This volume is a collection of chapters about contemporary issues within African philosophy. They are issues African philosophy must grapple with to demonstrate its readiness to make a stand against some of the challenges society faces in the coming decade such as xenophobia, Afro-phobia, extreme poverty, democratic failure and migration. The text covers new methodical directions and there is focus on the conversationalist, complementarist and consolationist movements within the field as well as the place of the Indigenous Knowledge System.The collection (...) speaks to African philosophy’s place in intellectual history with coverage of African Ethics and African socio-political philosophy. Contributors come from a variety of different backgrounds, institutions and countries. Through their innovative ideas, they provide fresh insight and intellectual energy. The book appeals to philosophy students and researchers. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:CRUCIFIXION: ACCIDENT OR DESIGN? Sebastian Moore, O.S.B. Downside Abbey Lastyear I was visited by an old friend from my Liverpool days. Mike and I had worked together with the young of the parish, and one summer the two of us took a couple of boys camping in France, a trial of patience which made us known to each other at some depth. He was in fact a passionately convinced (...) Catholic, and very pastoral with it. We had many and long theological discussions. On his recent visit to Downside, I was showing him and some friends round our church, when, à propos ofquite what I don't remember, he made a remark about the Catholic cult of suffering, and said, "and it's all because ofthe crucifixion, isn't it? Why don't we recognize that the crucifixion was an accident?" I didn't react, because I was dumbfounded at what seemed to be the denial ofthe mystery ofthe cross by a friend who I had no reason to believe had stopped being a Catholic. And I'm sure he hasn't. He would certainly have told me ifhe had. It has taken me over a year to figure out what is going on here, and this would not have been possible without intensive study of the work of René Girard. The only alternative to saying that the crucifixion was an accident is to say that it was "ordained by God." It is only as ordained by God that this horrible event could be presented to people as a divine affirmation that suffering is to be sought and espoused. Also, it is only as ordained by God that the crucifixion can be thought of as "appeasing God" in some way. Both the moral and the dogmatic implication ofthe crucifixion—that suffering is a good thing, and that God required a victim—are grounded in the notion that God required the crucifixion ofhis Son. And it is because this idea is quite unacceptable, unworthy of God and ofthe human mind made in God's image, that my friend concludes that the crucifixion was not required by God, not written into the eternal scheme ofthings, but an accident. 156Sebastian Moore Once the problem is clarified in these terms, more and more instances come to mind, of rejection, by Christians and others, of the whole divine ordination ofthe cross. Gore Vidal refers to Christianity as "that lugubrious religion." Mary Hunt, a prominent American Catholic feminist, introduced a workshop with the statement, "we are not about naked guys nailed to crosses, blood all over the place!" Where divine ordering is accepted the special painfulness and darkness ofthe idea is noted. Anselm refers to the doctrine as the Narnia Chronicles, to commend the notion, by referring to a dark law written into the nature ofthings beyond our comprehension. The children's suggestion that Asian should simply not comply with the Snow Queen's requirement is rejected by Asian with a mysterious impatience—the children justhaven't grown up, like the romantics who, according to Matthew Arnold, "did not know enough." Again, during a day on "the roots of violence" that I led here yesterday there was much questioning about the role ofGod die Father in the crucifixion. The problem is crystallized in the famous cry from the cross, "Why have you forsaken me?" To my confessedly lame suggestion that Jesus was "only quoting a psalm," someone remarked, "to quote that psalm at thatjuncture and not mean it, is somewhatmisleading!" Again it's the same problem. How can God be understood as ordaining the crucifixion, compatibly with the notion of God as all-loving which Christianity of course affirms? Hans Urs Von Balthasar, who is 90% pro-Girard, in the other 10% wants to hold on to something he calls "the wrath of God." Thus the seeming necessity of having God require and ordain the crucifixion is the main crisis of Christian belief. The six-year-old Willie, in Thomas Klise's amazing novel, The Last Western, puts the problem with childlike directness. He keeps interrupting catechism class with, "Why did God kill Jesus?" and is shushed by Sister. I recall that Illtyd Trethowan said to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume's Internalism1 Dorothy Coleman Hume is typically