Fernando Pessoa, a par de diatribes ao regímen republicano implantado em Portugal a 5 de Outubro de 1910, enuncia como e porquê o verdadeiro regímen político português: «república nova», promoverá liberdade e humanismo autênticos sob a organização de um escol de eleitos indispensáveis ao «Império de Cultura» capaz de colocar Portugal de novo como grande potência europeia constituindo uma «Confederação Ibérica», assim cultive a virtude da nação germânica.

Le concept d’ Aufhebung, repris par Marx de Hegel et réélaboré par lui, pose un problème notoire de traduction. Lucien Sève conteste le principe de sa traduction systématique par « abolition », pratique aujourd’hui constante, et plaide pour le recours en nombre de cas au mot « dépassement », position que Patrick Theuret dénonce dans un livre comme un révisionnisme sémantique et politique. Étudiant de près la question telle qu’elle se pose dans les Grundrisse, Lucien Sève montre que la (...) traduction par dépassement est maintes fois imposée par le texte même. Sémantiquement, il n’est pas vrai que dépassement fasse perdre de vue le « travail du négatif ». Politiquement, réduire la conception marxienne de la révolution à une abolition la mutile gravement. Question de vive actualité, quand l’obsolescence patente du capitalisme en appelle non à une révolution à l’ancienne mais à un dépassement de nouvelle sorte. (shrink)

I. Les facultés qui se rapportent à l'image des objets en nous, — l'imagination au sens large, — constituent, selon une tradition qui vient d'Aristote, l'intermédiaire entre la sensibilité et l'intellect. Le moyen âge les désigna par le nom de sens intérieurs ; leur liste fut reprise et modifiée par Ficin (dont la source directe n'est pas Avicenne, mais Albert le Grand) et par Bruno. Dans l'interprétation des néoplatoniciens, la série des facultés connaissantes représente le chemin de l'âme dans la (...) conversion ; la phantasia y joue un rôle eminent (Plotin, Hugues de Saint-Victor, Ficin, Bruno) ; d'autre part, on fait correspondre à la faculté intermédiaire une âme intermédiaire qui lui sert de substrat (Lulle), et un « premier corps » ou « véhicule » de l'âme (le spiritus phantasticus ou őχημα-πνεῦμα de Synesius). L'idée reparaît, modifiée, chez Hugues de Saint-Victor, Ficin, Bruno. Ce dernier met le spiritus phantasticus en relation avec l'âme du monde, qui lui est consubstantielle, la « lumière précédant toute Création » qui nous fait voir les images de nos rêves. Sources : Porphyre, Cusanus repris par Ficin, le panthéisme médiéval. Le lien entre le spiritus phantasticus et le destin de l'âme, esquissé chez Plotin, Porphyre, le Pseudo-Jamblique, Synesius, est affirmé sous différentes formes par Hugues, Ficin et Bruno : le sujet des peines infernales, qui sont d'ailleurs chez Ficin et Bruno de nature imaginaire, est un corps subtil. Ces peines correspondent exactement à ce que nos appétits et notre imagination ont fait de la substance de notre âme. Le spiritus phantasticus se rapproche, notamment chez Ficin, d'une sorte de karma. II. Dans la branche descendante de la connaissance, l'application de l'universel au particulier est forcément liée au sens intérieur et on l'attribue à une faculté spéciale, la Urteilskraft au sens kantien. Bruno en fait une fonction de l'imagination. D'autre part, les arts universels ou lulliens ont pris de plus en plus, durant la Renaissance, l'aspect de topiques généralisées ; le nerf de la méthode y était donc toujours cette Urteilskraft. Il s'en suit, chez Bruno, que le sujet de l'art universel est l'imagination, qui devient ainsi la source première de tout acte de l'intellect, principe de la fécondité infinie de la pensée. (Pratiquement, d'ailleurs, les artes de Bruno sont des ensembles d'images). III. Aux théories de l'imagination répondent les théories de l'image, « vêtement » et « premier corps » de la pensée. On vérifie cette correspondance, d'une part, dans la théorie du symbole, — avec ses variantes métaphysiques, pansymbolisme, magie, — et, d'autre part, dans celle du concetto (rapport entre la pensée et l'expression), où l'on va jusqu'à l'idée d'un universel de l'imagination, et du dessin comme concept. — Une importante différence entre la nature du symbolisme selon Pic et l'idée que s'en fait Bruno s'explique par leurs conceptions différentes de l'imagination. La théorie de l'art et l'évolution du goût artistique sont, dans leurs grandes lignes, en concordance avec ce qu'impliquent ou suggèrent à ce sujet les théories de l'imagination et de l'image. (shrink)

Présenter un aperçu de la « mystique chrétienne médiévale » n’est possible qu’en la situant brièvement dans l’histoire de la « mystique » en Occident. Le terme n’est pas dénué d’ambiguïté. Apparaissant dans le contexte des religions à mystères, la mystique évolue vers une expérience silencieuse que les mots ne peuvent capter, avant de désigner des phénomènes anormaux décrits dans une rhétorique de l’étrange. Par rapport à la littérature moderne, les textes médiévaux sont très sobres. Faisant à écho à la (...) théologie mystique de Denys l’Aréopagite (ve-vie s.), ils présentent une voie d’union à l’Un en deçà des mots et des concepts. Il ne suffit pas de connaître (mathein) Dieu par un savoir notionnel, il faut en faire l’expérience, « en pâtir » (pathein). Ce « pâtir Dieu » sera repris par Maître Eckhart (1260-1328), le chef de file de la mystique rhénane. (shrink)

Si la psychanalyse n'est pas une religion, pourquoi en emprunte-t-elle si souvent le chemin? Comment une pratique laïque et athée, héritière du débat des Lumières, peut-elle espérer trouver des réponses à ses propres questions dans les expériences subjectives qui ont guidé, pour le meilleur et pour le pire, les générations antérieures? À quels risques s'exposent ceux qui croient se garder de la métaphysique en méconnaissance de cause, sans s'apercevoir que l'émancipation de la psychanalyse de tout fondement religieux laisse le champ (...) ouvert à sa " contamination subreptice par des implications métaphysiques qui sont dans la nature même de l'esprit "? En quoi, dans ce contexte, l'enseignement de Lacan, qui ne pouvait manquer de se trouver confronté au fait religieux, peut-il réellement constituer une innovation? Telles sont les lignes de force de cet ouvrage qui tente, à partir d'une présentation des Écrits, d'une relecture de la thèse de 1932 et des premiers articles sur la paranoïa, de cerner, de façon accessible au profane les principaux concepts inventés ou repris par Lacan. En retrouvant leurs sources, en restituant le contexte dont ils portent la marque et qu'ils ont à leur tour influencé, il replace le débat sur son véritable terrain : celui d'une expérience commune de la souffrance placée sous le signe d'un désir en quête de l'objet de sa réalisation. (shrink)

En 1893, « physicien-ingénieur » André Blondel invente l’oscillographe bifilaire permettant de visualiser les tensions et courants variables. À l’aide de ce puissant moyen d’investigation, il entreprend tout d’abord l’étude des phénomènes de l’arc électrique alors utilisé pour l’éclairage côtier et urbain puis de l’arc chantant employé comme émetteur d’ondes radioélectriques en T.S.F. En 1905, il met en évidence un nouveau type d’oscillations non-sinusoïdales au sein de l’arc chantant. Vingt ans plus tard, Balthasar Van der Pol reconnaitra qu’il s’agissait en (...) réalité d’oscillations de relaxation. Pour expliquer ce phénomène, il fait appel à une representation dans le plan de phase et montre que son évolution prend la forme de petits cycles. Pendant le premier conflit mondial la triode remplace peu à peu l’arc chantant dans les systèmes de transmission. Au sortir de la guerre, Blondel transpose à la triode la plupart de ses résultats par analogie avec l’arc chantant. En avril 1919, il publie un long mémoire dans lequel il introduit la terminologie « oscillations auto- entretenues » et propose d’illustrer ce concept à partir de l’exemple du vase de Tantale qui sera ensuite repris par Van der Pol et par Philippe Le Corbeiller. Il fournit alors une définition d’un système auto-entretenu assez proche de celles qui seront données par la suite par Aleksandr’ Andronov et Van der Pol. Pour étudier la stabilité des oscillations entretenues par la triode et par l’arc chantant il utilise cette fois une représentation dans le plan complexe et explicite l’amplitude en coordonnées polaires. Il justifie alors l’entretien des oscillations par l’existence de cycles qui présentent presque toutes les caractéristiques des cycles limites de Poincaré. Enfin, en novembre 1919, Blondel réalise, un an avant Van der Pol, la mise en équation des oscillations d’une triode. En mars 1926, Blondel établit l’équation différentielle caractérisant les oscillations de l’arc chantant, en tous points similaire à celle qu’obtient concomitamment Van der Pol pour la triode. Ainsi, tout au long de sa carrière, Blondel, a apporté une contribution fondamentale et relativement méconnue à l’élaboration de la théorie des oscillations non linéaires. L’objet de cet article est donc d’analyser ses principaux travaux dans ce domaine et de mesurer leur importance, voire leur influence en les replaçant dans la perspective du développement de cette théorie. (shrink)

Publié en Allemagne en 1918, le Nietzsche d'Ernst Bertram, a paru en France dans la très belle traduction qu'en a donné Robert Pitrou en 1932. Repris par le Félin en 1990, ce livre tient une place à part dans l'ensemble des travaux consacrés à Nietzsche par sa façon de dégager symboles, légendes et concepts à partir d'une vue de Venise, une gravure de Dürer, un tableau du Lorrain...

L’article a pour objectif de rendre compte du réalisme critique introduit par le théologien Ian Barbour afin d’établir un « pont » entre science et théologie. Nous verrons pourquoi et comment Ian Barbour utilise cette philosophie qui relie le mieux, selon lui, l’ontologie et l’épistémologie pour proposer un dialogue voire une intégration entre science et théologie. Ce réalisme critique a ensuite été repris par d’autres scientifiques-théologiens notamment Peacocke et Polkinghorne avec quelques nuances qui sont ici analysées.

L’article a pour objectif de rendre compte du réalisme critique introduit par le théologien Ian Barbour afin d’établir un « pont » entre science et théologie. Nous verrons pourquoi et comment Ian Barbour utilise cette philosophie qui relie le mieux, selon lui, l’ontologie et l’épistémologie pour proposer un dialogue voire une intégration entre science et théologie. Ce réalisme critique a ensuite été repris par d’autres scientifiques-théologiens notamment Peacocke et Polkinghorne avec quelques nuances qui sont ici analysées.

Dès le tournant des xixe et xxe siècles en France, les féministes abordent la question du nom des femmes dans une perspective égalitaire et identitaire qui englobe la nomination, la dénomination et la filiation, à savoir le nom comme réputation et identité personnelle, le pseudonyme, le nom des femmes mariées, l’appellation Madame/Mademoiselle et la transmission du nom. À partir des moments forts du débat et des mobilisations autour du nom des femmes, une généalogie conceptuelle est retracée de la Belle Époque (...) aux premières années du xxie siècle. Les discours et pratiques féministes radicales de la Belle Époque, d’Hubertine Auclert et de Clémence Royer en particulier, posent les termes du débat qui est repris par les féministes modérées et par les féminismes d’État, à partir des années 1970, puis à nouveau par les féministes radicales qui œuvrent aux changements législatifs et administratifs (1985, 2002, 2012, 2013). Au-delà du droit, les pratiques égalitaires et l’inscription du nom des femmes dans l’espace public restent un objectif féministe. (shrink)

Dès le tournant des xixe et xxe siècles en France, les féministes abordent la question du nom des femmes dans une perspective égalitaire et identitaire qui englobe la nomination, la dénomination et la filiation, à savoir le nom comme réputation et identité personnelle, le pseudonyme, le nom des femmes mariées, l’appellation Madame/Mademoiselle et la transmission du nom. À partir des moments forts du débat et des mobilisations autour du nom des femmes, une généalogie conceptuelle est retracée de la Belle Époque (...) aux premières années du xxie siècle. Les discours et pratiques féministes radicales de la Belle Époque, d’Hubertine Auclert et de Clémence Royer en particulier, posent les termes du débat qui est repris par les féministes modérées et par les féminismes d’État, à partir des années 1970, puis à nouveau par les féministes radicales qui œuvrent aux changements législatifs et administratifs (1985, 2002, 2012, 2013). Au-delà du droit, les pratiques égalitaires et l’inscription du nom des femmes dans l’espace public restent un objectif féministe. (shrink)

L'auteur cherche d'abord à éclairer le concept de structure en mettant en évidence son origine - origine double du reste - dans le concept phénoménologique de priori (analytique et synthétique), tel qu'il est repris par certaines ontologies analytiques contemporaines. Puis, il discute la nature de cette a prioricité de la structure : est-elle normative ou ontologique ? Il tient pour nécessaire une approche purement ontologique et théorique des structures.

Dans cet article on essayera de saisir les traits qui peuvent lier entre eux les réflexions amenées par Michel Foucault dans ses écrits dits littéraires (notamment par le biais de sa lecture de l’œuvre de Roussel), ses travaux archéologiques déroulés parallèlement pendant les années ’60, et l’articulation d’une pratique d’écriture comme procédé combinatoire qui aboutit à la fondation du groupe Oulipo. Cette triangulation sera éclairée en analysant le cas particulier d’un projet de revue italienne (qui n’a jamais vu le jour), (...) dans le cadre duquel il était question de mettre en place une idée de littérature qui pouvait briser et bouleverser les bornes rigides de la notion classique du discours littéraire. À travers cette revue, animée par les écrivains Italo Calvino et Gianni Celati, on proposait une littérature définie comme archéologique ou comme bazar d’objets littéraires hétéroclites, qui mettait en évidence la potentialité d’ébranlement de l’ordre discursif ouverte par le livre jeu du langage avec sa propre matérialité nue, c’est-à-dire déliée de ses utilisations expressives et de signification. Ce jeu, entendu comme procédé mécanique, est précisément celui que Foucault soulignait dans ses analyses de l’écriture de Roussel, ainsi que celui qui avait été repris par les oulipiens. (shrink)

Les écrits de Gilbert Simondon sont tellement denses et touffus qu'en faire une présentation dans un petit volume de cette collection était un tour de force. Muriel Combes l'a bien réussi en explicitant les principaux thèmes de la problématique simondonienne. Dans ce compte rendu mon intention est de me concentrer sur les aspects saillants mis en évidence par Combes dans ses interprétations sans omettre au passage de traiter pour elles-mêmes de quelques thèses de Simondon. Bien au-delà du Simondon dont le (...) premier ouvrage s'intitulait Du mode d'existence des objets techniques, et donc de ce que Combes appelle «notre soi-disant penseur-de-la-technique», il convenait d'inaugurer l'exposé comme elle le fait par l'évocation de l'ontologie—ou même, ainsi qu'elle dira, «d'une voie de renouvellement de la métaphysique»—comme propos moteur des investigations de Simondon. Elle montre bien que le problème de l'ontologie tel que repris par lui nous reconduit à celui de l'individuation et qu'il est chez lui complètement reformulé à partir de ce fait que, notamment chez Aristote dans l'hylémorphisme, ce qui est pensé ce n'est pas l'individuation comme opération, mais comme la possession d'une forme déjà achevée et complète. Le reste s'ensuit. Dans la tradition logique accoutumée l'induction et la déduction sont des notions-clés. La critique de Simondon consiste à expliquer que ces deux notions supposent elles aussi une forme réalisée, idéale et parfaite. Il leur substitue une notion, chez lui centrale, de transduction qui décrit aussi bien dans les êtres que dans la pensée un réel qui se constitue et qui devient. Un intérêt de la présentation de Combes à cet égard consiste en ceci qu'elle expose que la critique de Simondon vise non seulement l'hylémorphisme aristotélicien, mais aussi la doctrine kantienne «qui sépare les formes a priori de la sensibilité de la matière donnée a posteriori, [...]» ; elle nous fait ainsi assister au repérage d'un hylémorphisme kantien et à sa modification, et à une autre conséquence des thèses de Simondon, relativement à la tradition, à savoir que la priorité accordée à la raison dans l'hégélianisme est également exposée; ainsi, «là où pour Hegel c'est du côté de la pensée que s'effectue l'identité de la pensée et de l'être, une telle identité repose dans la philosophie de Simondon sur le fond transductif de l'être, fond transductif dont la pensée procède». En fait chez Hegel le mouvement de l'être «n'est "que" celui de l'esprit». Je remarque qu'en insistant sur l'individuation, sur l'être comme devenir, Combes fait sentir à quel point Simondon donnait un contenu fécond à un dire existentialiste plutôt vague formulé à cette époque selon lequel «l'existence précède l'essence». (shrink)

Par quelles médiations, traductions, représentations et transformations conceptuelles, est-on passé de la pensée antique des 'divines folies' chez les Grecs à celle des 'héroïques fureurs' de Giordano Bruno (1548-1600), cette expérience de la folie dans laquelle le philosophe, à la poursuite de l'objet infini, se constitue en un paradoxal 'sujet hors de soi'? Cette étude a identifié, dans les strates de la culture savante et sur le long terme, des schèmes de pensée singuliers qui ont traversé les temps anciens et (...) les disciplines en étant repris, modifiés et réinventés selon les contextes et les auteurs, jusqu'à ce que Bruno les transforme à son tour et les relie entre eux dans sa philosophie, à l'orée de la modernité"--Page 4 of cover. (shrink)

La philosophie analytique a repris le flambeau de la théologie naturelle que l’on croyait éteint depuis Pascal, Hume, Kant, Kierkegaard, Schleiermacher. Il s’est produit un curieux chassé-croisé : la philosophie analytique a fini par se réconcilier avec l’enquête métaphysique, alors que la théologie continentale a pour une bonne part accompagné voire encouragé la déconstruction de la métaphysique théiste. On présente ici en particulier comment la philosophie analytique permet de renouveler l’approche du concept de création ex nihilo.

