Dans ce texte, nous tentons de montrer qu’à partir de son traitement de l’altérité d’autrui, la philosophie de Lévinas peut être présentée comme le dépassement intérieur de la phénoménologie de Merleau-Ponty développée dans la Phénoménologie de la perception. Nous commençons par exposer la conception de l’altérité exposée dans la Phénoménologie en éclairant l’intersubjectivité corporelle au fondement de la socialité. Nous tentons ensuite d’en dégager les possibles fondements d’une éthique merleau-pontienne axée sur l’expression-responsive, éthique qui ferait preuve d’une considération importante envers (...) l’altérité d’autrui. Puis, après avoir exploré les limites de cette conception, nous dégageons les concepts de trace et d’an-archie comme les points d’appui autorisant un dépassement intérieur de cette phénoménologie vers ce que Lévinas appelle l’éthique. Enfin, tout en présentant les grandes lignes de celle-ci grâce aux concepts clé de responsabilité et de substitution, nous tentons de mettre en relief un avantage qu’elle comporte eu égard à un problème rencontré par Merleau-Ponty en 1945. (shrink)

The civilization of the world has become a threat and distorted environmental integrity in the 20th century. Therefore, environmental ethics is currently getting important in academic considerations. Various public and private institutions such as universities and research centers output throughout the world are now paying attention and seriousness to the environment. This paper focuses on what mankind ought to do regarding the cross-cuttingness of environmental problems.

Collection of essays, literature and first-person accounts on death, dying and bereavement.

In recent years, there has been a heated debate about how to interpret findings that seem to show that humans rapidly and automatically calculate the visual perspectives of others. In the current study, we investigated the question of whether automatic interference effects found in the dot-perspective task (Samson, Apperly, Braithwaite, Andrews, & Bodley Scott, 2010) are the product of domain-specific perspective-taking processes or of domain-general “submentalizing” processes (Heyes, 2014). Previous attempts to address this question have done so by implementing (...) inanimate controls, such as arrows, as stimuli. The rationale for this is that submentalizing processes that respond to directionality should be engaged by such stimuli, whereas domain-specific perspective-taking mechanisms, if they exist, should not. These previous attempts have been limited, however, by the implied intentionality of the stimuli they have used (e.g. arrows), which may have invited participants to imbue them with perspectival agency. Drawing inspiration from “novel entity” paradigms from infant gaze-following research, we designed a version of the dot-perspective task that allowed us to precisely control whether a central stimulus was viewed as animate or inanimate. Across four experiments, we found no evidence that automatic “perspective-taking” effects in the dot-perspective task are modulated by beliefs about the animacy of the central stimulus. Our results also suggest that these effects may be due to the task-switching elements of the dot-perspective paradigm, rather than automatic directional orienting. Together, these results indicate that neither the perspective-taking nor the standard submentalizing interpretations of the dot-perspective task are fully correct. (shrink)

From Joan Lindsay and cinematic master Peter Weir to Ted Kotcheff and Warwick Thornton, over past decades authors, screenwriters and filmmakers have produced films that depict the vast Australian landscape—simply referred to as terra nullius during colonial times by settlers literally confronting a continent vastly different from anything they were culturally and geographically accustomed to—as mysterious, impenetrable and ominous. Just like the dark cold of Scandinavia lends itself perfectly to contemporary Nordic Noir, the Australian New Wave or Australian Film Revival (...) of the 1970s and 1980s saw the release of films that encapsulated the eeriness of this largely rugged, arid and windswept continent, which opens up possibilities for anything to happen within those very, limitless, territories. This article analyses Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), Kotcheff’s horror flick par excellence Wake in Fright (1971); "the best and most terrifying film about Australia in existence" and with a TV-series remake in 2017, and Thornton’s more recent portrayal of Aboriginal misery and poverty Samson and Delilah (2009) set against a hostile urban backdrop, from a Foucauldian perspective. In its theoretical framework it also draws primarily on Freud. Heterotopia is used as a term to refer to strange, bewildering spaces that are disturbing and undecipherable—also described as “an unimaginable space, representable only in language, and as a kind of semimythical real site” (as articulated in Knight, 2017, 141). Foucault’s concept is applied in a cinematic context and used in conjunction with Freud’s notion of the uncanny as a feeling of uneasiness; or, as has been explained in his seminal text “The Uncanny” (1919), “that class of the terrifying that leads back to something long known to us, once very familiar.” We argue that these eerie, fear-induced screened narratives represent a nation whose weather-beaten, freedom-loving yet at heart anxiety-ridden people are most definitely a product of their environment. (shrink)

What do we do with Judges? This two-edged word? This ambidextrous book? These ambivalent heroes? The Judges were drawing their last fleeting breaths shipwrecked and scattered upon the shores of historical-critical-grammatical-linear-modernist-masculine interpretation. "The narrative is primitive," they said. "The editors have made a mess," they exclaimed. "The conclusion is really an appendix," another said. Then the bible-acrobats jumped in pretending there was no literary carnage while at the same time drawing our eyes away from the literary carnage. "No, no, there (...) is an order to this disorderly book!" "Gideon is a man of faith," they explained. "Gideon is a sham," others retorted. "Long live the king," they cried. "Oh no, the king will bring down the nation," others said. Enter the latest literary critics and the fresh feminist readers to save the day. And save they have. Barry noted the irony. Cheryl called attention to the elaborate, spiraling labyrinth. Phyllis remembered the forgotten. Mieke heralded the incoherence. Deborah the Bee slings Barak with irony. Cowardly Jephthah sacrifices his virgin daughter immediately after he is filled with the spirit. Blind Samson remains stuck in some adolescent, Pinnochio-like stage milling around the same old vices. The Levite, the man of word and sacrifice, lies to the people and dismembers his wife. To beat it all the myopic narrator joins in lock step with the other blind characters stumbling around in the narrative. What manner of text is this? These Judges, these stories, are even more troubling now that we take them seriously. Now what do we do with Judges? The recent scholarship is most promising, but I think we must press forward, or is that backward, or perhaps to another plan. Perhaps Judges hearkens forward to the postmodern. What would Judges look like if we viewed the story through a postmodern lens? Would we see the text in another dimension? Would we let the characters live and breathe as confusing, confounding, intricate characters? Judges speaks to me. These judges, they teach me. How can I ever forget my reading of Judges? For once I found a text reflecting the madness of faith in my maddening world. For once I saw a text like Pablo. I heard the echo of Umberto. I noted the faint murmurings of Jacques. I danced a most joyous jig with Julia. I saw, up ahead, or was that behind me, or over to the side, Martin's flickering candle. Mieke, meet Jael. Barak, meet Barry. Jacques, meet Gideon. Samson, meet Martin. Umberto, meet the narrator or two or three. Pablo, meet the Levite's wife---sorry, she has no name. (shrink)