A feeling is an activity?
— frank
:up:
Or more generally, "A passion is an action?"
A feeling is generally seen as something that happens to us, whereas an activity is generally seen as something we do. To define feelings as activities is a bit like saying, "Internal things that happen to us without our doing anything are things that we do." — Leontiskos
Yes — you’re touching on a central idea in enactivist philosophy of mind, especially as developed by thinkers like Matthew Ratcliffe, Evan Thompson, and Shaun Gallagher. Enactivism challenges the traditional view that emotions and feelings are passive, internal states (like private inner “qualia”) and instead argues that they are ways of engaging with the world. Here’s a breakdown of the view, especially through Ratcliffe’s lens:
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1. Emotions as Active, World-Involving Phenomena
Enactivism holds that cognition (including emotion) is not just something that happens inside the brain but emerges through dynamic interactions between an organism and its environment. Emotions, then, are:
• Not passive receptions of internal states
• Active orientations or engagements with the world
Ratcliffe’s Key Idea:
In works like “Feelings of Being” (2008), Ratcliffe argues that emotions are existential orientations — they shape how the world appears to us. For example:
• Fear doesn’t just happen in you — it discloses the world as threatening.
• Joy opens the world up as rich and inviting.
• Grief makes the world appear irretrievably altered.
These are ways of being in the world, not just internal reactions to stimuli.
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2. Pre-reflective and Bodily
Enactivists argue that emotions are embodied and pre-reflective — you don’t always notice you’re feeling them in the same way you notice you’re thinking a thought.
• They are felt through posture, movement, action-readiness.
• For instance, anxiety might be an attunement where the world feels uncertain or unstable — not just a “tingling in your gut.”
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3. Affect as World-Disclosure
Ratcliffe expands on Heideggerian phenomenology by suggesting that affective experience “discloses” or “opens up” a meaningful world. This view means:
• Emotions are not added on to an already-existing, neutral perception of the world.
• Rather, they are how the world first becomes meaningful at all.
So, when you love someone, the world is full of promise, vulnerability, and care. You’re not reacting to a neutral world with love — you’re experiencing the world through love.
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4. Emotion as Situated and Contextual
Emotions are always situated in lived contexts and cultural practices — they are not the same everywhere, for everyone, in every moment. This supports the idea that emotions are interactive and historical, not static mental contents.
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In Summary:
For enactivists like Ratcliffe, emotions are not inner states that “represent” the world; they are ways of being in the world — bodily, situated, affective orientations that actively shape and are shaped by our interactions with others and the environment.
This approach invites us to rethink psychology and philosophy by moving beyond a mind/world split — and seeing the self, body, and world as deeply intertwined in the experience of emotion.
However, language games are embedded and make use of stuff in the world - apples and blocks and so on. Hence they presume the world is a certain way - that it contains blocks and apples — Banno
I am skeptical, both of the press and what we are calling the decline of the arts. I just look around and see thousands of high quality books, movies, television shows, and popular music produced every year. I can't speak for visual arts. Is there a lot of crap, of course. But you don't have to read, watch, listen to, or look at it. We also have easy access to everything ever produced throughout history. There is more high quality literature, history, philosophy, art, music... than any of us could go through in a life time.
Wringing one's hands and crying "hell in a handbasket" is not evidence — T Clark
Explanation - or justification - requires a contrast between what is explained and the explanation. For an explanation to function it must take what is being explained as granted - an explanation as to why the wasabi plants are thriving grants that the wasabi plants are thriving. The explanation explains and accepts something external to itself.
What our explanations - justifications - have in common is that there is something to justify. What our language games have in common is that they are embedded in the world, and together they make a form of life — Banno
I'm pretty sure you could argue that anything is grounded in philosophical worldviews but that's besides the point. Art and philosophy don't depend on each other, one could stop evolving while the other could keep on evolving. Where did you get the idea that the innovations are dependent on each other? Sure some innovation in art could inspire something in philosophy and vice versa but it's far from always the case. — Skalidris
I disagree, the ways to do art for example have completely exploded in the last century, basically anything is "allowed", and you can share anything you want online anyway. The internet has allowed so many odd things to be created, and there are entire communities of these odd things that could have never existed before.
