Jay Bernstein

In this unflinching look at the experience of suffering and one of its greatest manifestations—torture—J.M. Bernstein critiques the repressions of traditional moral theory, showing that our morals are not immutable ideals but fragile constructions that depend on our experience of suffering itself. Morals, Bernstein argues, not only guide our conduct but also express the depth of mutual dependence that we share as vulnerable and injurable individuals. Beginning with the attempts to abolish torture in the eighteenth century, and then sensitively examining what is suffered in torture and related transgressions, such as rape, Bernstein elaborates a powerful new conception of moral injury. Crucially, he shows, moral injury always involves an injury to the status of an individual as a person—it is a violent assault against his or her dignity. Elaborating on this critical element of moral injury, he demonstrates that the mutual recognitions of trust form the invisible substance of our moral lives, that dignity is a fragile social possession, and that the perspective of ourselves as potential victims is an ineliminable feature of everyday moral experience.

Arguably, there is no gesture more typical to philosophy than its repudiation, the sense that philosophical endeavor is a symptom of the pathologies or dislocations of everyday life it seeks to remedy. Throughout the nineteenth century—in the writings of the German Romantics, Young Hegelians, Marx, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche—the repudiation of philosophy is a constant. Sometimes this repudiation takes a reflective form in which traditional philosophical claims are translated into another vocabulary, or are deflated ; sometimes alternative methods are adopted that attempt to undermine, explain away, what is thought of as uniquely philosophical; sometimes rhetorical strategies are adopted that aim to bring about a “conversion” in the reader away from philosophy and toward a more fully immanent or existential self-understanding; and sometimes that more everyday self-understanding that is to be the antidote to philosophical reflection is construed as not yet available but would come to be in an ideal or utopian future if particular radical transformations of current practices were accomplished. Apart from Kierkegaard, these attempts typically construe themselves as continuous with the critique of religion, as if philosophy were nothing but religious excess in rational dress, and thus continuous with modernity’s drive toward secularity. Because the stakes of repudiation are inevitably normative—the protest against philosophy for the sake of a more “realistic,” more truly natural or historical, conception of what is rational or good—the critique of philosophy becomes, despite itself, philosophical, burdened with presuppositions it can neither sustain nor forgo. In brief, this is the lesson of Daniel Brudney’s meticulous and patient excavation of the writings of the young Marx.

Deleuze's philosophy of cinema departs from the standard conception of modernist aesthetics that sees art withdrawing from representation in order to reflect upon the specificity of its medium. While ambitious and influential, Deleuze's attempt fails. Overdetermined by its own metaphysics, it forsakes the real importance of the movies. It is unable to explain how they function and why they matter. This essay pursues three lines of criticism: Deleuze cannot account for the aesthetic specificity of cinema because he deposes the primacy of action in the movement-image in favour of the primacy of belief. This failure is connected to the fact that a cinema of the virtual depends on the very Bazinian realism it is meant to displace. Realism must be acknowledged as the cinematic condition and truth of virtuality. Further, Bazinian realism is the cinematic form of philosophical modernism, preferable for many reasons to Deleuze's philosophy, which returns to pre-modern cosmology in its desire to escape the agent-based, anti-metaphysical commitments of modernism. I apply these criticisms to my analysis of Resnais's Hiroshima mon amour, a movie that prima facie looks made to fulfil the terms of Deleuze's theory but which I argue is an object lesson in realism.

