In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Bioethics in Azerbaijan:History and Development of Bioethics in AzerbaijanAdelia Avaz gizi Namazova (bio) and Tarana Qadir gizi Taghi-Zada (bio)HistoryAzerbaijan is a unique country with a centuries-old culture and history; it is a country located at the junction of Europe and Western Asia, uniting economic and cultural relationships between two continents and harmoniously combining the elements of various civilisations and cultures. Peculiarities of the historical development of Azerbaijan and its (...) geographical location, as well as the ethnic composition of the population created an opportunity for the flourishing of various religions. Idolatry, fire worship, Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam and other religions were spread in the country during different periods. The multinational and confessional state (also known as a multicultural state), with its unique cultural inheritance, provided the opportunity not only to adhere to traditions and customs of previous generations, but also to develop spiritual-moral values that created respect and tolerance towards other religions. As a result of this cultural synthesis throughout the centuries, universal ethical values such as respecting the dignity of all persons, veneration of elderly people by youth, and principals of mercy, care and love to those in need and in the closing stages of life evolved. Numerous sources of ancient manuscripts bear witness that poetry, philosophy and the ethics of medical practice have always been part of the searching and thinking in medicine.One of the ancient religions, Zoroastrianism, begins from fire worship and was revealed to the religious teacher and prophet Zoroaster (seventh century BC, Holy Book Zend-Avesta). According to the basic understandings of Zoroastrianism, there are two principles which are always contradictory—Kindness and Evil. [End Page 433] Zoroaster called upon people to be fair and pure, to fight any kind of unfairness and disgracefulness.The name of the healer Logman is covered with legends and is well known among different nations of the East. Across generations in Azerbaijan the name Logman has been used, inspiring the sharing of medical secrets and advice, cure of different illnesses and their prevention.1 This is witnessed by the Logman Covenants. The first covenant warns of excessive consumption of alcohol and food, educating people in hygienic practices and developing that culture. Another covenant is dedicated to the high mission of the medic: “Every kindness on this planet created people. The kind beginning is there where you have a doctor.”The basic principles of humanitarian behaviour of the doctor have also been described in an ancient manuscript of Azerbaijani literature, the national epic “Kitabi-Dede Qorqud” (seventh century), which provides advice on how to maintain one’s health in good condition, and the importance of spiritual purity, health and morals.Outstanding philosophers, poets and scientists of the ancient land of Azerbaijan, such as Bakhmaniyar ibn Marzaban (eleventh century), Omar Osmanoglu (eleventh century), Khatib Tabrizi (1030–1109), Khagani (1120–99), Nizami Ganjavi (1141–1209), Nakchivani (thirteenth century), Makhmud Shabustari (1287–1320), Seid YakhyaBakuvi (1410–62), Fizuli (1498–1556), Vagif (1717–97) and many others, described in their doctrines the difficult, selfless activities of doctors and the positive results and outcomes.6Back in the eleventh2 century, when madrasas or spiritual schools, where theology and medicine were taught and, ecclesiastics and tabibs (medics) were prepared and educated, a medical school was established in Azerbaijan’s old capital Shamakha. Here, under the guidance of the most famous doctor and pharmacologist in all the East, Omar Osman oglu, training and education of medical workers took place. Having been widely educated, Omar Osman oglu was an adherent of the moral principles declared by Logman and taught his students that the main goal of any doctor’s activities should be based on love towards the other person. His understanding of a medic’s behaviour was contrary to major customs of that time, saying: “Don’t deny your enemy. Heal him.” Omar Osman oglu inspired his students to undertake spiritual pureness, patriotism and service to the nation. “Bring benefit to the nation, even if it is contrary with your personal benefit”, “do not be egotistical”, “do not try to find your way to heaven and do not be afraid of hell” were his slogans.The famous poet Khagani (1120... (shrink)

Two decades ago, Tarana Burke started using the phrase ‘me too’ to release victims of sexual abuse and rape from their shame and to empower girls from minority communities. In 2017, actress Alyssa Milano made the hashtag #MeToo go viral. This article’s concern is with the role of testimonial practices in the context of sexual violence. While many feminists have claimed that the word of those who claim to being sexually violated by others have political and/or epistemic priority, others have (...) failed to recognize the harm and injury of instances of sexual violence that are not yet acknowledged as such and failed to listen to victims from marginalized social groups. In fact, some feminists have attacked #MeToo for mingling accounts of ‘proper’ sexual violence and accounts that are not ‘proper’ experiences of sexual violence. My aim in this article is to show why this critique is problematic and find a philosophically fruitful way to understand the #MeToo-movement as a movement that strives for moral and conceptual progress. (shrink)