I think the lack of creativity in philosophy comes from the fact that it now has an authority that only allows a specific type of content, and that academia is considered to be the only "serious" way of practicing philosophy, so independent thinkers wouldn't be taken seriously unless the authority recognizes the value in it. — Skalidris
The irony being that the popular press itself is among the most decadent and stagnated institutions. It makes it hard to take it seriously. — T Clark
I just think when a person asks what it's like to live in a city, they're asking how it feels to live there. You'd want to help them connect it to feelings they already know about. Wouldn't you want to describe scenes, rhythms, tastes, colors, etc? Compare and contrast to other locations? Yes, you probably gathered that information by doing things, but that seems incidental. Consciousness is filled with feelings, right? — frank
I’m not saying there aren’t any new ideas in philosophy, but philosophers generally seem very reluctant to drift away from the concepts they’ve read about. They seem hesitant to create new ideas altogether because such ideas likely wouldn’t meet the academic standards. — Skalidris
↪Hanover, ↪Joshs I picture language games as more or less discreet, seperate enterprises. The examples are things like the builders calling for a block, buying an apple, and so on. A form of life is an aggregation of these.
So, not synonymous.
And calling for a block or buying an apple would look more or less the same, in various different cultures. — Banno
66. Consider for example the proceedings that we call "games". I mean board-games, card-games, ball-games, Olympic games, and so on. What is common to them all?—Don't say: "There must be something common, or they would not be called 'games' "—but look and see whether there is anything common to all.—For if you look at them you will not see something that is common to all, but
similarities, relationships, and a whole series of them at that. To repeat: don't think, but look!—Look for example at board-games, with their multifarious relationships. Now pass to card-games; here you find many correspondences with the first group, but many common features drop out, and others appear. When we pass next to ballgames, much that is common is retained, but much is lost.—Are they all 'amusing'?
Compare chess with noughts and crosses. Or is there always winning and losing, or competition between players? Think of patience. In ball games there is winning and losing; but when a child throws his ball at the wall and catches it again, this feature has disappeared. Look at the parts played by skill and luck; and at the difference between skill in chess and skill in tennis. Think now of games like ring-a-ring-a-roses; here is the element of amusement, but how many other characteristic features have disappeared! And we can go through the many, many other groups of games in the same way; can see how similarities crop up and disappear. And the result of this examination is: we see a complicated network of similarities overlapping and criss-crossing: sometimes overall similarities, sometimes similarities of detail.
67. I can think of no better expression to characterize these similarities than "family resemblances"; for the various resemblances between members of a family: build, features, colour of eyes, gait, temperament, etc. etc. overlap and criss-cross in the same way.— And I shall say: 'games' form a family.
What I would like to do is develop an epistemology based on JTB, but with a Wittgensteinian twist - for example, demonstrating how our methods of justification apply across various language games within our form of life. — Sam26
If there are variable language games, are there also variable human forms of life that play those games, or is there but one? — Hanover
If there are many, then we cannot know who shares our form, and so we cannot know that we are playing a language game at all. My conversation with a parrot isn't public use. — Hanover
Let me lay my cards on the table regarding these questions of "switching positions with someone else." Humans are enormously adaptable, and they all have the same nature. I think we can switch positions with others, whether linguistically, culturally, scientifically, etc. There are a few limitations and immutabilities, but when we are speaking about volitional realities I don't see much in the way of per se impossibility of switching positions — Leontiskos
Sorry. I don't get it. In the context of the question at hand, why does it matter whether human cognitive systems evolved in response to the environment or coevolved in concert with the environment? — T Clark
So... living organisms, including humans, affect the environment and organisms and environments evolve together. Agreed. That's not "missing from Lorenz's account." It's just not particularly relevant to the specific point he, and I, are trying to make which is - human minds, including our intellectual capacities, evolved in the same manner that our physical bodies did. Logic is something we brought to the world. — T Clark
Interesting that you would use the word abstract to describe an approach whose aim is precisely to bracket and see beneath the abstractions that are commonly used to think about everyday objects. In doing so, one does not privilege the part over the whole. On the contrary, one arrives at an enriched understanding of the whole. I certainly agree that empirical reduction relies on abstraction, which is why Husserl warned against what Evan Thompson in his recent book called the blind spot of science, the tendency to forget that its idealizations are convenient simplifications derived from the actually experienced lifeworld (is temperature nothing but the kinetic motion of molecules? Is color simply wavelengths of light?).My point was that the phenomenological perspective is not the default. I think the overwhelming number of readers would agree that Husserl or Marion provide far more abstract descriptions of experience than common narratives about what one sees in the woods. — Count Timothy von Icarus
Doesn't Merleau-Ponty's point only hold in cases where one intentionally seeks to "get behind" judgement—to attempt to enter something like Hegel's analysis of sense certainty? In everyday experience, we walk through forests full of trees and squirrels, rooms with tables and chairs, etc., nor streams of unmediated sense data. When we see an angry dog, we do not have to abstract from sense data and think: "ah, that sense data incoming from over there can conform to a large, angry dog, I better run away — Count Timothy von Icarus
“We must now show that its intellectualist [idealist] antithesis is on the same level as empiricism itself. Both take the objective world as the object of their analysis, when this comes first neither in time nor in virtue of its meaning; and both are incapable of expressing the peculiar way in which perceptual consciousness constitutes its object. Both keep their distance in relation to perception, instead of sticking closely to it.
