3My understanding of fundamentalism is that it is, by definition, antithetical to liberalism. Whereas liberalism embraces surprise, entertains the possibility of doubt, and includes the "responsibility to choose,"4 fundamentalism is closed-minded and refuses to be surprised or to doubt the certainty of beliefs that have been accepted. Israel Scheffler notes that there is a safety in dogmatism in which one does not need to face the unsettlement of surprise that one might be wrong and one's beliefs mistaken.5 This quality of fallibility and openness to the possibility of surprise renders a liberal democracy fragile. Without cultivating [End Page 150] capacities and dispositions to open-mindedness and critical thought and action on the part of all the citizens of the democracy, it is open to being high-jacked by closed-mindedness and fundamentalism and thereby subject to dictatorial action on the part of those who seize political power.6 In difficult times, certainty may seem to be safer than open-mindedness that weighs possibilities and thinks through the complexities with which the public must deal. As Paul Woodford argues, if music education is to serve the interests of liberalism, it must likewise cultivate critical thinking and I add the caveat, as a means of defeating fundamentalism and literalism that would destroy liberal democracy.7Liberalism depends on the assertion of certain universal principles of ethical conduct. Seyla Benhabib's reconstruction of universals in what she terms her "post-Enlightenment project of interactive universalism" takes account of important postmodern, feminist, and communitarian insights and understands universals as "interactive not legislative, cognizant of gender difference not gender blind, contextually sensitive and not situation indifferent."8 In this frame, it is only possible to sustain liberalism on the assumption of action that takes for granted that others ought to agree with one and act in such-and-such ways. Whether these principles are referred to as "commonalities" or "universals" in the Benhabibian sense, one appeals to certain propositions on which ethical and political action should be predicated... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:In Memoriam: Bennett ReimerForest HansenIn late afternoon on January 9, 2014, family members, colleagues, former students, and other friends met at Northwestern University to reflect upon and honor the life of Bennett Reimer, who had died from cancer on November 18, 2013 at the age of 81. The printed program fittingly called it a “Memorial Celebration,” because that is what it was. Fine wine and savory hors d’oeuvres were (...) served, a woodwind quartet of Bienen School of Music graduate students played Reimer favorites, and Beth Hebert, Bennett’s life partner of 27 years, greeted every person as they entered the hall. Reimer would have approved of the exuberant tastefulness of the event. He would probably have blushed and demurred, however, when in the formal part of the program his colleagues, daughters, and former students praised him in recalling specific occasions of his mentoring, inspiring, modeling, guiding, collaborating, and originating. (In his writing Reimer loved such extensive discriminatory lists.) Included among the expressions of respect and affection were these words by Estelle Jorgensen, who could not be present, read by Randall Allsup: [End Page 101]We have lost a wonderful person who lived life richly and made an outstanding contribution to the field of music education and beyond. In honor of his work as a philosopher of music education, among the many facets of his professional life, the Philosophy of Music Education Review will have a special issue devoted to the ideas that he left us, contributed by prominent music educational leaders and writers. Such moments of professional loss leave a rent in our midst that can never quite be patched. Along with our sorrow is our memory of the joy, idealism, and hope that characterized his lived life. We cling collectively to the memories of the blessings he brought us in simply being Bennett.Reimer was born on June 19, 1932 in Brooklyn, where he grew up. He earned a B.S. in music education in 1954 at SUNY at Fredonia and an M.S. (1955) and Ed.D. (1963) at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. His teaching career started at the Richmond Professional Institute of the College of William and Mary (1955–57) and continued at Madison College (Harrisburg VA) (1958–1960) and the University of Illinois (1960–65). At Case Western Reserve University (1965–1978), he became chair of the Music Education Department and holder of the Kulas Endowed Chair in Music. Then at Northwestern University he held the John W. Beattie Chair in Music from 1978 until his retirement in 1997. He chaired the Music Education Department there, directed the doctoral program in music education, and founded and directed the Center for the Study of Education and the Musical Experience—a weekly research forum for graduate students and faculty. Although Reimer had started out as an instructor in clarinet and oboe, musical theory, conducting, and music appreciation, he became a scholar, teacher, and lecturer in the new field of philosophy of music education with a worldwide following and reputation.Reimer was most noted for his seminal A Philosophy of Music Education (1970), which can fittingly be described as the founding document of the discipline. Typically he made revisions for the second edition in 1989 and more radical ones for the third edition in 2003, retitled as A Philosophy of Music Education: Advancing the Vision. This work has been translated into French, Japanese, and Chinese, and, forthcoming, Greek. He was associated with PMER and the International Society for Philosophy of Music Education (ISPME) from their beginnings in 1990.Besides his seminal works, Reimer wrote or co-wrote another twenty books and more than 150 articles, reviews, and book chapters. A few of his book titles indicate the range of his thought, from his early and widely used textbooks The Experience of Music (1971) for college students and Silver Burdett Music for grades 1–8 to his more recent Performing with Understanding: The Challenge of the National Standards for Musical Education (2000), World Musics and Music [End Page 102] Education: Facing the Issues (2002), and Seeking the Significance of Music Education (2009). He was an active participant and leader in a host of other music... (shrink)

