Traditionally the claim that history has a distinctive explanandum that is irreducible to that of natural science was rejected by advocates of methodological unity in the sciences (paradigmatically Hempel in his 1942 paper “The Function of General Laws in History”) who claimed that all explanation appeals to laws and is at bottom nomological in nature. However, more recently the distinction between the historical and the natural past has come under attack from a rather different angle. The advent of the Anthropocene, a geological period in which human kind has become a significant geological force capable of initiating irreversible environmental changes, has prompted claims that narratives of historical development should go well beyond the relatively recent human past and view human kind in the context of a deeper, longer-term geological history. It is also claimed that the advent of the Anthropocene spells the end of the distinction between the historical and the natural past that was invoked to defend the disciplinary autonomy of history. Advocates of deeper historical narratives on a geological time scale claim that the distinction between the historical and the natural past is based on questionable anthropocentric assumptions, on a form of human exceptionalism which takes the human being out of the realm of nature.
In fact, as early as Rosa Luxemburg, revealing the non-humanistic nature of imperialism and pointing out the prospect of human history in Marx's civilized and barbaric dialectics model begun. In late July 1914, the First World War broke out. On August 4, 1914, representatives of the Social Democratic Party voted in favor of war funding under the myth of defensive warfare created by the German imperialists. After this appalling incident occurred, Rosa Luxemburg wrote the famous Julius booklet, The Crisis of the Social Democratic Party, and revealed the myth of defensive war of Germany and the nature of the imperialist war. She said: ‘Friedrich Engels one time said that bourgeois society is faced with a dilemma: it is either a transition to socialism or a retrogression to a barbaric state…. This world war is a retrogression to a barbaric state. The victory of imperialism will lead to the destruction of civilization.... Therefore, just as Friedrich Engels foresaw 40 years ago that the choices with which we face today are: or the victory of imperialism and destruction of all civilizations. As in ancient Rome, sparsely populated, deserted land, degraded race, a large cemetery; or the victory of socialism, that is, the realization of the struggle of the international proletariat against imperialism and its methods, namely, the realization of war. This is the dilemma of world history. It is either one or the other. The balance is swinging up and down. It is determined by the class-conscious proletariat. The future of civilization and mankind depends on whether the proletariat has strong resolution to put the sword of revolutionary struggle on the scales. In this war the imperialists won. It slaughtered people with bloody swords. The brutality prevailed, and the balance favored the abyss of suffering and shame. Only when we learned how to bring the proletariat up from the role of a servant in the hands of the ruling class to the owner of its own destiny in war and through wars, could we counteract all sufferings and shame. " 11  This is the issue of socialism or barbarism proposed by Rosa Luxemburg. This idea of Rosa Luxemburg creates the German Marxist critical philosophy tradition.
From these figures alone one might conclude that the call for work that would integrate the history and philosophy of science in a meaningful way has gone, if not unheard, at least only faintly heard, since Feigl called for a change in attitude almost forty years ago. But there is one further place to look. 1996 saw the first meeting of a new international grouping, HOPOS, whose concern is with the history of the philosophy of science. Its growth since that first meeting at Virginia Tech has been truly meteoric. Meeting every two years, alternately in North America and Europe, it appears to have built up an academic constituency faster than its founders could ever have thought possible. At its last meeting, held in Paris in 2006, there were 68 sessions spread over five days, five sessions in parallel in most of the time periods. In all, a stunning 257 papers were presented. Though the US was well represented, as one would expect, what was most significant about this meeting was that the majority of the papers were presented by European scholars. It is clear that the historical dimension of the philosophy-of-science enterprise evokes an impressive degree of scholarly interest on both sides of the Atlantic. Its future in the academy seems secure. Learning philosophy through study of the history of philosophy has always been a favored route. It is all the more appropriate a way to proceed when one takes into account the historical nature of the sciences themselves and thus of the philosophical reflections that they have inspired over the ages. In at least one of the HPS doctoral programs in the US, a two-semester sequence in the history of the philosophy of science is a required part of the graduate program. HOPOS is well on its way.