Arguably, there is no gesture more typical to philosophy than its repudiation, the sense that philosophical endeavor is a symptom of the pathologies or dislocations of everyday life it seeks to remedy. Throughout the nineteenth century—in the writings of the German Romantics, Young Hegelians, Marx, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche—the repudiation of philosophy is a constant. Sometimes this repudiation takes a reflective form in which traditional philosophical claims are translated into another vocabulary, or are deflated ; sometimes alternative methods are adopted that attempt to undermine, explain away, what is thought of as uniquely philosophical; sometimes rhetorical strategies are adopted that aim to bring about a “conversion” in the reader away from philosophy and toward a more fully immanent or existential self-understanding; and sometimes that more everyday self-understanding that is to be the antidote to philosophical reflection is construed as not yet available but would come to be in an ideal or utopian future if particular radical transformations of current practices were accomplished. Apart from Kierkegaard, these attempts typically construe themselves as continuous with the critique of religion, as if philosophy were nothing but religious excess in rational dress, and thus continuous with modernity’s drive toward secularity. Because the stakes of repudiation are inevitably normative—the protest against philosophy for the sake of a more “realistic,” more truly natural or historical, conception of what is rational or good—the critique of philosophy becomes, despite itself, philosophical, burdened with presuppositions it can neither sustain nor forgo. In brief, this is the lesson of Daniel Brudney’s meticulous and patient excavation of the writings of the young Marx.

According to Robert Pippin, the standpoint of philosophical modernism claims that, with the coming of modernity—with the emergence of a disenchanted natural world as projected by modern science, a political language of rights and equality, a secular morality, a burgeoning sense of subjective consciousness, and autonomous art—the task of philosophy becomes that of providing a wholly critical and radically self-reflexive conception of reason and rationality that will demonstrate the immanent ground for our allegiance to these new ways of being in the world. Or better, what these distinctly modern forms of practice evince is an ideal of human freedom or autonomy in which the worth of our pursuits is dependent upon their being self-legislated or self-authorized; only these distinctly modern forms of practice can be self-legislated without a dogmatic residue, and only what can be so authorized is rationally deserving of our allegiance. What makes philosophical modernism a form of idealism is its radical self-reflexivity; nothing can “count as” a reason unless we so count it, unless we normatively authorize it. And what makes this version of idealism “Hegelian” is that, in place of Kant’s “I think,” which must accompany all my representations, there is a “we think” that must accompany all our fundamental practices; and in place of a transcendental deduction of the categories necessary for the possibility of experience, we are offered an historical narrative of the self-defeating character of the antecedents to modernity’s self-authorizing institutional forms.

The goal of Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit is to achieve absolute knowing. Minimally, knowing can be absolute only if it is unconditioned or unlimited; that is, only if it is not essentially contrasted with some other possible knowing—say, God's—or is not restricted such that it necessarily does not pertain to certain items—say, freedom of the will, the immortality of the soul, or God. Knowing can be absolute only if these items, appropriately interpreted, are within its scope. However, if it can be shown that human knowing is not limited or restricted in either of these two ways, it would then follow that we cannot contrast our conceptual scheme—human knowing as such—with the world, and, hence, we cannot even notionally contrast human knowledge of appearances with things in themselves. Initially, it is in this quite narrow sense that Hegel's project in the Phenomenology is to transform Kant's subjective or limited idealism into objective or absolute idealism by showing that items Kant took to be necessarily extrinsic to human knowing are intrinsic and constitutive of it. Thus, if we were to translate Hegel's dictum that the ground of science in general is "pure self-recognition in absolute otherness" back into Kant's lexicon, it would state that we achieve full apperceptive self-awareness, full categorial selfawareness of ourselves as knowers, only in the thing in itself. Within Hegel's own system, achieving the standpoint of absolute knowing is a necessary condition for doing logical science, and, by implication, the first part of the system as a whole, because only by demonstrating that the necessary conditions of human knowing cannot, even notionally, be contrasted with the world in itself is it possible to then work out a system of logical categories that are simultaneously categories of thought and categories of being.

Adorno contends that something of what we think of knowing and rational agency operate in ways that obscure and deform unique, singular presentations by relegating them to survival-driven interests and needs; hence, in accordance with the presumptions of transcendental idealism, we have come to mistake what are, in effect, historically contingent, species-subjective ways of viewing the world for an objective understanding of the world. And further, this interested understanding of the world is deforming in a more radical way than just obscuring what is there for the sake of interested needs and purposes; these instrumental ways of knowing and acting, are broadly self-interested, in the interest of survival, without effective concern for the well-being and worth of others; by becoming generalized and exclusive, hegemonic, by driving out modes of encountering things and persons that support their differences and independence, their needs and interests, these instrumental practices are the deepest cause of t.