What we experience is indeed a real image of reality - albeit an extremely simple one, only just sufficing for our own practical purposes; we have developed 'organs' only for those aspects of reality of which, in the interest of survival, it was imperative for our species to take account, so that selection pressure produced this particular cognitive apparatus...what little our sense organs and nervous system have permitted us to learn has proved its value over endless years of experience, and we may trust it. as far as it goes — T Clark
Stage 4: Being itself generates logic The conclusion: Logic isn't a set of rules we invented to think clearly. It's not even something minds discover about reality. Logic is the automatic byproduct of existence itself. The moment anything exists - anything that has potential for differentiation - logical structure emerges naturally. Where there's being, there's logic.
Thoughts? — tom111
“...the identity of the thing with itself, that sort of established position of its own, of rest in itself, that plenitude and that positivity that we have recognized in it already exceed the experience, are already a second interpretation of the experience...we arrive at the thing-object, at the In Itself, at the thing identical with itself, only by imposing upon experience an abstract dilemma which experience ignores”(The Visible and the Invisible)
Rather I’m interested in the idea of a blended state, where a belief is seen as consisting of both cognition and feelings.
— Banno
This is a fact rather than an idea. Reason and emotion are not discrete entities. This is a hurdle it will probably take several more decades for people to get over in all academic fields and likely a century more before in bleeds into common public knowledge. — I like sushi
I think post-modern skepticism re grand narratives, and a more general skepticism of logos's capacity for leading human life, has a larger impact on popular culture that is often acknowledged (through a variety of pathways, particularly its effect on the liberal arts). I'd argue that it is this skepticism that makes truth threating (rather than empowering) for democracy…
Not to mention that Rawls himself is undermined by the advance of skepticism since the 1970s. Even his instrumental, Kantian reasonableness starts looks shaky in the face of today's logos skepticism. — Count Timothy von Icarus
Isn't this rather a long-winded way of saying that there are indeed necessary truths? That necessary truths can't be, and don't need to be, justified in other terms - that's what makes them necessary. As Thomas Nagel remarks on an essay on the sovereignty of reason, 'the epistemic buck must stop somewhere'; there are thoughts we can't 'get outside of', or judge according to some other criterion, without thereby undermining their necessity ('contingent cultural and biological practices').