philosophical refinement reaching its culmination in the philosophy of Aristotle. ‘The history of philosophy’, Kenny writes, ‘does not begin with Aristotle, but the historiography of philosophy does’ (8). It is Aristotle who points out the weaknesses of his teacher’s Plato’s philosophy, as well as those inherent to the scattered fragments and received wisdoms of the pre–Socratics, as a means of creating a system which would ultimately cast its shadow upon all subsequent philosophy. Augustine, for his part, has one foot in the Ancient period covered within the first part of the book, and the other in the Medieval period covered within the second part of the book, since his system includes elements of pagan and Christian philosophy. ‘Of all the philosophers in the ancient world’, Kenny asserts, ‘only Aristotle had a greater influence on human thought’ (94) than Augustine. The remaining three parts of the book offers testament to this claim. The Middle Ages, Kenny shows in the second part of the book, is a period of philosophical productivity which owes just as much to the intellectuals of its time, many of whom had names beginning with the letter A (Augustine, Avicenna, Anselm, Abelard, Averroes, Aquinas), as it does to a variety of practical contingencies. Among these were the contingencies of the translation of Ancient Greek texts into Latin, Hebrew and Arabic, along with the associated work of commentary; the contingencies of intellectual professionalism and institutionalisation, and, above all; the contingencies of clerical authority. Of the four philosophical periods covered in Kenny’s history, this is the one which frequently gets passed over within many university courses on the history of philosophy. It is also a period through which Kenny’s personal interests in narrating the history of philosophy, pedagogical reasons apart, are brought into sharper relief. The reader will have already begun to suspect the presence of these extra–pedagogical concerns within the first part of the book when the narration of Plato and Aristotle is populated by the sort of notation familiar to all analytical philosophers and most mathematicians. By the time the book makes it to the Middle Ages, there can no longer be any doubt that there are biographical factors guiding Kenny’s quill:
'Socratic' or elenctic dialogues of Plato, and the corresponding impossibility of the provision of intentional definitions (what would be in various cases the solutions to the questions, 'What is Justice?,' 'Beauty?,' 'Knowledge?,' etc.) Ideas are just as inert towards genera, since no predicative schema is adequate to them. Ideas connect to language through signification. Or, perhaps more accurately, Ideas constitute the very dimension of signification 17 in language; signification, in and of itself, is not constrained by any correspondence with a state-of-affairs that—unlike denotation—would be capable of determining its relative truth-value, and of acting as the criterion, the sine qua non, of that truth-value. The Truth of the Idea is absolute, eternal, and immutable. Its model is not correspondence, but Identity. The truth of an Idea must be identical with its object. Furthermore, Idealism always has, for this reason, an unshakable mystical kernel which guarantees for it, in advance, the inclination of the thinker to truth 18 . In drawing broad strokes then, Idealism has as its linguistic avatar, signification, and Materialism denotation; each with its own forms of rationalization, each time newly ramifying the dimension of manifestation along with the subject which speaks in its name. Signification does indeed retain reference as one of its functions, but it does so only ever by way of the concept, and not in mediating a relation (between thought and being, or between a
As a matter of fact, the Islamic moral system induces every Muslim to work hard. At the same time, it discourages him not to squander his income in any form, particularly on purchase of fashion or luxury goods. In a secular society, the fashion goods are considered to be status symbols. The people buying these good adopt abnormal behavior. It has been found that the demand curve of these goods is positively sloped. The Islamic economy does not encounter such type of abnormality because the demand for fashion and luxury goods is reduced to the mini-mum on account of moral and legal restrictions. The stress on simple living also raises the question of why a person should work more when he needs to spend? But this does not pose a problem. By living a simple life, a Muslim releases some of his income for the spending of others to please Allah. Moreover, he saves to make bequeath. The Prophet (pbuh) said: ―It is better that you leave behind you your relatives well off rather than obliged to beg alms of others.‖
