This 1996 book presents an alternative theory of the will - of our capacity for decision making. The book argues that taking a decision to act is something we do, and do freely - as much an action as the actions which our decisions explain - and that our freedom of action depends on this capacity for free decision-making. But decision-making is no ordinary action. Decisions to act also have a special executive function, that of ensuring the rationality (...) of the further actions which they explain. This executive function makes decision-making an action importantly unlike any other, with its own distinctive rationality. Pink's highly persuasive study uses this theory of the will to provide accounts of freedom, action and rational choice. The author argues that, in a tradition that runs from Hobbes to Davidson and Frankfurt, Anglo-American philosophy has misrepresented the common-sense psychology of our freedom and action - a psychology which this book now presents and defends. (shrink)

Every day we seem to make and act upon all kinds of free choices: some trivial, others so consequential that they change the course of one's life, or even the course of history. But are these choices really free, or are we compelled to act the way we do by factors beyond our control? Is the feeling that we could have made different decisions just an illusion? And if our choices are not free, is it legitimate to hold people morally (...) responsible for their actions? Pink looks at the fundamental philosophical question of free will, Engaging in discussion of the claim: 'If our actions are causally determined by events beyond our control, that means that we can never act freely, and so can never be held responsible for our actions. (shrink)

What is the will? And what is its relation to human action? Throughout history, philosophers have been fascinated by the idea of 'the will': the source of the drive that motivates human beings to act. However, there has never been a clear consensus as to what the will is and how it relates to human action. Some philosophers have taken the will to be based firmly in reason and rational choice, and some have seen it as purely self-determined. Others have (...) replaced the idea of the human will with a more general drive uniting humans and the rest of nature, living and non-living. This collection of nine specially commissioned papers trace the formulation and treatment of the problem of the will from ancient philosophy through the scholastic theologians of the Middle Ages, to modern philosophy, and right up to contemporary theories. Philosophers discussed include Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Bonaventure, Hobbes, Kant, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. (shrink)

Do we have control of how we act, and does it matter to morality whether we do? Thomas Pink examines this free will problem by arguing that what matters to morality is not in fact the freedom to do otherwise, but something more primitive, a basic capacity or power to determine for ourselves what we do.

What is the will? And what is its relation to human action? Throughout history, philosophers have been fascinated by the idea of "the will": the source of the drive that motivates human beings to act. However, there has never been a clear consensus as to what the will is and how it relates to human action. Some philosophers have taken the will to be based firmly in reason and rational choice, and some have seen it as purely self-determined. Others have (...) replaced the idea of the human will with a more general drive uniting humans and the rest of nature, living and non-living. This collection of nine specially commissioned papers traces the formulation and treatment of the problem of the will from ancient philosophy through the scholastic theologians of the Middle Ages, to modern philosophy and right up to contemporary theories. Philosophers discussed include Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Bonaventure, Hobbes, Kant, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. (shrink)

What is the will? And what is its relation to human action? Throughout history, philosophers have been fascinated by the idea of 'the will': the source of the drive that motivates human beings to act. However, there has never been a clear consensus as to what the will is and how it relates to human action. Some philosophers have taken the will to be based firmly in reason and rational choice, and some have seen it as purely self-determined. Others have (...) replaced the idea of the human will with a more general drive uniting humans and the rest of nature, living and non-living. This collection of nine specially commissioned papers trace the formulation and treatment of the problem of the will from ancient philosophy through the scholastic theologians of the Middle Ages, to modern philosophy, and right up to contemporary theories. Philosophers discussed include Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Bonaventure, Hobbes, Kant, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. (shrink)

In this multi-disciplinary collection, we ask the question, 'What did, and do, Quakers think about good and evil?' There are no simple or straightforwardly uniform answers to this, but in this collection, we draw together contributions that for the first time look at historical and contemporary Quakerdom's approach to the ethical and theological problem of evil and good. Within Quakerism can be found Liberal, Conservative, and Evangelical forms. This book uncovers the complex development of metaethical thought by a religious (...) group that has evolved with an unusual degree of diversity. In doing so, it also points beyond the boundaries of the Religious Society of Friends to engage with the spectrum of thinking in the wider religious world. (shrink)

This book combines literary and film criticism with musical hermeneutics and discourse analysis to illustrate how sonic information contributes to the detached listener’s interpretations of the discerning messages of Pink Floyd’s monumental recordings.