taken to be an internalist, that is, one who maintains that motivation is built into the acceptance or affirmation of a moral judgement.2However, Hume didnot provide any systematic defence of the internalist view, and consequently his views about moral motivation are problematic. Recently, for example, it has been argued that Hume is an externalist, one who maintains that the acceptance of a (...) mora] judgement does not itself motivate but requires independent desires to do so.3 This suggests thatclarification is needed to determine more precisely Hume's position on the issue ofmoral motivation. Since the distinction between internalism and externalism is a twentieth-century one,4 something should first be said about the wisdom of describing Hume in these terms. The contemporary debate between externalism and internalism concerns both the nature of moral motivation, whether moral judgements are themselves motivating, and the reason for this concern: internalists hold that motivation must be built into moraljudgements because it is "essential for an action's being or being shown to be obligatory."5 As Nagel puts it in ThePossibility ofAltruism, the problem with externalist accounts of motivation is that they cannot justify the requirement to perform one's obligations, "for they permit that someone who has acknowledged that he should do something and has seen why it is the case that he should do it, to ask ifhe has any reason for doing it."6 Seen in this way, the debate is about how to justify morality, how to account for our obligation to be moral at all, and how to answer the question, "Why ought I be moral?" Hume, on the other hand, was a thoroughgoing naturalist. He intended not tojustify morality but rather to provide its "natural history," a narration of the origin of moral concepts out of a set ofsocial and environmental conditions together with passions that constitute human nature. For example, concerning what he called the artificial virtues, such asjustice or the regardfor the public good, Hume argued that while the original motive to be just is self-interest, once individuals are educated and socialized into a community regulated by rules ofjustice, they come to "internalize" or moralize these norms so that their motive for being just is no longer self-interest but simply a regard for the public good, the sense ofjustice itself. Hume's concern with internalism, then, seems far removed from the problem of justifying morality that propels the current debate. Volume XVIII Number 2 331 DOROTHY COLEMAN Even though the internalist-externalist distinction applies only anachronistically to Hume, as long as those engaged in the contemporary debate insist on identifying historical figures as exemplars of one or the other of these viewpoints, and even disagree about who does and why,7 clarification of the extent to which this distinction can apply to Hume would be of assistance. Since the justification of morality is not a problem Hume addressed, for the purpose ofthis paper I will use the terms internalism and externalism to refer only to theories about moral motivation. To defend this interpretation ofHume, it will help first to clarify his terminology: whathe meantby moraljudgement, moral sense, and action from a sense ofduty. Hume claimed that moral judgements are based on feelings of pleasure or displeasure arising from impartial or disinterested reflection on the general influence ofmotives or traits of character. Those motives or passions that produce impartial feelings of approval are judged to be virtues; those that produce impartial feelings ofdisapproval arejudged to be vices.8 By moral sense or moral passions Hume meant feelings of approval and disapproval by which passions are judged to be virtuous or vicious.9 In defining duty or obligation, Hume stated that these are actions or qualities of mind whose neglect or non-performance causes disinterested displeasure or disapproval (T 517). To act from ásense ofduty or virtue would then be to be motivated by the sense whichjudges what our duties are, namely, bymoral passions, the feelings ofdisinterested approval ordisapproval ofmotives and the actions ofwhich they are signs. Thè Evidence for Hume's Internalism Hume's commitment to an internalist theory of ethical motivation is nowhere made explicit... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:"Magic Buffalo" and Berkeley's Theory ofVision: Learning in Society David M. Levy Introduction Berkeley's Theory of Vision contains the remarkable claim that the perception ofdistance is learned by experience. This thesis is rooted in Berkeley's doctrine that the physical basic of optical perception is angular. An impression of angle? impacts upon the optic nerve. The interpretative problem confronting an individual is that of reconstructing two pieces ofinformation, distance d (...) and magnitude m, from one datum T. Let the ratio ofm/d form arctan T. How do we come to distinguish between the pair m1,d1 and the pair m2,d2 when m^d 1 = m2/d2? How do we distinguish big objects at a distance from small objects up close? The evidence Berkeley provides for this thesis is of a funny sort. He gives examples that we do, in fact, distinguish large distant objects from small near objects. Since the arctan of the pair m1, d 1 is by hypothesisthe sameas thatofthepairm2, d2thenrecognizingdistance must be alearned abihty. We cannotextractd and m from? alone. The proper interpretation ofBerkeley's philosophy ofscience is a matter of considerable debate.1 Nonetheless, as a working theorist of visual perception he is afairly simple-minded falsificationist. Here is what he says: find a person born blind who comes by surgery to see. If that person can distinguish at a glance big distant objects from small near objects, 111 amend my theory.2 The literature on Berkeley's Theory ofVision can be fairly said to bifurcate between those who "see" the argument and those who don't. Berkeley's most important eighteenth century disciple, Adam Smith, extended Berkeley's teaching to encompass the remarkable claim that we learn to perceive our economic interest (Levy 1992a, 1992b). The negative reaction to Berkeley's theory starts in 1842 with Samuel Bailey who pronounced himself mystified by the very claim that we learn to perceive distance. The debate between Bailey and John Stuart Mill, a debate which has twentieth century counterparts, has all the characteristics ofpeople talking past each other. Volume XLX Number 1 223 DAVID M. LEVY The missing social dimension The problem, as I see it, with Berkeley's proposed critical test—stipulating his own doctrine—is that a blind person would grow up in a sighted community. Perhaps, if he grew up in a blind community, and most of the community became sighted at the same time he did, all the community might be able to perceive distance. The problem with Berkeley's test is that ifhe himself is correct about the importance ofheuristics in making the visual distinctions, the fate of one individual is somewhat beside the point. One individual surely cannot create the necessary heuristics. This learning requires some evolutionary social process. Thus, while Berkeley's thesis requires some claim about some verybasicsocial epistemology(Fuller 1988), his proposed test, asking about a blind person growing up in a community silently presumed to be sighted, does not take into account the social dimension oflearning. Having said this, it is easy to think ofa better test for Berkeley's theoryofvision. Let us find an entire community where life takes place without the visual perception of great distance. Take any individual from this community and ask Berkeleian questions. Now, we know the answer becausejust such a dialogue was reported thirtyyears ago. One society which fulfils the test criterion is that ofthe BaMbuti people who lived their life in a very dense African forest. The American anthropologist Colin Turnbull took his friend from the BaMbuti, Kenge, to the top of a hill. Here is TurnbuH's famous report: Then he saw the buffalo, still grazing lazily several miles away, far downbelow. He turned to me and said, "Whatinsects are those?" At first I hardly understood; then I realized that in the forest the range of vision is so limited that there is no great need to make an automatic allowance for distance when judging size. Out here in the plains, however, Kenge was looking for the first time Over apparently unending miles of unfamiliar grasslands, with not a tree worth the name to give him any basis for comparison. The same thing happened later on... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:OBEYING BAD ORDERS AND SAVING LIVES: THE STORY OF A FRENCH OFFICER Pierre d'Elbée Société Caminno, Paris The story is told that during the Paris riots of 1 848, a military officer received an order to evacuate a certain square by firing upon the "rabble." He left the garrison with his troops and started for the square to be cleared. Upon his arrival, he took up a position with (...) his soldiers who raised their guns to fire upon the crowd. In the profound silence that ensued, he cried: "I have received the order to fire upon the rabble; but as I perceive before me many honest people, I ask them to depart so that I may execute this order." In a few moments, the square was vacant. In circumstances such as these, a decision that saves both others and oneself is not easy to achieve. In such a repressive framework where legal violence is permitted, it is the duty of an officer to obey the order of his superiors, and when we hear or read this story for the first time, we do not see how a happy outcome is possible. The story ought to be dramatic, but what is astonishing is precisely that it is not. We expect the worst, which is what usually happens, the most optimistic among us perhaps hoping secretly for a happy end. But happy endings belong to the universe ofthe marvelous, and life does not resemble a story, as the pessimist murmurs within us. Still, it is the happy ending that in fact occurs, and our astonishment is bound to its improbability. Is it