Cet article se propose de décrire le projet épistémique des sciences des systèmes complexes. Domaine interdisciplinaire fondé par le Santa Fe Institute en 1984 aux États-Unis, il a été décrit par ses représentants comme un champ d’étude interdisciplinaire, post-laplacien, holiste et antiréductionniste. Des journalistes populaires et des sociologues intéressés et qui ont soutenu ce domaine en ont repris les discours, en annonçant l’avènement d’un nouveau paradigme révolutionnaire pour tous les savoirs. Dans ce texte, on montrera que le projet épistémique (...) des sciences de la complexité est moins pluraliste, antipositiviste et antiréductionniste que ce que l’on en dit. Je tâcherai de montrer en quoi le cadre épistémologique et ontologique de ce champ d’études reste analytique et réductionniste dans un sens physicaliste, computationnaliste, mathématique et biologisant. (shrink)

Original source :「委員会の論理」『世界文化』[Culture du monde], n° 13, janvier 1936, 2–17 ; n° 14, février 1936, 16–33 ; n° 15, mars 1936, 12–25. Repris dans nmz 1 : 46–108. La version des œuvres complètes présente un certain nombre de variantes par rapport à la première publication en 1936. « La logique des comités » a été traduit en espagnol par Agustín J. Zavala. Je remercie vivement Saitō Takako pour sa relecture et ses précieuses remarques.

Ce livre [...] semble être écrit dans le langage d'un vent de dégel : on y trouve de la pétulance, de l'inquiétude, des contractions et un temps d'avril, ce qui fait songer sans cesse au voisinage de l'hiver, tout autant qu'à la victoire sur l'hiver, à la victoire qui arrive, qui doit arriver, qui est peut-être déjà arrivée... La reconnaissance rayonne sans cesse, comme si la chose la plus inattendue, ce fut la guérison. " Gai savoir " : qu'est-ce sinon (...) les saturnales d'un esprit qui a résisté patiemment, sévèrement, froidement,, sans se soumettre, mais sans espoir, - et qui maintenant, tout à coup, est assailli par l'espoir de guérison, par l'ivresse de la guérison? [...] " Incipit tragaedia " - est-il dit à la fin de ce livre d'une simplicité inquiétante : que l'on soit sur ses gardes! Quelque chose d'essentiellement malicieux et méchant se prépare : incipit parodia, cela ne laisse aucun doute... Friedrich Nietzsche Ecrit entre 1881 et 1887, publié une première fois en 1882, dans une version incomplète, repris et parachevé ensuite. Le Gai Savoir confirme et conforte le radicalisme nietzschéen. Les grands thèmes de sa réflexion sont désormais parvenus à leur pleine maturité. L'idéal, la nécessité de l'héroïsme en philosophie, l'analyse de la décadence, mais aussi le principe de l'éternel retour, le mythe de Zarathoustra, la connaissance, la religion c'est un véritable bréviaire du " nietzschéisme " qui apparaît au fil des pages. (shrink)

La France est une nation légère - ce lieu commun antique est abondamment repris tout au long du XVIIIe siècle, témoignant de profonds bouleversements axiologiques, scientifiques et éthiques, dont ce volume collectif cherche à mesurer l'importance et les enjeux, en racontant l'histoire d'un autre siècle des Lumières: celle d'un siècle de la Légèreté. Ce volume collectif offre une perspective interdisciplinaire, croisant les champs d'études concernés par la question de la légèreté. Les 15 articles réunis analysent tant la peinture que (...) la morale, tant les sciences que l'histoire politique, tant la littérature que les technologies ou l'économie. Ensemble, ces articles révèlent la complexité de la légèreté au dix-huitième siècle, en proposant non seulement des analyses nouvelles originales de sources bien connues (Hogarth, Fontenelle ou Voltaire) mais aussi des découvertes de textes et des objets moins souvent étudiés (La Morlière, le Père Castel, Octave Uzanne, les cabriolets ou les parfums). L'un des atouts principaux de cette recherche est son approche critique et historiographique de la légèreté qui remet en question la façon dont s'écrit l'Histoire. Derrière les idées reçues, ce livre découvre les enjeux nationaux, diplomatiques, voire parfois aussi existentiels qui ont participé à la construction des représentations du dix-huitième siècle français. (shrink)

La quatrième de couverture indique : "Cette "Introduction au cours de philosophie pour scientifiques" a été prononcée en octobre-novembre 1967 à l'Ecole normale supérieure. Nous avions alors à plusieurs amis, intéressés par les problèmes de l'histoire des sciences, et des conflits philosophiques auxquels elle donne lieu, frappés par la lutte idéologique et les formes qu'elle peut prendre chez les intellectuels de la pratique scientifique, décidé de nous adresser à nos collègues en un cours public. Cette expérience, inaugurée par l'exposé que (...) voici, devait durer jusqu'à la veille des grands événements de 1968. C'est pour répondre à de nombreuses demandes que je publie aujourd'hui, avec un grand retard, mon Introduction de 67, sur 'la philosophie et la philosophie spontanée des savants". A l'exception de la moitié du premier cours et de la critique de Jacques Monod, que j'ai reproduits sans rien y changer, j'ai repris le reste de ce cours : pour rendre plus lisible ce qui n'était qu'une improvisation hâtive, et aussi pour développer certaines formules qui étaient restées à l'état d'esquisse, souvent énigmatique. Mais j'ai tenu à respecter pour l'essentiel les limites théoriques de cet essai, qu'on voudra bien lire comme un essai daté. Je le publie aussi comme un témoignage rétrospectif. On y trouvera en effet les premières formules qui ont "inauguré" un tournant dans nos recherches sur la philosophie en général et la philosophie marxiste en général. Auparavant en effet (dans "Pour Marx" et "Lire le Capital"), je définissais la philosophie comme "théorie de la pratique théorique". Or, dans ce cours apparaissent de nouvelles formules : la philosophie, qui n'a pas d'objet (comme une science a un objet), a des enjeux, la philosophie ne produit pas des connaissances, mais énonce des Thèses, etc. Les Thèses ouvrent la voie à la position juste des problèmes de la pratique scientifique et de la pratique politique, etc. Formules encore shématiques, qui exigent un long travail pour les préciser et les compléter. Mais du moins indiquent-elles un ordre de recherche, dont on trouvera la trace dans des ouvrages ultérieurs. Le 14 mai 1974.". (shrink)

Le problème du sujet ou de l'intersubjectivité représente, sans aucun doute, une des questions les plus importantes de la philosophie politique et juridique contemporaine. C'est ce que confirme le retour de l'éthique dans nos sociétés démocratiques ainsi que les remises en question de tout concept de subjectivité. Ces dernières pourraient bien servir de fil conducteur à une reconstruction de l'histoire des différents projets modernes de la philosophie. A cette possibilité de reconstruction s'ajouteraient non seulement les différentes tentatives de repenser l'intersubjectivité (...) telles que les ont menées des penseurs comme Husserl, mais encore ses déconstructions opérées par Nietzsche, Heidegger et le heideggerianisme français d'une part, ainsi que les reconstructions entreprises au sein de l'éthique de la discussion (Karl-Otto Apel et Jürgen Habermas). Même le débat, devenu emblématique, de la philosophie politique et juridique anglo-américaine entre libéraux et communautariens tourne autour de la notion de subjectivité. Les théories féministes contemporaines réussiront, elles aussi, à la raviver, à la polariser autour de deux éléments sexuellement différents : le "sujet mâle de la raison" et le "sujet féminin essentiellement caractérisé par la tendance à la sollicitude"? Les théories féministes n'ont-elles pas repris à leur compte le slogan de la fin de l'homme, l'une des plus importantes déclarations de guerre des déconstructions postmodernes de la métaphysique occidentale, notamment des théories modernes? N'ont-elles pas trouvé dans cette déclaration un écho favorable à leur cause, dès lors que l'homme s'identifie au "sujet mâle de la raison", propriétaire chrétien et blanc"? L'importance des problèmes soulevés par le concept de la subjectivité, sa place dans la philosophie contemporaine sans parler des controverses qu'il génère expliquent et imposent ce nouvel investissement auquel nous consentons. (shrink)

Les missions du printemps et de l’été 2014 ont permis de poursuivre l’étude et la fouille de la Maison de Fourni dont le dossier a été repris en 2008. La mission de mai 2015 a eu plusieurs objectifs : la préparation de la fouille de l’été par le désherbage de la partie Sud de la Maison ; la poursuite de l’inventaire et de l’étude céramique dans les réserves du musée de Délos par A.‑S. Martz ; le diagnostic pour la (...) restauration des vasques en brèche et en marbre, ainsi que pour la restauration... (shrink)