"Essays critically examine philosophical concepts and problems in the music and lyrics of the band Pink Floyd"--Provided by publisher.

In William Steig's inventive book, Yellow and Pink, the debate is played out through a dialogue between two painted wooden puppets. In the book, Yellow (the yellow‐colored puppet) is skeptical of the existence of a God‐like creator. Pink represents the traditional theist, someone who believes in the existence of God. Yellow narrates how he and Pink could have come into being through a series of coincidences. According to Darwin's theory, mutations are selected for in evolution, (...) with the result that a new species comes into being over many generations. This is a theory like Yellow's, one that makes no reference to a divine being who brings human beings (or wooden puppets!) into existence. In discussing arguments for God's existence with children, it is important to acknowledge that the issue at hand is not whether God exists, but whether a specific attempt to prove His existence is convincing. (shrink)

Drawing on a range of queer and ecological theories rather a single orthodox perspective, the thirteen essays in Queer Ecologies develop a strong argument for queering environmentalisms and greening queer theory, in three steps: challenging the heteronormativity of investigations into the 'sexuality' of nature, exploring the intersections between queer and ecological inflections of bio/politics (including spatial politics), and ultimately queering environmental affect, ethics, and desire. Clearly, notions of sexuality have shaped social constructions of nature, as seen in the familiar concepts (...) and creation of wilderness, national and urban parks, and car camping. As the first book-length volume to establish the intersections of queer theory and environmentalisms at such depth, Queer Ecologies covers a broad range of topics—gay cruising in the parks, lesbian rural retreats, transgressive sexual behaviors among diverse species, literary and cultural narratives of queer/nature. It also establishes topics for future development, i.e., exploring the intersection of speciesism and heterosexism in queer ecologies, and developing a focus on the constitution of the non-white queer subject. (shrink)

In accordance with the critical women’s health literature recounting the ways that women are encouraged to submit themselves to various sorts of health “imperatives”, I investigate the messages tacitly conveyed to women in “campaigns for the cure” and breast cancer awareness efforts, which, I argue, overemphasizes a “positive attitude”, healthy lifestyle, and cure rather than prevention of this life-threatening disease. I challenge that the message of hope pervading breast cancer discourse silences the despair felt by many women, furthers a tacit (...) blaming for disease infliction via a rhetoric of personal responsibility, underemphasizes other cogent health determinants like environmental toxicity, and undermines legitimate critiques of current biomedical practices like widespread mammography. While finding a cure for breast cancer is a laudable and worthwhile healthcare goal that can understandably be shared by women’s health activists, corporate sponsors, and the medical community, this paper resists the current formation of campaigns for the cure and “pink ribbon activism” in general. (shrink)

Toldot ha-meḥaber - Petaḥ davar -- Psikhonoyroʼimunologyah, yaḥase gomlin nefesh guf -- Hakarat ha-ṭov la-tseṿet ha-metapel -- Peʻilut hatsalah ha-ʻalulah le-hasev nezaḳim -- ha-Ḥoleh ha-sofani ha-noṭeh la-mut -- ʻAl saf gesher ha-ḥayim -- Ḳedushat ha-ḥayim -- Ḥoleh dimenṭi, ḥasar deʻah, Altshaimer -- Ḥolim ḳashim ʻim ekhut ḥayim yerudah u-mugbaluyot -- Refuʼat nashim (geniḳologyah), ʻubarim, yiludim ṿi-yeladim -- Bediḳot seḳer -- Amirat emet la-ḥoleh.

