The origin of this paper is a problem: I had long been struck by the fact that if my glance happened to fall on a newspaper, a message on a note pad, printing on a label, etc., I would begin to read what was there written or printed—if I could see it and it was in English. If I can see it, and it is in English, I cannot but read what my glance falls on, even if I wish not to do so. So my reading—at least on these occasions and of this brief sort—seemed to be involuntary. The illiterate person, of course, cannot read and, in that way, is not free to read. The person learning to read does not read freely. But the ‘free’ reader is not free not- to read that on which his glance falls.

As feudalism made God the source and the justification of its particular social arrangements and the guarantor of their eternity, so the bourgeois/capitalist order that dissolved and supplanted feudalism has used nature, drawing science into its ideological orbit, using science to found the new era's dominant world-view. My complaint against the concept of nature that has thus been given God's work to do is that it does not present itself honestly as a religious notion. It covers its transcendental tracks and dresses in secular clothes. The notion of nature that has been imposed on us and the notion of its laws pretend both to stand over and yet to lie within, and even to constitute, the physical, secular world. That pretence to both a transcendental and a secular status cannot be maintained for long under examination, and what is surprising is how little critical examination it has been given.

Deconstruction is commonly associated with the philosophy of Derrida. But there are also non-philosophers who say they engage in deconstruction, for example architects, anthropologists and literary critics. This may lead some people to suppose that deconstruction is not concerned with specifically philosophical problems.

A psychoanalyst is said to provide the real explanation of a person's behaviour; an explanation which the person has arrived at with the help of a psychoanalyst. The person was not aware of the real character of his behaviour. It may have exhibited unconscious thoughts, beliefs, motives, intentions and emotions. In his paper ‘The Unconscious’, in Mind 1959, Ilham Dilman says, ‘What those who talked of “Freud's discovery of the unconscious” had in mind is a group of innovations which “the founder of psycho-analysis” brought to bear on the study of the human mind’ (p.446). I have ten questions concerning the relation of this ‘group of innovations’ to human behaviour.

‘Marital faithfulness’ refers to faithful love for a spouse or lover to whom one is committed, rather than the narrower idea of sexual fidelity. The distinction is clearly marked in traditional wedding vows. A commitment to love faithfully is central: ‘to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part… and thereto I plight [pledge] thee my troth [faithfulness]’. Sexual fidelity is promised in a subordinate clause, symbolizing its supportive role in promoting love's constancy: ‘and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her/him.’

Sport often seems to teeter on the edge, on one side of the entertainment industry, on the other of cheating violent aggression: from a make-believe simulacrum of serious play to a nasty chemically enhanced descent into a Hobbesian state of nature. Such perversions lend credibility to reductive views of sport itself as a metonymic feature of capitalism. But that sport as entertainment means fixing it to produce exciting outcomes and amplifying capacities to superhuman proportions, while sport as aggression means treating rules as mere obstacles to brute dominance, shows how far we in fact are from these abysses, even in the days of the Coca Cola/Nike Olympics, Vinny Jones and cricket sledging. In this essay, I try to delineate through history— from Homer to … Gomer?—a common culture of sport and sportsmanship that, with its excesses and perversions, continues to operate as one, albeit complex, ideal of human excellence.

In trying to reach some view regarding the philosophical exchanges that went on between F. H. Bradley and William James at the turn of the century, it is in some respects tempting to endorse Bradley's view that ‘our differences may perhaps on the whole be small when compared with the extent of our agreement’. Indeed, in most of the articles, letters and books in which the debate between these two men was carried on, one finds the protagonists claiming to be mystified as to the grounds of the dispute, and to see no great distinction in their respective outlooks.

The aim of this paper is to set out some of the ontologies amongst which some forms of anti-realism must select. This provides the appropriate setting for presenting an alternative realist ontology. The argument is that the choice between the varieties of anti-realism and realism is inevitably a choice between ontologies.

Ever since Plato took it out of public places and made it academic, Western philosophy has been the work of theorists: people whose leisure and culture leave them free to stand back from history and look on as spectators. Traditionally, Western philosophers have tried to build their theories on suprahistorical foundations. With the American and French revolutions, history and historical consciousness become essential elements of philosophy, but its suprahistorical foundations remain. Hegel's theory completes all prior philosophical theories by showing how they progressively embody history's transcendent reality. Marx makes Hegelian idealism stand up: it becomes the historically contingent theory of revolutionary practice. Yet Marxian philosophy is haunted by a spectre of its own historical inevitability that subsequent Marxists have characteristically invoked to legitimate their contingent practice.

At the end of the opening chapter of his Second Treatise of Government, Locke describes political power in the following terms: ‘Political Power then I take to be a Right of making Laws with Penalties of Death, and consequently all less Penalties, for the Regulating and Preserving of Property, and of employing the force of the Community, in the Execution of such Laws, and in the defence of the Common-wealth from Foreign Injury, and all this only for the Publick Good.’

Suppose your friends had to ascribe a single vice to you in large measure, along with any virtues that could be coherently combined with that salient vice. Suppose further that the vice had to be either cowardice or impatience. Which would you choose?

I believe almost everyone would choose impatience without hesitation. There are sound moral as well as purely self-regarding reasons for despising cowardice, and to that extent our preference would be reasonable. If we say that a man who is a coward is also compassionate, we know that his compassion cannot be relied upon in any circumstances where it must contend with fear, and if he has a sense of justice, that will be useless if oppression has to be resisted. We cannot even expect him to pursue his own good whenever he perceives that to be hazardous, and so even the self-regarding virtues are corrupted by his dominating vice. On the other hand, a pronounced impatience may seem to be compossible with abundant virtue. Those who are just but cannot patiently endure tyranny are perhaps the most formidable threat to tyranny, and people who boldly go out to seize their own good often fare rather better than those who patiently await its arrival.

The attention recently accorded to the writings of Oliver Sacks has once more recalled to a community wider than medical personnel the deeplymoving strangeness of human beings. I refer especially to Sacks' book The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, and to his earlier book Awakenings (which last has inspired a current commercial film of the same title). A comparison that comes immediately to mind is R. D. Laing's work, which was widely read and discussed in the decade from, roughly, 1965 to 1975.

In his article ‘Healthy Scepticism’, James Franklin gives an admirable survey of thirteen kinds of attempts to refute what he calls ‘symmetry arguments for scepticism’, finding all of them inadequate. The symmetry argument that he proposes to test is given as follows:

Firstly, it is possible that what we perceive is entirely an illusion created by a deceitful demon. Second, there is no reason to prefer the realist hypothesis to this one (308).

Professor Flew has recently sought to demolish the philosophical pretensions of Marx and the Marxists by the use of Hume's Fork and Popper's demand for falsifiable consequences. Marx tried to derive matters of ‘fact and existence’ from ‘relations of ideas’, which Hume's Fork states to be impossible. From this and not from empirical study, he derived predictions for the future course of history which neither he nor his followers have ever properly tested by empirical enquiries. Nor have they ever provided any clear, unambiguous and therefore testable formulations of those predictions. In particular, Flew claims, they have never given any concrete content to the central notion of ‘alienation’ such that an Index of Alienation could be drawn up and enquiries could be made as to whether, for example, the workers are more or less alienated under the private or public ownership of factories. Both faults stem from Marx's continuation of German, specifically Hegelian, philosophy.