The essays collected in this special issue of Critical Inquiry are devoted to reflection on the shifts in photographically based art practice, exhibi- tion, and reception in recent years and to the changes brought about by these shifts in our understanding of photographic art. Although initiated in the 1960s, photography as a mainstream artistic practice has accelerated over the last two decades. No longer confined to specialist galleries, books, journals, and other distribution networks, contemporary art photogra- phers are now regularly the subject of major retrospectives in mainstream fine-art museums on the same terms as any other artist. One could cite, for example, Thomas Struth at the Metropolitan Museum in New York (2003), Thomas Demand at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMa) (2005), or Jeff Wall at Tate Modern and MoMA (2006–7). Indeed, Wall’s most recent museum show, at the time of writing, The Crooked Path at Bozar, Brussels (2011), situated his photography in relation to the work of a range of contemporary photographers, painters, sculptors, performance artists, and filmmakers with whose work Wall considers his own to be in dialogue,
Nonetheless, these concepts above are presented as rede- scriptive alternatives in the history of philosophy. None of them offers any epistemic Archimedean point from which we can say that one description is more appropriate or adequate than an- other. In other words, our conceptual descriptions are contin- gent upon one another. This posit does not deny that some self- descriptions are more influential than others, it claims, however, that the influence of one self-description over another is due to the power relations available at the time it makes its appearance and not because of its epistemic superiority over others. An example will suffice; the Hegelian self-description of Africa as a “dark continent” has been rebutted but this does not imply that it has stopped being influential as a concept in the history of philosophy. The criterion of truth does not imply here; since in the case of the history of philosophy, truth can be sought from any sources of knowledge and relevance can be sought from what is interesting and significant;
: the dogness of a dog, still survives. Same as to man, a man can cease to exist, but the real essence of a man, the manness of a man still survives. Human being is significant beings of physical sort. Be that as it may, humans also contain metaphysical substance. As we comprehend the idea of a spirit, a spirit is a nonphysical entity. More particularly, a spirit is an unlocated substance which is fit for consciousness. Souls pos- sibly exist; for as Descartes contended, a reasoning thing could judiciously question the presence of a physical world, while staying sure of its own presence. A substance is durable implies that it continues after some time. It perseveres. It might appear, or stop to exist (as in Aristotle), or it might be uncreated or indestructible (as in Plato, Des- cartes, Spinoza, or Leibniz), yet in any case, it has an augmented presence in time. A substance as “divisible” implies that its presence is not subject to different things. It ex- ists freely, and it can be isolated from different things that exist. A substance as “indis- tinguishable” implies that it has a character, in which it is an indistinguishable thing from itself, or in which it has a way of life as the individual from a specific kind—the same as it persists after some time or as it is isolated from different things.
In this paper I explain what Newton means with the phrase “absolute, true, and mathematical time” (Principia, Scholium to the definitions) in order to discuss some of the philosophic issues that it gives rise to. I do so by contextualizing Newton’s thought in light of a number of scientific, technological, and metaphysical issues that arose in seventeenth century natural philosophy. In the first section, I discuss some of the relevant context from the history of Galilean mathematical, natural philosophy, especially in the work of Huygens. I briefly discuss how time-measurement was mathematized by way of the pendulum and explain the significance of the equation of time. In the second section, I offer a close reading of what Newton says about time in the Scholium to the Definitions. In particular, I argue that Newton allows us to conceptually distinguish between “true” and “absolute” time. I argue that from the vantage point of Newton’s dynamics, Newton needs absolute, mathematical time in order to identify and assign accelerations to moving bodies in a consistent fashion within the solar system, but that what he calls “true” time is an unnecessary addition. In the third section, in the context of a brief account of Descartes’ views time, I discuss the material that Newton added to the second (1713) edition of the Principia in the General Scholium and I draw on some -- but by no means all the available -- manuscript evidence to illuminate it. These show that Newton’s claims about the identity of “absolute” and “true” time have theological origins.