continent. 2.2 (2012): 66–75 ~*~ We’re Doomed. Pessimism is the night-side of thought, a melodrama of the futility of the brain, a poetry written in the graveyard of philosophy. Pessimism is a lyrical failure of philosophical thinking, each attempt at clear and coherent thought, sullen and submerged in the hidden joy of its own futility. The closest pessimism comes to philosophical argument is the droll and laconic “We’ll never make it,” or simply: “We’re doomed.” Every effort doomed to failure, every (...) project doomed to incompletion, every life doomed to be unlived, every thought doomed to be unthought. Pessimism is the lowest form of philosophy, frequently disparaged and dismissed, merely the symptom of a bad attitude. No one ever needs pessimism, in the way that one needs optimism to inspire one to great heights and to pick oneself up, in the way one needs constructive criticism, advice and feedback, inspirational books or a pat on the back. No one needs pessimism, though I like to imagine the idea of a pessimist activism. No one needs pessimism, and yet everyone—without exception—has, at some point in their lives, had to confront pessimism, if not as a philosophy then as a grievance—against one’s self or others, against one’s surroundings or one’s life, against the state of things or the world in general. There is little redemption for pessimism, and no consolation prize. Ultimately, pessimism is weary of everything and of itself. Pessimism is the philosophical form of disenchantment—disenchantment as chanting, a chant, a mantra, a solitary, monophonic voice rendered insignificant by the intimate immensity surrounding it. In pessimism, the first axiom is a long, low, funereal sigh. ~*~ We’re Still Doomed. No one has time for pessimism. After all, there are only so many hours in a day. Whatever our temperament, happy or sad, engaged or disengaged, we know pessimism when we hear it. The pessimist is usually understood as the complainer, forever pointing out what is wrong with the world without ever once offering a solution. But more often than not pessimists are the quietest of philosophers, submerging their own sighs within the lethargy of discontent. What little sound it makes is of interest to no one—“I’ve heard it all before,” “tell me something I don’t know,” sound and fury, signifying nothing. In raising problems without solutions, in posing questions without answers, in retreating to the hermetic, cavernous abode of complaint, pessimism is guilty of that most inexcusable of Occidental crimes—the crime of not pretending it’s for real. Pessimism fails to live up to the most basic tenet of philosophy—the “as if.” Think as if it will be helpful, act as if it will make a difference, speak as if there is something to say, live as if you are not, in fact, being lived by some murmuring non-entity both shadowy and muddied. Had it more self-assurance and better social skills, pessimism would turn its disenchantment into a religion, possibly calling itself The Great Refusal. But there is a negation in pessimism that refuses even such a Refusal, an awareness that, from the start, it has already failed, and that the culmination of all that is, is that all is for naught. Pessimism tries very hard to present itself in the low, sustained tones of a Requiem Mass, or the tectonic rumbling of Tibetan chant. But it frequently lets loose dissonant notes at once plaintive and pathetic. Often, its voice cracks, its weighty words abruptly reduced to mere shards of guttural sound. ~*~ Maybe It’s Not So Bad, After All. If we know pessimism when we hear it, this is because we’ve heard it all before—and we didn’t need to hear it in the first place. Life is hard enough. What you need is a change of attitude, a new outlook, a shift in perspective... a cup of coffee. If we have no ears for pessimism, this is because it is always reducible to something as reliably mutable as a voice. If pessimism is so frequently disparaged, it is because it brings everyone down, determined as it is to view each day as a bad day, if only by virtue of the fact that it is not yet a bad day. For pessimism the world is brimming with negative possibility, the collision of a bad mood with an impassive world. In fact, pessimism is the result of a confusion between the world and a statement about the world, a confusion that also prevents it from fully entering the hallowed halls of philosophy. If pessimism is so often dismissed, this is because it is often impossible to separate a “bad mood” from a philosophical proposition (and do not all philosophies stem from a bad mood?) The very term “pessimism” suggests a school of thought, a movement, even a community. But pessimism always has a membership of one—maybe two. Ideally, of course, it would have a membership of none, with only a scribbled, illegible note left behind by someone long forgotten. But this seems unrealistic, though one can always hope. ~*~ Anatomy of Pessimism. Though it may locate itself at the margins of philosophy, pessimism is as much subject to philosophical analysis as any other form of thought. Pessimism’s lyricism of failure gives it the structure of music. What time is to the music of sorrow, reason is to a philosophy of the worst. Pessimism’s two major keys are moral and metaphysical pessimism, its subjective and objective poles, an attitude towards the world and a claim about the world. For moral pessimism, it is better not to have been born at all; for metaphysical pessimism, this is the worst of all possible worlds. For moral pessimism the problem is the solipsism of human beings, the world made in our own image, a world-for-us. For metaphysical pessimism, the problem is the solipsism of the world, objected and projected as a world-in-itself. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism are compromised philosophically; moral pessimism by its failure to locate the human within a larger context, and metaphysical pessimism by its failure to recognize the complicity in the very claim of realism. This is how pessimism makes its music of the worst, a generalized misanthropy without the anthropos . Pessimism crystallizes around this futility—it is its amor fati , rendered as musical form. ~*~ Melancholy of Anatomy. There is a logic of pessimism that is fundamental to its suspicion of philosophical system. Pessimism involves a statement about a condition . In pessimism each statement boils down to an affirmation or a negation, just as any condition boils down to the best or the worst. With Schopenhauer, that arch-pessimist, the thinker for whom the philosopher and the curmudgeon perfectly overlap, we see a no-saying to the worst, a no-saying that secretly covets a yes-saying (through asceticism, mysticism, quietism), even if this hidden yes-saying is a horizon at the limits of comprehension. With Nietzsche comes the pronouncement of a Dionysian pessimism, a pessimism of strength or joy, a yes-saying to the worst, a yes-saying to this world as it is. And with Cioran yet another variation, futile yet lyrical, a no-saying to the worst, and a further no-saying to the possibility of any other world, in here or out there. With Cioran one approaches, but never reaches, an absolute no-saying, a studied abandonment of pessimism itself. The logic of pessimism moves through three refusals: a no-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-for-us, or Schopenhauer’s tears); a yes-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-in-itself, or Nietzsche’s laughter); and a no-saying to the for-us and the in-itself (a double refusal, or Cioran’s sleep). Crying, laughing, sleeping—what other responses are adequate to a life that is so indifferent? ~*~ Cosmic Pessimism. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism point to another kind, a pessimism that is neither subjective nor objective, neither for-us nor in-itself, and instead a pessimism of the world-without-us. We could call this a cosmic pessimism ... but this sounds too majestic, too full of wonder, too much the bitter aftertaste of the Great Beyond. Words falter. And so do ideas. And so we have a cosmic pessimism, a pessimism that is first and last a pessimism about cosmos , about the necessity and possibility of order. The contours of cosmic pessimism are a drastic scaling-up or scaling-down of the human point of view, the unhuman orientation of deep space and deep time, and all of this shadowed by an impasse, a primordial insignificance, the impossibility of ever adequately accounting for one’s relationship to thought—all that remains of pessimism is the desiderata of affects—agonistic, impassive, defiant, reclusive, filled with sorrow and flailing at that architectonic chess match called philosophy, a flailing that pessimism tries to raise to the level of an art form (though what usually results is slapstick). ~*~ Song of Futility. An ethics of futility pervades pessimism. Futility, however, is different from fatality, and different again from simple failure (though failure is never simple). Failure is a breakage within the heart of relations, a fissure between cause and effect, a fissure hastily covered over by trying and trying again. With failure, there is always plenty of blame to go around; it’s not my fault, it’s a technical difficulty, it’s a miscommunication. For the pessimist, failure is a question of “when,” not “if”—failure as a metaphysical principle. Everything withers and passes into an obscurity blacker than night, everything from the melodramatic decline of a person’s life to the banal flickering moments that constitute each day. Everything that is done undone, everything said or known destined for a kind of stellar oblivion. When scaled up in this way, failure becomes fatality. Fatality is the hermeticism of cause and effect. In fatality, everything you do, whatever you do, always leads to a certain end, and ultimately to the end—though that end, or the means to that end, remain shrouded in obscurity. Nothing you do makes a difference because everything you do makes a difference. Hence the effects of your actions are hidden from you, even as you deceive yourself into thinking that, at last, this time you will outwit the order of things. By having a goal, planning ahead, and thinking things through carefully, we attempt, in a daily Prometheanism, to turn fatality to our advantage, to gain a glimpse of an order that seems buried deeper and deeper in the fabric of the universe. But even fatality has its comforts. The chain of cause and effect may be hidden from us, but that’s just because disorder is the order we don’t yet see; it’s just complex, distributed, and requires advanced mathematics. Fatality still clings to the sufficiency of everything that exists... When fatality relinquishes even this idea, it becomes futility. Futility arises out of the grim suspicion that, behind the shroud of causality we drape over the world, there is only the indifference of what exists or doesn’t exist; whatever you do ultimately leads to no end, an irrevocable chasm between thought and world. Futility transforms the act of thinking into a zero-sum game. ~*~ Song of the Worst. At the center of pessimism lies the term pessimus , “the worst,” a term as relative as it is absolute. The worst is about as bad as it gets, “the worst” as “the best” in disguise, shrouded by the passage of time or the twists and turns of fortune. For the pessimist, “the worst” is the propensity for suffering that gradually occludes each living moment, until it eclipses it entirely, overlapping perfectly in death... which, for the pessimist, is no longer “the worst.” Pessimism is marked by an unwillingness to move beyond “the worst,” something only partially attributable to a lack in motivation. In pessimism “the worst” is the ground that gives way beneath every existent—things could be worse, and , things could be better. “The worst” invariably implies a value judgment, one made based on scant evidence and little experience; in this way, pessimism’s greatest nemesis is its moral orientation. Pessimism’s propositions have all the gravitas of a bad joke. Perhaps this is why the true optimists are the most severe pessimists—they are optimists that have run out of options. They are almost ecstatically inundated by the worst. Such an optimism is the only possible outcome of a prolonged period of suffering, physical or metaphysical, intellectual or spiritual. But does this not also describe all the trials and tribulations of each day—in short, of “life?” It seems that sooner or later we are all doomed to become optimists of this sort (the most depressing of thoughts...) ~*~ Song of Doom. Rather than serving as a cause for despair, gloom and doom are the forms of consolation for any pessimist philosophy. Neither quite affects nor quite concepts, gloom and doom transform pessimism into a mortification of philosophy. Doom is not just the sense that all things will turn out badly, but that all things inevitably come to an end, irrespective of whether or not they really do come to an end. What emerges from doom is a sense of the unhuman as an attractor, a horizon towards which the human is fatally drawn. Doom is humanity given over to unhumanity in an act of crystalline self-abnegation. Gloom is not simply the anxiety that precedes doom. Gloom is literally atmospheric, climate as much as impression, and if people are also gloomy, this is simply the by-product of an anodyne atmosphere that only incidentally involves human beings. Gloom is more climatological than psychological, the stuff of dim, hazy, overcast skies, of ruins and overgrown tombs, of a misty, lethargic fog that moves with the same languorousness as our own crouched and sullen listening to a disinterested world. In a sense, gloom is the counterpoint to doom—what futility is to the former, fatality is to the latter. Doom is marked by temporality—all things precariously drawn to their end—whereas gloom is the austerity of stillness, all things sad, static, and suspended, a meandering smoke hovering over cold lichen stones and damp fir trees. If doom is the terror of temporality and death, then gloom is the horror of a hovering stasis that is life. At times I like to imagine that this realization alone is the thread that connects the charnel ground Aghori and the graveyard poets. ~*~ Song of Spite. There is an intolerance in pessimism that knows no bounds. In pessimism spite begins by fixing on a particular object of spite—someone one hardly knows, or someone one knows too well; a spite for this person or a spite for all of humanity; a spectacular or a banal spite; a spite for a noisy neighbor, a yapping dog, a battalion of strollers, the meandering idiot walking in front of you on their smart phone, large loud celebrations, traumatic injustices anywhere in the world regurgitated as media blitz, spite for the self-absorbed and overly performative people talking way too loud at the table next to you, technical difficulties and troubleshooting, the reduction of everything to branding, spite of the refusal to admit one’s own errors, of self-help books, of people who know absolutely everything and make sure to tell you, of all people, all living beings, all things, the world, the spiteful planet, the inanity of existence... Spite is the motor of pessimism because it is so egalitarian, so expansive, it runs amok, stumbling across intuitions that can only half-heartedly be called philosophical. Spite lacks the confidence and the clarity of hatred, but it also lacks the almost cordial judgment of dislike. For the pessimist, the smallest detail can be an indication of a metaphysical futility so vast and funereal that it eclipses pessimism itself—a spite that pessimism carefully places beyond the horizon of intelligibility, like the experience of dusk, or like the phrase, “it is raining jewels and daggers.” ~*~ Song of Sleep. A paraphrase of Schopenhauer: what death is for the organism, sleep is for the individual. Pessimists sleep not because they are depressed, but because for them sleep is a form of ascetic practice. Sleep is the askesis of pessimism. If, while sleeping, we have a bad dream, we abruptly wake up, and suddenly the horrors of the night vanish. There is no reason to think that the same does not happen with the bad dream we call “life.” ~*~ Song of Sorrow. Nietzsche, commenting on pessimism, once castigated Schopenhauer for taking things too lightly. He writes: ...Schopenhauer, though a pessimist, really —played the flute. Every day, after dinner: one should read his biography on that. And incidentally: a pessimist, one who denies God and the world but comes to a stop before morality—who affirms morality and plays the flute... what? Is that really—a pessimist? We know that Schopenhauer did possess a collection of instruments, and we also know that Nietzsche himself composed music. There is no reason to think that either of them would ever banish music from the Republic of philosophy. But Nietzsche’s jibes at Schopenhauer are as much about music as they are about pessimism. For the pessimist who says no to everything and yet finds comfort in music, the no-saying of pessimism can only be a weak way of saying yes—the weightiest statement undercut by the flightiest of replies. The least that Schopenhauer could’ve done is to play the bass. I’m not a big fan of the flute, or, for that matter, wind instruments generally. But what Nietzsche forgets is the role that the flute has historically played in Greek tragedy. In tragedy, the flute ( aulos ) is not an instrument of levity and joy, but of solitude and sorrow. The Greek aulos not only expresses the grief of tragic loss, but it does so in a way that renders weeping and singing inseparable from each other. The classicist Nicole Loraux calls this the mourning voice . Set apart from the more official civic rituals of funerary mourning, the mourning voice of Greek tragedy constantly threatens to dissolve song into wailing, music into moaning, and the voice into a primordial, disarticulate anti-music. The mourning voice delineates all the forms of suffering—tears, weeping, sobbing, wailing, moaning, and the convulsions of thought reduced to an elemental unintelligibility. In the collapsed space between the voice that speaks and the voice that sings, pessimism discovers its mourning voice. Pessimism: the failure of sound and sense, the disarticulation of phone and logos . Have we rescued Schopenhauer from Nietzsche? Probably not. Perhaps Schopenhauer played the flute to remind himself of the real function of the mourning voice—sorrow, sighs, and moaning rendered indistinguishable from music, the crumbling of the human into the unhuman. Failure par excellence of pessimism. ~*~ Song of Nothing. In Buddhist thought, the First Noble Truth of existence is encapsulated in the Pali term dukkha , conventionally translated as “suffering,” “sorrow,” or “misery.” The Buddhist teachings are clear, however, that this is an objective claim, and not simply one point of view among others. Existence is suffering and sorrow—and yet this is not, the teachings tell us, a pessimistic attitude. It is likely that Schopenhauer, reading the Buddhist texts available to him, recognized some filiation with the concept of dukkha . But dukkha is a multi-faceted term. There is, certainly, dukkha in the usual sense of the suffering, strife, and loss associated with living a life. But this is, in turn, dependent on the finitude and temporality of dukkha , existence as determined by impermanence and imperfection. And this ultimately points to the way in which both suffering and finitude are grounded by the paradoxical groundlessness of dukkha as a metaphysical principle—the insubstantiality and the emptiness of all that is. Beyond what is worse to me, beyond a world ordered for the worst, there is the emptiness of dukkha as an impersonal suffering... the tears of the cosmos. In this context, it is easy to see how Schopenhauer’s pessimism attempts to compress all the aspects of dukkha into a nothingness at the core of existence, a Willlessness coursing through the Will. Though one thing for certain is that with Schopenhauer we do not find the “ever-smiling” countenance of Buddhism—or do we? The texts of the Pali Canon also contain lists of the different types of happiness—including the happiness of renunciation and the strange happiness of detachment. But Buddhism considers even the different types of happiness as part of dukkha , in this final sense of nothingness or emptiness. Perhaps Schopenhauer understood Buddhism better than he is usually given credit for. Thus the experiment of Schopenhauer’s philosophy—the point at which a Western pessimus and an Eastern dukkha overlap or exchange glances. Empty sorrow, a lyricism of indifference. The result is a strange, and ultimately untenable, nocturnal form of Buddhism. ~*~ Cioran once called music a “physics of tears.” If this is true, then perhaps metaphysics is its commentary. Or its apology. ~*~ Pessimism would be more mystical were it not for its defeatism. Mysticism is much too proactive for the pessimist, and pessimism too impassive even for the mystic. At the same time, there is something enviable about mysticism—despite its sufferings. There is a sense in which pessimists are really failed mystics. ~*~ You, the Night, and the Music. In a suggestive passage, Schopenhauer once noted that, “music is the melody to which the world is the text." Given Schopenhauer’s view on life—that life is suffering, that human life is absurd, that the nothingness before my birth is equal to the nothingness after my death—given all this, one wonders what kind of music Schopenhauer had in mind when he described music as the melody to which the world is text—was it opera, a Requiem Mass, a madrigal, or perhaps a drinking song? Or something like Eine kleine Nachtmusik , a little night music for the twilight of thought, a sullen nocturne for the night-side of logic, an era of sad wings sung by a solitary banshee. Perhaps the music Schopenhauer had in mind is music eliminated to non-music. A whisper would suffice. Perhaps a sigh of fatigue or resignation, perhaps a moan of despair or sorrow. Perhaps a sound just articulate enough that it could be heard to dissipate. ~*~ Teach me to laugh through tears. ~*~ Pessimism always falls short of being philosophical. My back aches, my knees hurt, I couldn’t sleep last night, I’m stressed-out, and I think I’m finally coming down with something. Pessimism abjures all pretenses towards system—towards the purity of analysis and the dignity of critique. We didn’t really think we could figure it out, did we? It was just passing time, taking a piss, something to do, a bold gesture put forth in all its fragility, according to rules that we have agreed to forget that we made up in the first place. Every thought marked by a shadowy incomprehension that precedes it, and a futility that undermines it. That pessimism speaks, in whatever voice, is the singing testimony to this futility and this incomprehension—take a chance and step outside, lose some sleep and say you tried... ~*~ Is there a music of pessimism? And would such a music be audible? ~*~ The impact of music on a person compels them to put their experience into words. When this fails, the result is a faltering of thought and language that is itself a kind of music. Cioran writes: “Music is everything. God himself is nothing more than an acoustic hallucination.” ~*~ If a thinker like Schopenhauer has any redeeming qualities, it is that he identified the great lie of Western culture—the preference for existence over non-existence. As he notes: “If we knocked on the graves and asked the dead whether they would like to rise again, they would shake their heads.” In Western cultures it is commonly accepted that one celebrates birth and mourns death. But there must be a mistake here. Wouldn’t it make more sense to mourn birth and celebrate death? Strange though, because the mourning of birth would, presumably, last the entirety of that person’s life, so that mourning and living would the be same thing. ~*~ To the musical idea of the harmony of the universe corresponds the philosophical principle of sufficient reason. Like the music of mourning, pessimism gives voice to the inevitable breakdown of word and song. In this way, music is the overtone of thought. ~*~ The Patron Saints of Pessimism. The patron saints of pessimism watch over suffering. Laconic and sullen, the patron saints of pessimism never seem to do a good job at protecting, interceding, or advocating for those who suffer. Perhaps they need us more than we need them. Lest we forget, there do exist patron saints of philosophy, but their stories are not happy ones. There is, for instance, the fourth century Saint Catherine of Alexandria, or Catherine of the Wheel, named after the torture device used on her. A precocious fourteen year old scholar, Catherine was subject to continual persecution. After all forms of torture failed—including the “breaking wheel”—the emperor finally settled for her decapitation, a violent yet appropriate reminder of the protector of philosophers. There are also patron saints of music and musicians, but theirs too are sad stories. In the second century, Saint Cecilia was also subject to persecution and torture. As she knelt to receive the blade that would separate her head from her body, she ardently sang a song to God. It took three attempts before she was fully decapitated, all the while she continued, perhaps miraculously, to sing. Does pessimism not deserve its own patron saints, even if they are unworthy of martyrdom? But in our search, even the most ardent nay-sayers frequently lapse into brief moments of enthusiasm—Pascal’s love of solitude, Leopardi’s love of poetry, Schopenhauer’s love of music, Nietzsche’s love of Schopenhauer, and so on. Should one then focus on individual works of pessimism? We could include Kierkegaard’s trilogy of horror— Sickness Unto Death , The Concept of Dread , and Fear and Trembling —but all these are undermined by their fabricated and unreliable authors. Besides, how can one separate the pessimist from the optimist in works like Unamuno’s The Tragic Sense of Life , Shestov’s Postetas Clavium , or Edgar Saltus’ under-read The Philosophy of Disenchantment ? Even in cases where the entire corpus of an author is pessimistic, the project always seems incomplete—witness Cioran’s trajectory, from his first book, On the Heights of Despair , to the last unpublished notebooks of acrid and taut aphorisms. And this is to say nothing of literary pessimism, from Goethe’s sorrowful Werther, to Dostoevsky’s underground man, to Pessoa’s disquiet scribbler; Baudelaire’s spleen and ennui, the mystical Satanism of Huysmans and Strindberg, the hauntologies of Mário de Sá-Carniero, Izumi Kyoka, H.P. Lovecraft, grumpy old Beckett... even the great pessimist comedians. All that remains are singular, perhaps anomalous statements of pessimism, a litany of quotes and citations crammed into fortune cookies. Patron saints are traditionally named after a locale, either a place of birth or of a mystical experience. Perhaps the better approach is to focus on the places where pessimists were forced to live out their pessimism—Schopenhauer facing an empty Berlin lecture hall, Nietzsche mute and convalescent at the home of his sister, Wittgenstein the relinquished professor and solitary gardener, Cioran grappling with Alzheimer’s in his tiny writing alcove in the Latin Quarter. ~*~ There’s a ghost that grows inside of me, damaged in the making, and there’s a hunt sprung from necessity, elliptical and drowned. Where the moving quiet of our insomnia offers up each thought, there’s a luminous field of grey inertia, and obsidian dreams burnt all the way down. ~*~ If pessimism has any pedagogical value, it is that the failure of pessimism as a philosophy is inextricably tied to the failure of pessimism as voice. I read the following, from Shestov’s The Apotheosis of Groundlessness : When a person is young he writes because it seems to him he has discovered a new almighty truth which he must make haste to impart to forlorn humankind. Later, becoming more modest, he begins to doubt his truths: and then he tries to convince himself. A few more years go by, and he knows he was mistaken all round, so there is no need to convince himself. Nevertheless he continues to write, because he is not fit for any other work, and to be accounted a superfluous person is so horrible. (shrink)