Drawing on work from Marina Sbisà’s “Ideology and the Persuasive Use of Presupposition” (1999), Rae Langton has developed a powerful account of the subtle mechanisms through which hate speech and propaganda spread. However, this model has a serious limitation: it focuses too strongly on individual speech acts isolated from their wider context, rendering its applicability to a broader range of cases suspect. In this chapter, I consider the limits of presupposition accommodation to clarify the audience’s role in helping hate speakers, (...) and claim the necessary mechanisms are much more active and social than Langton suggests, with effects not capturable in the analysis of isolated speech acts. I revisit Sbisà’s work on presupposition and develop an alternative model that (1) improves upon the Langtonian model for explaining the power of hate propaganda, and (2) is more in line with Sbisà’s original approach to ideology and the normative aspects of presupposition. (shrink)

This paper has 3 main goals: (1) to clarify the role of Artificial Intelligence (AI)—along with algorithms more broadly—in online radicalization that results in ‘real world violence’; (2) to argue that technological solutions (like better AI) are inadequate proposals for this problem given both technical and social reasons; and (3) to demonstrate that platform companies’ (e.g., Meta, Google) statements of preference for technological solutions functions as a type of propaganda that serves to erase the work of the thousands of human (...) content moderators and conceal the harms they experience. I argue that the proper assessment of these important, related issues must be free of the obfuscation that the ‘better AI’ proposal generates. For this reason, I describe the AI-centric solutions favoured by major platform companies as a type of obfuscating and dehumanizing propaganda. (shrink)

This chapter examines what protest is from the point of view of pragmatics, and how it relates to propaganda—specifically what Jason Stanley calls ‘positive propaganda.’ It analyzes the phrase “Black Lives Matter,” taking it to be a political speech act that offers a unique route to understanding of the pragmatics of protest. From this, it considers the moral-epistemological function of protest, and develops an account of the authority that protest, as a speech act, both calls upon and makes explicit. It (...) then argues that, rather than simply its effects, it is protest’s distinct pragmatic features—that is, its entitlement conditions, and the uptake it aim at—that best capture its important moral, political, and epistemic elements. It therefore rejects the idea that protests are paradigmatic examples of ‘positive propaganda,’ because the propaganda model cannot capture protests’ function of foregrounding the socially located moral authority of the protestor. (shrink)

Coregulation refers to the process by which relationship partners form a dyadic emotional system involving an oscillating pattern of affective arousal and dampening that dynamically maintains an optimal emotional state. Coregulation may represent an important form of interpersonal emotion regulation, but confusion exists in the literature due to a lack of precision in the usage of the term. We propose an operational definition for coregulation as a bidirectional linkage of oscillating emotional channels between partners, which contributes to emotional stability for (...) both partners. We propose several distinctions and raise unanswered questions that will need to be addressed in order to understand the relevance of coregulation for well-being in adulthood. (shrink)

In “Subordinating Speech,” Ishani Maitra defends the claim that ordinary instances of hate speech can sometimes constitute subordination. While she accepts that subordinating speech requires authority, she argues that ordinary speakers can acquire this authority via a process of “licensing.” I believe this account is interestingly mistaken, and in this paper I develop an alternative account. In particular, I take issue with what I see as the highly localized character of Maitra’s account, which effectively divorces the subordinating authority of ordinary (...) hate speech from the broader normative context, including social and pragmatic features that I claim play essential roles in subordination. (shrink)

