Marguerite La Caze

Sophocles’ Antigone presents a rich source for interpretations in the history of philosophy, concerning law, ethics and sexual difference. In the play, Antigone, daughter of Oedipus and Jocasta, feels she must bury her brother Polynices, although he is regarded as a traitor, and she is forbidden to do so by King Creon of Thebes, Jocasta’s brother. This paper examines the tensions between Luce Irigaray’s reading of Antigone in her chapter ‘Between Myth and history: the tragedy of Antigone’ in In the Beginning, She was and her earlier work and within the book itself. Here she identifies with Antigone’s exclusion and asserts the brother-sister relationship as the basis for conceptualising sexuate identity and difference. It is dissonant with her earlier readings, which did not affirm an identity with Antigone; nor did they affirm the brother-sister relationship as representative of a sexuate identity. Irigaray has generally, in work both before and after this interpretation of Antigone, argued that only the man and woman of the couple provide the basis for an ethics of sexuate difference. Her ambivalence is also shown by her comment at the beginning of the book that the brother-sister relationship is not different enough to represent sexuate identity. (IB, 18) I explore the distinctive possibilities for sexuate identity presented by this reading of Antigone and ask what it means to valorise Antigone today.

Václav Havel’s concept of “living within the truth” in an authoritarian regime frames Marguerite La Caze’s readings of international cinema, highlighting forms of resistance in which seemingly pre- or nonpolitical aspects of life—such as professional labor, exile, and truth telling—can be recognized as political when seen against a backdrop of general acquiescence. La Caze’s case studies cross genres, historical eras, and national contexts: the apartheid regime in South Africa, in A Dry White Season; post-Suharto Indonesia, in The Look of Silence; 1980s East Germany, in Barbara; the Chilean military dictatorship, in No; contemporary Iran, in A Separation; and current-day Saudi Arabia, in Wadjda. This book explores the films’ use of image, sound, narrative, and character in dialogue with the work of Simone de Beauvoir, Aimé Cesaire, Hannah Arendt, Sara Ahmed, and W. E. B. Du Bois to reveal how cinema depicts ordinary people enacting their own philosophies of defiance.

Terrence Malick’s 2019 film A Hidden Life explores the ethical and political problem of refusal as an act and utterance of “not doing” violence and injustice that is expected. The film offers a nuanced and poetic depiction of Austrian peasant Franz Jägerstätter (1907–1943), who refused to give an oath of loyalty to Hitler ( Führereid), and was subsequently imprisoned and executed under the Nazi laws criminalizing conscientious objection as an “offence of sedition.” We argue that Malick complicates the question of what it means to rise in defiance against power by locating Jägerstätter’s refusal not in religious dogma or a position of righteousness, but depicting it as a lived experience infused with affect, hesitation and doubt. We analyze the ethics and politics of refusal in A Hidden Life, focusing on the ways in which Malick depicts the possibility of leading an ethical life in an authoritarian state. This possibility concerns, first, the question of what alternatives emerge from the negative gestures of noncompliance, withdrawal or refusal and the question of enduring and, second, undergoing suffering, rather than imposing it on others. Situating our reading of Malick’s film in a philosophical dialogue with Michel Foucault’s writings on revolt and with Hannah Arendt’s reflections on responsibility in a dictatorship, we argue that Malick’s philosophy of refusal encompasses both the negative registers of refusal and articulates its affirmative, relational and testimonial dimensions in relation to history. This is because Malick's Jägerstätter undertook a very specific act of refusal – that of refusing to “make others suffer” (and chose instead to suffer himself). We conclude by drawing attention to three key presences in the film; nature, children and the wife, Fani, who turn the negative power of refusal into an affirmative gesture of companionship, co-presence and witnessing.

