The emerging new multidisciplinary and crosscultural field of bioethics will require sen sitive, open-minded professionals to take the lead in hospital ethics, in genetic coun selling, and in the teaching of bioethics to students in nursing, medicine and the basic sciences. Nurses with ward experience who return to university to gain an MA or PhD in bioethics are eminently suited for this leadership role, for they may be more likely than physicians to study for a liberal education to supplement their (...) professional know ledge ; their first-hand experience in nursing is an antidote to the pointless subtleties into which philosophical ethics so often degenerates. When teaching ethics to nurses one must remember that, while some will simply use this knowledge in their own clinical work, others will go on to be teachers and researchers in bioethics. Their training must therefore be broad and interdisciplinary, including real substantive philosophy (as opposed to philosophical ethics), as well as mystical bioethics, religious law, ethics of genetic counselling, clinical approaches to ethical pseudo prob lems, research skills, etc. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume Against Spinoza and Aristotle1 Frank J. Leavitt It is always good to try to make peace, to try to resolve differences between whatsomebelieveare conflictingpoints ofview. Nevertheless, sometimes the points ofview which are believed to be opposed to each other really do oppose one another and so the most ingenious attempts at reconciliation turn out to have been ill-conceived. Wim Klever has brought considerable scholarship to bear (...) in his attempt to show that Hume and Spinoza were not so far apart as we thought.2 It was an especially pleasant surprise to see the comparison of their views on personal identity,3 for example. And he has made a convincing case for doubt that Hume's "sharp anti-Spinözistic utterings"4 in Treatise 1.4.5 were really sincere. In my opinion, however, Klever has gone too farin trying to bring together what should have been left asunder. Some ofhis points ofthe purportedly common ground shared by Hume and Spinoza are based on what I believe to be a blatant misreading ofSpinoza. Other points show a failure to appreciate a fundamental disagreement between Hume and Spinoza on central issues in the old Aristotelian tradition. Hume and Spinoza, like other philosophersofthe seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, can be best understood when one is aware ofthe Aristotelian background against which they were writing and with which they expected their readers to be familiar. Hume shows familiarity with Aristotelianism in his discussion of the "antient philosophy" at Treatise 1.4.3 as well as in his various remarks about scholasticism.6Spinoza'srelationshipto ChristianAristotelianism has been discussed by Wolfson6 and by myself,7 among others. And his relationship to Maimonides, who was his link to Jewish Aristotelianism, has been discussed by Harvey.8 1 shall base my claim that Hume and Spinoza were much further apart than Klever makes them out to be upon an attempt to identify some scholastic and Aristotelian issues and doctrines with respect to which Hume and Spinoza took very different stands. The firstthing which I wanttodraw attention toisKlever'sreading ofthe scholia to 2 Ethics 40, which bears on medieval disputes over the nominalistic, conceptualistic and realistic approaches to Aristotle's treatment of the problem of the universels. Since Spinoza allows that universal notions "are notformed by all men in the same way,"9 Klever Volume XVII Number 2 203 FRANK J. LEAVITT makes him out to be holding the same position which Hume expresses when he adopts Berkeley's opinion that "all general ideas are nothing but particular ones, annexed to a certain term" (T 17). And Klever claims "Hume and Spinoza are both thorough nominalists."10 But Klever misses the point that Hume denies that there are, in addition to particular ideas, universal ones, that is, common notions, while Spinoza clearly admits, in the second scholium to 11 Ethics 40, the difference which Hume denies. According to Spinoza we have (1> confused representations of particular things, and (2) remembered ideas which are "similar to those through which we imagine things." These latter are ideas of the sort which Hume recognized. But in addition tothese two, which Spinoza calls "opinion" and "imagination," Spinoza claims that we have (3) "notions common to all men, and adequate ideas ofthe properties ofthings." These are notions of"those things which are common to all, and which are equallyin a part and in the whole [and which] cannotbe conceived exceptadequately"(2Ethics 38). These notions, which parallel Descartes' "clear and distinct ideas" are the general abstract ideas which Hume denies in Treatise 1.1.7. There Hume denies that ideas can be general "in their nature" but allows that they can be general "in their representation." To the extent to which Hume's position can be called "nominalism," the passages to which I have referred show that Spinoza, who basically accepted the Cartesian doctrine ofclear and distinct ideas, was not a nominalist. Aristotle drew a sharp distinction between imagination and thought in De anima 2.3. Descartes preserved the distinction between imagination and intellection at the beginningofthe fourth Meditation, among other places. The passage from the second scholium to 2 Ethics 40, which I have already cited adheres to this distinction, which was already... (shrink)