In other words, the act of narration must be performed to make sense of chronicles—to apply them to real life’s contin- uum—and that very act is history. This idea is strikingly similar to Hayden White’s; in fact, it is its direct antecedent. The only difference here between Croce and White is that the former considered chronicles themselves as being narratives, while White, under the influence of the postmodernist “linguistic turn”, deemed the world—including chronicles—as a form of story- telling itself. Croce’s modernity here should be stressed: think- ers of the later 20 th century such as Danto, Hayden-White, and Ricoeur, who have been hailed as great originals, did not duly acknowledge this contribution by Croce. After having distin- guished with some insistence between chronicle and history, Croce makes the essential step of divesting historical knowl- edge from method when stating that the superiority of docu- ments over narrative is a methodological prejudice that is en- tirely fictitious. “It was the clean cut which he made in 1893 between the idea of history and the idea of science that enabled him to develop the conception of history so much farther than any philosopher of his generation” 8 . It is of great historical interest to note that Croce himself did not recognize the sig- nificance and originality of his move, for he did not emphasize it: he spoke in an exalted state about connecting history to art but not about severing it from science. This, I believe, reveals a significant aspect of nineteenth-century culture: that Croce was not nearly as proud of severing history from science, as for having attached history to art, is symptomatic of a dominating current of the period, which believed that all eventually coa- lesces into art. It is also telling about our own time that Croce’s abutment of art and history is disturbing today, for positivism, ironically, in the age of non-Newtonian physics, seems to have
promise: his words give strength and inspiration to all; he addresses the people, – whoever hears him, presses forward to demand baptism (reception into the community). The end’. 71 The key element is that Jesus dies and then the Holy Spirit comes upon Peter and the Christian community. Such a telescoping of Good Friday and Pentecost is found in John’s gospel (see John 7.39; 19.30) 72 and it may well be that Hegel can throw some light on this. In Philosophy of History, a work Wagner was reading at around the same time as composing the Jesus of Nazareth sketches, Hegel writes: ‘It has been already remarked that only after the death of Christ could the Spirit come upon his friends; that only then were they able to conceive the true idea of God (die wahrhafte Idee Gottes), viz., that in Christ man is redeemed and reconciled’. 73 Hegel would know of Luther’s view that in order to atone for sins God must die 74 and this was in fact central to Hegel’s understanding of the ‘Death of God’. He refers to the second stanza of the passion hymn of Johann Rist ‘O Traurigkeit, O Herzeleid’ (1641):
Much has been written on the Cambridge School of Intellectual History, not least by its leading exponents, who seem to have entered a phase of self-memorialization. With the awe-inspiring eloquence that brought him many admirers, Quentin Skinner has given countless interviews in the last fifteen years, recalling his own intellectual socialization and constructing a compelling narrative of the School's evolution. Apparently it all started in the 1960s. Peter Laslett, a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, published his pathbreaking edition of John Locke's Two Treatises of Government in 1960, an edition which placed the classic firmly in the historical context preceding the Glorious Revolu- tion of 1688, thereby altering the treatises' interpretation for generations to come (they had traditionally been viewed as a celebration of the Revolution). 25 John Pocock pub- lished his first methodological inquiries into the history of political thought in 1962 as part of an important series founded and co-edited by Laslett. 26 John Dunn, a fellow of King's College, Cambridge, followed suit with reflections on the "identity" of the his- tory of ideas, which appeared in 1968 and made the case for a fundamental revision of the history of philosophy in general and the history of political thought in particu- lar. Mocking the "bloodlessness" and unhistorical nature of a field preoccupied with Platonic ideas and reified reconstructions of "great books", Dunn argued in favour of a history of thought that rendered thinking a "social activity" and that investigated the question as to what thinkers were "doing" in saying things, that is, when they engaged in "speech acts" (John Austin) in a particular context at a particular time. 27
So if the point of cognitive philosophy is systematic, rather than therapeutic or merely analytic, what is the role of the history of philosophy? Do we not just have scientism back again, with a grandiose cosmological twist? No we do not, because unlike the optimists of early analytic philosophy from Frege and Russell to Carnap and Neurath, or early phenomenology from Brentano to Husserl, we do not pretend to have a magic key or formula, whether it be the logic of Principia, the Verification Principle, or the phenomenology of intentionality, which will unlock the mysteries of the universe, or more modestly, solve the ancient and recalcitrant problems of philosophy. Analytical systematics has to be modest and fallibilist through and through, while pushing away at those problems. Philosophical problems, known and unknown, remain hard for several reasons. One is our general intellectual limitation. Another is that unlike the case of science, where teamwork and massive funding helps a “can-do” mentality, philosophy is largely carried on by individuals in the time they can spare after university teaching and administration. The “arts and letters” status of philosophy, accompanied by the prejudice that the best philosophers are isolated geniuses and that cooperation and teamwork are somehow cheating, is a more considerable barrier to progress than even most professionals realise. Finally, there is the point that philosophical problems remain unsolved or unresolved in part because they are hard – not technically or combinatorially hard, like problems in mathematics, nor hard because they require outré and expensive experiments, but conceptually hard, because they typically revolve around just those deeply and complexly embedded concepts which make up the crooked backbone of our thinking. Such concepts cannot be isolated and treated separately like a virus in a test-tube. If you pull at one, lots of them move together.
