David Johnson

How is it that humans can react emotionally to fiction when they know it is not real? Following the lead of Denis Dutton in The Art Instinct, we propose a solution to this so-called paradox of fiction. The paradox assumes that our conscious awareness that something is not real should prevent an emotional reaction. But such reactions are often the result of aptly named “mirror neurons” that mimic the brain activity of those around us and cause us to mimic the emotions of others. So because mirror neurons do not distinguish between fiction and reality, we react emotionally to both fiction and reality.

Though Trey Parker and Matt Stone haven't been killed for it (they did receive death threats after their 200th episode) the creators of South Park have faced accusations much like those that led to Socrates' execution: the corruption of youth and the teaching of vulgar, irreligious behavior. A closer examination, however, reveals that South Park is very much within the Platonic tradition, as Kyle and Stan engage in questioning and dialogue in order to "learn something today." Moreover, the mob mentality of the parents, along with the malicious yet mimetic evil of Cartman, demonstrates how evil emerges from thoughtlessness: a failure to ask if one can live with oneself, and a failure to out oneself in the place of others. Through its different characters, and even its apparently mindless vulgarity, South Park shows the need for engaging in dialogue, and thinking from others' perspectives, in order to pursue wisdom, examine life, and make it worth living.

The two characters in this philosophical dialogue, Russell Steadman and Jules Govier, take up the meaning and significance of David Hume’s famous “is-ought gap”—the proscription on inferring a fully moral claim from any number of purely descriptive statements. Building on the recent work of Hilary Putnam and John F. Post, Jules attempts to show that Hume’s rule is of little consequence when discussing matters related to justice or morality as we encounter them in daily life. He derives his conclusion from the observations that all nontrivial human discourse contains, however tacitly, some degree of embedded normativity, and that an overlapping continuum of different types of normativity permits reasonable inference from apparently pure descriptions to fully moral prescriptions. While Russell agrees that moral concepts inevitably make reference to empirical reality, he insists that, precisely in virtue of the tacit normativity of discourse, Hume’s gap persists, rendering fallacious any attempt to fashion an argumentative bridge between the two types of statements. Although the two do not resolve all of their differences, both of their positions shift significantly in response to the other’s insights.

What can _South Park_ tell us about Socrates and the nature of evil? How does _The Office_ help us to understand Sartre and existentialist ethics? Can _Battlestar Galactica_ shed light on the existence of God? _Introducing Philosophy Through Pop Culture_ uses popular culture to illustrate important philosophical concepts and the work of the major philosophers With examples from film, television, and music including _South Park_, _The Matrix_, _X-Men_, _Batman_, _Harry Potter, Metallica_ and _Lost,_ even the most abstract and complex philosophical ideas become easier to grasp Features key essays from across the Blackwell _Philosophy and Pop Culture_ series, as well as helpful editorial material and a glossary of philosophical terms From metaphysics to epistemology; from ethics to the meaning of life, this unique introduction makes philosophy as engaging as popular culture itself Supplementary website available with teaching guides, sample materials and links to further resources at _www.pop-philosophy.org_.

Xenophon's Socratic Works demonstrates that Xenophon, a student of Socrates, military man, and man of letters, is an indispensable source for our understanding of the life and philosophy of Socrates. David M. Johnson restores Xenophon's most ambitious Socratic work, the Memorabilia, to its original literary context, enabling readers to experience it as Xenophon's original audience would have, rather than as a pale imitation of Platonic dialogue. He shows that the Memorabilia, together with Xenophon's Apology, provides us with our best evidence for the trial of Socrates, and a comprehensive and convincing refutation of the historical charges against Socrates. Johnson's account of Socrates' moral psychology shows how Xenophon's emphasis on control of the passions can be reconciled with the intellectualism normally attributed to Socrates. Chapters on Xenophon's Symposium and Oeconomicus reveal how Xenophon used all the literary tools of Socratic dialogue to defend Socratic sexual morality and debate the merits and limits of conventional elite values. Throughout the book, Johnson argues that Xenophon's portrait of Socrates is rich and coherent, and largely compatible with the better-known portrait of Socrates in Plato. Xenophon aimed not to provide a rival portrait of Socrates, Johnson shows, but to supplement and clarify what others had said about Socrates. Xenophon's Socratic Works thus provides readers with a far firmer basis for reconstruction of the trial of Socrates, a key moment in the history of Athenian democracy, and for our understanding of Socrates' seminal impact on Greek philosophy. This volume introduces Xenophon's Socratic works to a wide range of readers, from undergraduate students encountering Socrates or ancient philosophy for the first time to scholars with interests in Socrates or ancient philosophy more broadly. It is also an important resource for readers interested in Socratic dialogue as a literary form, the trial of Socrates, Greek sexual morality, or Greek social history.