En amont des représentations collectives et des formes instituées de la vie sociale, cet article se propose d’étudier l’articulation de l’intersubjectivité et de l’incarnation dans la constitution du soi et de l’autre comme une genèse phénoménologique de la reconnaissance à travers la lecture ricoeurienne de la cinquième des Méditations cartésiennes publiée dans À l’école de la phénoménologie. Lors de la donation du sens ego dans l’intersubjectivité, la constitution de la reconnaissance sur le plan de la perception se fait grâce aux (...) distinctions entre corps (Körper) et chair (Leib) d’une part, et, d’autre part entre chair (Leib) et corps propre (Leibkörper). L’analyse des textes sur "Le sentiment,” repris dans À l’école de la phénoménologie, et sur "La fragilité affective" dans L’homme faillible, propose une phénoménologie de la reconnaissance sur le plan de l’affection. Le désir est révélé par le "sentiment ontologique" comme la racine affective de l’intersubjectivité dont les modalités sont objectivées par les dimensions économique, politique et culturelle de l’espace social correspondantes aux requêtes affectives différenciées de la reconnaissance sociale telles que l’avoir, le pouvoir et le valoir. (shrink)

Cet article se propose de décrire le projet épistémique des sciences des systèmes complexes. Domaine interdisciplinaire fondé par le Santa Fe Institute en 1984 aux États-Unis, il a été décrit par ses représentants comme un champ d’étude interdisciplinaire, post-laplacien, holiste et antiréductionniste. Des journalistes populaires et des sociologues intéressés et qui ont soutenu ce domaine en ont repris les discours, en annonçant l’avènement d’un nouveau paradigme révolutionnaire pour tous les savoirs. Dans ce texte, on montrera que le projet épistémique (...) des sciences de la complexité est moins pluraliste, antipositiviste et antiréductionniste que ce que l’on en dit. Je tâcherai de montrer en quoi le cadre épistémologique et ontologique de ce champ d’études reste analytique et réductionniste dans un sens physicaliste, computationnaliste, mathématique et biologisant. (shrink)

La nomination des phénomènes sociaux par les spécialistes cherche à les débarrasser des contenus moraux ou idéologiques que véhiculent les termes courants et vise leur objectivation. L’exercice est difficile, car, bien souvent, les nouveaux termes proposés peuvent générer des interprétations qui trahissent les intentions de leurs auteurs. Les glissements sont encore plus importants lorsque ces termes sont repris et légitimés par les institutions. L’auteur prend pour exemple deux termes, celui de familles monoparentales et celui d’hébergement alterné. Il analyse les (...) connotations et les dénégations symboliques dont ces deux termes sont porteurs et montre l’importance du pouvoir des mots. (shrink)

Dans un précédent ouvrage, La liberté, la pensée et la mort chez Platon et Montaigne, il a été montré que, chez Platon comme chez Montaigne, la mort, loin d'être le plus terrible des maux, est en fait une libération, car elle rend possible un détachement d'avec la vie qui leur est apparue soit contaminée par des fictions, soit cruellement angoissante. Les mêmes thèmes sont repris dans cet ouvrage avec Spinoza et Freud, mais dans un contexte déterministe qui les empêche (...) de croire encore à la possibilité d'une pensée humaine inconditionnée. La philosophie ne suffit plus à apprendre à mourir. Sans une analyse des causes qui déterminent l'activité mentale, à savoir le désir et les pulsions animiques, la pensée demeure asservie à des finalités imaginaires. Il s'ensuit que, pour philosopher, il faut d'abord renoncer au fantasme du sujet libre ou du moi maître de lui-même. Ce sont ces personnages qui doivent mourir pour penser et exister librement. En ce sens, la mort apparaît, ici aussi, comme une délivrance qui devient, de ce fait, désirable. (shrink)

Hegel et l'Orient vise a combler une lacune : dans les cours de Berlin consacres a la Philosophie de l'Histoire et a la Philosophie de la Religion, l'Orient occupe une place considerable, mais cette enorme masse de textes n'a guere jusqu'ici retenu l'attention des historiens de la philosophie. L'auteur s'efforce tout d'abord de reperer les motifs qui ont conduit Hegel a elever a la dignite de categorie philosophique le tres ancien mythe de l'Orient et de replacer cette reconstruction historico-speculative dans (...) le cadre general de sa doctrine. Pour ce faire, l'auteur examine, a travers les textes classiques (Phenomenologie de l'Esprit, Logique et Encyclopedie), mais aussi a travers les Ecrits de jeunesse, comment Hegel est conduit a accorder a l'Orient une place importante dans les premiers cours d'Esthetique et dans les Principes de la philosophie du droit, ainsi que la maniere dont le theme est repris et developpe dans La raison dans l'histoire et dans la Philosophie de la Religion. Il examine parallelement le contexte immediat de l'histoire des idees (redecouverte de l'Orient par l'Aufklarung et le Romantisme allemand) et les raisons de l'attitude, generalement polemique, de Hegel vis-a-vis de ces courants. Il s'interroge enfin sur la valeur et les limites de l'interpretation hegelienne. En annexe est presentee la Recension que Hegel fait de la Dissertation de W. von Humboldt sur la Bhagavad-Gita - publiee en 1827 dans les Jahrbucher fur wissenschaftliche Kritik, et jusqu'alors inedite en francais - qui fournit une illustration vivante de ces themes. (shrink)

Une morale pour les mortels est une etude d'ensemble de l'ethique de Platon et d'Aristote, a partir de la problematique philosophique qui lui donne corps: la mortalite de l'etre humain, source de ses desirs et de leur perpetuelle insatisfaction. Par contraste avec une morale du devoir, on decouvre ici une morale qui s'exprime par un il faut, poussant vers une fin qui puisse repondre au manque et au besoin qui marquent la condition humaine. A partir de cette problematique sont (...) class='Hi'>repris et eclaires tous les concepts et theses classiques de l'ethique ancienne: la question de la mesure et de l'harmonie, la vertu dans son unite et sa pluralite, le bonheur, le bien, le plaisir, l'amitie, l'amour de soi, la volonte et les autres desirs, l'intention, l'action, et surtout la verite du paradoxe nul n'est mechant de plein gre, dont sont exposees la resistance face aux critiques d'Aristote et les consequences dans le domaine penal. L'ensemble met en valeur la specificite de l'etre humain decelee par les Anciens: qu'il soit un etre tout a la fois desirant et pensant. (shrink)

Le préambule de l'édit de Tiberius Julius Alexander inscrit sur les piliers du temple d'Hibis de l'oasis d'El Khargeh est exceptionnel à plus d'un titre : par sa longueur, par la complexité et la précision de son cadre idéologique associant empereur et gouverneur dans le gouvernement de l'Egypte, mais aussi par la difficulté qu'il y a à l'insérer, lui et son projet, dans la chronologie heurtée du début de l'année 68. L'examen de la forme diplomatique démontre qu'il s'agit d'un édit (...) préparé de longue date, la tâche essentielle dévolue par Néron au gouverneur de cette province qu'il devait visiter, et qui a été promulgué le 6 juillet 68 dans l'ignorance des événements romains. Sitôt annoncées et confirmées les nouvelles de la mort de Néron et de l'accession de Galba, le texte de l'édit et du préambule a été repris à la hâte pour l'adapter au programme du nouveau régime. Il faut donc considérer cet «édit de restauration d'Alexandrie et de l'Egypte» dans le droit fil des ordonnances philanthropiques hellénistiques, comme un édit néronien. En appendice, sont étudiés les usages dans la langue de chancellerie de πρόνοιαν ποιεΐσθαι, φροντίς, φροντίζειν et προγράφειν. (shrink)

Les céramiques présentées ici proviennent de quatre dépôts scellés sous une maison de Nicosie et vidés en 1948. Ces fosses, au remplissage homogène, contenaient des cruches, des marmites, des poêlons et de la vaisselle de service produits à Chypre, de rares importations anatoliennes ou balkaniques et une belle collection de vaisselle de table de Ligurie, de Toscane, de Vénétie et d’Émilie-Romagne. Cette dernière, bien datée, permet d’attribuer le contenu des dépotoirs au dernier quart du xvie‑première moitié du xviie s. Une (...) ébauche de chronotypologie peut donc être établie pour les céramiques des ateliers de Lapithos, de Nicosie et du Troodos, très mal connues pour cette période. La confrontation des sources écrites, faisant état de la prise de la ville par les Ottomans en 1570 et des années qui suivirent, avec cette exceptionnelle source archéologique montre que la vie quotidienne avait sans doute repris un cours normal dès le début du xviie s. (shrink)