chance? Luck? Inspiration? Premeditation? No doubt there is something of all of this in the officer's decision, and his elegant intervention raises a smile in our skeptical hearts. It testifies that although not easy, one can discover a new way that responds to the secret hope of being really ourselves without getting caught within the web of necessity. Such an attractive path merits no doubt that we dwell on it a little more. 46Pierre d'Elbée Let us follow the officer and imagine we are in his place. It is clear that what is most striking in this story is the moment ofthe face-to-face between the officer and the crowd. It is worthwhile to back up a little, however. From the moment he receives his order to the moment of the face-to-face, the officer must live through some very bad moments: it is no little thing to fire upon a crowd even if legality is on our side. We all know that the worst crimes have been perpetrated under the cover of obedience. Such refuge within authority is rather a hell where one abdicates a part of oneself. The function ofan officer does not stop him from being equally a man, one with feelings, beliefs, values. He knows that the rioters, whatever their fight, cannot be reduced to the term "rabble." Rabble, "rabid," dog. These people deserve no doubt a bit more consideration than that. Who can assert that the riot does not express real sufferings, legitimate rights, slighted dignities? Who could feel comfortable executing the individual who claims his due? A praiseworthy indignation. From that point to justify an heroic ethics of non-violence, is only a small step. "No, I will not fire upon a crowd whose wrong or right deed is to be angry." The officer must undoubtedly have in mind similar thoughts. Inversely, perhaps he justifies himself by saying to himselfthat after all, the rioters disturb the public order. Ifone does not react vigorously and repressively, the riot could degenerate into a general revolution. The order is justified not only by legality but also by a morality ofthe common good. And anyway, ifhe does not empty the square by firing upon the crowd, someone else will. So he might as well do the dirty job himselfto avoid shifting the weight ofthis responsibility onto someone else. And thus, to the devil with such qualms. Life is sufficiently complicated as it is. Let us put it simply: my job as an officer is to obey orders? I obey. On... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Berkeley and Scepticism: A Fatal Dalliance Robert A. Imlay This article is divided into three sections. In the first section I try to show how Berkeley inadvertently commits himself to scepticism or subjectivism by employing against the representational realist an argument that seeks to identify all sensible quaUties regardless of degree with pleasure or pain viewed as feeling states. An appeal to the act-object distinction as a way of (...) avoiding this result is shown to be futile because ofthe purely grammatical nature ofthat distinction. Berkeley must, ifhe can do so consistently, radically change course and attack the alleged identity head-on. In view of that I try to show more clearly in the second section why the sceptic or subjectivist—and Berkeleyhimself—are convinced that the identity forces itselfupon us. At the same time I try to explain why even a representationaUsm that agrees to identify heat, for example, with felt heat but clings to something unfelt like heat qua heat to be found in the fire is no answer to these philosophers. If it were, admittedly, the identity would not have to be attacked head-on. Against this form of representational readism an appeal is once more made to the purely grammatical nature of the act-object distinction which in our view Ues behind Berkeley's anti-representationalist Ukeness principle. In the third section, attacking the identity head-on I try to show the identification of heat and pain, to continue with that example, assumes that all differences between the two would have to be transparent to consciousness. And that is already to assume what needs to be proved, namely, that there is no epistemologically opaque, mind-independent heat ofthe fire. Unfortunately, this Une ofattack is notopen toBerkeley, because hehas otherarguments designedto show that there is, indeed, no mind-independent heat of the fire. If, on the other hand, he rejected the transparency of consciousness, he would run the risk—as he is fully aware—of allowing in scepticism or subjectivism through another door. Finally, Berkeley's attempt to avoid scepticism or subjectivism by making sensible qualities objects ofperception is seen to run afoul ofthe purely grammatical nature of the act-object relation, the subject with which this paper more or less began. Volume XVIII Number 2 501 ROBERT A. IMLAY One tried but perhaps not always true way of dealing with the philosophical sceptic or subjectivist is to give her all the rope that she requires in order to hang herself. This is the way of Descartes in the first and the beginningofthe secondMeditation