This dissertation fits within the literature on subordinating speech and aims to demonstrate that how language subordinates is more complex than has been described by most philosophers. I argue that the harms that subordinating speech inflicts on its targets (chapter one), the type of authority that is exercised by subordinating speakers (chapters two and three), and the expansive variety of subordinating speech acts themselves (chapter three) are all under-developed subjects in need of further refinement—and, in some cases, large paradigm shifts. (...) I also examine cases that have yet to be adequately addressed by philosophers working on this topic, like the explosion of abusive speech online (chapter four) or the distinctive speech acts of protest groups (chapter five). I argue that by considering these alongside the ‘paradigm’ cases of subordinating speech that inform most models, we are better able to capture the lived realities of this phenomena, as described by members of groups targeted by such speech. I develop a novel account of speaker authority to explain the variety of pragmatic effects subordinating speech generates. Instead of seeing this authority as reducible to either a formal position or a merely local, linguistic phenomenon, I argue for a conception of speaker authority that is a richly contextual social fact, distributed unevenly among members of different social groups. I also develop an account of collective authority that explains how a group of speakers can join together to subordinate in a way that no individual speaker is capable of doing. This account, I argue, is better able to explain the social reality of subordinating speech than individualist models. Overall, I show how a more fine-grained account of subordinating speaker authority gives us a more accurate picture of the different subordinating speech acts available to different speakers, along with how these may harm their targets. (shrink)

A lot of subordinating speech has moved online, which raises several questions for philosophers. Can current accounts of oppressive speech adequately capture digital hate? How does the anonymity of online harassers contribute to the force of their speech? This paper examines online abuse and argues that standard accounts of licensing and accommodation are not up to the task of explaining the authority of online hate speech, as speaker authority often depends on the community in more ways than these accounts suggests. (...) Instead I argue that online abusive speech is best understood as collective subordinating speech acts, as their authority is drawn from an ad hoc collective. I argue that anonymity and shared language offer online abusers a path to a type of group-authority that explains the harm their speech is capable of. I close by suggesting that similar considerations are in play for IRL subordinating speech, and that online abuse helps to reveal key features of subordinating speech across mediums that are under-emphasized in the existing literature. (shrink)

Sense of agency refers to the ability to influence one’s functioning and environment, relating to self-efficacy and wellbeing. In youth, agency may be challenged by external demands or redefinition of self-image. Music, having heightened relevance for the young, has been argued to provide feelings of self-agency for them. Yet, there is little empirical research on how music impacts adolescents’ daily sense of agency. The current study investigated whether music listening influences adolescents’ perceived agency in everyday life and which individual and (...) contextual determinants would explain such an influence. Participants were 44 adolescents (48% female, 36% with training in music, mean age 14), recruited through local schools. The mobile Experience Sampling app MuPsych was used to collect brief self-reports of personal music listening experiences during daily life. This method assessed the change in the listener’s perceived control over both their emotional states (Internal Agency), and their external environment (External Agency), over five minutes of music listening. Also measured were changes in mood states, and contextual variables (social situation, concurrent activity, and reason for listening). The impact of music on the sense of agency was analyzed using multilevel structural equation modelling. There was no general increase of agency across all music episodes, but agency fluctuations were determined by specific individual and contextual factors. Music training predicted increases in both internal and external agency during music listening, and external agency increased more for male participants. Certain context features such as listening alone, paying attention to music, and listening for enjoyment were related to greater increases in agency. Increases in agency significantly correlated with increases in mood valence. Our findings confirmed the plasticity and situational embeddedness of the sense of agency. Music indeed can support agency, but the impact is dependent on specific individual and contextual factors. Sense of agency can be seen as a health resource and significant part of youth development, and current findings provide new insight into when and by whom such affordance is likely to be employed. (shrink)

A comprehensive formal system is developed that amalgamates the operational and the realistic approaches to quantum mechanics. In this formalism, for example, a sharp distinction is made between events, operational propositions, and the properties of physical systems.

The Philosophy of Umberto Eco stands out in the Library of Living Philosophers series as the volume on the most interdisciplinary scholar hitherto and probably the most widely translated. The Italian philosopher's name and works are well known in the humanities, both his philosophical and literary works being translated into fifteen or more languages. Eco is a founder of modern semiotics and widely known for his work in the philosophy of language and aesthetics. He is also a leading figure in (...) the emergence of postmodern literature, and is associated with cultural and mass communication studies. His writings cover topics such as advertising, television, and children's literature as well as philosophical questions bearing on truth, reality, cognition, language, and literature. The critical essays in this volume cover the full range of this output. This book has wide appeal not only because of its interdisciplinary nature but also because of Eco's famous "high and low" approach, which is deeply scholarly in conception and very accessible in outcome. The short essay "Why Philosophy?" included in the volume is exemplary in this regard: it will appeal to scholars for its wit and to high school students for its intelligibility. (shrink)