Our conception of freedom requires, then, that decisions have an "executive function": making a decision must ensure that one will remain motivated to act as decided, and, provided that the decision is rational, it must leave one disposed to act rationally in performing the action decided upon. Second, since, as we conceive our freedom, it is by making decisions that we exercise control over future actions, decisions must themselves be actions. Most of the book is devoted to developing and (...) defending these two main theses against philosophers who have denied them and against an apparent inconsistency between them. (shrink)

Review of Richard Double, Metaphilosophy and Free Will; Thomas Pink, The Psychology of Freedom; and Robert Kane, The Significance of Free Will,.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Ethics & the Environment 8.1 (2003) 61-73 [Access article in PDF] Free Words to Free ManifestaSome Experiments in Art as Gift Sal Randolph Free Words It began this way. Standing nervously in a bookstore, in front of the section on literary theory, hidden from the eyes of the staff, I reached my hand into my bag like a thief and pulled out a hot pink book. I (...) looked up and down the aisle. No one was watching. O.K., now. I slipped it into the shelf among the F's (file under Free) and it was done.So I began my career as in infiltrator of public spaces, a thief not of books but of shelf space, of access. A bypasser of gateways, permissions, and procedures.The book was called Free Words, and was an art project of mine. Its content was a list of 13,000 words I had collected over ten years. I had uncopyrighted the text, placing it in the public domain (no rights reserved), and labeled the book as free. No price tag, no barcode, no ISBN. The back cover said only "this book belongs to whoever finds it." I had printed 1,000 copies of it, and the idea was to create a kind of situation.Someone who came across the book would have to decide what it was and who really owned it. If they wanted it, they would have to decide whether to walk out with it like a shoplifter, or whether to negotiate something [End Page 61] with the sales clerk. Bookstores would have to either purge the book or harbor it. There was a brief explanation and a web address at the back of the book, and if anyone made it to the site there was an invitation to become a distributor of the book, to join in the process of placing it in bookstores and libraries.I spent a few months like that as 2001 came to a close: October, November, December; walking through a New York stunned by September 11, developing the habit of nonobedience. 1 This was the time when the media was telling us to shop, when we were being told to agree,as if agreement and shopping were the definition and extent of our citizenship.At first I was nervous, afraid of being stopped, but after a couple hundred books I relaxed. I was never questioned. The more I did it, the more the commercial space of the city seemed like public space, my space. The city, recovering month by month, felt more like an ecology—a human social ecology, intricate and interdependent. There were more ways of living within it and participating in it than I had supposed.One of the questions raised by cities is who we are in them. How do we find ourselves as individuals, as agents? What kinds of citizenship are possible? Something about this project changed my relationship to the city from being a passive inhabitant of its structures, both social and architectural, to being more active, as I began to feel free to engage those structures more playfully, and to create new structures.As the winter deepened, the Free Words project began to develop in a surprising way. On the website I invited people to become volunteer distributors of the book. I expected that a small number of people would find their way from the book to the website and an even smaller number of those might become distributors. What happened was something quite different: a few people did find the book and the website, but they weren't all interested in simply becoming distributors themselves. Some of them told the story of Free Words on various online forums, journals, and blogs, passing it on through their internet communities. Dozens of people who had never seen a copy of the book found their way to the site, and I began shipping batches of books to volunteers all over the country and the world. I printed more, and then more again.For me the project became like a kind of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Ethics & the Environment 8.1 (2003) 61-73 [Access article in PDF] Free Words to Free ManifestaSome Experiments in Art as Gift Sal Randolph Free Words It began this way. Standing nervously in a bookstore, in front of the section on literary theory, hidden from the eyes of the staff, I reached my hand into my bag like a thief and pulled out a hot pink book. I (...) looked up and down the aisle. No one was watching. O.K., now. I slipped it into the shelf among the F's (file under Free) and it was done.So I began my career as in infiltrator of public spaces, a thief not of books but of shelf space, of access. A bypasser of gateways, permissions, and procedures.The book was called Free Words, and was an art project of mine. Its content was a list of 13,000 words I had collected over ten years. I had uncopyrighted the text, placing it in the public domain (no rights reserved), and labeled the book as free. No price tag, no barcode, no ISBN. The back cover said only "this book belongs to whoever finds it." I had printed 1,000 copies of it, and the idea was to create a kind of situation.Someone who came across the book would have to decide what it was and who really owned it. If they wanted it, they would have to decide whether to walk out with it like a shoplifter, or whether to negotiate something [End Page 61] with the sales clerk. Bookstores would have to either purge the book or harbor it. There was a brief explanation and a web address at the back of the book, and if anyone made it to the site there was an invitation to become a distributor of the book, to join in the process of placing it in bookstores and libraries.I spent a few months like that as 2001 came to a close: October, November, December; walking through a New York stunned by September 11, developing the habit of nonobedience. 1 This was the time when the media was telling us to shop, when we were being told to agree,as if agreement and shopping were the definition and extent of our citizenship.At first I was nervous, afraid of being stopped, but after a couple hundred books I relaxed. I was never questioned. The more I did it, the more the commercial space of the city seemed like public space, my space. The city, recovering month by month, felt more like an ecology—a human social ecology, intricate and interdependent. There were more ways of living within it and participating in it than I had supposed.One of the questions raised by cities is who we are in them. How do we find ourselves as individuals, as agents? What kinds of citizenship are possible? Something about this project changed my relationship to the city from being a passive inhabitant of its structures, both social and architectural, to being more active, as I began to feel free to engage those structures more playfully, and to create new structures.As the winter deepened, the Free Words project began to develop in a surprising way. On the website I invited people to become volunteer distributors of the book. I expected that a small number of people would find their way from the book to the website and an even smaller number of those might become distributors. What happened was something quite different: a few people did find the book and the website, but they weren't all interested in simply becoming distributors themselves. Some of them told the story of Free Words on various online forums, journals, and blogs, passing it on through their internet communities. Dozens of people who had never seen a copy of the book found their way to the site, and I began shipping batches of books to volunteers all over the country and the world. I printed more, and then more again.For me the project became like a kind of... (shrink)