I think what's interesting about this whole line of thought is why it's interesting. Why is it we presume that foundational ('hinge') propositions can be or need to be justified by further analysis, and what are the implications of their not being so justified? — Wayfarer
Godel, himself, was a very strong Platonist…
The notion of mathematical truth goes beyond the whole concept of formalism. There is something absolute and "God-given' about mathematical truth. This is what mathematical Platonism, as discussed at the end of the last chapter, is about. Any particular formal system has a provisional and 'man-made' quality about it. Such systems indeed have very valuable roles to play in mathematical discussions, but they can supply only a partial (or approximate) guide to truth. Real mathematical truth goes beyond mere manmade constructions. (The Emperor’s New Mind)
Just to highlight this: I agree, and too often, in authoritarian hands, it turns into "Make X Great Again!" with results we can all observe daily. We, meaning Western democracies, in fact have taken a whole new approach, in roughly the last century, and as a result things are vastly better off for women, poor countries we used to exploit, working people, people of color, and people with illnesses and disabilities — J
Right, that's a pretty common response, and in line with Fukuyama's argument. Liberalism is inevitable and human nature. I disagree on that obviously. — Count Timothy von Icarus
"Just offer a realistic alternative to a totalitarian and now globally hegemonic force." A tough ask! Unfortunately, I think humanity will have to weather the collapse of liberalism and it's attendant ecological disasters before any decisive break is possible. Maybe the God of progress will save us, but I doubt it… What likely comes after liberalism has been described variously as a sort of "techno-feudalism," a combination of technocratic rule and "consent-based" corporate (often patronage-centric) governance for those with the skills of connections to still be "economically viable" in the era of artificial intelligence… what happens when elites no longer want to exploit the people's labor but just see them as a problem/burden to be contained? — Count Timothy von Icarus
A polis based around a more robust conception of the common good would do many things differently. For instance, the purpose of education would be the development of virtue and happiness, not workforce preparation and enabling people to meet whatever desires they happen to develop. It would probably provide for civil defense through universal citizen military service instead of a standing professional (and increasingly mercenary) army/police force. — Count Timothy von Icarus
When you survive a volcanic eruption, you become something you haven't been before: You become an experienced volcanic eruption survivor. You'll be able to tell great stories about what it's like to experience the heat of hot lava. You may become a teacher, a film maker, an author, a painter ... — Quk
I think they are risks of survival. It's about great adventures. What might top that? — Quk
“Physiologists should think twice before positioning the drive for self preservation as the cardinal drive of an organic being. Above all, a living thing wants to discharge its strength – life itself is will to power –: self preservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent consequences of this. – In short, here as elsewhere, watch out for superfluous teleological principles! – such as the drive for preservation…(Beyond Good and Evil)
“Darwin absurdly overestimates the influence of 'external circumstances'; the essential thing about the life process is precisely the tremendous force which shapes, creates form from within, which utilizes and exploits 'external circumstances' ... -that the new forms created from within are not shaped with a purpose in view, but that in the struggle of the parts, it won't be long before a new form begins to relate to a partial usefulness, and then develops more and more completely according to how it is used.” “Everything that lives is exactly what shows most clearly that it does everything possible not to preserve itself but to become more ...” (Last Notebooks)
To wish to preserve oneself is a sign of distress, of a limitation of the truly basic life-instinct, which aims at the expansion of power and in so doing often enough risks and sacrifices self-preservation.
The thing is though, if you pair back all the Manosphere-speak in the book, the decrying of "manginas" and terse formulations of the imperatives of evolutionary psychology in catch-phrases like "beta need and alpha seed" (it is truly atrocious), what you'll find is a view of humanity that isn't that far off mainstream liberal welfare economics, or the more "enlightened liberalism" of guys like Stephen Pinker or Sam Harris. It's basically those anthropologies boiled down to their essence and stripped of all social niceties or appeal to sentiment, and then presented in particularly low-brow form. — Count Timothy von Icarus
The most obviously illiberal thing I know Vought has said is that the US should prioritize Christian migrants. But why is this illiberal? It's not obvious why selecting immigrants who share a faith with the dominant faith of the polity that is accepting migrants is "illiberal" or how exactly it is supposed to constrain the freedom of citizens to have more (or less) co-religionist migrants living amongst them. — Count Timothy von Icarus
It's worth considering why, in general, it is not considered damaging to "liberty" to select migrants based on their "economic qualifications " and ability to "grow the economy," but it is considered damaging to "liberty" to select them on the basis of their ability to assimilate to the dominant culture — Count Timothy von Icarus
Religion here exists as a carve out, a sui generis space of "private" "spiritual" "faith-based" (as opposed to "evidence-based") belief. Such a view obviously excludes a conception of spiritual goods as precisely those goods that do not diminish when shared. It makes them inherently private and atomized.