where sceptical doubt, indeed denial, pushed to its limit, is supposed to demonstrate to the philosopher that he exists. It is, however, also the way ofBerkeley at least to the extent that he is prepared to employ a sceptical or subjectivist argument to arrive at a position that is supposed to be in the final analysis incompatible with scepticism or subjectivism. Such astrategyis, needless to say, not withoutits dangers. Indeed, it is because ofthem thatjust such a strategy, ifit could succeed, would constitute areal epistemic tourdeforce. The most obvious and pressing danger is that by unabashedly employing a sceptical or subjectivist argument one inevitably becomes committed to scepticism or subjectivism oneself. Nor is that danger to be averted merely by quaUfying the argument in question in such a way that it loses its sceptical or subjectivist bite. For at least in the case of Berkeley and the particular argument of his that we have in mind, it can lose that bite only by ceasing to be itself. By the same token it will leave intact or at least play no role in the dismantling of a position that on further analysis is supposed to be not only compatible with scepticism or subjectivism but, ifBerkeley is right, ultimately vindicates it. The argument is the one in which Berkeley insists on the identity, regardless ofdegree, ofall the sensible qualities—heat and cold, sweet and bitter, for example—with either pleasure or pain viewed as feeling states in order to put them in the mind along with the latter.1 This argument is essentially a sceptical or subjectivist one and, if he were to abandon it... (shrink)

It is a theorem of Prikry [7] that ifκcarries a uniformη-descendingly complete ultrafilter then the stationary reflection propertyfails. In this paper we will derive similar results, but here from properties of filters rather than ultrafilters.Throughoutκandηwill denote regular cardinals withη<κ, andIwill denote an ideal onκ, by which we mean a setI⊆P such that Iis closed under taking subsets and finite unions and αЄIfor eachα<κ, butκ∉I.Iis said to beμ-complete if it is closed under taking unions of size <μ,I* = {X⊆κ∣κ−XЄI} is the (...) filter dual toIand ifAЄI+ −I), thenI∣Ais the ideal onκgiven byI∣A= {X⊆κ∣X∩AЄI}. Ifh: A→κthenhis said to be unbounded modIif for eachα<κ,h−1 = {ξЄA∣h<α} ЄIand a least function forIifhis unbounded modIand wheneverg: A→κis a function, unbounded modI, then {ξЄA∣g{ξ) shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:SCANDAL AND IMITATION IN MATTHEW, KIERKEGAARD, AND GIRARD David McCracken University ofWashington Charlie Chaplin once entered a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest, but his resemblance was insufficient for the first- or secondplace prize. He finished third, and thus created a small scandal: the judges—experts on Charlie Chaplin—proved to be so inept that they could not recognize the genuine article1. The simple, mimetic entertainment of a look-alike contest can become more (...) interesting when marked by a spirit of ironic play, which we may plausibly attribute to Charlie Chaplin, and it certainly becomes more interesting when marked by the scandal of inept authorities. Scandals have a way of attracting attention: we take notice, and often pleasure, when experts are shown to be fools. If, on the other hand, we are the experts, then we are likely to take offense and become embarrassed or uncomfortable, defensive or aggressive, humiliated or angry. Either way, we may be scandalized—at the actions of others or at the treatment of ourselves. The Chaplin story suggests three observations about scandal and imitation, which must be understood together because they are necessarily related, one requiring the other. First, models (in this case, Chaplin as the object ofimitation) may be transformed into idols, something fantastic or untrue that we are led to admire, desire, or worship. The movie idol Chaplin was sufficiently far removed from the actual human, Charlie Chaplin, that Charlie Chaplin finished the contest in third place. In the 1 The story, perhaps apocryphal, has been around for some years and reappeared recently in Barash (87), but it is not recorded in Chaplin's autobiography. David McCracken147 Hebrew Bible, idolatry is more extreme: the golden calf is an attractive idol because it can be seen, a fantastic improvement (it would seem) over an invisible God whose mediator has decamped. Instead of worshipping God, the Israelites worship their own desires, which are literally "dungballs " in Ezekiel's graphic vocabulary. Whether the movement is from an invisible God named YHWH toward a golden calf or dung-ball, or from a movie star, who is usually seen as a large image on a silver screen, toward the movie-goer's fond, mental reconstruction ofhim, the process of idolatry leads humans to mistake the false for the real. Second, imitation has different forms: in a look-alike contest, imitation will depend to some extent on the happenstance of physical similarity—the size and face should resemble Chaplin's—but