The thought and work of the Jesuit Francisco Suárez (1548-1617) is widely acknowledged as the culmination point of the contribution of the theologians and jurists of the so-called School of Salamanca to the development of modern Western law. This collection of studies on the legal work of Suárez explores some of his major forays into the law. Both his theoretical system-building as well as his interventions in practical questions are covered. Next to discussions on the nature of law and its (...) different categorisations, they extend to various subbranches of the law including family law, property law, the law of obligations, criminal law and international law. Contributors are: Dominique Bauer, Daniel Schwartz, João Manuel Azevedo Alexandrino Fernandes, Lisa Brunori, Wim Decock, Bart Wauters, Gaëlle Demelemestre, and Jean-Paul Coujou. (shrink)

The treatment decisions of competent adults, especially treatment refusals, are generally respected. In the case of minors something turns on their age, and older minors ought increasingly to make their own decisions. On the other hand, parents decide on behalf of infants and young children. Their right to do so can best be justified in terms of the importance of preserving intimate family relationships, rather than in terms of the child's best interests, although the child's best interests will most often (...) follow from this arrangement. Nevertheless, there are and ought to be legal, ethical, and financial constraints on parental decision making. (shrink)

Sweatshop labour is sometimes defended from critics by arguments that stress the voluntariness of the worker’s choice, and the fact that sweatshops provide a source of income where no other similar source exists. The idea is if it is exploitation—as their opponents charge—it is mutually beneficial and consensual exploitation. This defence appeals to the non-worseness claim (NWC), which says that if exploitation is better for the exploited party than neglect, it cannot be seriously wrong. The NWC renders otherwise exploitative—and therefore (...) morally wrong—transactions permissible, making the exploitation of the global poor a justifiable path to development. In this paper, I argue that the use of NWC for the case of sweatshops is misleading. After reviewing and strengthening the exploitation claims made concerning sweatshops, most importantly by refuting certain allegations that a micro-unfairness account of exploitation cannot evaluate sweatshop labour as exploitative, I then argue that even if this practice may seem permissible due to benefits otherwise unavailable to the global poor, there remains a duty to address the background conditions that make this form of wrong-doing possible, which the NWC cannot accommodate. I argue that the NWC denies this by unreasonably limiting its scope and is therefore incomplete, and ultimately unconvincing. (shrink)

How a group G can know that p has been the subject of much investigation in social epistemology in recent years. This paper clarifies and defends a form of non-supervenient, non-summative group knowledge: G can know that p even if none of the members of G knows that p, and whether or not G knows that p does not locally supervene on the mental states of the members of G. Instead, we argue that what is central to G knowing that (...) p is whether G has an epistemic structure that is functioning appropriately in accord with the action-related purposes of the group, and this structure may include non-agential elements such as devices that retain or process information. We argue that recent objections to non-summative group knowledge given by Jennifer Lackey do not in fact succeed in undermining the view, but do help to clarify the nature of non-summative group knowledge. The main upshot of our response to Lackey’s objections is that groups put their knowledge into action in ways that often differ from how individuals do so, and social epistemologists should be careful to notice these differences, especially insofar as groups often structure themselves by employing various epistemically-relevant devices. (shrink)

A model is presented that addresses both the distribution and comprehension of different forms of referring expressions in language. This model is expressed in a formalism (Kamp & Reyle, 1993) that uses interpretive rules to map syntactic representations onto representations of discourse. Basic interpretive rules are developed for names, pronouns, definite descriptions, and quantified descriptions. These rules are triggered by syntactic input and interact dynamically with representations of discourse to establish reference and coreference. This interaction determines the ease with which (...) coreference can be established for different linguistic forms given the existing discourse context. The performance of the model approximates that observed in studies of intuitive judgments of grammaticality and studies using online measures of language comprehension. The model uses the same basic interpretive mechanisms for coreference within and between sentences, thereby linking the domain traditionally studied by generative linguists to domains that have been of concern primarily to psychologists and computational linguists. (shrink)

Piron's axioms for a realistically interpreted quantum mechanics are analyzed in detail within the context of a formal mathematical structure expressed in the conventional set-theoretic idiom of mathematics. As a result, some of the serious misconceptions that have encouraged recent criticisms of Piron's axioms are exposed.