INTRODUCTION BY NANCY FUMERO What is a translation that stalls comprehension? That, when read, parsed, obfuscates comprehension through any language – English, Portuguese. It is inevitable that readers expect fidelity from translations. That language mirror with a sort of precision that enables the reader to become of another location, condition, to grasp in English in a similar vein as readers of Portuguese might from João Guimarães Rosa’s GRANDE SERTÃO: VEREDAS. There is the expectation that translations enable mobility. That what was (...) written in one language be accessible in another. And that a translator is to serve as a mediator, acting ultimately in service to ideas within the source text. To disperse them. However, this notion of translation is partly antithetical to the ideas in Rosa’s work. Or, alternately, to convey the despair of terrain slipping beneath one’s feet, and to encounter the heightened suspense of magic, the translation, as part of its strategy, cannot devotedly rely on its original language, not as its source text. The work undertaken by Felipe W.Martinez is a new form of translation that risks everything in order to encounter the same treacherous knowing Rosa had traversed. And it takes its risks by not taking risks: by being, almost word for word, a literal translation. This is an approach that reductively converts, as opposed to translates. The idiomatic differences between English and Portuguese are not accented. The syntax is not finessed. Liberties are not assumed on account of improving readability. What stands, resoundingly amid such absences, is the awakened challenge of reading. The genuine peril of not knowing. That is, this translation, one that purports to know nothing, creates access into the guileful world Rosa had created in Portuguese. But not by translating. If anything, GRANDE SERTÃO: VEREDAS is speaking a cosmic language through a linguistic one. And W.Martinez does us the service of recognizing this, as what configures the shapes of words and sentences is not as simple as neologisms, portmanteaus, and digressions, but as terrifying as the path the fool traverses: all paths. As such, this translation doesn’t speak English, just as the original does not speak Portuguese. It is the assemblage of paradox as a new logic that can be navigated, if only one could suspend the comfort of readability, of expectation. If one could descend a mountain in the pitch dark of night, each step shocking the body, unable to acclimate to the unleveled heights. Without a doubt, the translation is incongruous to the Portuguese. Taking a small excerpt to compare: Eh, well, thereafter, the rest the Sir provide: comes the bread, comes the hand, comes the god, comes the dog. What is striking is the interplay between “god” and “dog”. To most English speakers, this anagram is a familiar one. But in Portuguese the words god (“deus”) and dog (“cão”) are not so closely linked. In fact, there is no direct mention of “deus” in Rosa’s text: Eh, pois, empós, o resto o senhor prove: vem o pão, vem a mão, vem o são, vem o cão. Both are fascinating. In Rosa’s excerpt, the rhythm is unmistakable and precise, despite, of course, the indices of hesitation: the commas, the Eh, the uncomfortable way of searching through prolongation and wait. This is the sort of paradox Rosa can engage within a sentence. W.Martinez’s does this as well, at a scale that reverberates beyond the sentence, and with one noticeable addition: deus. What may appear to be an overstep, to add such a weighted word that draws out wordplay but is, nevertheless, not in the source text, is exemplary of risk. The translation buzzes because of it. This is because throughout the text we encounter dogs frequently, as some primal beast on par with humans. The dog is one that masters and can be mastered. A creature that is at times its face, and at others a mask. It is a powerful presence. For the translator to be attuned to the reverent undercurrent attributed to this animal, and create within the translation such charged play in English from what was only an implication in Portuguese, is in tribute to the grand beauty within dissonance. What aberrant modes of writing and translation can teach us most assuredly, is that things, words, are not in states of rightness or wrongness, but of oscillation. This isn’t so different from what Rosa says himself: The Sir look…see: the most important and beautiful, of the world, is this: that the people are not always same, still were not completed — but that they go always shifting. They tune or detune. We find this so readily in W.Martinez’s translation, this tuning and detuning. Nancy Fumero Los Angeles GRAND SERTÃO: VEREDAS BY JOÃO GUIMARÃES ROSA TRANSLATED FROM THE PORTUGUESE BY FELIPE W.MARTINEZ Nonothing. Shots that the Sir heard were man brawling not, God be. Bleach white sights on the tree in the backyard, down in the river. By my right. I do this every day, I like; from the bad of boyhood. Thereof they came to call on me. Case of a calf: a white calf, errorful, eyes of to not be—saw selves—; and with a mask of a dog! They told me; I didn’t want to catch a sight. Same that, by the defects of birth, upturned lips, looked to be a laughing man. Folkface, dogface: they determined—it was the devil. Bananas. Killed it. Do not know who owned it. They came to borrow my guns. I caved. I’ve no power to impose. Oh, sir, you laugh certain laughs…Look: when it’s a true shot, first the dogs begin to bark, instantly—after, then, you see who’s handed death. Sir, endure, this is the Sertão. Some want that it is not: that situated Sertão is in and out of those general fields, they say, end of the road, highlands, the other Urucuia. Toleima. For those of Cortino and of Curvelo, then, isn’t here said Sertão? Ah! That there’s more! To place the Sertão it’s told: it’s where the pastures lack latches; where one can tear off ten, fifteen leagues without running into a houseinhabitant; where criminalousness lives out its christ jesus. Sifted out from the tightening grip of the law. The Urcuia comes from the western mountains. But today, its banks, give all—farmlands of farms, pastures of meadows of good yield, low tides, cultures that go kill for kill, until these virgins there are. The general fields run round. These general fields are without size. Ultimately, whichever one one approves, the Sir knows: bread or breads, it’s a question of heads…the Sertão is everywhere. Of the devi? No comment. Sir ask the dwellers. Falsely I fear they unspeak that name of his—only say: whatsitcalled. Volt! no… Whosoever over avoids it, lives with it. In the sentence of one Aristides—who exists in the first palm grove on the right hand side, called Vereda-of-Cow-Calm-of-Saint-Rita—everyone believes: he can't pass in three designated places: then can be heard the tiny cry, behind, a little voice warning:— "Here I come! Here I come!... "— that is the Capirote, the whatsitcalled... And one Jise Simplicio—who anyone from here will swear he keeps an imp in house, a little satanite, imprisoned and obliged to help in all greedful deeds; reason that Simplicio emprises en route to complete riches. As such, for this they say too that his beast bristles and refuses, denying his banner, unyielding, when he wishes to mount... Superstition. Jise Simplicio and Aristides, continue getting fatter, thence unheard or heard. Still the Sir study: right now, in these days of time, you have people purporting that the devil proper stopped, mid-passage, in Andrequice. A boy out of there, to whom'd appeared, and there lauded that, to get here—normally, by horse, a day-n-half—he was capable of such with only some twenty minutes enough... by coasting the River of Chico by the headwaters! Or, too, who knows—sans offense—will not have been, for example, even yourself the Sir who announced such, when you passed by there, for fun run funny? Thereof, not my given crime, I know that wasn't. And evil I wanted not. Only that one question, in hours, at times, brightens peaceful reason. But, the Sir understand: if such a boy, there was, he wanted to dupe. Because, hey, that, to cut the river off by the springs, would be the same thing as one redoubling in the internals of this our state of ours, costant of a journey of some three months... Then? Whatsitcalled? Dodo. The fantastication. And, the respect of giving him such these names of delicacy, is what it is for one to want to invoke that he form of form, with his presence! Not that is. I, personally, almost that have lost in him the creed, deserving to Deus; is the that to the Sir I say, to pure-secret. I know that it is well established, that it greases our Saintly-Gospels. On occasion, I conversed with a young seminarian, super suitable, conferring in the book of prayers and coated in vestments, with a stick of black-sage in hand—prosed that he went auxilitator to the father, to extract the Cujo, from the body living of an oldwoman, in Waterfalls-of-Bulls, he went with the vicar of Field-Round... I conceive. The Sir not is as I? I didn't believe a single thing. Compadre mine Quelemem describes that that which reveals effect are the low spirits meager, of third, adoing in the worst darkness and with anxieties of connecting selves with the livers—they give support. Compadre mine Quelemem is who much me consoles—Quelemem of Goias. But he has to live far from here, in Jijuja, Vereda of Buriti Dark... Ahrr, I leave myself there, that in enevildemonment or with support—the Sir too must have had known diverse, men, women. As not yes? For me, umpteen I've seen, that I've learned. Ma-Neigh, Blood-o'Other, or Legion-Lips, or Tear-em-Down, Cold-Cutter, or Sissy-Goat, one Treciziano, or Verdigris... or Hermogenes... o'them, pileload. If I could forget so many names... I'm not a man for calming horses! And, same, whom of yes of to be jagunço self enters, yea is for some competence entrant of demonion. Will it not? Will it? From first, I made and mixed, and to think not I thought. I didn't have the deadlines. I lived pulling difficult from difficult, fish alive on griddle: who lives asp'rously, no fantasies. But, now, fete of fate to me comes, and sans little disquietudes, I'm from creaky net. And myself invented in this like, of to speculate ideas. The devil exists and nonexists? I say the saying. Opennouncement. These melancholies. The Sir sees: exists waterfall; and since? But waterfall is gulch of ground, and water so pouring from it, retumbling; the Sir consume that water, or undo that bankment, remainder waterfall any? To live is negotiation much perilous. I explain to the Sir: the devil vigors inside of human, the wrinkles of human— or is the human ruin, or the human of adversess. I free, per se, citizen, is that not has devil notone. Notone!— is the that I say. The Sir approve? Me declares total, frank— is high merit that me make: and to beg might, increased. This case— by rashtravagance that me they see— is of mine certain importance. God grant not was... But, not say that the Sir, awised and instructed, that agrees in people of them?! Not? You I appreciate! Your high opinion composes my value. Yea I knew, waited for it— yea the field! Ah, a we, in oldness, we lack of to have plowing of rest. You I appreciate. Is devil notone. Nor esprit. Never I've seen. Someone ought to see, then was I myself, this your servant. Was I you to tell... Well, the devil regulate his state black, ins creatures, ins womens, ins humans. E'en: ins childrens— I declaim. Since not is said: "boy—trainee of the devil"? And ins thes uses, ins plants, ins waters, in terra, in wind... Manures. …The devil in the street, in the middle of the vortex... Hey? Hey? Ah. Figuration mine, of worse by back, the certain memories. Mal-make me! I suffer pain of to tell not…Meliorate, if chillingly: well, in a ground and with equal format of branches and leaves, not give to cassava-calm, that is eaten common, and the cassava-mad that kills? Now, the Sir yea saw a strangeness? A cassava-sweet can rapidly to turn agonizing— motives not I know, at times is said that is for replanted in the terrain always, with mutations then, of caules—go embittering, of s’much in s’much, of its self takes poisons. And, well look: the other, the cassava-mad, too is that at times can fix calm, the estimate, of is to eat sans notone mal. And what this is? Eh, the Sir yea saw, for to see, the ugliness of hate pleated, facetorqued, on the faces of one cobrarattlesnake? Observed the porker fat, capita day more felicity brute, capable of, could, snort and engulf for its own dirty coziness the world total? And sparrowhawk, blackbird, some, the features of they yea represent the need of cleave for before, rend and shred by beak, appears a knife much fine for ruin I desire. Total. Has even twisted races of stone, horrorous, venomous— that spoil mortal the aquas, if they are buried beneath of well; the devil inside of them sleeps: they are the devil. Is known? And the demon— that is only thus the significance of one mercury malign— have order of to follow the path of him, have license to brag?! Arr, he is variegated in all! What the what wastes, goes spending the devil of inside of the people, by itttybits, is the reasonable to suffer. And the delight of love—compadre mine Quelemem says. Family. Really? Is, and not is. The Sir think and not think. Total is and not is… Almost all more grave criminous ferocity, always is much good husband, good son, good father, and is good-friend-of-your-friends! I know of those. Solo that have the afters— and Deus, joined. I spy many nimbi. But, in veracity, son, too, softens. Look: one called Aleixo, resident a league from Step-of-Sour, in Of-Sand, was the man of major badness calm that yea you saw. Me agreed that near the house of his had a weir, amidst the palms, with traíras, for souls of enormous, desenormous, to the real, that received fame; the Aleixo gave of to eat to them, in hours just, they self accustomed to if assuch of lunacies, in order to gobble, seemed to be fishes instructed. One day, solo for grace rustic, he killed an oldman who by there passed, destitute begging alms. The Sir not doubt—have people, in this bored world, that kill solo in order to see someone make grimace… Eh, well, thereafter, the rest the Sir provide: comes the bread, comes the hand, comes the god, comes the dog. This Aleixo was man afamilied, had children small; they were the love of his, total, absurdity. Gave good, that not even a year there passed, of to killed the oldman poor, and the children of Aleixo there they asickened. Smallepidemic of measles, they said, but complex; they never heal. When, then, they healed. But the eyes of theirs vermillionized high in an inflame of spraining to rebellion; and nexthing— the that not I know is if they went of at once, or one later and later other and other— they remained blind. Blind, sans remission of one sweet of light of this Ours! The Sir imagine: stairset— three boys and one girl— all blind. Sans remediable. The Aleixo not lost the judgment, but he changed; ah, mutated complete— now lives of band of Deus, sweating to be good and charitous in all his hours of night and of day. Appears even that he fixed the felicity, that before not was. He himself says he was a man of luck, because Deus wanted to have pity of him, to transform for there the route of his soul. That I heard, and me it gave rage. Reason of the children. If being castigated, what culpa of the let-there-bes of Aleixo those little children had?! Compadre mine Quelemem reproved my uncertainties. That, for certain, inother life returnaound, the children too had been the most wicked, of the mass and part of the father, demons of the same kettle of place. Sir the what thinks? And the oldman, assassinated? — I know the Sir goes to discuss. Well, too. In order that he had a sin of crime, in the body, by to pay. If the people— conforming compadre mine Quelemem is who says— if the people turn to to incarnate renovated, I contemplate even that enemy of death can come as son of the enemy. Look see: if to myself I say, has a subject Pedro Pindo, neighbor of here more six leagues, man of good for all in all, he and the woman of his, always been good, of goodness. They have a son of some ten years called Valtei—name modern, is the that the population of here now appreciates, the Sir knows. Well this-little-thing, thislet, since that some understanding illuminated in him, deed demonstrated the that is: petition stepfather, acid burner, likeful of ruin of inside of the profundity of the species of its nature. In which that torments, to the slowly, of all beasts or raisinglings little that quarrel; one time he found a creole woman hooched foolish sleeping, he arranged a shard of bottle, lashed at three points on the stern of the legs of hers. The what this boy drooled seeing, is bleeding hen or to knife pig.— “I enjoy of to kill…”— one occasion he teeny me told. He opened in me a fright; because: birdy that self leans over— the flight yea is ready! Well the Sir oversee: the pa, Pedro Pindo, mode of to correct this, and the ma, they give in him, misery and mast—they cast the boy sans to eat, they tied to trees in the yard, he nude, unplumed, even in June cold, they tilled the bittybody of his with the trammel and with the goblet, after they cleansed the skin of the sanguine, with bottle gourd brine. The people know, spy, fix wasted. The boy yea relowered of thinness, the eyes entering, caress of bones, enskulled, and tuberculated, the time total hacking, coughness of the that draw parched pectorals. Arr, that now, visible, the Pindo and the woman self habituated of on him hit, of little bit in little they were creating in this a pleasure ugly of diversion— as they regulate the canings in hours certain comfortable, until they call people to see the example good. I think that boy not endure, yea there is in the ta-da, not arrive for the lent to come… Ooee-ooee, then?! Not being as compadre mine Quelemem to want, that explication is that the Sir bestowed? That boy had to be a man. He should, in swing, terrible perversities. Soul of his was in the pitch. Demonstrated. And, now, paid. Ah, but, happens, when he’s crying and paining, he suffers equal that as was as a boy good… Bird, I saw all, in this world! Yea I saw even horse with hiccups… —the that the thing most costous that is. Good, but the Sir may say, should of: and in the start— for offenses and arts, the people— as for that was that s’much amended was started? Ey, ey, ey all collided. Compadre mine Quelemem, too. Am solo a sertanite, in these high ideas I navigate mal. Am much poor poor-thing. Envy my pedigree and of ones conform the Sir, with total reading and doctoration. Not is that I be illiterate. I spelt, years and middle, midly speller, memory and palmer. I had master, Master Lucas, in the Curralinho, he memorized grammar, the operations, rule-of-three, even geography and study patria. On leaves great of paper, with caprice I traced handsome maps. Ah, not is for to speak: but, since of the start, me they thought sophisticated of side. And that I merited of to go to course latin, in Lesson Waterlily—that too they said. Time nostalgic! Going today, I appreciate a good book, despaced. On the farm The Lilittlelemon, of one mine friend Vito Soziano, so sign of this almanac thick, of logoglyphs and conundrums and other divided matters, all year come. In s’much, I place primacy is in the reading advantageous, life of saints, virtues and examples— missionary astute engambling the Indians, or Saint Francis of Assis, Saint Anthony, Saint Gerald… I like much of moral. To ratiocinate, exhort the others for the good way, to acounsel to just. Mine woman, that the Sir knows, vigils for me: much prayer. She is a blessable. Compadre mine Quelemem always says that I may to aquiet my fears on conscience, that being well-attended, terrible good-esprits me protect. Eep! With like… As is of saint effect, I help with mine to want to accredit. But not even always can I. The Sir knew: I total the mine life I thought for me, lining, I am born different. I am and I same. I divert of total the world… I almost that nothing not I know. But I disconfide of many things. The Sir, conceding, I say: in order to think long, I am dog master— the Sir loose in mine front an idea ease and I research that by profundity of total the backwoods, amen! Look: the should of to have, was of so reunited-selves the wise, politicos, constitutions graded, closed the definitive the notion— to proclaim for one time, art assemblies, that not have devil notone, not exists, not possible. Valor of law! Solo assuch, they gave tranquility good to the people. Because the government not cares?! Ah, I know that not is possible. Not me settled the Sir for philistine. One this is to place ideas arranged, other is to deal with country of people, of flesh and sanguine, of thousand-and-many miseries… S’many people—gives scare of to know—and notone so calms: All nascenting, crescendoing, so wedding, wanting collocation of employment, consumables, health, abundance, to be important, wanting rain and affairs good… Of luck that lacks of so to choose: or we t’weave of to live in the salacious common, or care solo of religion solo. I could to be: father clergyman, if not chief of jagunços; for other things not was I birthed. But mine oldness yea principaled I erred of total account. And the rheumatism… There as whom says: in the primers. Ahem. Hey? Hey? The that more I think, I testify and explain: all-the-world is mad. The Sir, I, we, the people all. For this is that so lacks principally of religion: in order to desendodorize, to disdodoate. Pray is that heals of lunacy. In the general. This is that is the salvation-of-the-soul…Much religion your servant! I here, not I lose occasion of religion. I profit of all. I drink water of all rivers… One solo, for me is little, maybe not me arrives. I pray christian, catholic, I burrow the certain; and I accept the prayers of compadre mine Quelemem, doctrine of he, of Kardec. But, when I can, I go in the Mindubim, where one Matias is believer, methodist: the people so accuse of sinner, reads high the bible, and why, singing hymns beautiful of his. Total me quiets, me suspends. Whatever small shade me refreshes. But is solo much provisory. I wanted to pray— the time total. Many people not me approve, they think that law of Deus is privileges, invariable. And I! Doof! I Detest! The what I am? — the what I do, that want, much curia. And in face of total I face, executed. I? —not I trammel. Look: I have a black girl, Maria Leoncia, long from here not she lives, the prayers of her afame much virtue of power. Well to her I pay, every month— ordering of to pray for me one third, every saint day, and, on the Sundays, a rosary. Value, so values. Mine woman not sees mal in this. And I am, yea mandated word for an other, of the voyage-voyage, a Izina Calanga, in order to come here, I heard of that prayer too with grand mermermerits, I go to effect with she treatment equal. I want handful of those, me defending in Deus, reunited of me in volta… Cuts of Christ! To live is much perilous… To want the good with too much force, of incertain way, can yea to be being so wanting the mal, per to initiate. These humans! All they pull the world for itself, for the to concert amended. But capita one solo sees and understands the things of one his world. Amountain, the most supro, most serious was Mediero Vaz. That one man ancient… his Joaozy Ben-Ben, the most brave of all, no-one never can decipher how he by inside consisted. Joca Ramiro— grand man prince!— was politico. Zé Bebelo wanted to be politico, but had and not had luck: fox that lingered. So Candelario so demonized, by to think that was with illness mal. Titao Passos was the by the appreciation of friends: solo per via of them, of his same amities, were that such high so ajagunçoed. Antonio Do— severe bandit. But by half, grand majority half that be. Andalecio, in the profound, a good man-of-good, being raving in his total justice. Ricardao, same, wanted was to be rich in peace: for this he warred. Solo the Hermogenes was that born formed tiger, and assassinite. And the “Ofidios White”? Ah, not me speak. Ah this… joyless mischeivious, that was— that was a poor boy of the destiny… So good, congruous. The Sir heard, I you told: the ruin with the ruin, they terminate by the spine-bushes so to crack— Deus awaits that spendance. Boy!: Deus is patience. The contrary, is the devil. So consumes. The Sir file knife on knife— and file— that so they scrape. Even the rocks of the profound, one of in the other, they go-so aroundabounding even, that the rivulet rolls. Per enquantity, that I think, total as hath, in this world, is because so merits and lacks. Afterly precise. Deus not so reports with rifle, not garrotes the regulation. For what? Quit: goof with goof—one day, some illumination and learn: smart. Solo that, at times, for most auxiliar, Deus begets, in the middle, a pinch of pepper… Therebe? Well, for example: some time, I went of train, there in Seven-Lagoons, for parts of to consult a medical, of name me indicated. He went vested well, and in car of first, by via of the doubts, not me they shadowed for jagunço ancient. It goes and happens, that, close same of me, enfront, he took aseat, returning from the wild North, a mac Jazevedao, delegate professionale. Came with a capanga of his, an undercover, and I well knew the two, of that s’much a was ruin, as the other ruin was. The veracity to say, first I had the strict of me to surpasss for one lonng, to mutate of my place. Judgement me told, meliorate stay. Well, looking, I looked. And— you I tell: never I saw face of man furnished of brutez or malady more, of the them in that. As that was ogre, trussed of thickset, relustered of crude in the eyes small, and armed a chin of stone, toweringbrow; not of mid nor forehead. Not laughed, not so laughed not even one time; but, speaking or silent, the people appeared always to him some teeth, prey pointed of canids. Arr, and blustered, an ittybit. Solo growled curt, low, the mid-words grizzled. He came relooking, historicizing the documents— one by one the leaves with portraits and with the blacks of the digits of jagunços, lifters of horses and criminouses of death. That application of work, in one thing of those, generated the ire in the people. The undercover, busybodyguard, total close, seated joined, attending, excelling of to be dog. Me made a dread, but solo in the goof of the corpus, not in the intern of the courages. One hour, one of those reports fell— and I bent quickly, I knew there precisely by why, not I wanted, not I thought— even today I raise shame of this— I picked the paper of the ground, and delivered to him. Thereof, I say: I had more rage, because I did that; but there yea it was done. The man not even me looked, not even said notone thankfulment. Event he soles of the shoes of his— solo looking— that soles rough thick, bent of enormous, appearing iron bronzed. Because I knew: This Jazevedao, when he apprehended someone, the primary quiet thing that proceeded was that he came entering, sans to have to to say, feigning some hurry, and go stepping on the top of the feet of the poorthings. And that on these occasions he gave laughters, gave… Well, geck! I delivered to him the leaf of paper, and went leaving of there, by to have hand on me of not to destroy by shots that subject. Meat that much they weigh… And umbilicated beginning of belly pot bellied, that me created will… With my lightness, joyful that I’d kill. But, the barbarities that this delegate made and happened, the Sir not even has callus in heart to be able me to hear. He achieved of many men and women to cry blood, for the simple universolo ours here. Sertão. The Sir knows: sertão is where mandates who is strong, with the guile. And bullet is a tidbit of metal… S’much, I say: Jazevedao— one assuch, should of to have, needed? Ah, need. Leather ruined is that calls goad of point. That there be that, after— business particular of he— in the life or in the other, each Jazevedao, accomplished the that he has, desclimbs in his time of pain, too, until to pay the that he gave— compadre mine Quelemem is there, in order to fiscalize. The Sir knows: the peril that is to live… But solo of the mode, of these, by ugly instrument, was that the jagunsaga so finished. Sir thinks that Antonio Do or Olivino Oliviano were going to fix goodies by pure spelling of itself, or by begging of the infelicitous, or by always to hear sermon of father? You I think! In the aims… Of jagunço comported active in order so to repent in the middle of his jagunsagas, solo I lay of one: called Joe Cazuzo— was in smashing of one shotshow, for on the summit of the place Sierra New, district of river rusted, on the stream Traçadal. We made mal minority small, and they closed in order summit of us the personnel of one Coronel Adalvino, forted politico, with many soldiers uniformed in the center, commanding of the Lieutenant Epiphany Helm, that after fixed captain. We lasted hour more hour, and yea gave almost of encircled. There, of misslip, that Joe Cazuzo— man much valiant— so kneeled turned on the ground of the thick, lifted the arms that not even shoots of Jatoba dry, and solo yell, howl clear and howl deaf:— “I saw the Virgin Ours, in the resplendor of the Heavens, with her children of angels!... ” He screamed not touched. — “I saw the Virgin!... ” He ensouled? We desequaled. Bolt for my horse—that I thought— I leaped in mal seat, noteven I knew in which rupture-time I unfastened the halter, of tied up it foot of timber. I flew, arrived. Bullet come. The pasture roared. In the brush, the fear of the people so goes to the whole, one fear intentional. I could to lash out, fated burro brute, giv-that, giv-that. Some two or three bullets so drovein the pad of the mine saddle, they perforated of to tear away almost much the kapok of the filling. Horse trembled in pro, in middle of gallop, I know: thinks in the owner. I not fit of to be more well shrunken. Bulleted came to the sack that I had on the back, with few mine things. And other, of fusil, in ricochet decreed, heated my thigh, sans me wound, the Sir see: bullet does the what to want—so pierced impressed, between in me and the harness! Times crazy… Burumbum!: the horse so kneeled in the fall, dead perhaps, and I yea falling for front, embraced in foliage full, branched and linias, that me swayed and skewered, done I was pendulating in web of spider… Whither? I traversed that life total… Of fear of anxiety, I ruptured to read with mine corpus that forest, I know there — and me fell world below, rolled for the hollow of a grotto closed of shrubs, always me grasped— rolled same assuch: after: after, when I saw mine hands, total on they that not was withdrawn sanguine, was smeared green, on the digits, of leaves living that I pulled and mashed… I landed on the sedge of the profound— and a beast dark gave a releap, with a sneeze, too mad of fright: that was a papa-mel, that I descried; in order to flee, this is solely. Bigger being I, me doused mine overcoat; I spigotted total. And of one bit of thought: if that beast irara lying there then there not had cobra. I took the place of his. Existed cobra notone. I could me to lose. I was solo spineless, softness, but that not deadened, inside, the collisions of the heart. I gasped. I conceived that they came, me kill. Not even did mal, me mattered not. Assuch, some moments, at least I guarded the license of term in order me to rest. Conforming I thought in Diadorim. Solo I thought was in he. One joão-congo sang. I wanted to die thinking in my friend Diadorim, hand-o-bro, who was on the Sierra of WoodO’Bow, almost on the border baiana, with our other half of the so-candelarios… With my friend Diadorim me embraced, sentiment my went-flew right for he… Ay, arr, but: that this mine mouth not has order notone. I am accounting outside, things divagated. In the Sir me confide? Til-that, til-that. Say the angel-of-the-guard… But, conforming I came: after so knew, that same the soldiers of the Lieutenant and the goats of Coronel Adalvino remitted of to respect the blast of that Joe Cazuzo. And that this ended being the man most pacificious of the world, fabricator of oil and sacristan, in the Saint Sundays White. Times! For total, cleaned revelation, I fix thinking. I like. Meliorate, for the idea if well to open, is travelling in train-of-iron. Could, lived to top and to bottom, inside of it. Information that I ask: same in the Heavens, end of end, how is that the soul wins so to forget s’much sufferments and maladies, in the received and in the given? The how? The Sir knows: are things of hideous ofmuch, have. Pain of corpus and pain of idea mark forted, that forted as the total love and rage of hate. Goes, sea… Of luck that, then, the Firmiano, by appellationed Louse-of-Snake, so leoprosized with the leg disconformed, thickening, of that disease that not so cures; and not discern almost more, constant the branchials in the eyes, of the cataracts. Of before, years, had to of so disarray of the jagunsaga. Well, one occasion, some was on the ranch of his, on the High Jeuitai, after accounted—that, turns time, comes subject, he would say: “Me give yearning is of to seize a soldier, and such, for one good flay, with knife blind… But, first, to castrate…” The Sir conceive? Who has more dose of demon in self is Indian, any race of brusque. Folk see nation ofthese, for there profound of the generals of Goias, theofwhere has vagarous grand rivers, of aquas always so clear pleasantly, running of down crystal rosed… Louse-of-Snake gave of sanguine of heathen. Sir me will say: but that he pronounced that out of mouth, manner of to represent that yet not was old decadent. Opus of to oppose, for fear of to be tame, and cause in order so to see respected. Total listened for such rule: palavered of ruins, for more so valued, because we to the environs is hard durability. The worst, but, is that they finish, through the same ford, given of one day to execute the declared, in the real. I saw s’much crudity! Pain not pays to account; if I go, I collide. And me dedrip, three that me sicken, this total. Me convokes that the personnel, today in day, is good of heart. This is, good in the trivial. Malices wildwants, and perversities, always have some, but scarcities. Generation mine, true, was not assuch. Ah, goes to turn a time, in which not is used more to kill people… I yea am old. Good, I was saying: question, this that me excavates… Ah, I formed that question, for compadre mine Quelemem. That me responded: that, for close to heaven, we so amplified so, that total the uglies past so exhaled of not to be—fated sans-modus from time of youngster, mal-arts. As we not lack of to have remorse of the which divulged in the pulsation of his nightmares of one night. Assuch that: fleeced-so, flourished-so! Ahem. For this said, is that the journey to the Heavens is delayed. I confide with compadre mine Quelemem, the Sir knows: reason of creed same that has—that, for total the mal, that so does, one day so repays, the exact. Subject assuch rises three times, in ante of to want to facilitate in any minutia reprehensible… Compadre mine Quelemem never speaks vacant, not subtreats. Solo that this to he not I go to expose. We never should have to declare that accept entire the alien—that is what is the rule of the king! The Sir look…see: the most important and beautiful, of the world, is this: that the people are not always same, still were not completed — but that they go always shifting. They tune or detune. Truth major. Is the that the life me taught. This that me animates, mound. And, other thing: the devil and the brutes; but Deus is treacherous! Ah, a beauty of treacherous— gives like! The force of his, when he wants— boy!— me gives the fear dread! Deus comes coming: no one not sees. He does in the law of gentle— assuch is the miracle. And Deus attacks beautiful, so amusing, so economizes. The well: one day in a tannery, the little knife mine I had dropped inside of a tank, solo soup of bark of tan, stryphnodendron adstringens, angico, there I know. —“Tomorrow I try…”— I said, withmyself. Because it was of night, light notone I not disputed. Ah, then, I found: on the other day, early, the knife, the iron of it, had been gnawed, almost by half, by that aqua dark, total quiet. I left, for more to see. Crack, fuse! Know the what was? Well, in that same of afternoon, there: of the little knife solo so found the handle… The handle, for not to be of cold metal, but of horn of deer. There is: Deus… Good, the Sir heard knows, the that knows me understands… We sum, not think that religion fractures. Sir think the contrary. Visible that, those other times, I painted—belief that the neoglaziovia variegata lifts the flower. Ah, good my joy… Boyhood. But boyhood is task for more later so to deny. Too, I of that of to think in vague in s’much, lost mine hand-of-man for the management hot, in the middle of all. But, today, that I ratiocinated, and think the endeavor, not nor for this not I give for low my competence, in a fire-and-iron. The to see. Would approach would come here with war on me, with bad parts, with other laws, or with excessive looks, and I even draw to ignite this zone, ay, if, if! Is in the mouth of the blunderbuss: is in the rete-te-tem… And lonelyonly not I am, there-of-the. For not this, I was I placed encircle my mine people. Look the Sir: here, close, vereda below, the Paspe — cropper my — is mine. More league, if that, have the Herpetotheres, and have the compadre Ciril, him and three children, I know that they serve. Band of that hand, the Alaripe: knew the Sir the that is that so boasts, in rifleation and by the knife, one cearense did this! After more: the João Innatal, the Quipes, Lophiosilurus-of-claws. And the Fafafa— this gave fights high, all side with me, in the combat old of the Anteater-such: we cleaned the wind of whom not had order of to respirate, and ante these we desencompassed… The Fafafa has a mass of mares. He raises horses good. Even a little more distant, on the ped-of-sierra, of band mine was the Sesfred, Jesualdo, the Nelson, and João Concliz. Some others. The Triol… And not I go valuing? I leave terra with them, of theirs the what is mine is, we close that we not even brothers. For what I want to gather richness? They are there, of arms aireated. Enemy to come, we cross called, gathering: is hour of one good shotshowerment in peace, they exp’riment to see. I say this to the Sir, of confidence. Too, not go to think in double. We want is to work, propose tranquility. Of me, person, I live for mine woman, that total mode-meliorate merits, and for the devotion. Well-to want of mine woman was that me assisted, prayers of hers, graces. Love comes of love. I say. In Diadorim, I think too— but Diadorim is the mine nebulina… Now, well: not I wanted to touch on this more— of the Tineaous; arrive. But has a nevertheless: I ask: the Sir believe, think trust of truth in that parlance, of with the demon so to able to deal with pact? No, no is no? I knew that not there. I spoke of favas. But I like of total good confirmation. To vend you proper soul… Inventionate false! And, soul, the what is? Soul of has to be thing internal supremed, much more of the of inside, and is solo, of the that one if thought: ah, soul sheer! Decision of to vend soul is fearless moll, fantasied of moment, has not the obedience legal. Can I to vend those good terras, thereof of between the Veredas-Four— that are of one Mr. Admiral, who resides in the capital federal? Can I some? Then, if one boy boy is, and for this not so authorizes of to negotiate… And we, this I know, at times is solo fated boy. Mal that in mine life I prepared, I was in a certain infancy in dreams — total runs and arrives so swift —; will be that if hath flame of responsibilities? If dream; yea so did… I gave rapadura to the chump! Ahem. Well. If his soul, and has, it is of Deus established, not even that the person want or not want. Not is vendible. The Sir not thinks? Me declare, frank, I beg. Ah, you I appreciate. You so see that the Sir knows much, in idea firm, beyond of to have letter of doctor. You I appreciate, for much. Your company me gives high pleasures. In terms, I liked that I would live here, or close, was a help. Here not so has conviviation that to instruct. Sertão. Knows the Sir: sertão is where the thought of the people so forms more forted of the than power of the place. To live is much perilous… Eh, that you so go? Yeayea? Is that not. Today, no. Tomorrow, no. Not I consense. The Sir me forgive, but in endeavor of mine friendship accept: the Sir stay. After fifth of-morning-early, the Sir wanting to go, then goes, same me leaves feeling your absence. But, today or tomorrow, no. Visit, here in house, with me, is for three days! But, the Sir really intends to trespass the field this sea of territotires, for sortment of to confer the what exists? You have your motives. Now— I say for me — the Sir comes, came late, Times were, the customs mutate. Almost that, of legitimate loyal, little surplus, not even no excess more nothing. The bands good of valientoughs they reparted their end; many who were jagunço, by ouch pain, beg alms. Same as the herdsmen they doubt of to come in the commerce vested of clothes entire of leather, they think that garb of jerkin is ugly and boor. And even the herd in the shrubbed pasture goes waning less mad, more educated: casted of zebu, dissee with the rest of corralers and captiveborns. Always, in the generals is to the poverty, to the sadness. A sadness that even gladdens. But, then, for a crop reasonable of bizzarancies, I recounsel of the Sir to entest journey more dilated. Not were my desmight, by acids and rheumatism, there I went. I guided the Sir till total. March 2013 San Diego, CA ORIGINAL TEXT NONADA. TIROS QUE O SENHOR ouviu foram de briga de homem não, Deus esteja. Alvejei mira em árvores no quintal, no baixo do córrego. Por meu acerto. Todo dia isso faço, gosto; desde mal em minha mocidade. Daí, vieram me chamar. Causa dumbezerro: um bezerro branco, erroso, os olhos de nem ser – se viu –; e com máscara de cachorro. Me disseram; eu não quis avistar. Mesmo que, por defeito como nasceu, arrebitado de beiços, esse figurava rindo feito pessoa. Cara de gente, cara de cão: determinaram – era o demo. Povo prascóvio. Mataram. Dono dele nem sei quem for. Vieram emprestar minhas armas, cedi. Não tenho abusões. O senhor ri certas risadas... Olhe: quando é tiro de verdade, primeiro a cachorrada pega a latir, instantaneamente – depois, então, se vai ver se deu mortos. O senhor tolere, isto é o sertão. Uns querem que não seja: que situado sertão é por os campos-gerais a fora a dentro, eles dizem, fim de rumo, terras altas, demais do Urucuia. Toleima. Para os de Corinto e do Curvelo, então, o aqui não é dito sertão? Ah, que tem maior! Lugar sertão se divulga: é onde os pastos carecem de fechos; onde um pode torar dez, quinze léguas, sem topar com casa de morador; e onde criminoso vive seu cristo-jesus, arredado do arrocho de autoridade. O Urucuia vem dos montões oestes. Mas, hoje, que na beira dele, tudo dá – fazendões de fazendas, almargem de vargens de bom render, as vazantes; culturas que vão de mata em mata, madeiras de grossura, até ainda virgens dessas lá há. O gerais corre em volta. Esses gerais são sem tamanho. Enfim, cada um o que quer aprova, o senhor sabe: pão ou pães, é questão de opiniães... O sertão está em toda a parte. Do demo? Não gloso. Senhor pergunte aos moradores. Em falso receio, desfalam no nome dele – dizem só: o Que-Diga. Vote! não... Quem muito se evita, se convive. Sentença num Aristides – o que existe no buritizal primeiro desta minha mão direita, chamado a Vereda-da-Vaca-Mansa-deSanta-Rita – todo o mundo crê: ele não pode passar em três lugares, designados: porque então a gente escuta um chorinho, atrás, e uma vozinha que avisando: – “Eu já vou! Eu já vou!...” – que é o capiroto, o que-diga... E um José Simpilício – quem qualquer daqui jura ele tem um capeta em casa, miúdo satanazim, preso obrigado a ajudar em toda ganância que executa; razão que o Simpilício se empresa em vias de completar de rico. Apre, por isso dizem também que a besta pra ele rupeia, nega de banda, não deixando, quando ele quer amontar... Superstição. José Simpilício e Aristides, mesmo estão se engordando, de assim nãoouvir ou ouvir. Ainda o senhor estude: agora mesmo, nestes dias de época, tem gente porfalando que o Diabo próprio parou, de passagem, no Andrequicé. Um Moço de fora, teria aparecido, e lá se louvou que, para aqui vir – normal, a cavalo, dum dia-e-meio – ele era capaz que só com uns vinte minutos bastava... porque costeava o Rio do Chico pelas cabeceiras! Ou, também, quem sabe – sem ofensas – não terá sido, por um exemplo, até mesmo o senhor quem se anunciou assim, quando passou por lá, por prazido divertimento engraçado? Há-de, não me dê crime, sei que não foi. E mal eu não quis. Só que uma pergunta, em hora, às vezes, clareia razão de paz. Mas, o senhor entenda: o tal moço, se há, quis mangar. Pois, hem, que, despontar o Rio pelas nascentes, será a mesma coisa que um se redobrar nos internos deste nosso Estado nosso, custante viagem de uns três meses... Então? Que-Diga? Doideira. A fantasiação. E, o respeito de dar a ele assim esses nomes de rebuço, é que é mesmo um querer invocar que ele forme forma, com as presenças! Não seja. Eu, pessoalmente, quase que já perdi nele a crença, mercês a Deus; é o que ao senhor lhe digo, à puridade. Sei que é bem estabelecido, que grassa nos Santos- Evangelhos. Em ocasião, conversei com um rapaz seminarista, muito condizente, conferindo no livro de rezas e revestido de paramenta, com uma vara de maria-preta na mão – proseou que ia adjutorar o padre, para extraírem o Cujo, do corpo vivo de uma velha, na Cachoeira-dos-Bois, ele ia com o vigário do Campo-Redondo... Me concebo. O senhor não é como eu? Não acreditei patavim. Compadre meu Quelemém descreve que o que revela efeito são os baixos espíritos descarnados, de terceira, fuzuando nas piores trevas e com ânsias de se travarem com os viventes – dão encosto. Compadre meu Quelemém é quem muito me consola – Quelemém de Góis. Mas ele tem de morar longe daqui, na Jijujã, Vereda do Buriti Pardo... Arres, me deixe lá, que – em endemoninhamento ou com encosto – o senhor mesmo deverá de ter conhecido diversos, homens, mulheres. Pois não sim? Por mim, tantos vi, que aprendi. Rincha- Mãe, Sangued’Outro, o Muitos-Beiços, o Rasgaem-Baixo, Faca-Fria, o Fancho-Bode, um Treciziano, o Azinhavre... o Hermógenes... Deles, punhadão. Se eu pudesse esquecer tantos nomes... Não sou amansador de cavalos! E, mesmo, quem de si de ser jagunço se entrete, já é por alguma competência entrante do demônio. Será não? Será? De primeiro, eu fazia e mexia, e pensar não pensava. Não possuía os prazos. Vivi puxando difícil de dificel, peixe vivo no moquém: quem mói no asp’ro, não fantaseia. Mas, agora, feita a folga que me vem, e sem pequenos dessossegos, estou de range rede. E me inventei neste gosto, de especular idéia. O diabo existe e não existe? Dou o dito. Abrenúncio. Essas melancolias. O senhor vê: existe cachoeira; e pois? Mas cachoeira é barranco de chão, e água se caindo por ele, retombando; o senhor consome essa água, ou desfaz o barranco, sobra cachoeira alguma? Viver é negócio muito perigoso... Explico ao senhor: o diabo vige dentro do homem, os crespos do homem – ou é o homem arruinado, ou o homem dos avessos. Solto, por si, cidadão, é que não tem diabo nenhum. Nenhum! – é o que digo. O senhor aprova? Me declare tudo, franco – é alta mercê que me faz: e pedir posso, encarecido. Este caso – por estúrdio que me vejam – é de minha certa importância. Tomara não fosse... Mas, não diga que o senhor, assisado e instruído, que acredita na pessoa dele?! Não? Lhe agradeço! Sua alta opinião compõe minha valia. Já sabia, esperava por ela-já o campo! Ah, a gente, na velhice, carece de ter sua aragem de descanso. Lhe agradeço. Tem diabo nenhum. Nem espírito. Nunca vi. Alguém devia de ver, então era eu mesmo, este vosso servidor. Fosse lhe contar... Bem, o diabo regula seu estado preto, nas criaturas, nas mulheres, nos homens. Até: nas crianças – eu digo. Pois não é ditado: “menino – trem do diabo”? E nos usos, nas plantas, nas águas, na terra, no vento... Estrumes. ... O diabo na rua, no meio do redemunho... Hem? Hem? Ah. Figuração minha, de pior pra trás, as certas lembranças. Mal hajame! Sofro pena de contar não... Melhor, se arrepare: pois, num chão, e com igual formato de ramos e folhas, não dá a mandioca mansa, que se come comum, e a mandioca-brava, que mata? Agora, o senhor já viu uma estranhez? A mandioca-doce pode de repente virar azangada – motivos não sei; às vezes se diz que é por replantada no terreno sempre, com mudas seguidas, de manaíbas – vai em amargando, de tanto em tanto, de si mesma toma peçonhas. E, ora veja: a outra, a mandiocabrava, também é que às vezes pode ficar mansa, a esmo, de se comer sem nenhum mal. E que isso é? Eh, o senhor já viu, por ver, a feiúra de ódio franzido, carantonho, nas faces duma cobra cascavel? Observou o porco gordo, cada dia mais feliz bruto, capaz de, pudesse, roncar e engolir por sua suja comodidade o mundo todo? E gavião, corvo, alguns, as feições deles já representam a precisão de talhar para adiante, rasgar e estraçalhar a bico, parece uma quicé muito afiada por ruim desejo. Tudo. Tem até tortas raças de pedras, horrorosas, venenosas – que estragam mortal a água, se estão jazendo em fundo de poço; o diabo dentro delas dorme: são o demo. Se sabe? E o demo – que é só assim o significado dum azougue maligno – tem ordem de seguir o caminho dele, tem licença para campear?! Arre, ele está misturado em tudo. Que o que gasta, vai gastando o diabo de dentro da gente, aos pouquinhos, é o razoável sofrer. E a alegria de amor – compadre meu Quelemém, diz. Família. Deveras? É, e não é. O senhor ache e não ache. Tudo é e não é... Quase todo mais grave criminoso feroz, sempre é muito bom marido, bom filho, bom pai, e é bom amigo-de-seus-amigos! Sei desses. Só que tem os depois – e Deus, junto. Vi muitas nuvens. Mas, em verdade, filho, também, abranda. Olhe: um chamado Aleixo, residente a légua do Passo do Pubo, no da-Areia, era o homem de maiores ruindades calmas que já se viu. Me agradou que perto da casa dele tinha um açudinho, entre as palmeiras, com traíras, pra-almas de enormes, desenormes, ao real, que receberam fama; o Aleixo dava de comer a elas, em horas justas, elas se acostumaram a se assim das locas, para papar, semelhavam ser peixes ensinados. Um dia, só por graça rústica, ele matou um velhinho que por lá passou, desvalido rogando esmola. O senhor não duvide – tem gente, neste aborrecido mundo, que matam só para ver alguém fazer careta... Eh, pois, empós, o resto o senhor prove: vem o pão, vem a mão, vem o são, vem o cão. Esse Aleixo era homem afamilhado, tinha filhos pequenos; aqueles eram o amor dele, todo, despropósito. Dê bem, que não nem um ano estava passado, de se matar o velhinho pobre, e os meninos do Aleixo aí adoeceram. Andaço de sarampão, se disse, mas complicado; eles nunca saravam. Quando, então, sararam. Mas os olhos deles vermelhavam altos, numa inflama de sapiranga à rebelde; e susseguinte – o que não sei é se foram todos duma vez, ou um logo e logo outro e outro – eles restaram cegos. Cegos, sem remissão dum favinho de luz dessa nossa! O senhor imagine: uma escadinha – três meninos e uma menina – todos cegados. Sem remediável. O Aleixo não perdeu o juizo; mas mudou: ah, demudou completo – agora vive da banda de Deus, suando para ser bom e caridoso em todas suas horas da noite e do dia. Parece até que ficou o feliz, que antes não era. Ele mesmo diz que foi um homem de sorte, porque Deus quis ter pena dele, transformar para lá o rumo de sua alma. Isso eu ouvi, e me deu raiva. Razão das crianças. Se sendo castigo, que culpa das hajas do Aleixo aqueles meninozinhos tinham?! Compadre meu Quelemém reprovou minhas incertezas. Que, por certo, noutra vida revirada, os meninos também tinham sido os mais malvados, da massa e peça do pai, demônios do mesmo caldeirão de lugar. Senhor o que acha? E o velhinho assassinado? – eu sei que o senhor vai discutir. Pois, também. Em ordem que ele tinha um pecado de crime, no corpo, por pagar. Se a gente – conforme compadre meu Quelemém é quem diz – se a gente torna a encarnar renovado, eu cismo até que inimigo de morte pode vir como filho do inimigo. Mire veja: se me digo, tem um sujeito Pedro Pindó, vizinho daqui mais seis léguas, homem de bem por tudo em tudo, ele e a mulher dele, sempre sidos bons, de bem. Eles têm um filho duns dez anos, chamado Valtei – nome moderno, é o que o povo daqui agora apreceia, o senhor sabe. Pois essezinho, essezim, desde que algum entendimento alumiou nele, feito mostrou o que é: pedido madrasto, azedo queimador, gostoso de ruim de dentro do fundo das espécies de sua natureza. Em qual que judia, ao devagar, de todo bicho ou criaçãozinha pequena que pega; uma vez, encontrou uma crioula bentabêbada dormindo, arranjou um caco de garrafa, lanhou em três pontos a popa da perna dela. O que esse menino babeja vendo, é sangrarem galinha ou esfaquear porco. – “Eu gosto de matar...” – uma ocasião ele pequenino me disse. Abriu em mim um susto; porque: passarinho que se debruça – o vôo já está pronto! Pois, o senhor vigie: o pai, Pedro Pindó, modo de corrigir isso, e a mãe, dão nele, de miséria e mastro – botam o menino sem comer, amarram em árvores no terreiro, ele nu nuelo, mesmo em junho frio, lavram o corpinho dele na peia e na taca, depois limpam a pele do sangue, com cuia de salmoura. A gente sabe, espia, fica gasturado. O menino já rebaixou de magreza, os olhos entrando, carinha de ossos, encaveirada, e entisicou, o tempo todo tosse, tossura da que puxa secos peitos. Arre, que agora, visível, o Pindó e a mulher se habituaram de nele bater, de pouquinho em pouquim foram criando nisso um prazer feio de diversão – como regulam as sovas em horas certas confortáveis, até chamam gente para ver o exemplo bom. Acho que esse menino não dura, já está no blimbilim, não chega para a quaresma que vem... Uê-uê, então?!Não sendo como compadre meu Quelemém quer, que explicação é que o senhor dava? Aquele menino tinha sido homem. Devia, em balanço, terríveis perversidades. Alma dele estava no breu. Mostrava. E, agora, pagava. Ah, mas, acontece, quando está chorando e penando, ele sofre igual que se fosse um menino bonzinho... Ave, vi de tudo, neste mundo! lá vi até cavalo com soluço... – o que é a coisa mais custosa que há. Bem, mas o senhor dirá, deve de: e no começo – para pecados e artes, as pessoas – como por que foi que tanto emendado se começou? Ei, ei, aí todos esbarram. Compadre meu Quelemém, também. Sou só um sertanejo, nessas altas idéias navego mal. Sou muito pobre coitado. Inveja minha pura é de uns conforme o senhor, com toda leitura e suma doutoração. Não é que eu esteja analfabeto. Soletrei, anos e meio, meante cartilha, memória e palmatória. Tive mestre, Mestre Lucas, no Curralinho, decorei gramática, as operações, regra-de-três, até geografia e estudo pátrio. Em folhas grandes de papel, com capricho tracei bonitos mapas. Ah, não é por falar: mas, desde o começo, me achavam sofismado de ladino. E que eu merecia de ir para cursar latim, em Aula Régia – que também diziam. Tempo saudoso! Inda hoje, apreceio um bom livro, despaçado. Na fazenda O Limãozinho, de um meu amigo Vito Soziano, se assina desse almanaque grosso, de logogrifos e charadas e outras divididas matérias, todo ano vem. Em tanto, ponho primazia é na leitura proveitosa, vida de santo, virtudes e exemplos – missionário esperto engambelando os índios, ou São Francisco de Assis, Santo Antônio, São Geraldo... Eu gosto muito de moral. Raciocinar, exortar os outros para o bom caminho, aconselhar a justo. Minha mulher, que o senhor sabe, zela por mim: muito reza. Ela é uma abençoável. Compadre meu Quelemém sempre diz que eu posso aquietar meu temer de consciência, que sendo bem-assistido, terríveis bons-espíritos me protegem. Ipe! Com gosto... Como é de são efeito, ajudo com meu querer acreditar. Mas nem sempre posso. O senhor saiba: eu toda a minha vida pensei por mim, forro, sou nascido diferente. Eu sou é eu mesmo. Diverjo de todo o mundo... Eu quase que nada não sei. Mas desconfio de muita coisa. O senhor concedendo, eu digo: para pensar longe, sou cão mestre – o senhor solte em minha frente uma idéia ligeira, e eu rastreio essa por fundo de todos os matos, amém! Olhe: o que devia de haver, era de se reunirem-se os sábios, políticos, constituições gradas, fecharem o definitivo a noção – proclamar por uma vez, artes assembléias, que não tem diabo nenhum, não existe, não pode. Valor de lei! Só assim, davam tranqüilidade boa à gente. Por que o Governo não cuida?! Ah, eu sei que não é possível. Não me assente o senhor por beócio. Uma coisa é pôr idéias arranjadas, outra é lidar com país de pessoas, de carne e sangue, de mil-e-tantas misérias... Tanta gente – dá susto de saber – e nenhum se sossega: todos nascendo, crescendo, se casando, querendo colocação de emprego, comida, saúde, riqueza, ser importante, querendo chuva e negócios bons... De sorte que carece de se escolher: ou a gente se tece de viver no safado comum, ou cuida só de religião só. Eu podia ser: padre sacerdote, se não chefe de jagunços; para outras coisas não fui parido. Mas minha velhice já principiou, errei de toda conta. E o reumatismo... Lá como quem diz: nas escorvas. Ahã. Hem? Hem? O que mais penso, testo e explico: todo-omundo é louco. O senhor, eu, nós, as pessoas todas. Por isso é que se carece principalmente de religião: para se desendoidecer, desdoidar. Reza é que sara da loucura. No geral. Isso é que é a salvaçãoda- alma... Muita religião, seu moço! Eu cá, não perco ocasião de religião. Aproveito de todas. Bebo água de todo rio... Uma só, para mim é pouca, talvez não me chegue. Rezo cristão, católico, embrenho a certo; e aceito as preces de compadre meu Quelemém, doutrina dele, de Cardéque. Mas, quando posso, vou no Mindubim, onde um Matias é crente, metodista: a gente se acusa de pecador, lê alto a Bíblia, e ora, cantando hinos belos deles. Tudo me quieta, me suspende. Qualquer sombrinha me refresca. Mas é só muito provisório. Eu queria rezar – o tempo todo. Muita gente não me aprova, acham que lei de Deus é privilégios, invariável. E eu! Bofe! Detesto! O que sou? – o que faço, que quero, muito curial. E em cara de todos faço, executado. Eu não tresmalho! Olhe: tem uma preta, Maria Leôncia, longe daqui não mora, as rezas dela afamam muita virtude de poder. Pois a ela pago, todo mês – encomenda de rezar por mim um terço, todo santo dia, e, nos domingos, um rosário. Vale, se vale. Minha mulher não vê mal nisso. E estou, já mandei recado para uma outra, do Vau-Vau, uma Izina Calanga, para vir aqui, ouvi de que reza também com grandes meremerências, vou efetuar com ela trato igual. Quero punhado dessas, me defendendo em Deus, reunidas de mim em volta... Chagas de Cristo! Viver é muito perigoso... Querer o bem com demais força, de incerto jeito, pode já estar sendo se querendo o mal, por principiar. Esses homens! Todos puxavam o mundo para si, para o concertar consertado. Mas cada um só vê e entende as coisas dum seu modo. Montante, o mais supro, mais sério – foi Medeiro Vaz. Que um homem antigo... Seu Joãozinho Bem-Bem, o mais bravo de todos, ninguém nunca pôde decifrar como ele por dentro consistia. Joca Ramiro – grande homem príncipe! – era político. Zé- Bebelo quis ser político. (shrink)