it will also depend on clothing and movement. The entrant Chaplin must have had a significant advantage in size and face, but this advantage was obviously not decisive. Since he failed to win, we begin to wonder: Did he wear the right clothes and hat? Did he, consummate actor that he was, move like Charlie Chaplin or rather more like Buster Keaton? Did he, for the sake of his little scandal, fail to appropriate himself, so to speak; did he misrepresent himself in order not to win? Looking alike is one thing, but appropriating and representing are quite another. Finally, imitation often involves rivalry, which leads to scandal: the Chaplin look-alike contest is a competition, a form ofrivalry that involves winners and losers—that is the point of the contest. By entering the contest, Chaplin made himself an unfair obstacle to the other contestants. But ifhe tried to lose, by not acting like Chaplin, he became an obstacle to thejudges, misleading them into the ludicrous conclusion that someone other-than-Chaplin looked more like Chaplin than Chaplin. The potential scandal is inextricably related to judgment and rivalry, however lighthearted it may be in this case. Like our ordinary contests, New Testament imitation raises the specter of competition: the Pharisee gives thanks that he is not like the poor man (he wins the competition for righteousness hands down, he thinks, and he is fundamentally persuaded that there is a competition); the disciples want to know who among them—the competitors—gets to sit on the right hand; and Peter maintains that, while other disciples may be scandalized, he will not be (he wins, they lose). All ofthese miss the point decisively: New Testament imitation requires the renunciation ofrivalry. The... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:VIOLENCE AS INSTITUTION IN AFRICAN RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE: A CASE STUDY OF RWANDA Malachie Munyaneza UnitedReform Church, London I. Introduction Violence is a phenomenon. It is multidimensional and multifarious. It is physical, geographical, spiritual, psychological, sudden or latent. It is metaphysical, because for some religious beliefs, it involves the deed-consequences scheme in terms of rewards and punishments, even beyond this world into the otherworldly life. It is an instrument used (...) in one's own life (suicide), in the simple family, in the small-scale societies, as well as in the multi-ethnic social settings. It can be a national, multinational and universal phenomenon. It presents some contradictions, because, though it is abhorred in general, some individuals or states use it as a means to achieve ultimate good or misuse it for their own selfish interests. It becomes more of a repulsive mystery when it is seen as institutional and integral partofreligionwhich fundamentallyshould avoid it. Between April and July 1994, the media ofthe world brought images ofthe mostviolent episode ofRwandan history into the living rooms ofthis planet's population. The magnitude ofthe genocide of 1994 was unprecedented in this century. Up to one million of people are estimated to have been killed within only one hundred days. It is difficult to understand the magnitude ofthis violence. Tribal conflicts in Rwanda, colonial powers, political manipulations and economic problems alone are not enough to explain whathas happened. Political analysts, sociologists, anthropologists have tried to understand whetherthe political instability ofthe late 80s, the malfunction of political institutions, the October War (1990-94) and the 40Malachie Munyaneza consequent war atrocities could have necessarily culminated in the genocide the world witnessed. Fundamental questions about the whole philosophy oflife and religion in the history ofRwandaand its relationship to violence are to be addressed too, because they touch the inner being of the outward physical person. People have the right to know what has gone wrong all along in all areas of their life. This paper will try to look at religious beliefs and violence as institution in ancient and modern Rwanda in its magico-religious context and its implications in the social structure. As I am only a debutante Girardian, I will discuss only the key terms ofhis theory—mimesis, desire and scapegoating—as they guide my reflections.?. Religious beliefs and violence Generally, Rwanda is viewed as a monotheistic country. All Rwandan ethnic groups believed in the only one heavenly Superior Being called Imana. Though Rwandansrecognized Imanaasthe SupremeBeing, Creator and Sustainer ofall life, they did not have a special service ofworship to him at a central place. They thought it was temerity to try and please or influence God because ifyou try you would not find enough to match his greatness and his merits. A Rwandan saying tells that you cannot handle God because ifyoutryyou would paydearly.1 Imana is the Ancientofdays as it is expressed in the name "Habiyakare"(He is before the first dawn). He is all-knowing as in the name "Bizimana" (they [all things] are