Before we do so, we must take a slight detour through Rawls’s The Law of Peoples (1999) and Political Liberalism (1993). In our estimation these works carry philosophies of history within them but couched within the general fields of moral and political philosophy on theories of domestic and international justice. In contrast, A Theory of Justice (1971) is restricted to the domestic case in which it tries to abstract from the social contract tradition an ideal ‘moral basis for a democratic society’ outside the scope of historical time. Political Liberalism, however, deems that kind of society ‘impossible’ given the supervening fact of ‘reasonable pluralism’—or the possibility of consensus among competing moral, philosophical and religious ‘comprehensive’ doctrines: within the latter, each tries to found their own ‘liberal yet non-comprehensive’ principles of justice regardless of whether they live in liberal- democratic or non-liberal/ non-democratic political systems. 3 Reading Rawls while trying to appropriate great figures in the history of Western philosophy (Aristotle, Locke, Hobbes, Rousseau and Hegel come to mind) can provide the framework by which we dissect assumptions in Frontiers of Development Economics. It is our hypothesis that Rawls, while drawing from the history of philosophy, is absolutely critical if we were to examine how the philosophy of history and its questions of time, motion, transformation and change relate fundamentally to outstanding issues that arise from the philosophy of development economics.
In the second experiment, I should refer that in the Cartesian Universe, the observer´s mind plays no role in the outer reality. However, the Indian physicist Amit Goswami (Goswami, 1988) claims that in the delayed choice experiment, until the observer makes the choice, there is no photon manifested in the space-time, but only “quantum waves of possibility”. In mathematical terms, Feynman formulated the paths integrals (Feynman and Hibbs, 1965), that is, possible paths through which the photon travels, until pass the detector that indicates the path taken. The Euclidean quantum mechanics aims to apply the closest possible a probabilistic theory to regular quantum theory, so that we have an imaginary time in Scrödinger´s equation (Zambrini et al., 2011). In fact, we have no observable time in quantum mechanics, but only a parameter (not an operator) as referred to by Pauli (1999). The difficulty to find the true role of time in Schrödinger´s equation might be a reflection of the lack of a theory of consciousness that might explain the entanglement between the observer´s mind and the physical world, when the observer makes a conscious choice (just at this moment arises an “arrow of time”). There is an huge unpublished correspondence between Pauli and Jung related with the relationship between mind and matter, the creative insight and biological evolution (Jung and Pauli, 1955). In this regard, the Indian sage Vivekananda (Vivekananda, 1988) defends that the cycle of birth and death is endless until Karma is ended. During lifetime, the change in creative focus (marriage, career) might be an opportunity to change the “fate” argued by a philosophical view, determinist, mechanist and materialist.