“Dissecting Bioethics,” edited by Tuija Takala and Matti Häyry, welcomes contributions on the conceptual and theoretical dimensions of bioethics.The section is dedicated to the idea that words defined by bioethicists and others should not be allowed to imprison people's actual concerns, emotions, and thoughts. Papers that expose the many meanings of a concept, describe the different readings of a moral doctrine, or provide an alternative angle to seemingly self-evident issues are therefore particularly appreciated.The themes covered in the section so far (...) include dignity, naturalness, public interest, community, disability, autonomy, parity of reasoning, symbolic appeals, and toleration. (shrink)

Kant's philosophy of geometry rests upon his doctrine of the "schematism" which I argue is formally identical to the ability to grass the middle term of an Aristotelian syllogism. The doctrine fails to avoid obscurities which were already present in Plato, Aristotle, and Hume.

Heinrich Popitz’s Phenomena of Power aims to uncover power as “a universal component in the genesis and operation of human societies”. In order to uncover this “universal” concept of power, Popitz employs Husserl’s method of the “imaginative variation” [Phantasievariation]. Yet, contrary to phenomenology’s traditionally descriptive posture, Phenomena of Power’s project is at once descriptive and normative—seeking not only to describe power, but to also describe the way in which power can be remade. In the present paper it is argued that (...) this normative component of Popitz’s project offers the burgeoning field of critical phenomenology an illustration of the way in which Husserl’s “imaginative variation” might be employed not only as a descriptive tool of pure essences, but also as an instrument in the refashioning of social reality. (shrink)

Quentin Meillassoux’s 2006 After Finitude offered a sharp critique of the phenomenological project, charging that phenomenology was one of the “two principal media” of correlationism—ultimately reducible to an “extreme idealism.” Meillassoux grounds this accusation in an account of givenness that presupposes that “every variety of givenness” finds its genesis within the positing of the subject. However, this critique fails to hit its mark precisely because it presupposes an account of intuitive givenness that is entirely foreign to the phenomenological project. Quite (...) against Meillassoux’s conflation of givenness, the world-for-us, and the positing subject—the very centre of the phenomenological project is the recognition that intuitive givenness cannot be reduced to the constructive activity of the subject. Givenness is marked by a heterogeneity; givenness refers to what is given to us, not to what emerges from us. (shrink)

Thomas J.J. Altizer is one of the most important theologians of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, and all radical theology must pass through and be conversant with his work and the historical significance of his earlier contributions. This chapter presents Altizer’s essential ideas in a straightforward and accessible manner and provides a guide for the beginning reader.

Since his 1977 The Idol and Distance, Jean-Luc Marion has almost continually drawn upon the work of the 5th-6th century Christian mystic Pseudo-Denys the Areopagite, not only within his explicitly theological considerations, but throughout his Cartesian and phenomenological work as well. The present essay maps out the influence of Denys upon Marion’s thinking, organizing Marion’s career into a three-part periodization, each of which corresponds to a distinct portion of the Dionysian corpus—in Marion’s work of the seventies the Celestial Hierarchy and (...) the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy are foregrounded, in the eighties this emphasis is shifted to the The Divine Names, and in the nineties The Mystical Theology takes center stage. Insofar as these emphases directly correlate to the unique tasks that Marion has set himself in each of these various periods, Dionysius is revealed as a hermeneutical key, unlocking and clarifying crucial aspects of Marion’s theologically-inflected phenomenology. (shrink)

Since Husserl’s phenomenological analyses of the living body (Leib) in Ideas II, the subjective experience of the body, what later French thinkers will name the flesh, has been particularly marked by its capacity for action—its potency. This privileging of the acting flesh, the potent organ, is echoed throughout the subsequent phenomenological tradition. For this tradition, from de Biran and Husserl, to Merleau‑Ponty and Henry, the flesh is distinguished from the mere body (Körper) by its unique capacity to act. For the (...) later French tradition to be flesh is to be will, and to be will is to be action. Impotence (impuissance) appears as external resistance. In the present investigation, I challenge this trajectory of the flesh through a phenomenological investigation of the unique phenomenon of acute sexual impotence. In this way, it will be shown that l’impuissance (impotence) can be located not only in the objectivity of opposition within the world, on the organic or objective body (le corps, Körper), but within the immanence of the flesh (la chair, Leib) itself. Indeed, the experience of incarnate l’impuissance provides a unique phenomenological access to the incomplete synthesis of the carnal flesh—a synthesis that remains, by phenomenological necessity, run through with ruptures and gaps that function as its constitutive excess. (shrink)