It strikes me as one of the paradigmatic features of liberalism. The solution to the problems generated by liberalism is always "more liberalism!" (just more conservative or more progressive). — Count Timothy von Icarus
The Claremont Institute is not against liberalism though. I think only left-leaning liberals would tend to see it thus. And that's only because they associate "real liberalism" with their particular brand of progressive liberalism. For instance, Claremont describes itself as a "champion of small government and free markets," the boilerplate pronouncement of right liberalism. Neocons aren't against liberalism; they have so much faith in liberalism that they have tended to embrace rather extreme economic coercion to spread it, or outright use of violence to "force others to be free."
They might be more skeptical about democracy, but then I think anti-democratic sentiment within liberalism is even stronger on the political left these days — Count Timothy von Icarus
"It is the final group, the “Thinkers,” that presents arguably Stewart’s most insightful sections. These are the figures like Eastman and his allies who posit themselves as the ideological, intellectual class crafting the contours of Trumpism—and identifying the kinds of legal cover Trump can use to dismantle American democracy. Much of this cohort can trace directly back to the Claremont Institute, the California-based organization where Eastman remains a senior fellow. As Stewart points out, it is the Claremont Institute where the “erstwhile reverence for America’s founders has been transfigured, with the help of political theorists purloined from Germany’s fascist period, into material support” for Trumpism.
The institute’s modus vivendi centers on the “Straussian man in action”—the man who bends history to his own ends, regardless of the consequence and regardless of democratic legitimacy. Stewart writes:
His mission is to save the republic. He must tell a few lies, yet he is nonetheless a noble liar, at least in his own mind. He acts in the political world, where natural right reigns, and not merely in the legal world where lawyers are supposed to toil. Aware of the crooked timber from which humanity is made, he is prepared to break off whatever branches are needed for the bonfire of liberty.
This core Claremont belief leads to the yearning for a so-called “Red Caesar”—a masculine leader untrammeled by anything like democratic oversight or political pushback, grabbing a society by the throat and forcing it back into a world in which men, and especially white men, are once more restored to the top of America’s sociopolitical hierarchy. Indeed, there is an almost obsessive approach at Claremont to restoring supposed masculinity within American society. Stewart traces this belief system at Claremont—where, she says, all of the board members “appear to be male”—to Harvey C. Mansfield Jr., who wrote a 2006 book called Manliness and “counts as nobility among Claremont’s extended family.” As Mansfield argued, “gender stereotypes are all true”—including, bizarrely, that women would make bad soldiers because “they fear spiders.”
As Stewart details, Mansfield was “far too sophisticated to openly argue for stripping American women of the rights they have fought for over the past two centuries—but in the private sphere, “those highly accurate stereotypes should reign triumphant.” This belief has seeped into Claremont’s bones and manifested itself at Claremont many times over. There is a Claremont Fellow named Jack Murphy who once said that “feminists need rape.” There was another Claremont official who gave a talk titled, “Does Feminism Undermine the Nation?” There is the promotion of work by an author named Coston Alamariu—better known by his nom de plume “Bronze Age Pervert”—who oozes undiluted misogyny and rails against “the gynocracy.” As Alamariu wrote, “It took 100 years of women in public life for them to almost totally destroy a civilization”—and the only way forward is to “use Trump as a model of success.”
These Claremont-based “Thinkers” also include figures like Curtis Yarvin, who has contributed to the Claremont publication American Mind and “appeared as an honored guest on Claremont podcasts.” Yarvin’s affections for despotism have been widely reported elsewhere, but it is his historical ignorance that highlights just how shallow the Claremont men’s pretensions at intellectualism truly are. Not only does Yarvin preposterously believe that “European civilization” wasn’t responsible for any genocides before the Holocaust—as if genocides in places like the Africa, North America, or even Ireland and Ukraine never existed—but he further maintains that America now needs to collapse into dictatorship in order to rebuild.
The “men of Claremont frame their not-so-hidden longing for revenge as a series of ruminations about the rise of an American Caesar,” Stewart writes. “And when that ‘Red Caesar’ arrives, he can thank the oligarchs for funding his rise, and he can thank the rank and file of the movement for supporting him in the name of ‘authenticity.’ But he would owe at least as large a debt of gratitude to the unhappy men of Claremont, those spurned would-be members of the intellectual elite … for explaining just who he is, and why he should go ahead and blow the whole place up.”
