The Roman eagle, speaking for Christianity, teaches the insuperable difference between divine and human justice. Given the life Dante has endorsed, the eagle’s view and Dante’s must diverge. They do so regarding the case of one who lives a good life but, without Christian faith, is condemned. Why, if reason guides him to that life, is faith nevertheless needed?The eagle’s response makes clear that it’s not justice, a common good, but resurrection that is the ultimate concern.God’s arbitrariness in dispensing this good is a credential of the power needed to provide it.

The Heaven of Saturn depicts the effect that orientation on this good has on philosophy. With the question of human good taken as resolved, the contemplatives actively discourage reasoned inquiry concerning humanly significant matters; any such inquiry could suggest doubt regarding God’s power to provide the key good.Peter Damian, a source of the handmaiden image, known for thinking God to be unbounded by the law of noncontradiction, conveys this message.He embraces the unknowability of God’s ways even to those who have been saved.The stark clarity of Peter’s position prepares Dante’s confrontation with this novel obstacle to the philosophic life raised by Christianity.

Another central concept or entity which Leroi-Gourhan drew from Bergson was Homo faber. In a brief but influential passage of Creative Evolution, Bergson posited that fabrication, making with materials, was a defining human trait. Intelligence was not for contemplation but rather for action, for producing artificial objects and tools. This Homo faber and its creative intelligence received mixed reactions. While the emphasis on techniques and their role in human history was welcomed by historian Henri Berr and by Marcel Mauss, the latter also stressed their fundamentally collective and rational dimensions, rather than individual or organic ones. At the same time, many prehistorians and philosophers of the time readily assumed an evolutionary sequence from primitive Homo faber to developed Homo sapiens. Until the 1950s, Leroi-Gourhan too held such views, considering the most ancient remains of technical activities (stone tool manufacture and use) too crude to be of much informative value.

This response describes the development of a comprehensive approach to sustainability education that is embedded in the curriculum and school culture and involves all actors in a school working together. The authors use their school in Mexico City, a city that is directly impacted by the climate and environmental crises, as an example. The school’s efforts include arts projects on topics such as ‘La Tierra Es Mi Amiga’ (The Earth Is My Friend), themed days and weeks focused on sustainability, curriculum design that incorporates direct engagement with the natural world and outreach to experts. They also utilise philosophy for children and debating to encourage critical thinking and empathy and support student-led social enterprise projects focused on sustainability.

This introduction offers an overview of the volume’s variety of literary critical approaches to reading William James, and its account of James’s equally various approaches to literature. We draw out some of the generative through-lines among these approaches and spell out some of their broader implications for how we read, teach, and respond to literature. In outlining the three sections of the book – Style, Influence, and Method – we show how James historically informs and prospectively transforms the way we think about the bedrock premises of literary study. As we contend, the persistent richness of James’s work and the ongoing relevance of literary study itself are rooted in similar commitments: For both, any critical investigation must synchronously value expression, edification, and application. Our volume foregrounds these stakes – the aesthetic, the transmissive, the practical – because together they comprise an ideal bridge between James and literary study, a mutual paradigm that we contend is fundamentally pedagogical in nature.

The newcomer to James will meet a philosopher whose language is bracingly lucid. For scholars of James however, this seeming virtue has presented itself as a kind of puzzle: In this context, James has often been faulted for his clarity – for a poetics that contradicts and even seems to undermine the key linguistic tenets of his own work. Those who admire James’s language may encounter a contrary problem: As teachers of James well know, despite his seeming legibility, his writing is apt to be misunderstood – easily reduced and simplified, his ideas taken in just the wrong way. This chapter recasts James’s stylistic choices in light of his early work on perceptual psychology, restoring his use of demonstration, diagram and self-experiment to an account of his rhetorical strategy – one that pertains across his long life of writing. Reading James at this angle resolves many of the seemingly difficult or even paradoxical parts of his thought: The assertion that “the world stands really malleable,” that the “absolute cannot be impossible,” that objects of experience may be taken “twice over,” and even the meaning of “conversion” itself. Understanding the ways in which James used the material at hand to reach his audience opens his work to more immediate, everyday use, while also modeling a mode of interpretation that makes “vague and inarticulate” effects in literature and art available to collective interrogation. Though James did not propose an overarching theory of the aesthetic, approaching James in this way shows the practice of interpretation to be central to the practice of pragmatism, as lived and experienced on a daily basis.

