Developing countries are endeavoring to advance into the 21st century information age. Their progress, however, is hamstrung by the dire lack of trained, skilled and knowledgeable IS workers who are able to interact with online and off‐line information sources. These countries can tap from the rich intellectual capital lying dormant within the ranks of disabled people to boost the pool of IS workers in their societies. However, before developing countries can draw on the information systems capabilities of disabled workers, these (...) workers themselves must be able to function at par with their able‐bodied counterparts as information workers. This presupposes the availability of special‐purpose information systems devices and approaches developed for disabled users. In this paper, therefore, we examine several issues that are pertinent to IS and disabled people in developing countries, and propose an integrated infrastructure to enhance the interaction of disabled people with on‐line information sources. The study includes issues related to the suitability of different interaction methodologies and technologies for people with disabilities. Additionally, we propose the design of customized interfaces that can be used by disabled people to develop Web‐based database applications and to access and query on‐line databases. (shrink)

This study concluded to refute the claim that there is a historical gap in the development of economic thought, whereby the early pioneers of Muslim economists were able to lay many intellectual foundations for the science of economics. This study sheds light on a period that was intentionally or unknowingly ignored; to reveal the historical roots of Islamic economics, and to reveal the missing link in the development of economic thought, from the first Hijri century to the fifth Hijri century, (...) as this study sought to refute the claim of Western leadership in economic thought through the contributions it offered to Muslim thinkers who preceded Western economists by several centuries. Muslim economists have inaugurated several rules of economics, and have used methods of economic analysis to monitor some economic phenomena. They have delivered these achievements to humanity through the scientific edifices in Andalusia. Likewise, the author of this study does not claim that Muslim scholars have dealt with all economic issues. He does not claim that Muslim scholars laid down all the rules of economics and have left nothing. He acknowledges that Muslim economists have not dealt with many modern economic issues, such as credit, financial derivatives, cryptocurrencies, and the like, but he confirms the contribution of Muslim scholars to the development of economic thought. (shrink)

According to Kant, the moral worth of an action depends on its maxim. As he explains, particularly in the Groundwork, moral worth accrues to an action when the action rests on a maxim selected for its accordance with the moral law. With respect to Religion, however, Kant modifies his understanding of the moral worth of actions. He now expresses the view that an agent acts morally worthy only if he possesses a moral Gesinnung as a character trait. According to this (...) opinion, only such persons can act in a manner that has moral worth who own a good Gesinnung and seek to express it in their actions. But to be in possession of a good Gesinnung depends, according to Kant, on strict conditions that ordinary actors will not realistically be able to fulfil. This accords with Kant's verdict that moral progress has not yet taken place because the conversion in Gesinnung that it would require is still outstanding. (shrink)

In der moralphilosophischen Literatur existieren verschiedene Auffassungen darüber, worauf die Autorität moralischer Normen basiert. Einige Moralphilosophen führen das moralische Sollen auf die Vernunft, das Wohlwollen oder auch auf die Wahrnehmung moralischer Tatsachen zurück; andere dagegen meinen, dass das moralische Sollen auf äußeren Sanktionen wie sozialem Ausschluss oder inneren Sanktionen wie Schuldgefühlen beruht. Die sowohl in der Geschichte der Philosophie als auch in der gegenwärtigen Auseinandersetzung häufig vertretene Meinung, dass moralische Verpflichtung notwendig an Sanktionierung geknüpft ist, wird aus verschiedenen Perspektiven kritisch (...) untersucht. (shrink)

In the absence of pre‐established communicative conventions, people create novel communication systems to successfully coordinate their actions toward a joint goal. In this study, we address two types of such novel communication systems: sensorimotor communication, where the kinematics of instrumental actions are systematically modulated, versus symbolic communication. We ask which of the two systems co‐actors preferentially create when aiming to communicate about hidden object properties such as weight. The results of three experiments consistently show that actors who knew the weight (...) of an object transmitted this weight information to their uninformed co‐actors by systematically modulating their instrumental actions, grasping objects of particular weights at particular heights. This preference for sensorimotor communication was reduced in a fourth experiment where co‐actors could communicate with weight‐related symbols. Our findings demonstrate that the use of sensorimotor communication extends beyond the communication of spatial locations to non‐spatial, hidden object properties. (shrink)

Immanuel Kant gilt zu Recht als einer der wichtigsten Philosophen in der Geschichte der westlichen Philosophie. In dieser Einführung werden – neben einem Seitenblick auf seine Biografie und seinen intellektuellen Werdegang – die bedeutendsten Werke seiner kritischen Periode vorgestellt und anhand ihrer Schlüsselbegriffe erklärt. Außerdem wird Kants Neuansatz in der Philosophie aus einer zentralen Idee verständlich gemacht: der Idee, dass nicht nur das menschliche Handeln, sondern alle leitenden menschlichen Weltbezüge «normativ» strukturiert sind.