This book makes the powerful argument that Latin America needs to be a more central part of the discourse on emerging globalities and in the pursuit of an inter-civilizational focus to avoid West-centric perspectives. It deploys a cultural political economy approach that sees the global political economy as inescapably cultural and allows us to avoid the hyper-rational analysis of economics. It explores various aspects of contemporary Latin America from the revival of dependency theory, the ‘pink tide’ governments since (...) 2000 and, in particular, the potential of the Andean Buen Vivir political philosophy, to offer a distinctive paradigm for sustainable global development. The book provides a de-colonial frame and shows how many recent and new social science perspectives emerging globally are connected with Latin American scholars and Latin American social experiments: namely, dependency, decolonial and post-colonial epistemologies, post-neoliberalism, and the notion ofPluriverse. The book focuses on the cultural, the ethical, the economic and the political, and environmental dimensions of this transformation, which represents a reaction and alternative to the Western cultural, including ethical, economic, political, environmental crises. The readership for this book includes all who are fascinated by the globalization lens on the one hand, and the experience and lessons of Latin America on the other hand. (shrink)

This book project intends to serve as a course adoption book unpacking theories of biopolitical life-making and death-making, with chapters dedicated to specific objects that ostensibly affirm life (and argue for life's inextricable links to capital), but that ultimately reify a politics of death and erasure. Specific objects, such as the pink Kommen Foundation-branded handgun, the 'super user' of health care resources, and fat cells allow the authors to discuss the political junctures at which determinations of healthy (...) and unhealthy, life and death, are made. (shrink)