This response provides a practical guide to incorporating philosophical discourse in classrooms to help children grapple with life’s big questions. It outlines three approaches to integrating philosophy into curricula: firstly, launching units of learning on any subject with philosophical discussions based on overarching themes such as power, freedom or eternity; secondly, designating a half term as a period for focusing on philosophy and ethics, using an overarching question to guide exploration; and thirdly, a project whereby each week a member of the school community poses a big question for discussion. Implementation of these approaches can improve students’ oracy skills, self-esteem and overall well-being.

This manifesto argues that by combining student voice, agency and practical wisdom, or phronēsis, a more equitable and just educational system can be created that supports students’ empowerment as leaders of transformative change who can make well-informed, values-based judgements. Practical wisdom is the ability to make well-informed decisions based on knowledge, experience and ethical values. The manifesto recommends specific actions in support of this, such as reevaluating curriculum goals; availing students of different types of knowledge, capacities and reasoning; and establishing environments that promote collaboration and reflection. It aims to inspire educators to nurture children to be better decision makers and collaborative problem solvers. It concludes that despite the challenges facing the world today, the voices of children and young people offer hope, and that we must listen to them.

Describes undergraduate education and student activities.

Chapter 1 examines how philosophical arguments and legal frameworks offered important means by which eighteenth-century Britons could understand ownership and possession. It begins by exploring the work of John Locke and the central role it played in shaping conceptions of property in the eighteenth century. The chapter then moves on to explore the changing legal frameworks which sought to define how people (including enslaved people, wives, servants and apprentices), dogs, watches and financial instruments might be understood as possessions and property in this period. It finds that through the course of these changes the law often remained ambiguous as to the nature of property and the protections the legal system might offer. Such ambiguity was significant in opening other spaces which shaped how property and possession were understood.

This chapter argues that Darwin’s philosophical theory of emotion has been forgotten due to paradigm shifts in biology, psychology, and philosophy. These shifts have caused researchers to neglect associationist theories of emotions, including Darwin’s contributions to this school of thought. Having explained why Darwin’s philosophy was forgotten, I conclude by explaining why it should be remembered, given its relevance for contemporary emotions research.

That the Declaration of Independence could be considered from the perspective of rhetoric might seem rather obvious, if not downright self-evident. Even so, appreciating how Jefferson thought about language not as an abstract concept but as a lived and material practice can help us appreciate the text of the Declaration from different perspectives. The text is shot through with the histories of race, nation, empire, and belonging that characterized the ideology of American revolutionary republicanism, and with Jefferson’s thinking about these forces and his own anxious place in them. In fact, despite and perhaps even in part because of his own difficulties with public speaking, Jefferson thought about the ability to access and marshal rhetorical exemplars and put them to use in legal and political argument as an elemental part of what it meant to be an effective citizen. His thinking about material rhetoric, about the absorption of what one read through notes, commentary, and commonplace books, turns out to be a critical component of how he thought about the legitimacy of the American project and of how he framed that project in successive drafts of the Declaration itself.

This chapter presents a portrait of study and teaching at the Faculty of Arts in Paris during the first half-century of the university's existence: from enrolment under a master to obtaining a licence, entering the corporation of the Magistri Artium and, eventually, enrolment in one of the higher faculties (theology, canon law or medicine).

The Mendelssohns were active at a time of contestation and change within music aesthetics and broader aesthetic theory. As well as outlining how they positioned themselves in relation to some of the key issues and debates of their time, the chapter examines their continuing investment in Enlightenment and classical aesthetic ideals and how this interacted with their engagement with Romanticism. It also explores the extent to which moral and aesthetic criteria are entwined in their judgements of contemporary music, fuelling their hostility towards French grand opera, the programmatic orchestral works of Berlioz, and French virtuoso pianism. Their own compositions frequently function as music-aesthetic interventions, aiming to counterbalance trends in musical life that they viewed negatively. Crucial is a discussion of the conceptions of truth and emotion at the heart of Felix’s aesthetics, explored through a comparison of his views with those of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel and Friedrich Schleiermacher.