Ein Gemeinplatz der modernen Ästhetik besteht darin, dass sich die Produktivität des Künstlers einem entfesselten Gebrauch seiner Einbildungskraft verdankt. Nach dieser Vorstellung kann der Künstler neue Werke hervorbringen, weil er sich der assoziativen Kraft seiner Einbildungskraft überlässt. Als eine historische Quelle für die Auffassung, dass der Künstler in der Verwendung seiner Einbildungskraft von zwingenden Regeln frei ist, wird dabei oft Kants Genietheorie des Künstlers angesehen. Kant wird damit als Opponent der Regelpoetik Gottscheds und Vorbereiter der Genieauffassung der Romantik wahrgenommen. Tatsächlich (...) stellt die Auffassung, dass das künstlerische Genie seine Einbildungskraft frei von begrifflichen Zwängen ausübt, einen wichtigen Teil von Kants Theorie der schönen Kunst dar. Wie sich jedoch leicht feststellen lässt, schreibt Kant dem schöne Kunst hervorbringenden Genie keine absolute Freiheit im Gebrauch der Einbildungskraft zu. Im Folgenden beschäftige ich mich mit den Beschränkungen, denen die Einbildungskraft des Genies trotz der ihr zugeschriebenen Freiheit laut der Kunsttheorie der Kritik der Urteilskraft unterworfen ist. (shrink)

Der Begriff der LebensqualitätLebenLebensqualität wird für eine Bewertung von Lebensabschnitten oder des Lebens einer oder mehrerer Personen verwendet, wobei die Lebensqualität sowohl positiv als auch negativ sein kann. Zur Lebensqualität trägt bei, was letzten Endes für eine Person gut ist; verwandte Begriffe sind die des WohlergehensWohlbefinden, Wohlergehen oder des GlücksGlückglückliches Leben (s. a. Lebensqualität). Der Maßstab für die Ermittlung von Lebensqualität ist der Lebensstandard.

Nach einer weit verbreiteten Überzeugung beruht der Wert von fiktionaler Literatur wenigstens zum Teil darauf, dass Leser durch sie zu Wissen gelangen. Warum aber kommt fiktionale Literatur für den Erwerb von Wissen in Frage? Einige Autoren verweisen darauf, dass Literatur zwar kein propositionales Wissen im Sinne des Überzeugungswissens, aber ein nicht-propositionales Wissen im Sinne des Wissens von subjektiven Perspektiven oder von Fertigkeiten vermittelt. Der Beitrag argumentiert dafür, dass sich zusätzlich zu nicht-propositionalem Wissen auch propositionales Wissen durch Literatur erwerben lässt. Leser (...) können ihr propositionales Wissen erweitern, weil literarische Werke Behauptungen über Allgemeines enthalten. Anhand impliziter und durch Interpretation erschließbarer allgemeiner Aussagen wird die Auffassung verteidigt, dass Literatur eine wahrheitssuchende Institution darstellt. (shrink)

What metaethical position Kant is committed to remains a controversial issue. I discuss three recently published books in which Kant is viewed as an opponent to moral realism and located more or less in the constructivist camp. Although the motivations to classify Kant as a moral constructivist are partly understandable, I argue that constructivist interpretations of Kant’s moral philosophy cause serious theoretical difficulties and, for that reason, should be refrained from.

Am 1. Januar dieses Jahres verstarb Derek Parfit, nur kurz vor dem Erscheinen des dritten Bandes von On What Matters, seinem zweiten Hauptwerk. Dieser Schwerpunkt beschäftigt sich mit den ersten beiden Bänden des Buches, das bereits jetzt zu den meistdiskutierten Werken der Gegenwartsphilosophie gehört. Mit dem Buch beabsichtigt Parfit, die wichtigsten Ansätze der Moralphilosophie – von Konsequentialismus, Kantianismus und Kontraktualismus – zusammenzuführen. Er versucht aufzuzeigen, dass es zwischen ihren Positionen keine unauflösbaren Meinungsunterschiede gibt und ihnen ein gemeinsames Moralprinzip zugrunde liegt. (...) Die Beiträge des Schwerpunktes wenden sich den Grundzügen, aber auch entscheidenden Einzelheiten von Parfits Projekt zu. Zum einen kommen dabei die metaethischen Voraussetzungen zur Sprache, von denen Parfit ausgeht; zum anderen wird Parfits kritische Auseinandersetzung mit Positionen bei Kant selbst oder von ihm inspirierten Autoren sowie mit Scanlon untersucht. (shrink)

A fundamental fact about human minds is that they are never truly alone: all minds are steeped in situated interaction. That social interaction matters is recognized by any experimentalist who seeks to exclude its influence by studying individuals in isolation. On this view, interaction complicates cognition. Here, we explore the more radical stance that interaction co-constitutes cognition: that we benefit from looking beyond single minds toward cognition as a process involving interacting minds. All around the cognitive sciences, there are approaches (...) that put interaction center stage. Their diverse and pluralistic origins may obscure the fact that collectively, they harbor insights and methods that can respecify foundational assumptions and fuel novel interdisciplinary work. What might the cognitive sciences gain from stronger interactional foundations? This represents, we believe, one of the key questions for the future. Writing as a transdisciplinary collective assembled from across the classic cognitive science hexagon and beyond, we highlight the opportunity for a figure-ground reversal that puts interaction at the heart of cognition. The interactive stance is a way of seeing that deserves to be a key part of the conceptual toolkit of cognitive scientists. (shrink)

Marco Iorio: Regel und Grund. Eine philosophische Abhandlung. Walter de Gruyter, Berlin 2011, 332 S.