La République de Platon est peut-être le texte le plus connu, le plus traduit et le plus commenté de toute l’histoire de la philosophie. Mais comment restituer la vérité de cette œuvre aujourd’hui, 2500 ans après sa rédaction? Alain Badiou a choisi d’inventer un genre nouveau pour rendre au texte de Platon son universalité et sa vivacité sans passer par un commentaire critique. Il a traduit l’œuvre à partir de l’original grec et a procédé à quelques changements afin de l’adapter (...) à notre temps. Tout d’abord, il a supprimé toute référence aux particularités de la société grecque antique, des interminables développements sur la valeur morale des poètes aux considérations politiques destinées par Platon à la seule élite aristocratique (les mesures révolutionnaires que Platon réserve aux seuls « gardiens » de la cité valent, sous la plume de Badiou, pour tous les habitants du pays). Il a élargi les références culturelles : la philosophie fait feu de tout bois, ainsi Socrate et ses compagnons connaissent-ils Beckett, Pessoa, Freud et Hegel. Ils réalisent l’actualité intemporelle de toute philosophie véritable, propre à s’ajuster à son époque. Enfin, Badiou, par ailleurs dramaturge, a fait du dialogue socratique une véritable joute oratoire : dans cette version de la République, les interlocuteurs de Socrate ne se contentent pas d’approuver ce qu’énonce le Maître. Ils lui tiennent tête, le mettent en difficulté et livrent ainsi une pensée en mouvement. Grâce à ce travail d’écriture, d’érudition et, avant tout, de philosophie, Alain Badiou donne à lire pour la première fois une version absolument contemporaine, vivante et stimulante du texte de Platon. (shrink)