known by God). He rules over everything as King, Judge and Master as expressed in the name "Hategekimana" (everywhere it is God who rules). Unfortunately Rwandans believedthatwhatever befell them was pre-ordained by God and most ofthe time fatalism dominated their lives. They confronted violence or fate with resignation thinking that the origin is in God's will or from angry spirits they did not control. Rwandans also believe in the existence ofa spiritual realm. The spirits of the dead lived further and roamed about. They would come back to trouble their relatives, especially when they felt some duties due to them were neglected. They could even kill through sickness, insanity or provoke infertility. They hold people under the siege ofconstant mental terror. The spirits most feared were the ones from those who had died in unfortunate 1St Paul expressed the same idea in his discourse at Athens and said: "The god who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. And he is not served by the human hands, as ifhe need anything..." (Acts 1 7, 24-25). Violence as Institution in... (shrink)

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau's meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King's famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated (...) people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Fogelin on Hume on Miracles Antony Flew I.Introduction In "What Hume Actually Said About Miracles"1 Robert Fogelin maintains that two contentions are essential to what, following Dorothy Coleman, he calls the "traditional interpretation" ofSection X ofthe first Enquiry. The first is that "Hume did not put forward an a priori argument intended to show that miracles are not possible"; the second, that "Hume did put forward an a priori (...) argument intended to show that testimony, however strong, could never make it reasonable to believe that a miracle had occurred." Fogelin further sees me as "virtually alone in challenging the traditional interpretation, arguing, in particular, that... Hume's argument was intended to do no more than place a 'check' on arguments put forward to establish... miracles on the basis oftestimony." Fogelin concludes his statement of what he wants to refute by quoting from my Hume's Philosophy ofBelief: What he is trying to demonstrate a priori in Part I is: not that, as a matter offact, miracles do not happen; but that, from the very nature of the concept—'from the very nature of the fact'—there must be a conflict of evidence required to show that they do. Fogelin's own contrary conclusion is agreeably forthright and decisive: "the traditional readingofHume's essay on miracles is wrong, and Flew, in rejecting the aspect ofthe traditional interpretation that is correct, is doubly wrong." II.What, indisputably, Hume did not say About all this the first thing which we need to recall is that Hume certainly does not present, and in consistency could not present, what is the most obvious a priori argument to show that miracles, defined as supernatural overridings ofthe order ofnature, must be (naturally and) physically impossible. That obvious a prior argument takes off from the semantic observation that to assert that a law of nature obtains is to assert, among other things, that the occurrence ofevents the occurrence of which would be inconsistent with the truth of that lawis (naturally and) physically impossible. Forit is only and precisely inasmuch as the assertion ofsuch laws embraces assertions ofphysical Volume XVI Number 2 141 ANTONYFLEW impossibility that it becomes logically possible to deduce contrary to fact implications from nomological propositions. It therefore follows immediately that miracles, thus defined, must be (naturally and) physically impossible. The key word 'miracle'has to be construed in this way since Hume is here concerned, primarily albeit not exclusively, with the possibility of proving the occurrence of a miracle "so as to be the foundation of a system of religion. I have taken care regularly to insert the parenthetic qualification "(naturally and)" in order to make it quite clear that no one is trying to rule out the occurrence of such Supernatural overridings as, by definition, fogically impossible. Being unable to discover any antecedent impression from which the idea of physical necessity could be derived, Hume disqualifies himself from appealing thus openly and directly to the necessary physical impossibility ofthe miraculous. But, even ifhe had to his own satisfaction succeededinlegitimatingthat crucial concept, it would still have been pointless here to point to the (natural and) physical impossibility of the miraculous—as if this was a reason for thinking that there have not in fact been and could not conceivably have been or be Supernatural overridings of the natural order. Had Fogelin noticed that Hume certainly did not present that obvious yet irrelevant a prior argument, he could not have concluded, not at least without emphatic qualification, "that this consensus on the first part of the traditional interpretation is unfounded."