In his book Vernunft und Subjektivität, Charles Larmore investigates what the nature of reason and subjectivity consists in. This book originates from two lectures that Larmore held in Frankfurt, Germany. It is composed in an elegant German and packed throughout with insights that Larmore works out in intense confrontation with prominent views in the history of philosophy and in contemporary philosophy. The overarching thesis of the book is that while our responsiveness to reasons lies at the basis of reason, subjectivity (...) should be understood as a self-relation that is structured by our commitment to what we take as reasons. (shrink)

We report on the performative score “Sharing Perspectives” from the art/science research collaboration, Experimenting, Experiencing, Reflecting. Sharing Perspectives is developed as a score, inspired by choreography and the postmodern dance form Contact Improvisation, to stage exploration and improvisation, exploring uncertainty, creativity, togetherness, and the relationship between bodies and between bodies and space and artworks. The SP score acts as an experiment in how a brief intervention may affect the way art exhibitions are experienced, exploring how deeper and more sensorial engagement (...) with art may be facilitated, for the benefit of visitors, galleries and artists. Based on questionnaires and qualitative interviews with participants during the Olafur Eliasson exhibition “In Real Life” at the Tate Modern in London in November 2019, we explore how the SP score modulates a playful mode of being, enhancing the experience of a museum art exhibition as a space of transformation and reflection. We find that the SP score encourages curiosity, which allows participants to recognize their habits for art and instead experience art slowly, recognize their comfort zones and move past them. As the score enacts a sensorial and playful approach to the exploration of the exhibition, participants experience a breaking of boundaries between each other, toward the other visitors, as well as to the artworks and the space itself, prompting an experience of being part of the exhibit as a whole. We discuss how the SP score invites a slowness and curiosity that takes on characteristics of play, which can change the participants’ appreciation of an art space. (shrink)

This book comprises forty-one essays, some of them about solar eclipses, space stations, mushrooms, and refugees, but the majority focus on animals, mostly birds. Macdonald starts each piece with a personal recollection from childhood or adulthood. “Vesper Flights,” for instance—the essay that gives the book its title—begins: “I found a dead swift once, a husk of a bird under a bridge over the River Thames.... I picked it up, held it in my palm... and realised that I didn't know (...) what to do.” The author continues by setting out the little that she did know, before that encounter, about swifts—she knew only that they are very difficult to observe individually because of the velocity and the height of their flights. To her, the swifts had always been like “aliens on earth.”Those birds are known for their peculiar flights at dusk, when they go up almost vertically into the sky. Scientists used to believe that they went up to sleep; but, at the end of the 1970s, in order to study the interaction between birds and airplanes, Luit Buurma of the Netherlands made radar observations that showed the swifts do not sleep at high altitude. The hypothesis of Buurma and other scientists is that they go up to forecast the weather. In the convective boundary layer, the winds are unaffected by geographic components, and, at that altitude, the swifts may also orient themselves better, thanks in part to the polarized light that is clearest at twilight. “What they are doing,” Macdonald summarizes these findings, “is flying so high they can work out exactly where they are, to know what they should do next.”Macdonald was trained in the history of science, which explains her taste for telling stories in which she explains how we come to know other animal species. She stresses the importance of technical devices in the construction of knowledge (without military radar, scientists would never have known where the swifts were flying). In each chapter, she also underscores the problem of what she aptly calls “multispecies social etiquette”: it is such a problem (how to avoid collisions with birds, a particular kind of social interaction) that moved scientists to study swifts in the first place. I much enjoyed reading these parts of each chapter. I was less convinced, however, by the morals that she draws from animal behaviors—for example: “Swifts are my fable of community, teaching us about how to make right decisions in the face of oncoming bad weather, in the face of clouds that sit like dark rubble on our horizon.” What makes me uncomfortable with such general conclusions is that they could as well be reached without the birds. (shrink)

In Heidegger's thinking, a language is neither words nor expressions. The discussion of a language brings not the language itself but rather us into its essence, and makes us gather unto "the genesis of the very language itself." With snows and vesper bells, Heidegger summoned both heaven and earth and gods and men, making them merge into a single world. Likewise, Zhuangzi used the words of Qixie to summon the fleeting clouds in an endless sky and a dusky earth (...) populated by living beings and dust. /// 在海德格尔看来，语言既不是词语，也不是表达。探讨语言不是把语言而是 把我们带到语言本质的处所，让我们聚集到 "成其自身" 之中。海德格尔通过雪花 和晚祷的钟声把天地神人召唤来，使其融契为一体的世界。在庄子 "齐谐" 词语的 召唤下，游气、尘埃、生物、苍茫之天以及昏黄的大地得以显现。. (shrink)

In Heidegger’s thinking, a language is neither words nor expressions. The discussion of a language brings not the language itself but rather us into its essence, and makes us gather unto “the genesis of the very language itself.” With snows and vesper bells, Heidegger summoned both heaven and earth and gods and men, making them merge into a single world. Likewise, Zhuangzi used the words of Qixie to summon the fleeting clouds in an endless sky and a dusky earth (...) populated by living beings and dust. (shrink)

In recent years, several minimalist accounts of joint action have been offered (e.g. Tollefsen Philosophy of the Social Sciences 35:75–97, 2005; Sebanz et al. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance, 31(6): 234–1246, 2006; Vesper et al. Neural Networks 23 (8/9): 998–1003, 2010), which seek to address some of the shortcomings of classical accounts. Minimalist accounts seek to reduce the cognitive complexity demanded by classical accounts either by leaving out shared intentions or by characterizing them in a way (...) that does not demand common knowledge of complex, interconnected structures of intentions. Moreover, they propose models of the actual factors facilitating online coordination of movements. The present proposal aims to enrich a minimalist framework by showing how shared emotions can facilitate coordination without presupposing common knowledge of complex, interconnected structures of intentions. Shared emotions are defined for the purposes of this paper as affective states that fulfill two minimal criteria: (a) they are expressed (verbally or otherwise) by one person; and (b) the expression is perceived (consciously or unconsciously) by another person. Various ways in which the fulfillment of (a) and (b) can lead to effects that function as coordinating factors in joint action are distinguished and discussed. (shrink)