"If you turn left at the next corner, you will see a blue house at the end of the street." That sentence -- a conditional -- might be true even though it is possible that you will not see a blue house at the end of the street when you turn left at the next corner. A moving van may block your view; the house may have been painted pink; a crow might swoop down and peck out your eyes. (...) Still, in some contexts, we might ignore these possibilities and correctly assert the conditional. In this book, Christopher Gauker argues that such context-relativity is the key to understanding the semantics of conditionals. Contexts are defined as objective features of the situation in which a conversation takes place, and the semantic properties of sentences -- conditionals included -- are defined in terms of assertibility in a context. One of the primary goals of a theory of conditionals has to be to distinguish correctly between valid and invalid arguments containing conditionals. According to Gauker, an argument is valid if the conclusion is assertible in every context in which the premises are assertible. This runs counter to what Gauker sees as a systematic misreading of the data by other authors, who judge arguments to be invalid if they can think of a context in which the premises are judged true and some other context in which the conclusion is judged false. Different schools of thought on conditionals reflect fundamentally different approaches to semantics. Gauker offers his theory as a motive and test case for a distinctive kind of semantics that dispenses with reference relations and possible worlds. (shrink)

Presenting fifty projects from French-born, New York-based contemporary artist Pierre Huyghe's twenty-year career, this richly illustrated book provides an overview of his work across film, installation art, and live event. Since the 1990s, Huyghe's work has challenged the status of the exhibition format. With projects like the One Year Celebration and the foundation in 1995 of the collaborative Association of Freed Time, Huyghe developed a particular interest in the relationship between time and memory--an interest that has carried through to (...) his works, Untilled and the three-part The Host and the Cloud. Most recently, his projects include an untitled piece for the Documenta 13 in Kassel, Germany; Amidst Karlsaue Park's compost heap--an area detached from museums and cultural institutions and not intended to be seen--Huyghe installed common park objects from different moments in art history, as well as the Documenta in years past, from one of Joseph Beuys's uprooted oaks to Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster's pink bench. Published to accompany a major exhibition of Huyghe's work opening at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in November 2014, this book offers the first comprehensive overview of the artist's career. The structure of the book brings to light Huyghe's creative process, with each step in the creation of featured projects amply illustrated with photographs, drawings, and preparatory sketches. (shrink)