Taken together, Money, Lies, and God paints not only a devastating picture of the state of American democracy (as if one was needed) but one that also contributes texture and context to understanding the current American political moment. The book convincingly argues that, when it comes to figures like Eastman or Leo or any of the men affiliated with the Claremont Institute, calls for dialogue and civility are futile. “In earlier times this may have been sage advice,” Stewart writes. “Today it is a delusion. American democracy is failing because it is under direct attack, and the attack is not coming equally from both sides. The movement described in this book isn’t looking for a seat at the noisy table of American democracy; it wants to burn down the house.” American democracy isn’t simply dying. It is, as Stewart observes, being murdered."
The axiom remains, but it doesn't ensure the road is without the 'odd bump' - the objective of life remains the same - more order, greater coherence, more expression. Every possible avenue is explored in this drive - even if ultimately unfruitful.
I'm happy to elaborate more on all or any part of this. It's actually a pleasure. — James Dean Conroy
A system that ceases to prefer life will self-destruct or fail to reproduce. Therefore, belief in life’s worth isn’t merely cultural or emotional, it’s biologically and structurally enforced. This is not idealism; it’s existential natural selection.
Implication: To endure, life must be biased toward itself. “Life is Good” is not a descriptive claim about all events; it’s an ontological posture life must adopt to remain. — James Dean Conroy
↪Tom Storm Nietzsche was anti-foundational in the metaphysical sense. But what he longed for was a grounding that wasn’t illusion - something beneath the old truths, not above them.
That’s what I’m aiming at. "Life = Good" isn’t dogma - it’s an ontological necessity. All value, all perspective, all interpretation only exist because life persists to hold them. Even perspectivism needs a perspective - and that perspective is alive — James Dean Conroy
As Foucault pointed out - absolute moral prescriptions are inherently flawed - the context around people, places and differences - as well as shifting moral landscapes make this a fool's errand - this leads to things like nihilism and endless discussions about "good" and " — James Dean Conroy
The first thing to note is the title of the book itself—The Politics Of The Real—indicates that Schindler thinks Liberalism’s chief defect is it encourages an order of putative “peace” at the expense of the truth of things as they really are. The Liberal order seeks to keep the peace via a very minimal account of what constitutes “the good” precisely in order to avoid the often socially divisive arguments that inevitably accrue to any strong account of the good. Better to bracket concepts like “the good” in order to avoid such conflicts while opening a civil space for free individuals to “privately” hold whatever account of the good they deem appropriate. So long, that is, as they do not seek to impose their idiosyncratic notions on others.
Carl Schmitt (who died in 1985) developed his most influential ideas during the turbulence and ineffectual governance of Germany’s Weimar Republic. In his view, liberalism has a fatal weakness. Its aversion to violent conflict drives it to smother intense debate with ostensibly neutral procedures that conceal the truth about the nature of politics. That truth is revealed in emergency situations: Politics often requires making existential decisions about the good of the nation — and especially about who should be considered its friend and who its enemy. Liberalism’s supposed incapacity to make such primordial distinctions led Schmitt to the view that there exists “absolutely no liberal politics, only a liberal critique of politics.”
For Schmitt, someone must serve in the role of sovereign decider. Legislatures aren’t fit for it, because they easily devolve into squabbling factions. Neither are administrative bureaucracies, because they often defer to established rules and debate without resolution. Both contributed to making the later years of Weimar what Schmitt described, in a lecture from 1929, as an “age of neutralizations and depoliticizations.”
Few on the American right today explicitly credit Schmitt for shaping their views of presidential power. That isn’t true of Leo Strauss (who died in 1973), the German-Jewish émigré from Weimar who has influenced several generations of conservative academics and intellectuals in the United States. In his most influential book, “Natural Right and History,” Strauss subtly tames Schmitt’s views of politics, without mentioning him by name, and presents them as the pinnacle of political wisdom.
Strauss sets out a timeless moral standard of what is “intrinsically good or right” in normal situations as the just allocation of benefits and burdens in a society. But there are also “extreme situations” — those in which “the very existence or independence of a society is at stake.” In such situations, the normally valid rules of “natural right” are revealed to be changeable, permitting officeholders to do whatever is required to defend citizens against “possibly an absolutely unscrupulous and savage enemy.”