English summary: This volume contains essays on some of the foremost thinkers on phenomenology, the study of structures of consciousness as experienced from the first-person point of view. French description: Dans le triptyque, ouvert par Reduction et donation. Recherches sur Husserl, Heidegger et la phenomenologie, assure dans Etant donne. Essai d'une phenomenologie de la donation et complete avec De Surcroit. Etudes sur les phenomenes satures, nous avons procede assez globalement pour qu'on nous permette ici de rassembler apres-coup certains des travaux (...) qui l'ont prepare et qui ont pris une importance renforcee lorsqu'il se fut agi de prolonger la phenomenalite de la donation par la description du phenomene erotique (Le phenomene erotique) ou de l'appliquer hermeneutiquement a une oeuvre theologique (Au lieu de soi. L'approche de saint Augustin). Ainsi reconnaitra-t-on ici des recherches historiques sur le depassement de l'horizon de l'objectite du phenomene impose par la notion, necessaire mais d'abord incomprise, de donation, ou Husserl et Heidegger ont repris et enfin aborde de front ce qui, pour tous les neo-kantiens, restait une pierre d'achoppement. Puis on trouvera deux moments d'une discussion avec Emmanuel Levinas, commencee des L'idole et la distance et les Prolegomenes a la charite mais restee en suspens, sur la legitimite de recourir a l'amour comme a un concept. Deux autres debats furent aussi essentiels, tant Henry et Derrida ont conduit plus avant dans la comprehension des questions de l'invisibilite phenomenale et de l'impossibilite comme une ouverture. Enfin les trois dernieres etudes, en discussion serree avec tous, fixent l'acces au soi par autrui, l'emergence du tiers comme second autrui accomplissant l'evasion hors de soi, et a la fin l'irreductible par excellence, celui que toute reduction atteste negativement. (shrink)