In late August 2012, artist Paul Thomas and philosopher Timothy Morton took a stroll up and down King Street in Newtown, Sydney. They took photographs. If you walk too slowly down the street, you find yourself caught in the honey of aesthetic zones emitted by thousands and thousands of beings. If you want to get from A to B, you had better hurry up. Is there any space between anything? Do we not, when we look for such a space, encounter (...) a plenitude of other things —a slice of plaster, an old vinyl record, a flattened piece of aluminum, painted metal surfaces, nameless interstitial powder, the reflection of sky, some letters of the alphabet, roughened concrete. Between what we take to be things there exist other things, as if the universe were jammed with entities like clowns in a crowded Expressionist painting. An abyss of things that emanates from them, not a yawning void that threatens to engulf them, but a sunlit nothingness filled with dust that seems to spray out of them like dry mist sparkling with firefly swarms. In these so-called spaces, we encounter the work of causality. Look: someone painted over this crack, some sunlight rippled in a mirage, a hole appeared. When we look for causes and effects, we don't encounter a basement of efficiently whirring machinery. Rather, we encounter these in-between spaces, where we had not thought to look. What we see are stage hands moving the scenery about—they are doing it in plain sight, the best place to hide, right in front of you, in the place we call the aesthetic dimension . In Tibetan Buddhism these spaces are called bardo , which just means the between. There is no such thing as a moment of your life that is not a between, according to this view. There is the between of living. There is the between of dying. There is the between of the transition between lives. There is the between of dreaming. There is the between of meditation. There is the between of two humans holding cameras walking down a street in Sydney. The between of two buildings, a space bursting with objects as if a billion jack in the boxes had exploded at once. Some of the lids are stuck, sometimes a nose bursts out and the hinge won't open any further; at other times, the jack in the box flies right out and pulps against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Time opens up. Each surface is a poem about the past. A myriad stories begin to proliferate, as if a thing were a crisscrossing of books, a whole library of them, each page whispering parts of paragraphs and broken pieces of word. The stories tell us things—they are quite literal, look, this guy painted part of this wall, then they came and stripped off the panel and touched up the holes. Form is the past. When you look at appearance, you are looking at the past. Where is the present? And essence is the future. The hints of unknown, unseen things, the absolute impossibility of grasping everything about this plastic pipe, the way photons entering the camera lens obey a speed limit and splash onto receptors, going into and out of coherence. At the electronic level, it's quite clear that causality is aesthetic. I can't see an electron without deflecting it. Everything is a refrigerator with a light on—or off—inside. For me, for you, for this arrangement of tiles sandwiched between a door and a slab of marble. To a photon, an electron is a refrigerator with a closed door, and a light that might be on—or off—inside. How can you know whether the light is on inside? Why, you open the door of course. But then you are looking at the past. You never see the light in the refrigerator before you open the door. This future is not a predictable future that is a specific number of now-points away. You will never reach it. You will never be able to sneak up from the side and see through the refrigerator. Nor can a photon see through the refrigerator of an electron. Nor can paint see through the refrigerator of this plastic pipe. You take a photo—click—the past appears, another open refrigerator. But the thing you have just made, the photograph, the graphing of the photons—it is another thing, another story. You can read the words, but the meaning always eludes you. It always lurks just off the edge of the sentence, just at the very edge of this ragged slice of paint, just at the edge of this building, between this one and that one. Thousands of secrets, everywhere. Masks that lie and tell the truth at the same time: this pink paint is not blue paint, that's true. But the thing, the thing in itself, that paint sliding off a brush onto that pipe—it is nowhere to be seen, like a light behind a closed door. When you walk too slowly down the street, you start walking into millions of levels of pastness, levels emitted not just by the humans or the dogs and cats, but also by this garbage can, this mottled pink surface pockmarked with nail holes. You walk surrounded by as many futures as there are things. You walk, or rather you occupy a peculiar shifting ground of nowness, created by the relative motion of the past sliding against the future, not touching. You begin to realize that the present does not exist. A thing is a train station where one train is always arriving and one train is always leaving. Hundreds of train stations everywhere, hundreds of relative motions. The idea of a universal, regular, atomic sequence of instants that contains everything is absolutely ludicrous, the philosophers have known this for thousands of years, and to hide the absurdity, to get from A to B, Houston to Sydney, crossing the International Date Line without too much laughter, you have embedded piezoelectric devices in as many pieces of hardware as possible, devices in which quartz talks to electrons, making train stations where the trains seem to run on time. When you walk too slowly down the street, you begin to realize that Zeno had a point. You can seemingly divide each moment, each step, infinitesimally. So perhaps there are no moments, no steps. Or perhaps time is not a box that everything goes in. Perhaps time is, as Einstein argued after all, a way that things send out ripples. Where one house touches another house, there arise hundreds of things, hundreds of meeting places (Old English thing , meeting place). Hundreds of times. I have a thing for you. Come over here, let's do a thing. Stay in the sunlight and shadow between worlds, in the sunlit canyon between this building and that building. See how paint touches this pipe, caressing then leaving, no one will notice if a surface is left exposed, not quite filled in. See how shadows are reflected in pale cream glass—see the luminous abyss of causality spreading out before your very eyes, right in front of security. All kinds of beautiful crimes are committed right here, and as American cars keep telling you, and you never notice, OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR. They are here, or rather, here is them, and now is them. Kissing in the shadow. Tim Morton Rice University. (shrink)

[1] Pinḳas ha-ḳabalot -- [2] Talmidaṿ (2 v.) -- [3] ʻInyene Elul ṿe-Yamim Noraʼim -- [4] ʻInyene Ḥanukah u-Furim.