Arendarcikas, Birute Since the Second Vatican Council and the historic embrace of Paul VI and the Patriarch of Constantinople Athenagoras I in January 1964, the pope and the hierarchs of the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches have, after centuries of mutual separation, embraced each other once again as sister churches. On many occasions the pope and the hierarchs of the respective churches have drawn attention to the loving veneration of, and special devotion to, Mary, the Mother of God, which (...) both churches hold in common and which unite them as sister churches. In his apostolic exhortation Marialis Cultus on devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, Paul VI affirms that 'in venerating with particular love the glorious Theotokos and in acclaiming her as the "Hope of Christians", Catholics unite themselves with their brethren of the Orthodox Churches, in which devotion to the Blessed Virgin finds its expression in a beautiful lyricism and in solid doctrine'. Similarly, in a shared homily with Pope John Paul II, delivered during Vespers in the Basilica of St Mary Major in Rome on 5 December 1987, Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople Dimitrios I said: Of all the entire Christian world our two sister Churches have maintained throughout the centuries unextinguished the flame of devotion to the most venerated person of the all holy Mother of God, dedicating to her the finest and most inspired artistic works of song, architecture and painting, turning to her sweetest figure the hearts' desires and the hopes of the devout people of every epoch. (shrink)

Johann Georg Sulzer gehorte zu den pragenden Gestalten der europaischen Aufklarung in den 1750er und 1760er Jahren, sowohl in der Philosophie als auch in einer Reihe von Einzelwissenschaften - wie der Mathematik und der Padagogik - sowie im Kontext literarischer und asthetischer Diskurse. Federfuhrend nahm er an den wichtigen Debatten, Kontroversen und Forschungsentwicklungen teil, die etwa in Berlin, in Leipzig oder in Paris die Aufklarung beschaftigte. Der vorliegende Band versammelt Studien von Philosophen, Literaturwissenschaftlern und Wissenschaftshistorikern zu allen Werkbereichen Sulzers, insbesondere (...) zur lange Zeit vernachlassigten Erkenntnistheorie und Psychologie. Zugleich wird seine bislang weitgehend unbekannte praktische Philosophie diskutiert. Daruber hinaus werden auch Sulzers Sprach- und Kunsttheorie sowie seine Enzyklopadistik analysiert. MIT BEITRAGEN VON: Elisabeth Decultot, Werner Euler, Frank Grunert, Jutta Heinz, Marion Heinz, Dieter Huning, Heiner Klemme, Hans-Peter Nowitzki, Udo Roth, Gideon Stiening, Udo Thiel, Achim Vesper und Falk Wunderlich.". (shrink)

