A riddle or a joke? I regret having made light of both myself and the reader. However, the concept of complexity has been explored with such intensity and pedantry, has been analyzed from so many points of view – the mathematical, linguistic, physical, chemical, political, psychological, sociological, physiological, algorithmic, logical, religious, and metaphysical – that nothing, not even the title of this piece, can escape it. Indeed the situation has reached the point where we grow misty-eyed over the very thought of the discrete charms of yesterday's simplicity. Sometimes we dream that complexity itself, after having given us so much, muses – now that its task is fulfilled – of flying up miraculously into the sky, like the Virgin Mother (the Assumption); or ourselves wish to experience – for those spirits who prefer to keep their feet on the ground(!) – the “dissolution” with which entropy begins. Isn't it true that certain words, marked by the spirit of their age, are themselves in fact carried away by the spirit of the age?

The year 1992 saw many important cultural commemorations take place, of which the most important, the fifth centenary of the “discovery” of America, seemed to eclipse, at least on the American continent, the four hundredth anniversary of the death of Montaigne (1533-1592). It therefore does not seem inappropriate to question the view of the author of the Essays concerning the theme, “much fussed over” by ideologues on all sides, of the “encounter,” as memorable as it is debatable, between the “New” world and the “Old”.

Being professionally interested in African languages, there is no way in which we could try to hide our rather selfish motive in hoping for the survival of African languages, and as many as possible at that. The disappearance of any African language means to us scholars the final, irrecoverable loss of an important empirical resource, not only for linguistic studies, but also for studies on the history and culture of a people. Not many outside the academic circle, however, will have heartaches over such matters.

Being condemned (or chosen?) to be “the missing link” on its way to perfectibility (or redemption?) - half animal/half human - we always need in some way or another the transcendence of a Utopian Vision. It therefore comes as no surprise that most of the essays in this issue, reflecting a vision of the world today, are openly or covertly concerned with Utopian expectations. Hence, it might be worthwhile to trace the origins and reflect in flashbacks - following the pioneering technique of the French film-maker Alain Resnais - a story of the Utopian Vision.

Dreams of gold have accompanied human history down through the ages. Gold is a beautiful and useful metal, easily shaped and immune to rust, and from the time of the ancient Sumerian and Egyptian civilizations, it has been regarded as a precious metal from which jewels and decorative as well as everyday objects have been fashioned. Even before the concept of money turned it into one of the principal forms of exchange, gold was used as a medium of barter.

Apart from being of commercial and aesthetic value, gold is also a part of the stuff of fables and legends. Legendary and mythical lands where gold abounds have crowded the imaginative geography of almost all civilizations. The Bible itself, in the Book of Kings, speaks of the Mines of King Solomon, the Kingdom of Ophir, and the City of Sidon, while the prophet Zechariah observes that in the City of Tyre: “silver is heaped up like dust, and gold as the mire of the streets.” [Zachariah, 9.3]

The renewed interest in the fate of endangered languages has led to the adoption by the Permanent International Committee of Linguists (CIPL) of a major project on such languages and the publication of Endangered Languages, edited by R.H. Robins and E.M. Uhlenbeck (1991). This book contains not only a discussion of the conditions that lead to language death but also case studies of endangered languages around the world.

Many contemporary writers are claiming that society is becoming rapidly deanimated. However, this idea is not entirely new. During the past century, the same observation has been made by critics as disparate as Durkheim and Marx. In general, they pointed out that as an outgrowth of industrialization, social relationships were beginning to deteriorate. In point of fact, complaints about social fragmentation and the emergence of bureaucracies were commonplace. Simply put, citizens were beginning to feel powerless and overwhelmed by their institutions. Recently, Baudrillard referred to this sentiment as indicative of the “Golden Age of Alienation.”