The Claremont Institute extended this intellectual line in America. Founded in 1979 in California by four students of Harry Jaffa, who studied with Strauss in the 1940s, the institute has cultivated a distinctive account of American history. It begins with veneration for the country’s founding, which institutionalized timeless moral verities. It continues with reverence for Abraham Lincoln’s displays of statesmanship, both before and during the Civil War, which deepened and perfected the American polity by fulfilling the promise of its founding.
For the next half-century, the United States became the living embodiment of the “best regime” described in the texts of ancient political philosophers.Then came the fall: First Woodrow Wilson and the Progressive movement, and then the New Deal during the Great Depression, introduced the notion of a “living Constitution” that evolves to permit the creation of an administrative state staffed by experts. This form of administrative bureaucratic rule, often aided and abetted by the judicial branch, stifles statesmanship. That’s why Claremont-affiliated scholars have been at the forefront of attempts simultaneously to roll back the administrative state and to consolidate executive power in the office of the president.
Finally, Adrian Vermeule, of Harvard Law School, combines explicit Schmittian influence with a desire to revive and apply elements of medieval political theology to the contemporary understanding of the presidency.
Are you familiar with the works of John Hodge, John McMurty and Robert Brem? If not, look them up — James Dean Conroy
↪Banno
My impression is that the majority of the people who really support the lobby are thinking with their gut, as everything about trans existence violates taboos, much like homosexuality used to.
The specific taboo with trans women is... they're men... and men are latent predators... so we've got men camouflaged as women... lying on forms to get access to women... who they'll certainly rape with their superior muscles. Which, broadly, is something bad feminists and conservatives can agree on, man bad dangerous woman weak protect. — fdrake
239. I believe that every human being has two human parents; but Catholics believe that Jesus only had a human mother. And other people might believe that there are human beings with no parents, and give no credence to all the contrary evidence. Catholics believe as well that in certain circumstances a wafer completely changes its nature, and at the same time that all evidence proves
the contrary. And so if Moore said "I know that this is wine and not blood", Catholics would contradict him. (On Certainty)
In a religious discourse we use such expressions as: “I believe that so and so will happen,” and use them differently to the way in which we use them in science. Although, there is a great temptation to think we do. Because we do talk of evidence, and do talk of evidence by experience.
Father O’Hara is one of those people who make it a question of science. Here we have people who treat this evidence in a different way. They base things on evidence which taken in one way would seem exceedingly flimsy. They base enormous things on this evidence. Am I to say they are unreasonable? I wouldn’t call them unreasonable. I would say, they are certainly not reasonable, that’s obvious. “Unreasonable’ implies, with everyone, rebuke. I want to say: they don’t treat this as a matter of reasonability. Anyone who reads the Epistles will find it said: not only that it is not reasonable, but that it is folly. Not only is it not reasonable, but it doesn’t pretend to be. What seems to me ludicrous about O’Hara is his making it appear to be reasonable.
We come to an island and we find beliefs there, and certain beliefs we are inclined to call religious. They have sentences, and there are also religious statements. These statements would not just differ in respect to what they
are about. Entirely different connections would make them into religious beliefs, and there can easily be imagined transitions where we wouldn’t know for our life whether to call them religious beliefs or scientific beliefs. You may say they reason wrongly. In certain cases you would say they reason wrongly, meaning they contradict us. In other cases you would say they don’t reason at all, or “It’s an entirely different kind of reasoning.” The first, you would say in the case in which they reason in a similar way to us, and make something corresponding to our blunders, Whether a thing is a blunder or not—it is a blunder in a particular system. Just as something is a blunder in a particular game and not in another. You could also say that where we are reasonable, they are not reasonable—meaning they don’t use ‘reason’ here.
I would definitely call O’Hara unreasonable. I would say, if
this is religious belief, then it’s all superstition. But I would ridicule it, not by saying it is based on insufficient evidence. I would say: here is a man who is cheating himself. You can say: this man is ridiculous because he believes, and bases it on weak reasons. (Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology and Religious Belief)