continent. 1.1 (2011): 60-67. At the beginning of Martin Heidegger’s lecture “Time and Being,” presented to the University of Freiburg in 1962, he cautions against, it would seem, the requirement that philosophy make sense, or be necessarily responsible (Stambaugh, 1972). At that time Heidegger's project focused on thinking as thinking and in order to elucidate his ideas he drew comparisons between his project and two paintings by Paul Klee as well with a poem by Georg Trakl. In front of Klee's (...) Saints from the Window and Death of Fire —though we wouldn’t absolutely understand what we were seeing—he writes, “we should want to stand…a long while.” In a similar manner, of Trakl’s poem “Septet of Death”—although it is likely we are unsure in what we hear—Heidegger states that, “we should want to hear…[it] often.” Heidegger further states that in appreciating these, “we “should abandon any claim that [they] be immediately intelligible” (1). So also we must we approach, Heidegger continues, the realm of theoretical physics, in which the difficult work of Werner Heisenberg, be listened to “without protest” and without “any claim that he be immediately understood.” These works, like his own project, merit the time they take to be originally (mis)understood. But this is not necessarily true for philosophy, Heidegger advises, because, “That thinking is supposed to offer ‘worldly wisdom’ and perhaps even a ‘way to a blessed life’” (1). Philosophy is in the unique position of being both abstract (what do we talk about when we talk?) and at the same moment, useful. There are demands that it make sense, that it be, grounded, immediate, and most importantly, rational. Heidegger draws these comparisons between the works of Klee and Trakl and Heisenberg not to claim that philosophy is totally irresponsible. He does not claim that the poet, the painter, nor the physicist have acted irresponsibly. Rather, he would say, they are rising to the highest levels of intelligibility, though it is perhaps an intelligibility that is commonly unavailable to us. In Trakl’s case, as we shall see, mastery is the end result of difficult words. Instead, Heidegger seems be making pleas: for a period of uninterrupted unintelligibility (pure unintelligibility); and that there is a time (that time is now) when, “thinking is…placed in a position which demands of it reflections that are far removed from any useful, practical wisdom” (1-2). Heidegger argues that philosophy requires a period of time in which, instead of focusing on the practical—or even on the worldly—the discipline draw its “determination” instead from the place of painting and poetry and physics. In doing so, “we should have to abandon any claims to immediate intelligibility” (2). But Heidegger doesn’t offer this as a way out. We still have to turn up, we “still have to listen, because we must think what is inevitable, but preliminary” (2). The point for Heidegger, is not to listen to a series of propositions, but instead to “follow the movement of showing” (2). I. … Maybe we're here only to say: house, bridge, well, gate, jug, olive tree, window— at most: pillar, tower … but to say them, remember, oh, to say them in a way that the things themselves never dreamed of existing so intensely.… Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Ninth Elegy” There is little more fundamental, preliminary, in the world than language. We use language, in the form of speech, constantly, whether we are saying anything or not. “Man speaks,” Heidegger writes, and goes on to describe in his essay “Language” (2001) the constant speaking that we do. “We are always speaking, even when we do not utter a single word aloud, but merely listen or read, and even when we are not particularly speaking or listening but are attending to some work or taking a rest” (187). Speaking is expression, an utterance of something internal. It is a recognition of a world. It is a way of communicating thought and it is an activity that we all do, inevitably. Speaking separates the human from the animal world, and despite advances in primatology that seek to give ‘voice’ to primates and other non-human animals, it can safely be said that our form of communication—what we call speech and know as language—is the most advanced, the most complicated. We use it to present and represent the world around us; through actual utterances (vocalization) or through the written word or through ‘unvoiced thoughts’ and dreams. We use language, but more specifically speech—naming—to transmit moods, thoughts, desires, aversions, and feelings. These expressions, mere utterances, nearly always find a source in words, whether spoken or not. Heidegger writes that this common view of language means “that only speech enables man to be the living being he is as man. It is as the one who speaks that man is—man” (187). Speaking then—utterance—surrounds us constantly, whether in the form of careful thought—in the form of an academic paper, say—or in the half mutterings and forgotten thoughts of a nearly remembered dream. Like scaffolding, the apparatus of speech sustains and explains the world, making, in a sense, the world rational, making it apparent. When we speak, we describe, and in doing so, name the world. We use words, through this process of naming, to interpret and sustain the world we see, and the world we imagine. Like Rilke’s naming of jug, and bridge, and window, and stream, we describe—and inscribe upon—the world through an activity of naming. Are we here, perhaps, to name? Is it possible not to name? Is it possible to regard and to view and to look around without naming what we see? Is it possible to feel—to experience—world without giving utterance to that feeling, that process? Sadness, grief, joy, ecstasy, hunger, thirst. Desk, light, room, pen, book, world. White, black, tomorrow, today. Each of these words is a name given to a thing I see in front of me, or a concept that I imagine (in the case of tomorrow or world). What arises in my mind has already existed. If I imagine it, it is named. The word for ‘tomorrow’ and ‘desk’ and ‘light’ precedes me, and precedes my concept of it. The idea of it is already pre-informed, and I must, in a certain sense, bend my ideas to it. When I imagine a table, I imagine my own table (or I imagine an idea of table) but that imagining must follow certain general rules; while, perhaps, it might not always require four legs and a horizontal surface, it must, at least not be, say, a pool of water, or a pile of excrement. It must have some tableness to it to be a table. It must, with Heidegger, table. Otherwise, speech is reduced to gibberish. For Heidegger however, the discussion of language points to something deeper than its “scientific and analytic” study as a communicative device. Indeed, Heidegger seeks to understand language not in reference to man or woman, not as an utterance of humanity, but in reference to itself. In doing so he abandons the conversation—that is, he casts away the traditional arguments surrounding philosophy of language; that it is a means of expression; that it is a human activity; and that it is somehow a representation of something that is—in order to seek to understand language as language, on its own terms. Heidegger is not a philosopher of language, but a philosopher of world, of being. Despite these “correct ideas” holding sway “over the whole field of the varied scientific perspectives on language…they ignore completely the oldest natural cast of language” (191). What is this “oldest natural cast of language? It is the act of language itself. Language is language and language speaks. “Most often,” Heidegger writes, “and too often, we encounter what is spoken only as the residue of a speaking long past” (195). Speech, as we normally encounter it, is like Echo herself calling out to Narcissus, doomed to repeat what has already been said, a mere remnant of what was once language, a trace left behind in the gathering silence of becoming. In both the essay “Language” and in his three lecture course “The Nature of Language” (1982), Heidegger attempts to unpack the seeming tautology of language as language. In each, he focuses on poetry as a way out, or into, a true discussion of the oldest natural cast of language. Poetry is pure speech. In poetry, language is brought to language and language speaks ( Die Sprach spricht ). In the act of poetry, the act of pure speech, the poet names (on the surface not different from how I name this table, this computer) but in the poet naming, the naming does not “hand out titles,” “apply terms,” but rather the naming is a call, a calling forth of entities that bring them into their own, allow them to take their place purely, without compromise. This calling, Heidegger (2001) states, “here calls into a nearness. But even so the call does not wrest what it calls away from the remoteness, in which it is kept by the calling there. The calling calls into itself and therefor always here and there—here into presence, there into absence” (196). II. Window with falling snow is arrayed, Long tolls the vesper bell, The house is provided well, The table is for many laid. Wandering ones, more than a few, Come to the door on darksome courses. Golden blooms the tree of graces Drawing up the earth’s cool dew. Wanderer quietly steps within; Pain has turned the threshold to stone. There lie, in limpid brightness