??. Proofs against proofs are no proofs In arguing about the interpretation of"the first part ofSection X ofthe Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding" Fogelin insists upon attending only to what Hume wrote in that one part ofone section. But suppose we refuse to follow him in imposing this curiously unscholarly self-denying ordinance upon ourselves. Then we find, in the very first sentence of Part II of that same Section X, that Hume is at pains to warnreaders that we are to construe the previous Part I: not as offering "an apriori argument... to show that testimony, however strong, could never make it reasonable to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:What Impressions of Necessity? Antony Flew My question is this: "Why and how was it that Hume failed to find a kind ofimpression from which to legitimate the complementary ideas of physical necessity and physical impossibility?" We can best begin from his first published discussion of causation. 1. In Treatise 1.3.2, the section, "Ofprobability; and ofthe idea of cause and effect," Hume asserts that, "The idea... of causation must (...) be deriv'd from some relation among objects; and that relation we must now endeavour to discover."1 His first efforts are directed to establishing that two causally related objects must be both spatio-temporally contiguous and temporally successive, the cause object preceding the effect object. But "[h]aving thus discover'd or suppos'd" this conclusion, Hume finds that he is "stopt short, and can proceed no farther in considering any single instance of cause and effect" (T 76). We might, therefore, have expected that his next move wouldhavebeen to consider series ofresemblingcause objects and their relations to series ofresemblingeffect objects. But such a consideration is in fact deferred from section 2 until section 14, "Of the idea of necessary connection"; a section starting all of seventy-seven pages later. Instead, the immediately following paragraph reads: Shou'd any one leave this instance, and pretend to define a cause, by saying it is something productive of another, 'tis evident he wou'd say nothing. For what does he mean by production? Can he give any definition of it, that will not be the same with that of causation? Ifhe can; I desire it maybe produc'd. If he cannot; he here runs in a circle, and gives a synonimous term instead ofa definition. (T 77) The phrasing ofthat paragraph perhaps constitutes one of those infelicities in the Treatise which Hume was later to recognize and regret. For if and inasmuch as "causation" and "production" are synonyms, any adequate definition of either word must be equally adequate for both. Rashly assuming that his challenge toproduce such a definition will not and cannot be met, Hume proceeds at once to ask and to answer his own consequential question: Volume XVIII Number 2 169 ANTONY FLEW Shall we then rest contented with these two relations of contiguity and succession, as affording a compleat idea of causation? By no means. An object may be contiguous and prior to another, without being consider'd as its cause. There isa necessaryCONNEXION to be taken into consideration; and that relation is of much greater importance, than any of the other two above-mention'd. (T 77) 2. But now, why "necessary connexion" rather than either "causal connexion" or "connexion" without prefix or suffix? Suppose that you were the Adam of the Abstract "created in the full vigour of understanding," yet altogether "without experience." (T 650). And suppose that you had noticed some A's both spatio-temporally contiguous to and precedent to B's. Then, assuming that your understanding was not only vigorous but also equipped with all the essential concepts, you might well ask yourself, or perhaps, if she was now available, your partner, whether there was any causal connection here at all; or, more specifically, whether these A's were causing these B's. You might even proceed to put the question to experimental test: either by producing further A's in hopes ofconsequentially producing furtherB's; or, whenA's occurredspontaneously, by trying to inhibit the subsequent occurrence ofB's. What such an Adam would surely not do—not unless he had developed proto-Humean desires: both to demonstrate the absence here ofany logically necessary connections; and thus, hopefully, also to discredit theidea that anyotherkind ofnecessity might beinvolved—is to suggest that the third, crucial, and so far unidentified element in any adequate account of causation must be necessary connection; as opposed, that is, to either causal connection or just plain unqualified connection. It is, of course, obvious that Hume himselfis eager to get on first to denying logically necessary connections, and then to the further business which he relates to this denial. For it is in the immediately followingsection 3, "Whyacauseisalwaysnecessary," thathe presents his argument for the conclusion that, whereas, "Every effectmust... (shrink)