When the news of the invention of the daguerreotype left the halls of the French Academy of Sciences in 1839, it fell on the ears of an eager and receptive public, spellbound by the miracle of such an invention. The rapid popularization of the daguerreotype, and subsequently, of less time-consuming photographic processes, forced critics and artists alike to vehemently defend a definition of art that either categorically excluded the new medium or open-mindedly included it within the ranks of a modern or industrialized art. If one maintained, as many did, that the nature and essence of art/literature can be clearly defined and that this definition must be grounded in tradition, coming to terms with what photography was and where it rightfully belonged required either a staunch reaffirmation of one's beliefs about aesthetics or a reassessment of those beliefs. In either case, photography functioned as a disruptive element that did not cause but contributed to an (already existing) artistic movement in which the integrity and solidity of aesthetic definitions and orthodoxies were being questioned and tested. In the minds of those apprehensive and suspicious of the new medium, industrialization, as well as political and social change, had already begun to sound the death knell for art as it had traditionally been conceived. If art/literature had become contaminated by industry, technological advancement and democratic principles, the conservative French nineteenth-century thinker saw it as his duty to save the former from certain destruction. “Saving” art/literature required a fundamental reinforcement of the belief in the closure and soundness of aesthetic definitions whose truth tradition had supposedly guaranteed. Uncovering the presuppositions behind aesthetic definitions that claim to speak in the name of tradition, self-evident truths, and even the nature of man is an endeavor worth pursuing because this manner of thinking leads to a kind of tyranny that has as its goal the suppression of questions, critical inquiry and thus, independent thinking. This study seeks to examine a small part of French aesthetic theory during a period in which change, instability and revolution became almost commonplace. The reactions of conservative artists and critics to post 1840s literary and artistic practices will be scrutinized in order to unveil the deep-seated fears and beliefs that found conservative backlashes to that which is referred to as “new” or “progressive.”

Our America has not fully realized the extent of the African continent's influence on the cultural and ethnic genesis of Latin America. This aspect of its history remains foreign to it and almost consciously denied: a denial that is the legacy of a racial complex created by the European mentality during the course of the Conquest. One of the characteristics of American humanism, however, lies within the valorization of the multi-ethnic origins of Latin American culture; this is why one cannot ignore the breadth of the African contribution to the American identity and the circumstances that determined this contribution.

It has been commonplace to maintain of the phenomenon that occurred during classical times, the change from relying on myth to trusting in reason: (1) that the emergence of philosophy from myth was marked by an abrupt discontinuity; (2) that mythical thinking was left behind once philosophy was invented or discovered; and (3) that the ancient Greeks were the agents of this miracle. This paper suggests that the so-called “Greek miracle” was, in fact, a miracle manqué and, more importantly, that close examination of this failed miracle offers valuable insight into the philosophical crisis facing the world today.

This paper describes some aspects of the mutual impact of languages in a bilingual situation where one language is dominant and the other subordinate. The influence of the two languages on each other is effected through the user, namely, the bilingual. When the bilingual is in the process of learning the second language, his mother tongue influences his mastery of the former, resulting in the process that has been variously referred to as mother tongue interference, approximation, or interlanguage. However, the influence does not take place in one direction only; in other words, it is not only a case of the mother tongue influencing the second language. If the second language is a dominant language its impact on the bilingual's first language can have far reaching implications.

In 1934 the Belgian artist René Magritte painted a room with a view. On an easel in front of the window stands a painting depicting the very piece of landscape blocked from sight. Magritte named his painting La Condition Humaine (“The Human Condition”), which is quite apt, for the life of everyone is determined by windows, doors, mirrors and many other frames. Indeed, to avert anxiety, one actually cultivates social behavior born of the fear of being “outside the frame.” Because of this apprehension, we organize all reality into a series of preestablished frames.

It was during the Gulf War that I discovered the gas mask to be an object. As it became increasingly credible and imminent, the unfathomable menace was crucially rescaled to the toxic potency and dispersal pattern of law-abiding molecules. So it went with the gas mask: the Gulf War transformed it from a vaguely morbid mental image into a facial object of survival. But to be drafted on the nation-wide defensive maelstrom as a life-saving object (and not, as it happened, a life-taking one) the real effectiveness of the gas mask was by no means sufficient - it had also to be effectively realized, and this in turn necessitated that confidence in its claimed capacities had to be gained, and competence in its appropriate performance mastered.