Marjorie Glicksman Grene (1910–2009) wrote on existentialism as a philosophy with a specific focus on the work of Martin Heidegger and Jean-Paul Sartre. Her work played an important role in introducing continental philosophy to North American and British thought as she lived and worked on both sides of the Atlantic. While she gained her PhD from Radcliffe College, Harvard University, she also studied as an exchange student in Germany from 1931 to 1933, had a postdoctoral fellowship in Copenhagen in 1936, lived and worked on farms in Illinois and Ireland, and taught at universities in the United Kingdom and the United States, including, for the longest period, at the University of California, Davis (1965–78). Her interpretations are based on a thorough knowledge of the history of philosophy and a wide range of philosophical areas, including European philosophy; Grene attended lectures by Heidegger and Karl Jaspers while on exchange in Europe. While her interest was first piqued by Heidegger’s thought, further research led her to investigate Jaspers’s willingness to combine existential philosophy with the life sciences. I split her often integrated discussions into a focus on five primary thinkers: Kierkegaard, Heidegger, Sartre, de Beauvoir, and Merleau-Ponty, with the most detailed analysis of Sartre as Grene engages with his work in the most depth.

Joel Katzav’s article describes and explains the realist perspectivist views of Grace de Laguna, showing the distinctiveness of her positions in a number of fields. My focus will be on her views of the self and persons, and how they are embedded in their communities, experience emotions, and develop morality. As Katzav outlines, de Laguna’s position can be characterized as a form of speculative philosophy that develops an ontology of modes of being. Katzav sees speculative philosophy and naturalism intertwining in her work as de Laguna extends and criticizes science (the speculative aspect) as well as drawing on it (the naturalistic aspect). De Laguna’s project is to create a philosophical system that can be communicated to others. This system, according to Katzav, uses imagination, metaphor, and paradoxical formulations, such as ‘qualitative uniqueness’ to describe individuality, in a way that is common in continental philosophy. My commentary examines de Laguna’s views as they are set out by Katzav and suggests how his article opens up lines of philosophical inquiry concerning the self, community and morality. De Laguna’s views on these issues can also usefully be compared to those of Hannah Arendt to see how her articulation of these themes intersects with and differs from Arendt’s ideas.

Immanuel Kant, in ‘What is Orientation in Thinking?’ focuses on reason as the touchstone for speculative thought. The question of how to orient ourselves in thinking is still pressing, particularly if one does not take reason as providing principles for judgment. Hannah Arendt and Michèle Le Dœuff focus on this problem of orientation from a practical point of view and build up a compelling picture of how we can orient our thought. Both take imagination to be central to good judgment, in addition to critical rationality. The project of enriching our imaginary and improving our judgments is an essential one in both ethics and politics, since imagination can either enable creative changes in our thinking or be stymied by pernicious myths. Arendt’s writings offer an account of the significance of the imagination to reliable judgment and suggest ways to avoid the extremes of arrogance and diffidence. Furthermore, Le Dœuff argues in recent work that we should challenge a range of myths in the epistemic imaginary and chart a course that involves hope for the future. I consider how it is possible to enrich the imaginary to overcome damaging myths, on Le Dœuff’s account, by taking political questions, particularly feminist ones, as reference points and also by avoiding the opposites of lack of faith in one’s own judgement and over-confidence.

In this chapter, I interpret Vladimir Jankélévitch’s work on the bad conscience and on forgiveness in relation to the film Manchester by the Sea (Kenneth Lonergan, 2016). This film is a striking meditation on remorse and the difficulty of self-forgiveness for Lee Chandler, a man who lives a monastic life as a janitor in Boston after the tragic death of his three children in a house fire. Many discussions of the film so far have focused on its depictions of despair and grief (with brief references to guilt), aspects of it that are certainly important. (Lane, 2016; Scott, 2016; Fleming, 2017) However, a focus on grief neglects the ethical dimensions of the film that Jankélévitch’s intense articulations of the solitary character of remorse and what a genuine offering of forgiveness really concerns can illuminate and engage with. His accounts demonstrate the immense complexity of remorse, self-forgiveness and the difficulty of accepting the generous forgiveness of others, even in situations where the calamity that has occurred is not a result of a deliberate, intentional action. Lee’s remorse dwells in the irreversibility of time and the irrevocability of our acts that Jankélévitch explains, and goes further in being a remorse that cannot be overcome. The film also enables us to question features of Jankélévitch’s view: that we can undo the consequences of our act or deed, in contrast to the action, and that self-forgiveness is a conceptual impossibility, because forgiveness must be a relation to another, rather than sometimes an existential one.