There is still the question of what ‘philosophy’ means. If the meaning varies over time, as it plainly does, the continuity claim will once again be in danger of being undermined. To their credit, Systma and Livengood actually do devote a great deal of attention to what is reasonably understood by ‘philosophical question’ in their definition of experimental philosophy. They tie the philosophical to (a) the capacity to produce wonderment relative to a historical context; (b) the search for norms for human practices; (c) the necessary use of the apriori in reaching a philosophical answer; (d) making use of certain kinds of modal claims, and (e) applying a method for achieving conceptual clarity. On any of these understandings of the distinctively philosophical, they say, ‘there is an experimental turn’ (Sytsma and Livengood 2016, 44). But the most they seem to me to show is that questions prompting an
Oromo call land as Hadha Margoo meaning ‘mother earth’ which has mythical meanings and implications. This notion has deep ecological meanings inculcated in Oromo culture. For instance, hadha is Oromo word for mother and margoo which means fertile). Margoo is derived from magariisa (green) to express magaruu/magariisa ta’uu (to become green or to grow). Hence, hadha margoo is considered as life-giver while margoo (green) represents life, renewal, nature, healing, stability, energy, fertility, friendship, happiness, the continuation of life, and hope. The informants have clear understandings of this. They argued that land is perceived as a mother not from a gender point of view but the serving viewpoint. In Oromo culture, mother or woman is seen as a web of continuation of life (Inf1 and Inf3). That means that there is no way for a new baby to come into this world if there is no woman. In other words, according to Oromo traditional understanding, if there is no woman, there is no futurity. Psychological Dimension: Place/land Attachment: Place attachment has vital role in well-being of a given society, indigenous people. Cultural values, cultural heritage, societal capital, ecological philosophy, political and economic philosophy and management, and spiritual experience of indigenous people have a strong relationship with a place (Greer, 2010). Place attachment deals with a cognitive bond that an individual or group develops towards places. Place acquires important personal meaning. Land or place attachment has religious and cultural significance; it is a mixture of both (Inf5 and Inf1). What does this mean? As individuals have meaningful attachment for personal reasons and experiences such as the memorable events that took place at particular place and time, the Oromo as a nation have meaningful attachment to their land. Place, in this context, land (Oromia) is a vehicle of for collective reasons and experiences such as collective suffering from colonial rule, memorable battle to protect the territory of the fatherland, national victory, national and independent day, thanksgiving day. These memories do not only attach the people to legacy of their national hero, flag, name of the country, territory, national anthem, names of river, mountains and animals, symbolic tree, culture, tradition, building, martyr, name of street, institution and organizations, song, events, artist, poet, orator, and names of battle where the nation encountered its enemy, but these memories also give the people psychological attachment to the land, country.
Big cases are particularly prone to the underdetermination problem of HPS (see the introduction to this volume by Sauer and Scholl): the same historical episode is usually told again and again in different philosophical terms, which raises concerns that philosophical concepts hinder rather than help our understanding of science. Most influential scientists have had multiple careers in the literature: as good in- ductivists, as resourceful hypothetico-deductivists, as epistemically cautious Poppe- rian falsificationists, perhaps as methodological anarchists, and finally as contingent products of mostly social forces. Not all of these accounts can be true, but deciding among them is hindered by the fact that the key questions often concern cognitive processes of past scientists – to which we have little access. The best defense against the mindless retelling of big cases according to prevailing philosophical fashion is not, however, to retreat to some form of historical positivism, but to take the cyclical model of HPS seriously: We must consider a wide range of cases from the history of science, use them to improve our conceptual tools, and deploy these tools to un- derstand episodes at different levels of importance. We will have more to say about how cases are used to evaluate and refine concepts in section 5.
DB: It might keep you alive if you think about it! One problem with definiteness is that you actually never have it – you only ever possess it in the form of a wish, and those who mistake wish for reality are moving down the path of madness, closing themselves off from the world and from others. This is one of the great things about the history of philosophy. The history of philosophy can be read as a to and fro argument between those who think that they have taken the search for clarity a step further thereby producing a progression in knowledge, and those who generate critique and point out the ways in which this claim has not actually been made good. That’s the way that philosophy seems to move, in a process of putative gain, loss, putative gain, loss and so on. So you might then ask ‘what is philosophy?’, in one sense it seems to be the form of life that can live within this eternally deferred, anxious state. In a way that might mark philosophers out as somewhat peculiar psyches, this loss actually becomes a gain. When it comes to organizations, to me it’s about how you can create the opportunity for an organization to remain conscious. In terms of this, what you lose when you gain certainty is nothing less than life itself, because once you have certain ground then the psychological sense of that is similar to the sense of a battle having been won or a great problem solved; it would then be pathological to continue to ruminate about that which was already done. So, psychologically, one leaves it behind and, having departed from the captured ground of certain foundations, begins to move on to other problems. The psychological shape is one of seeing things as having been ‘done’, ‘won’, finished and then forgotten. This is a difficult way to maintain an ethical sense.