To vernacularize a language is to reduce it to a vernacular. In 1953, UNESCO defined a vernacular as the language of a group that is politically or socially dominated by a group that speaks another language. This paper argues that this domination need not be colonial or racial, and that in fact many postindependence African rulerships are more comfortable in situations that are contrived to ensure that the indigenous languages of their own countries continue to be vernacularized. The same foreign language that was used in the past by a racist colonial minority is now used by an indigenous elitist minority to keep the majority disempowered by making grassroots participation in national issues and debates difficult or impossible.

When Anquetil-Duperron landed at Pondicherry in 1755, in search of the sacred books of the “Indous et des Parses” (“Hindus and Parsees”), he surely had no idea that he was inaugurating a new discipline, Indianism. He returned to France in 1761, laden with a whole library of Indian texts which he was to spend the rest of his life deciphering. That year was a turning point in Indian history: the Marathes, on the verge of becoming the dominant power of the entire Indian continent, were crushed in Panipat, north of Delhi, by the armies of an Afhgan invasion, and this catastrophe halted their advance for a while. During the same year, in the south of India, Lally-Tollendal was beaten and taken prisoner by the English, thereby destroying the French dream, shared by Dupleix and Bussy, of creating an Indian empire for themselves.

What is an image? An image, it might be said, is a kind of amity between the medium and the model it assumes. The purpose of this relationship is to reproduce the model and to become similar to it. Such a definition invites – perhaps in a purely playful way – some preliminary considerations.

The central concern of this paper is to prove that Blake and Wordsworth, in spite of some revealing differences between them, essentially share the same world view. Before showing how this works, we first of all should discuss, however briefly, the main difference between them.

The main difference between Blake and Wordsworth is perhaps discernible in the way they respond to Nature or the physical frame of things. Here, their remarks on each other would be quite illuminating. Though there is no evidence that they knew each other personally, there is concrete proof that they read some of one another's works and even commented on them. Three sources immediately come to mind in this regard: first, there is Samuel Palmer's anecdote that Wordsworth borrowed a copy of Blake's Songs of Innocence and of Experience from a friend that “he read and read and took … home to read again”; second, we have Blake's 1826 annotations to the poems of Wordsworth contained in Keynes' Nonesuch Edition of Blake; third, there is Henry Crabb Robinson's Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence.

At first glance singularity would seem to be necessarily opposed to the physical sciences, indeed to any kind of science. As the hallowed saying goes: “Science deals only in universals.” According to this view, the aim of any true scientific endeavor must be the discovery of universals or, in other words, the value of such an endeavor is based on its ability to explain phenomena in terms of universals. The status of singularity in science is a direct result of this approach. Singularity is associated with the presence, either in a person or an object, of an unusual or exceptional quality, or of an individual trait. Singularity so conceived must therefore be seen as inherently compromising the aims of any scientific endeavor, since the purpose of that endeavor is universality as defined above. In this sense, the basis of scientific explication is the ability to determine a feature common to a collection of objects, thus allowing them to be explained by deductive reasoning. This common feature can therefore not be individual, if individual is understood as unusual or exceptional.

All things by immortal power,
Near or far,
Hiddenly,
To each other linked are
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star.
Francis Thompson (1859-1907)

Picture a rainbow: under ideal conditions, you will not only see the primary and the (fainter) secondary rainbow, but you will also realize there is a zone between the two which is considerably darker than the surrounding sky, and you will see the series of very faint and narrow bands of colors, usually pink and green alternately, at the inner side of the primary bow. For centuries these narrow bands, called “supernumerary arcs,” have been a riddle to those who set out to explain the rainbow phenomenon scientifically.