shown, Upon the table bread and wine. Georg Trakl “A Winter Evening” Heidegger is often given short shrift as an abysmally difficult writer, as one that makes no sense and is needlessly difficult. In doing this though, we forget sometimes his eloquence, his simple beauty in writing. Of the above opening stanza, “Window with falling snow is arrayed/ Long tolls the vesper bell.” he writes (2001), This speaking names the snow that soundlessly strikes the window late in the waning day, while the vesper bell rings. In such a snowfall, everything lasts longer. Therefore the vesper bell, which daily rings for a strictly fixed time, tolls long. The speaking names the winter evening time (197). The speaking names the winter evening time. It is almost impossible to comment on that one line by Heidegger. It is as though it must exist on its own completely, without elucidation—as though in front of it we must stand as we do in front of a painting by Klee, that is, we must abandon any claim . Silent and devoted. The speaking of the poem here is not clearly different from common speech ( rede ) yet there is, via Heidegger, an invitation to experience that auracular quality of light and stillness that a gentle, dusk tinged snowfall gives; words evoking a quality so clear, so poignant that, in a sense, Heidegger’s work, at this moment, has been done. But what does this naming accomplish? What does the call call? Remember, it is not the poet that calls, but the naming which calls. The poet has only brought the words forward; it is now the words— snow, vesper bell, window— that take new life in the pure language of the poem. Entities are called forth into presence, like the speaking that names the winter evening time. Not to be present amongst us now, however; naming ‘table’ in the poem does not place it in front of us in this room. Rather, the naming places entities into a gathering which is also a sheltering. The naming brings them to be. In an act of appropriation, things come to be purely as their own, unimpeded by a predetermined expectation. They are called to themselves into an arrival. In Being and Time (1962), Heidegger famously describes the movement between present-at-hand and ready-to-hand in his analysis of the hammer, and of equipment in general. This analysis is already known, if not always clear, to most readers of Heidegger. Briefly, a hammer is ordinarily zuhanden or ready-to-hand; it is part of the background of the world, equipment used and never thought about, like this desk, this sheet of paper, this room. Our interaction with it is temporary and it is historically different for each entity and each relation. We need a hammer, we use a hammer. If all goes according to plan, the hammer remains ready-to-hand; it remains, in a sense, undisclosed and certainly unobtrusive. Our world is undisturbed by the hammer. Only when the hammer or the car or the computer is broken (or sometimes unused or unrecognized or missing) does it intrude into our world, become conspicuous as an object present-at-hand, or vorhanden . In this case, we reach for the hammer, it is broken and we suddenly notice it’s being, broken though it is. The thing which was always ready to hand—handy—is suddenly abstract, something to be examined, if only in its absence or disfunction. This can be exhibited for all entities, and it is important to note that in this analysis the zuhanden / vorhanden split is not restricted to a specific form of constructed material; zuhanden does not refer to the car, and vorhanden the sunset. No entity is ever exclusively ready-to-hand or present-at-hand; they are instead, interpenetrated with each others mode of being, one informing the other in a way that both brings things forth into the world—discloses is the word Heidegger chooses—and at the same time conceals them. As one mode is coming to be so another mode is withdrawing. This flux and movement between modes is precisely what brings the world forward, and what makes it manifest. It exists beyond where we tread and before man took dubious control of the world. We go to find a book or turn on the computer and it is missing or broken and we become aware of the object, as though for the first time. We walk to the water to glimpse the sunset and miss it, or it is less than stellar; in the sunset’s grayness, we become aware of it’s being sunset. The thing is disclosed in its withdrawal. Echoing Heraclitus, we can say that as something is coming to be, it is already becoming something other. Of similar importance to the fact that things are never all of one, or all of the other, they are also never alone. The hammer is never a single object, but is in relation always to the whole. Heidegger (1962) states, Equipment—in accordance with its equipmentality—always is in terms of its belonging to other equipment: ink-stand, pen, ink, paper, blotting pad, table, lamp, furniture, windows, doors, room. These ‘Things’ never show themselves proximally as they are for themselves…What we encounter as closest to us…is the room; and we encounter it not as something ‘between four walls’ in a geometrical, spatial sense, but as equipment for residing…it is in this that any ‘individual’ item of equipment shows itself. Before its does so, a totality of equipment has already been discovered (97). Equipment resides—dwells—in its relations, in its proximal being to other beings. Within the structure of totality, a series of relations is always occurring. The hammer is on the workbench in the carpenter’s hand in the workshop in the village under the sky and under the sun. It doesn’t stop there. Equipment surrounds us and the focus is not on what it does, or what one does with it—the carpenter with the hammer, the writer with laptop—but with the fact that it is. Equipment occurs in relation and is always occurring around us overhead, underfoot, by the stream and in the city. There is a constant exchange of relations happening, and as this occurs, so the world occurs, so the world both discloses and withdraws, into and out of itself. In a very real sense, language is also equipment. It is the thing that we use most often without thought, it is ready-to-hand (except when it’s not.) As we re- cognize the world around us, as we offer names for things and make lists, we are using language much like we might use a hammer, that is, bluntly. Most of the time it is invisible and we draw on it without wondering how we are going to say something. When language does intrude, it does so in an awkward moment, that moment when we can’t remember the right word, when we forget a phrase. At that second, it “speaks itself as language,” it reveals itself as malfunctioning equipment, and we “undergo” an experience with language, in Heidegger’s famous formulation. Language is not a tool anymore that we use to bludgeon an object, but something instead that we submit to, that we experience. In “The Nature of Language,” Heidegger (1982) writes, But when does language speak to us as language? Curiously enough, when we cannot find the right word for something that concerns us, carries us away, oppresses or encourages us. Then we leave unspoken what we have in mind and, without rightly giving it a thought, undergo moments in which language itself has distantly and fleetingly touched us with its essential being (59). The poet’s words become themselves, become appropriate, only when they no longer function in the prosaic world; they instead intrude as they come to be. Language itself brings itself to language. Names, like the entities they indicate, are always becoming something else. As noted above, language, through the poet, has brought forth entities from words previously “known.” I thought that I knew snow, but through Trakl’s re- presentation of the word, language calls forth a new image of snow, indeed calls forth snow itself. The vesper bell tolls longer, the table is for many laid. In bringing forth things , language has brought the world to presence. In everyday naming, word occludes world, preventing, in its everydayness, its coming forth, its disclosing. But what is this world that word has been brought forth into? In the same way that language speaks, world worlds. World, left alone, un-interfered with, comes into itself. It worlds. Again, this sounds like a tautology, but it is essential to Heidegger’s thought (and in my mind is more of a “god killer” than Nietzsche.) One of the most overlooked (and under-appreciated) aspects of Heidegger is his later examination and enthusiasm for the “fourfold,” or the system through which things come to be, through which things thing in a world worlding. The fourfold is the interaction of earth and sky, mortals and gods. Things come to be in the interstices and gathering of the fourfold. The fourfold provides both a place of being, and a sheltering, a place to dwell. Heidegger writes that “the things that were named, thus called, gather to themselves sky and earth, mortals and divinities. The four are united primally in being toward one another, a fourfold.” The poet has called, through the act of pure naming, things to come forth. In the purity of the fourfold—that is, when that is all that there is, when there are no other distractions, definitions, things—entities themselves can come to be. It is important to note that Heidegger is not saying that there are four formal things in the world, autonomous entities unto