An interruption. Rethinking the first three chapters of this book, I have come to suspect that, not unlike Iris Murdoch and Emmanuel Levinas, the way I imagine ‘ethics’ floats on an idea that any ethical substantive position or ethical theory is always shaped through our existential condition and our embodied encounter with others. To Murdoch, existence is the disposition for our responses to the ways in which we perceive reality, and yet, although these responses are always part of who we are, they are not always part of what we do, and so, we set ourselves ethical tasks when we desire to act ethically. As scholar Bridget Clarke argues, “to attend to something [for Murdoch] is to approach it with a just and loving eye, and therewith to perceive it in its unbounded particularity and complexity, and so, as it truly is.” Or as I argue, to attend to the other ‘justly and lovingly’, Murdoch would instruct, is not merely to accurately collect details about the other and then arrive at an approximation of its being, but also to apprehend the other as ‘distinctly singular’ and ‘distinctly foreign’ from oneself–which at once forgoes any assimilation of the other into oneself, incidentally. The recognition of the other as ‘one who embodies human otherness and dignity’ becomes the condition for and coherent way of imagining and accessing moral reality. Moreover, for Diane Davis, this “being-for-the-other names a pre-originary obligation to respond to the other [and] it is in this response that both the self and the other emerge as existents” whose ethical projects are each challenged by the markedly different and infinitely other being. This obligation, Levinas might also say, is an ‘authority’ that is experienced like the effect of the other upon me, so that I am subsequently motivated to enact ethical task-making. I am not, therefore, “pulling everything other into the same, the known, the comprehended,” nor am I looking to any normative theories as authoritative templates from which I act ethically. And so, unlike Husserl, I am not “joining the philosophical tradition in its fundamental disrespect for all things other,” but instead, by dispositioning myself between these theories in responsible Levinasian fashion, I will be tracking them in response to their confronting me, and not as normative theories that are applicable to real and lived experiences.

To Aaron Pacitti and Michael Cauvel–whose journal article, “Rent-Seeking Behavior and Economic Justice: A Classroom Exercise” broadly argues that “understanding the [complexities] of rent-seeking behavior helps fill the gap between economics and politics”–the varieties of rent are wide and, therefore, can only be described in their category-specific positions. I will discuss three of these categories in more detail below, but for now, I propose that a useful working grasp of economic rent involves “the amount paid to the owner of a factor of production over the cost that is to be necessarily incurred on utilizing such elements in the production process.” In math terms, ‘economic rent’ equals the agreed-upon-amount paid by the consumer (when that amount far exceeds the market value of the product) minus the cost spent by the producer to make the product (when that cost is far below the typical amount to produce the product). Originally, the concept of economic rent concerned land ownership and the production of natural goods. Two major economists, Adam Smith and David Ricardo, offered insights into the general makeup and logic of what they called, the rent of land and simply rent, respectively.

In two passages from Xenophon’s Memorabilia, Socrates refutes Aristippus, first by a rather brutal brand of Realpolitik, then by refusing to answer Aristippus’ questions about the good and the beautiful. This article argues that the nasty politics that emerge in Memorabilia 2.1 are not Socratic, but rather the natural consequence of Aristippean hedonism. Political considerations of another sort drive Socrates’ tactics in Memorabilia 3.8, where his evasive manoeuvres are driven by his desire to avoid a direct confrontation with hedonism. ocrates’ own views are hedonistic in some sense, as revealed by his otherwise irrelevant discussion of pleasing home plans and altar sites at the end of 3.8, but Socrates does not wish to reveal as much to companions lacking his self-control. Socrates’ treatment of Aristippus has as much to do with politics as with pleasure.