Apres le Discours sur l'inegalite et l'article Economie politique, Rousseau revient au projet, reste en chantier, de ses Institutions politiques. Il en extrait et prepare pour l'edition une partie intitulee, apres quelques hesitations, Du Contract social ou Essai sur la forme de la Republique. Il conservera ce manuscrit bien qu'il ait renonce a le publier en l'etat: c'est une oeuvre entierement refondue qui parait en 1762. Le present volume est consacre a cette premiere version du Contrat social, que l'on a (...) coutume aussi d'appeler manuscrit de Geneve. Le texte, completement repris a partir du manuscrit, differe sensiblement de celui des precedentes editions par son etablissement et sa presentation. La perspective genetique ainsi ouverte est le point d'appui d'un renouvellement interpretatif dont l'introduction et une ample partie de commentaire rendent compte. On reconnait en effet dans ces pages le temoignage d'un moment theorique decisif dans la pensee de Rousseau. Un moment caracterise par l'effort qu'il y fait pour prendre, dans le prolongement du second Discours, ses distances avec les theories du droit naturel, et pour developper les implications du concept nouvellement forme de volonte generale. La lecture suivie de ce texte et sa comparaison systematique avec la version finalement publiee du Contrat social eclairent la facon dont Rousseau a constitue ses principes du droit politique, mais aussi les liens qui unissent ces principes avec, d'un cote, l'etude historique de la morale conduite dans les Discours, de l'autre la theorie de l'homme developpee ulterieurement dans Emile. (shrink)

Etienne Bonnot de Condillac (1715-1780) fut abbé, précepteur, enseignant et ami des Lumières. Il fréquenta Diderot, Rousseau et Fontenelle. Elu à l'Académie en 1768, sa vie ne présente aucun signe particulier. Il vécut pour les idées, et en vécut aussi. L'Essai sur l'origine des connaissances humaines (1749) est le premier ouvrage philosophique important de Condillac. Disciple de Locke et adversaire de Descartes, Condillac y conduit une recherche analytique du processus de la connaissance, indiquant en sous-titre : "Ouvrage où l'on réduit (...) à un seul principe tout ce qui concerne l'entendement humain", En fait, son analyse l'amène à un double principe qu'il énonce en conclusion. D'une part, "les sens sont la source de nos connaissances", et ici Condillac n'opère pas de distinction entre source, origine et fondement. D'autre part, soupçonnant que si nos connaissances viennent avec l'expérience, elles ne viennent pas de l'expérience - pressentant ainsi la philosophie critique de Kant - il est amené à établir un second principe extrêmement fécond : "On ne peur perfectionner les sciences qu'en travaillant à en rendre le langage plus exact. L'origine et le progrès de nos connaissances dépendent entièrement de la manière dont nous nous servons des signes." Cet Essai est le premier dans l'histoire de la philosophie à conduire une analyse rationnelle de la nature et de la fonction du langage débarrassée de la scolastique et de la théologie. Cet aspect est d'autant plus important qu'il influencera de façon notable les idéologues du XVIIIème et contribuera à la naissance de la linguistique. Condillac n'est pas seulement un "philosophe sensualiste", formulation qui traîne dans tous les manuels. On peut à bon droit le considérer comme le fondateur de la philosophie analytique. Depuis presque trente ans, ce texte n'avait pas été réédité en Français. Nous l'avons repris de la troisième et dernière édition revue et augmentée par Condillac en 1777, trois ans avant sa mort. (shrink)

La fondation de Nicopolis est la réponse donnée par Rome aux problèmes de l'organisation politique, administrative et sociale de l'Épire méridionale et de l'Acarnanie. Aussi les constructions telles que l'aqueduc constituent-elles, par leur inscription dans le paysage urbain et rural, un symbole majeur de la romanisation. Or le tracé de cet aqueduc, long de près de soixante-dix kilomètres, est encore imparfaitement connu. Nous en avons donc repris l'étude en nous attachant à reconstituer les contraintes auxquelles sa construction avait été (...) soumise, ainsi que l'évolution géomorphologique récente des bassins-versants traversés. Au-delà de l'aspect technique et naturaliste, nous nous sommes également attachés à replacer l'aqueduc dans le contexte territorial et géopolitique de l'époque. (shrink)

Il n'y a pas si longtemps, la philosophie paraissait dépassée. Le triomphe des techniques et des sciences semblait l'avoir reléguée dans un coin obscur, comme un accessoire inutile. La situation est aujourd'hui tout autre : un besoin de philosophie commence à se manifester. Dans des pays extrêmement divers, un regain d'intérêt est perceptible. Parmi ses causes : l'exigence d'une nouvelle réflexion éthique, la croissance de jeunes démocraties, la diffusion des débats intellectuels, la nécessité d'une maîtrise humaine des machines. Aucune vue (...) d'ensemble n'était disponible. L'UNESCO a repris, à l'occasion de son 50e anniversaire, un de ses projets fondateurs : organiser une enquête mondiale sur la place actuelle de la philosophie dans l'éducation et dans la culture. Principaux constats : l'enseignement philosophique est généralement une création récente, très disparate d'un pays à l'autre, valorisée dans les discours, négligée dans les faits. Principale constance : philosophie et démocratie ont partie liée et semblent progresser l'une par l'autre. Cette synthèse repose sur une documentation exceptionnelle, constituée par des centaines de documents en provenance de plusieurs dizaines d'Etats, de multiples propositions pratiques élaborée au cours de réunions internationales, des documents de travail spécifiques rédigés par des experts (multimédia, citoyenneté, économie...), etc. Les lignes de force qui se dégagent de cette masse de données sont exposées ici de manière simple et claire. Dans un monde qui devient chaque jour à la fois plus interdépendant et plus morcelé, il est probable qu'une véritable éducation philosophique soit déjà un des enjeux de la liberté. (shrink)

Les rituels sont les synapses dans le tissu culturel d'où sont issus les éléments qui gouvernent la vie en commun et la communication des êtres humains. Il en est ainsi depuis le commencement de toute société humaine. Mais ce n'est qu'au XX siècle que se manifeste un véritable intérêt pour le fonctionnement et l'importance culturelle des rituels. Il s'agit d'un tournant inspiré par les théories des ethnologues, et placé sous le signe du cultural turn et du performative turn du XX (...) siècle. On se détourne alors des pratiques jusque-là en vigueur de l'abstraction et de la représentation. Or, depuis le «Banquet» de Platon et l'instauration de la «Cène» chrétienne, l'un des rituels les plus importants est l'acte socialement codé de l'ingestion de nourriture, le repas. Avec l'Eat art dont il est le concepteur, Daniel Spoerri a repris ce thème et contribué, par le truchement du rituel piège, à poser un regard neuf sur l'acte de manger au XXe siècle. Tel que Spoerri le met en scène, le «rituel piège» attire l'attention sur le rôle de fondation de sens que joue le rituel dans la culture. Mais il fait apparaître également que les rituels se transforment en pièges idéologiques où tombe quiconque les prend « à la lettre » ou comme des évidences. Spoerri est un des artistes du XX et de ce début du XXI siècle qui, par le biais de leur art, rendent compte de la double fonction du rituel dans la culture: d'une part, le rituel maintient en vie le processus culturel; d'autre part, il est producteur d'idéologies qui font passer des mythes politiques pour naturels, prenant au piège consommateur de nourriture et consommateur d'art tout à la fois.Rituals are the synapses in the cultural fabric which has produced the elements that govern the coexistence and communication of human beings. This is so since the beginning of human society. But it is only 20th century that demonstrates a genuine interest in the operation and cultural importance of rituals. It is a milestone inspired by the theories of ethnologists, and placed under the sign of the cultural turn and performative turn of the twentieth century. It then turns practices far into force of abstraction and representation. However, since the "Banquet" of Plato and the establishment of the "Last Supper" Christian, one of the most important rituals is the act socially coded ingestion of food, meal. Eat with the art of which he is the designer, Daniel Spoerri took up this theme and contributed through the ritual trap, put a new perspective on the act of eating in the twentieth century. Spoerri as the stages, the "ritual trap" draws attention to the role of Foundation meaningful ritual plays in the culture. But it also shows that the rituals are transformed into ideological traps which falls whoever takes "the letter" or as evidence. Spoerri is one of the artists of the 20th and the beginning of the 21st century, through their art, reflect the dual role of ritual in culture: on the one hand, the ritual keeps life the cultural process, on the other hand, it is a producer of ideologies that pass for political myths natural trapping consumer food and consumer of art at the same time. (shrink)

Lors de la commemoration du septieme centenaire de l'anniversaire de la naissance de Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), Etienne Gilson qui avait publie dans les annees quarante un ouvrage rapidement devenu un classique sur la pensee de Dante (Dante et la philosophie), a repris la plume pour rendre hommage au grand poete et penseur italien. Dans ce volume sont publies les neuf articles qui abordent certains des themes fondamentaux de la reflexion de Dante comme la nature du ciel Empyree, le rapport (...) entre poesie et theologie ou encore la signification de la vision merveilleuse. Le volume s'ouvre avec une belle introduction a la pensee de Dante et se termine par une meditation sur Dante et Eugene Delacroix. (shrink)

Hegel et l'Orient vise a combler une lacune : dans les cours de Berlin consacres a la Philosophie de l'Histoire et a la Philosophie de la Religion, l'Orient occupe une place considerable, mais cette enorme masse de textes n'a guere jusqu'ici retenu l'attention des historiens de la philosophie. L'auteur s'efforce tout d'abord de reperer les motifs qui ont conduit Hegel a elever a la dignite de categorie philosophique le tres ancien mythe de l'Orient et de replacer cette reconstruction historico-speculative dans (...) le cadre general de sa doctrine. Pour ce faire, l'auteur examine, a travers les textes classiques (Phenomenologie de l'Esprit, Logique et Encyclopedie), mais aussi a travers les Ecrits de jeunesse, comment Hegel est conduit a accorder a l'Orient une place importante dans les premiers cours d'Esthetique et dans les Principes de la philosophie du droit, ainsi que la maniere dont le theme est repris et developpe dans La raison dans l'histoire et dans la Philosophie de la Religion. Il examine parallelement le contexte immediat de l'histoire des idees (redecouverte de l'Orient par l'Aufklarung et le Romantisme allemand) et les raisons de l'attitude, generalement polemique, de Hegel vis-a-vis de ces courants. Il s'interroge enfin sur la valeur et les limites de l'interpretation hegelienne. En annexe est presentee la Recension que Hegel fait de la Dissertation de W. von Humboldt sur la Bhagavad-Gita - publiee en 1827 dans les Jahrbucher fur wissenschaftliche Kritik, et jusqu'alors inedite en francais - qui fournit une illustration vivante de ces themes. (shrink)

Avant-propos du traducteur Nous proposons ici la traduction d’un texte de Roman Ingarden rédigé en polonais sous le titre de O psychologii i psychologizmie w nauce o literaturze. Initialement publié en 1937 dans la revue polonaise Verticale [Pion], il fut repris dans le troisième et dernier volume des Études d’Esthétique [Studia z Estetyki]. C’est ce texte final que nous avons traduit, sans qu’il nous ait été possible d’en vérifier la fidélité par rapport à la version initiale de 1937. Ingard...

Cette étude propose d’étudier le concept de réalité, dans le cadre de l’élaboration d’une philosophie première et d’une philosophie qui entend thématiser les modes de la révélation. La voie prise est, en quelque sorte, celle « par la négative », puisque J. Lheureux part d’une enquête sur le rôle du noème et sur le sens de l’irréalité (donc sur le plan de l’extériorité et de sa déréalisation) chez M. Henry — perspective profondément originale. L’analyse des déplacements que M. Henry opère (...) par rapport à Husserl et son enquête sur l’idée est particulièrement fine et montre comment le refus husserlien de l’objectivisme est repris et rejoué dans la compréhension henryenne de la réalité, au gré d’un « procédé d’idéalisation de l’être transcendant » qui vise à « faire refluer le tout de la réalité dans l’auto-apparaître de la Vie ». (shrink)

Pour concilier son empirisme avec le fait que les « vérités » logiques et mathématiques semblent indépendantes de ce qui est le cas dans le monde, Carnap repris à son compte, en l’élaborant soigneusement, la thèse développée par Wittgenstein dans son Tractatus, selon laquelle les énoncés logiques et mathématiques ne disent rien du monde : ils sont « analytiques ». Son disciple et ami, Quine, en vint à récuser la notion d’analyticité et le partage entre énoncés analytiques et énoncés (...) synthétiques. Il s’ensuivit, entre les deux hommes, un débat philosophique exemplaire par sa rigueur et son honnêteté intellectuelle. Cet article tente de restituer les grandes lignes de ce débat et d’en dégager les ressorts. (shrink)

L’article propose un parcours à la fois culturel et théologique sur le concept de personne. Il part de l’étymologie du terme, explore la culture ancienne – païenne et chrétienne –, les équivalents bibliques et les significations nouvelles que les Pères de l’Église lui ont donnés par leur réflexion sur la Trinité et le Christ. La philosophie des temps modernes a repris le concept à son compte et lui a donné de faire retour en théologie, en particulier en ce qui (...) concerne la personne de l’Esprit Saint. Le paradoxe de cette longue histoire est qu’un concept élaboré à propos des personnes divines s’est montré particulièrement fécond dans l’élaboration du concept chrétien de la personne humaine. (shrink)

Cet article se propose de décrire le projet épistémique des sciences des systèmes complexes. Domaine interdisciplinaire fondé par le Santa Fe Institute en 1984 aux États-Unis, il a été décrit par ses représentants comme un champ d’étude interdisciplinaire, post-laplacien, holiste et antiréductionniste. Des journalistes populaires et des sociologues intéressés et qui ont soutenu ce domaine en ont repris les discours, en annonçant l’avènement d’un nouveau paradigme révolutionnaire pour tous les savoirs. Dans ce texte, on montrera que le projet épistémique (...) des sciences de la complexité est moins pluraliste, antipositiviste et antiréductionniste que ce que l’on en dit. Je tâcherai de montrer en quoi le cadre épistémologique et ontologique de ce champ d’études reste analytique et réductionniste dans un sens physicaliste, computationnaliste, mathématique et biologisant. (shrink)