Philosophy & Social Criticism, Volume 48, Issue 6, Page 833-859, July 2022. Two decades ago, Tarana Burke started using the phrase ‘me too’ to release victims of sexual abuse and rape from their shame and to empower girls from minority communities. In 2017, actress Alyssa Milano made the hashtag #MeToo go viral. This article’s concern is with the role of testimonial practices in the context of sexual violence. While many feminists have claimed that the word of those who claim to (...) being sexually violated by others have political and/or epistemic priority, others have failed to recognize the harm and injury of instances of sexual violence that are not yet acknowledged as such and failed to listen to victims from marginalized social groups. In fact, some feminists have attacked #MeToo for mingling accounts of ‘proper’ sexual violence and accounts that are not ‘proper’ experiences of sexual violence. My aim in this article is to show why this critique is problematic and find a philosophically fruitful way to understand the #MeToo-movement as a movement that strives for moral and conceptual progress. (shrink)

The primary aim of this essay is to investigate modalities of resistance to sexual violence. It begins from the observation that the nature of what we understand ourselves to be resisting—that is, how we define the scope, content, and causes of sexual violence—will have profound implications for how we are able to resist. I critically engage one model of resistance to sexual violence: feminist philosophical scholarship on self-defense, highlighting several shortcomings in how the feminist self-defense discourse inadvertently frames sexual violence. (...) Holding these criticisms in mind, I expand the landscape of resistance to sexual violence by considering the new possibilities that empathy might offer. The work of two contemporary women of color feminists—Roxane Gay and Tarana Burke—launches further exploration of empathy’s alternative modes of resistance. By focusing on empathy between survivors of sexual violence, we can expand our understanding of the possibilities of resistance by redistributing and broadening our attention in three main ways: from action to affect and attitude, from a spatially and temporally limited event to something more expansive, and from the individual through the interpersonal to the structural. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Feminist Studies 44, no. 1. © 2018 by Feminist Studies, Inc. 197 Ashwini Tambe Reckoning with the Silences of #MeToo The past six months have been an important time for US feminism. For women’s studies professors, it’s been heartening to find the world outside our classrooms taking up conversations about sex and power that we’ve been having for decades. In this piece, I will reflect on three questions: What (...) is going on? Why is it happening now? And what forms of feminism have been overlooked in the coverage of the #MeToo movement? I spend the longest time on the third question, because I’m concerned about how #MeToo has advanced a version of public feminism that is, in some ways, out of step with currents in academic feminism. What’s going on? Although feminists have long championed public speak-outs for survivors of sexual violence—whether in Take Back the Night open mics since the 1980s or the workshops also called “MeToo” that Tarana Burke started in Alabama in 2007—the viral force of the hashtag #MeToo in mid-October 2017 took most people by surprise. Within the first twenty-four hours, it had been retweeted half a million times. According to Facebook, nearly 50 percent of US users are friends with someone who posted a message about experiences of assault or harassment. #MeToo was by no means just a US phenomenon: Facebook and Twitter feeds in various parts of the world, notably Sweden, India, and Japan, were rocked for days by this hashtag. Then came the slew of powerful cis-men, largely in the US 198 News and Views media and entertainment industries, who were forced to swiftly resign after allegations of sexual misconduct. This toppling continues and has expanded beyond the media to other industries where reputations matter: politics, music, architecture, and, somewhat belatedly, higher education. In an important way, the ground beneath us has shifted. #MeToo has tilted public sympathy in favor of survivors by changing the default response to belief, rather than suspicion; the hashtag has revealed how widespread sexual coercion is. Why Now? We need to theorize, on a cultural scale, why this movement against sexual harassment and violence in the United States has happened now rather than, say, three years ago, when Bill Cosby was accused by multiple women, or after Roger Ailes, CEO of Fox News, was deposed. #MeToo’s impact may seem sudden, but it is a part of a groundswell in women’s activism since the November 2016 elections. The Women’s March was the largest globally coordinated public gathering in history. The 3-million strong Facebook group Pantsuit Nation saw hundreds of thousands of posts about experiences of misogyny. Unprecedented numbers of women are running for US political office this year. The signature affective note running through this political moment is a fierce rage about the election of Donald Trump. Trump’s impunity, I suggest, serves as a trigger provoking the fury at the heart of #MeToo. There are many reasons to find fault with Trump, but it is distinctly galling that he faced no consequences after acknowledging being a sexual predator. For victims of sexual trauma, it is already painful to watch perpetrators roam free because of how high the burdens of proof are in legal cases. When a person such as Trump is grandly affirmed by an election, it retraumatizes victims. Right after the election, therapists and counseling centers were flooded with patients seeking help with processing past events. The ballast provided by women’s feverish organizing and the instant power of social media has facilitated a collective emboldening. Trump has made the comeuppance of all powerful men feel more urgent. But from the inception of #MeToo, I have also watched its racial and class politics with some wariness: whose pain was being centered, I wondered? A colleague recently asked aloud: is #MeToo a white women’s movement? Another wondered, is this a moral panic? These questions News and Views 199 underline the importance of feminist insights that are overlooked in dominant coverage of the movement. What’s Left Out? Critical race feminism offers important insights when exploring the question of whether this is a white... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Feminist Studies 46, no. 2. © 2020 by Feminist Studies, Inc. 259 Heather Berg Left of #MeToo In her 1949 call to “End the Neglect of the Problems of the Negro Woman!” Claudia Jones tells the story of Dora Jones, a Black domestic worker enslaved for forty years by her employer.1 Elizabeth Ingalls, a wealthy white woman, had traveled to Dora Jones’s Alabama home as a missionary teacher and (...) persuaded the seventeen-year-old Jones to travel to Boston as her housekeeper in 1907. Ingalls would keep Jones captive until 1947. In the intervening years, Ingalls subjected Jones to routine physical abuse and an endless expanse of intensive, unpaid domestic labor. With no days off and permitted to leave only for errands, Jones was allowed no personal relationships or contact with the outside world. Ingalls’s first husband, the bureaucrat Walter Harman, raped Jones over the course of three years, and Jones became pregnant.2 Ingalls would term this an “affair” and, as court documents showed, pushed Jones to “submit” to an abortion.3 Later, when Jones protested her abusive conditions and attempted to escape, Ingalls blackmailed her, threatening 1. Claudia Jones, “An End to the Neglect of the Problems of the Negro Woman!” Political Affairs (June 1949): 11. 2. I am inferring non-consent based on Jones’s captivity. On unfreedom and the politics of consent, see Saidiya Hartman, “Seduction and the Ruses of Power,” Callaloo 19, no. 2 (1996): 537–60. 3. United States v. Ingalls et al., Cr. No. 10568-SD (District Court, S.D. California, July 29, 1947). 260 Heather Berg to “commit Jones to prison” for interracial “adultery” and the abortion she had as a result. Jones finally won her freedom in 1947, a year after Ingalls’s adult daughter reported her mother to the police.4 Claudia Jones offers Dora Jones’s story as evidence of the exceptional precarity of Black women domestic workers. Like others in her cohort of “black left feminists” (to borrow Erik McDuffie’s term), Jones focused on domestic work as a field that epitomized the “triple oppression” at which she took aim.5 Sexual violence at work is not exceptional in Claudia Jones’s telling. Instead, it operates alongside a catalog of abuses at the intersection of capitalism, state terror, the degradation of women, imperialism, and white supremacy. An active member of the Communist Party, Jones insisted on thinking these systems together, maintaining that only through collective struggle against them could justice be won. Women would not be comrades in that struggle in any simple way. Jones was sharply critical of the idea that Black women’s oppression could be explained by “the rotten bourgeois notion about a ‘battle of the sexes.’”6 Instead, she urged working-class Black people to fight “against their common oppressors, the white ruling class.”7 Solidarity among women was illusory, in part, because of white women’s roles as employers of Black women’s domestic work. Against a narrative of sexual violence that describes simple dominance by men over women, Dora Jones’s story highlights the ways that systems of domination work together to enable abuse. Her suffering was not the same as that visited on bourgeois white women. Instead, it was perpetrated and enabled by one. There is no sisterhood to be found here. A critique of this framework is now common sense in most feminist circles, and yet the loudest feminist intervention in recent years trades in exactly the “bourgeois notion about a ‘battle of the sexes.’” Some seventy years after “An End to the Neglect’s” publication, the #MeToo movement has brought broad international attention to 4. For an overview of the case and its legal legacy, see Risa L. Goluboff, The Lost Promise of Civil Rights (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010), 162–5. 5. Erik S. McDuffie, Sojourning for Freedom: Black Women, American Communism, and the Making of Black Left Feminism (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011), 9. 6. Jones, “An End to the Neglect of the Problems of the Negro Woman!” 13. 7. Ibid. Heather Berg 261 the problem of workplace sexual violence. In 2006, civil rights activist Tarana Burke founded an anti-violence movement based... (shrink)

Pamela Sue Anderson argues for an ethical vulnerability which “activates an openness to becoming changed” that “can make possible a relational accountability to one another on ethical matters”. In this essay I pursue Anderson’s solicitation that there is a positive politics to be developed from acknowledging and affirming vulnerability. I propose that this politics is one which has a specific relevance for animating the terms of feminist responses to sexual violence, something which has proved difficult for feminist theorists and activists (...) alike. I will demonstrate the contribution of Anderson’s work to such questions by examining the way in which “ethical vulnerability” as a framework can illuminate the intersectional feminist character of Tarana Burke’s grassroots Me Too movement when compared with the mainstream, viral version of the movement. I conclude by arguing that Anderson’s “ethical vulnerability” contains ontological insights which can allay both activist and academic concerns regarding how to respond to sexual violence. (shrink)