themselves. He is not evoking a pre-Socratic formula as to what makes up the world; instead, the four mirror each other constantly. (Heidegger calls this the ‘mirror-play.’) They interpenetrate in the same way that the modes of being of things interpenetrate themselves. There is no discrete exclusivity in being or the fourfold. What makes up things is not a precise recipe of the four main components; what makes up things is the action of the fourfold coming together, the movement of the fourfold which is a becoming. Heidegger (2001) writes that “this gathering, assembling, letting stay is the thinging of things.” And he later adds that “thinging, things are things. Thinging, they gesture—gestate—world” (197). Language brings the world to be. It works not again as a recipe added to things, but instead it is a bridge, or more precisely, a relation. Language relates world to thing, brings world to thing. In a sense, it does not say anything; rather it allows, or calls in its movement. Heidegger (2001) writes that, The intimacy of world and thing is not a fusion. Intimacy obtains only where the intimate—world and thing—divides itself cleanly and remains separated. In the midst of the two, in the between of world and thing, in their inter, division prevails: a dif-ference (199). It is in this inter that language prevails. Language is difference, it is the differential aspect between world and thing that brings world to thing. In the final stanza of Trakl’s poem “The Winter Evening,” Trakl evokes this difference in the second line when he writes, “Pain has turned the threshold to stone.” Christopher Fynsk, in his essay “Noise at the Threshold,” draws attention to this point when he writes “it is the figure of the threshold that is language itself, inasmuch as language is defined as the articulation of difference by which difference comes about” (25). Language, as used in the pure language of the poem, draws together world and thing, bridging relation between entity and world. The calling of language calls world to thing, world to being. Heidegger (2001) describes this difference as unique; “of itself, it holds apart the middle in and through which world and things are at one with each other” (200). III. Neither reading nor writing, nor speaking—and yet it is by those paths that we escape what has been said already, and knowledge, and reciprocity, and enter the unknown space, the space of distress where what is given is perhaps not received by anyone (99). Maurice Blanchot The Writing of Disaster So far, we have allowed Heidegger to put forward what language does, how it functions as a relation and how it operates as a threshold, as a bridge. What interests me is what happens beyond language, beyond the relation. What happens to the thing without the naming, without the poet, or even without the everyday chatter—Fynsk calls this ‘noise’—intruding on being? If language allows things to become by bringing thing to world, what happens when we remove this bringing, this threshold turned to pain? In “The Nature of Language,” Heidegger examines the work of the poet Stefan George, specifically “The Word”: Wonder or dream from distant land I carried to my county’s strand And waited till the twilight norn Had found the name within her bourn— Then I could grasp it close and strong It blooms and shines now the front along… Once I returned from happy sail, I had a prize so rich and frail, She sought for long and tidings told: “No like of these depths unfold.” And straight it vanished from my hand, The treasure never graced my land… So I renounced and sadly see: Where word breaks off no thing may be. That final line, “Where word breaks off no thing may be” is evoked on nearly every page of Heidegger’s essay. It is the line to which he returns over and over and bears repeating. Where word breaks off no thing may be. Where naming ends, no thing. We can interpret this in two ways (at least.) Where word—naming—breaks off, then there is nothing . Or, as I choose to read it, where word breaks off no thing may be. In this I see a hint forward, a marker left behind by Heidegger. What could this look like? What does no thing look like? Like a zen koan ( there is no mirror ) it is as thrilling and horrifying as contemplating what preceded the Big Bang. Because language as naming wasn’t always here; we weren’t always here. One or maybe two aspects of the fourfold (depending on your view of gods) were not always here, and there is no guarantee that we will always be around. What then? Heidegger (1982) describes the landscape that the poet finds, “It names the realm into which the renunciation must enter: it names the call to enter into that relation between thing and word which has now been experienced” (65). The poet, in renouncing, allows for the “may be” of “where word breaks off no thing may be.” This “may be” becomes “a kind of imperative, a command which the poet follows, to keep it from then on.” No thing is lacking. Where word breaks off, there may be, a totality, a completion. If we place the emphasis on may be , we make it affirmative, make it positive. One allows it. No thing is where the word, that is the name, is lacking. If we remove then (if we can remove) the word, the name, than that is where no thing is, that is where no thing may blossom, enrich, belong, become. What is no thing? Heidegger writes that “thing is anything that in any way is.” And just after this he writes that the “world alone gives being to the thing.” But what happens if there is no word? Word, in this formulation can be seen as an enframing, a challenging of language. By naming, by drawing a perimeter around an object, we hold it, by its definition (that is a brick) to an ordered future. If we borrow from Heidegger’s essay “The Question Concerning Technology” (1993) the idea of this standing-reserve of an ordered future, we see that “everywhere everything is ordered to stand by, to be immediately on hand, indeed to stand there just so that it may be on call for a further ordering” (322). What happens if there is no naming of the thing? Silence perhaps. Stillness. We can name—and do name—that which we know. We equate knowledge with knowing the name of something. A brick is a brick, a hammer is a hammer, the universe is the universe. By naming a thing, we create, and draw its parameters, the parameters of the thing, not as thing thinging in the fourfold, but as blunt object apparent. In the four dimensions relatively available to us, we observe (and name) that the brick takes up possibly six by four by two inches and is, in the sense that it currently occupies this time slot. It fulfills its destiny, its being, its brickness, it bricks . But what happens when we remove the name for this brick. We no longer know what to call this no-thing (if indeed we can even arrive at the point of uncalled calling.) In fact the it (this brick) is no longer a thing in the sense that by not naming—by removing the name—it still occupies the same dimension but is indiscernible from the world. It simply is , un-reliant, un- needed by me. By removing the subject (me) from it (the brick) do I not then also remove the object—or at least the duality objectifying it? Why is this important? Why does this matter? I have not really removed anything. I have not changed any thing , per se . The brick still occupies the same space in geographic and temporal dimensions. I have literally not even touched the brick sitting on my desk. But what I have done is removed the name, removed the word (the bridge, according to Heidegger) and in this (again, if this is even possible) there is something vertiginously liberating, not only for me (and my way of thinking) but also for the brick itself. Like the poet who calls the thing forward, by refusing to name, by avoiding any thing that demands me to name it, I release the thing into the fourfold. I am no longer challenging the thing to be there for me ; I do not en frame it through language. Rather I, in an act of extreme responsibility, am refusing the challenge. By refusing the name (refusing to name) one allows, (or no one allows no thing) the brick to be all things , to manifest its manifold being, to incorporate all things into its thinging . It becomes, quite literally, every thing . Because, in its infinite manifestness, it incorporates everything; the mud that gave it its current being, the water that formed the mud, the sun, the stars, the universe and it also allows it to become mud again, to become landfill, to become again, water and sun and stars and universe in an endless, infinite cycle of coming to be some thing (else). Perhaps this is what Heidegger is suggesting when he talks about the stillness at the end of his essay, “Language” (2001): The dif-ference stills particularly in two ways: it stills the things in thinging and the world in worlding. Thus stilled, thing and world never escape from the dif-ference. Rather, they rescue it in the stilling, where the dif-ference is itself the stillness (206). It is in this stillness that I can imagine a gellasenheit (here I mean both “releasement in the Heideggarean sense, as well as Meister Eckhart’s use of the term meaning “letting the world go and giving oneself to God”) of thing and world, a releasing into the stillness and silence of no thing beyond where word breaks off. It is here where I may no longer be, and yet no thing is, but may be. (shrink)