This book investigates the interrelations between aesthetics, ethics and politics in a variety of visual media forms, ranging across art installations, film and television, interactive documentaries, painting, photography, social media and videogames. An international mix of emerging and established authors, with interdisciplinary expertise, explores how different ethical questions, political implications and aesthetic pleasures arise and shape one another in distinct visual media. Investigating themes such as the use of cinema as a medium for ethical and political thought, how documentary subjects both conceal and reveal truth, the new ethical challenges arising from interactive media and the role of images in responding to political events and trauma, this is a groundbreaking work about the interrelations of aesthetic, ethical and political values in visual media.

_Hannah Arendt and the History of Thought_, edited by Daniel Brennan and Marguerite La Caze, enrichens and deepens scholarship on Arendt’s relation to philosophical history and traditions. Some contributors analyze thinkers not often linked to Arendt, such as William Shakespeare, Hans Jonas, and Simone de Beauvoir. Other contributors treat themes that are pressing and crucial to understanding Arendt’s work, such as love in its many forms, ethnicity and race, disability, human rights, politics, and statelessness. The collection is anchored by chapters on Arendt’s interpretation of Kant and her relation to early German Romanticism and phenomenology, while other chapters explore new perspectives, such as Arendt and film, her philosophical connections with other women thinkers, and her influence on Eastern European thought and activism. The collection expands the frames of reference for research on Arendt—both in terms of using a broader range of texts like her _Denktagebuch_ and in examining her ideas about judgment, feminism, and worldliness in this wider context.

Euzhan Palcy’s film A Dry White Season, set in apartheid South Africa, portrays a resistance not intended to lead to victimhood, yet leads to the death of the Afrikaans protagonist, Benjamin Du Toit. The narrative follows Ben as they are educated about Black South Africans’ suffering under apartheid, their growing activism and simultaneous increasing victimization beside that of their Black friends. I first examine how early political critics of the film thought it stressed the victimization of the white character at the expense of that of the Black characters. Next, I interpret the film by considering how Palcy’s aims, the influence of their compatriot Aimé Césaire’s anticolonial views, and the details of the film’s structure, illuminate the film’s philosophical insights into victimization and resistance. I show how the film’s representation of Ben’s secondary victimization and witnessing highlights the victimization of apartheid.

No presents the television campaign for the 1988 plebiscite on whether the Pinochet regime should stay as the government for eight more years (‘Yes’) or hold democratic elections (‘No’). The ‘No’ campaign uses the Aristotelian idea that happiness is an intrinsic value and thus the best concept to galvanise a traumatised nation in favour of change. My paper examines the film’s presentation of how a response to the trauma of the regime becomes transformed into resistance through the idea of a possible future happiness.

This paper explores the potential of realist cinema to portray resistance to oppression and restrictions on people’s lives. Wadjda presents a special case in world cinema in being made in Saudi Arabia, which until recently had no film industry or distribution system. The director, Hafaa Al Mansour, has been praised for making the film there at all. Yet this ignores the film’s power in taking a slice of time in the life of a young Riyadh girl, Wadjda, and focussing on her desire to own a bicycle. The film’s realism depicts restrictions on women’s lives in Saudi Arabia and at the same time affirms hope in gradual change through the natality, in Hannah Arendt’s sense, of a child who does not see these constraints as insurmountable obstacles. I argue that realist films can demonstrate the importance of gradual political progress and can anticipate those advances.

What does Le Premier Homme bring specifically to our understanding of Camus’s view of love? The novel allows us to understand love as love of specific human individuals, as well as love of life and the world, and a sense of the frailties of love. While many commentaries have touched on the idea of the importance of love in this work, they have tended to focus more on the disguised autobiographical elements concerning the people in Camus’s life. They have also centred on the descriptive aspects of the work. What I would like to do is look at how love is presented in more depth, and show how specific kinds of love are valorized, and how these different kinds of love are all connected.