This essay traces Newman’s rich legacy in modern American literature in the writings of three prominent American writers of the last century: F. Scott Fitzgerald, who plays off of Newman’s definition of a gentleman in his The Beautiful and Damned ; Sinclair Lewis, who connects the figure of Carlyle Vesper to Newman in Gideon Planish ; and Flannery O’Connor, who mentioned Newman in four published letters, and whose artistic vision was shaped appreciably by Newman’s Apologia and his Grammar of (...) Assent. (shrink)

Dans cet article, nous analysons le passage dit « mathématique » de l’Épinomis. Dans le programme de formation proposé pour les futurs membres du conseil vespéral de vigilance (990c5-991b4), certains interprètes modernes ont cru voir un témoignage capital pour l’histoire des mathématiques grecques anciennes portant sur la question de l’irrationalité. L’analyse du lexique et du mode de composition du texte – un collage maladroit d’expressions reprises aux loci mathematici platoniciens –, la confrontation avec la littérature mathématique conservée et ce que (...) l’on sait de l’histoire de cette discipline avant Euclide montrent que cette interprétation, pourtant largement répandue, est sans fon­dement. En revanche, il est possible de reconstituer une intention philosophique compréhensible et mieux à même de rendre compte de certaines particularités du passage en consultant les commentateurs anciens (Nicomaque de Gérase, Théon de Smyrne, Jamblique de Chalcis, Proclus de Lycie). En privilégiant le passage conclusif sur le « lien » des mathématiques (991d8-992a1), ils identi­fiaient une tout autre question : celle de l’unité des mathématiques, à partir de laquelle le passage mathématique prenait à leurs yeux tout son sens. (shrink)