Lisa Heldke

This essay addresses Paul Thompson’s claim (made in two pieces separated by 20 years) that “you are not what you eat”; that is, that dietetics is not an ethical matter. I issue a series of challenges to Thompson’s position, all of which have a common underpinning, namely that his critiques of dietetics sound more like the sort I’d expect from an analytic philosopher than from a pragmatist. They are rooted not only in a tightly drawn (if widely philosophically accepted) definition of ethics, but also in a very tightly drawn definition of diet, a definition that doesn’t take much account of context. That the stream from producer to consumer is continuous argues for not forgetting that eating is one link in a chain of activities—a link that literally cannot exist without those that come before it. Resting on this common underpinning are three specific complaints. The first two address what I take to be his implicit definitions of eating and of personhood, challenging his claims that it is possible in principle to separate self-regarding from other-regarding claims, and that purely self-regarding claims are not ethically relevant. The third pushes back on the matter of whether ethics must concern itself all and only with actions that have an impact on others.

back in about 1984 or 1985, when I'd been in graduate school for a couple of years at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, I started hanging around with three chemists who shared a house. They were colleagues of my roommate, a chemistry grad student. One of them, no kidding, was named Lloyd A. Bumm, who would always introduce himself by saying, "My name is the best joke I know." Lloyd was a quirky, curious guy who often explored unusual places around the City, unlike the typical chemistry grad student. For instance, he frequently would head into Chicago on Sunday mornings to go to this crazy street market he knew about. He invited me to go with him one weekend; he was looking for a power supply, whatever...

This is a book about taste--the thing your tongue (and nose) do. It’s also a book about Taste--the thing the art critic has. It’s a book about food, art, and the relations between food and art. Do those two categories overlap? Where and how? How we might best understand and appreciate food in light of the way we understand and appreciate art? It’s a book about how the divergent histories of taste and Taste have left us with an impoverished understanding of the former--and thus a deep skepticism about the aesthetic worth of food. Korsmeyer suggests that her project will illuminate readers’ understanding of food--and observes that it might well illuminate our understanding of art as well. She succeeds on both counts.

This paper explores the question: what happens to the ontology of the human individual if we take seriously the degree to which all life on this planet, including human life, is threaded through with relationships in which one creature sinks its ‘teeth’ into another and hangs on for dear life, deriving vital sustenance from that second creature, but sometimes imperiling the life of it as well? Or, to put the matter less colorfully, how ought we reconceptualize the human individual in light of research into the complex relationships between humans and our resident colonies—relationships that run the gamut from mutualistic to parasitic? The relational conception of the human individual that emerges from my exploration is distinguished by two characteristics: its prioritizing of eating relationships, and its insistence on the role played by relationships that are harmful or destructive to the individual.

What becomes of objectivity if we reject the realist claim that inquiry uncovers the "true" nature of an independent, antecedent world, or the foundationalist claim that inquiry must adhere to a set of independent rational standards? Clearly we must relinquish the notion that objective truths or objectively valid methods are attainable only by inquirers occupying the epistemologically privileged "Archimedean standpoint." ;If we begin by contending that inquiry and its products are in principle value and emotion laden, context dependent, we must either reject the very possibility of objectivity, or we must retool the concept to reflect inquiry's contextual nature. ;I briefly consider and reject the first alternative--the rejection of objectivity--by examining Paul Feyerabend's position, his epistemological epigram "anything goes," and his free society of inquiry. I then explore in detail two sorts of ways we might reshape the concept of objectivity. ;I consider the empirical naturalist position of John Dewey, and the positions of three feminist epistemologists--Sandra Harding, Alison Jaggar and Evelyn Fox Keller. All of these positions share membership in a family of epistemological programs I label "Coresponsible Options." They subscribe to neither traditional absolutism nor Feyerabend's "anything goes" attitude. They are flexible, interactivist and anti-dualist in nature, and they reserve an important place in inquiry for the role of emotion and value. The term "coresponsible" embodies, among other things, the importance of community and responsibility for inquiry. ;I concentrate on the nature of inquiry-as-activity, an activity that takes place in a world where chance and certainty are inextricably mixed. I also focus on the nature of the inquiry relationship. I consider Jaggar's notion of the standpoint of women, but reject it on the grounds that it inherits the problems of the traditional Archimedean standpoint model, including subject/object dualism. In place of a standpoint, I develop Dewey's, Harding's and Keller's models, in which the inquiry relation is conceived as a form of communication between inquirer and inquired, where both are members of the "inquiry community." I ultimately suggest the model of friendship for doing responsible inquiry to produce reliable, useful results

What would it look like for a college, white in its history and predominantly white in its present reality, to create a program that responds to, and works in support of, the agenda Du Bois proposes for the “Negro university” of the 1930’s? How can a white college cease to be an obstacle to the liberation of African Americans? That is, how can a persistently white college become actively antiracist and pursue a goal of educating antiracist white students—students who could work in solidarity with Black students educated in the ways Du Bois envisions? This essay sketches a project for white institutions that genuinely seek to address white racism, a system that still manifests “the determination…to keep the black world poor and make [whites] rich” (99, EBP), even now, seventy years after Du Bois published his essay.

This essay is an examination of stupid knowing, an attempt to catalog a particular species of knowing, and to understand when, how, and why the label "stupid" gets applied to marginalized groups of knowers. Heldke examines the ways the defining processes work and the conditions that make them possible, by considering one group of people who get defined as stupid: rural people. In part, the author intends her identification and categorization of stupid knowing to support the work of theorists of resistance who have identified ways that those marginalized as stupid knowers use the cloak of their purported stupidity in the aid of their resistance. Heldke also hopes to add to the existing critique of the hierarchies of knowing an understanding of one particular way one form of knowledge is devalued: stupidification. Why are some forms of knowledge actually regarded as leaving one incapable of other forms of rational thought?

We present a case for defining objectivity as responsibility. We do not attempt to offer new arguments on epistemological issues such as relativism or the fact-value distinction. Instead, we construct a conception of objectivity utilizing analyses from Deweyan pragmatism, feminist theory, and science studies, organizing them around the concept of responsibility. This conception of objectivity can serve as a tool to guide the process of inquiry; by suggesting that participants reflect on the question "how can this inquiry be made more responsible?" it provides a guide for those struggling with the question of how to be more objective.

This volume collects sixteen essays by contributors who chew on the diet from a number of philosophical angles and a variety of personal perspectives. Here, you can sample essays written by practitioners of the Atkins diet or one of its low-carb cousins; by people who are not on the diet; and by people who choose to keep mum about their own current relationships to carbohydrates. (We made an editorial decision to respect their right to remain silent on the matter of whether or not sliced bread is the greatest thing since, well, since unsliced bread.) Not only do the writers collected here represent a range of personal eating practices; they also represent a considerable diversity of philosophical perspectives. Here you’ll find essays using the Atkins diet to illustrate ideas from such historically important philosophers as Kant, Hume, Nietzsche, Marx, and Dewey. But you’ll also find essays that examine the diet from the perspective of contemporary environmental philosophy, feminist philosophy, critical race theory, philosophy of science, and pragmatism (to mention just a few of the philosophical approaches employed). Some of the essays use Atkins to illuminate philosophy, others use philosophy to illuminate Atkins, and some do a little of both. All of the essays invite you to think—more carefully, perhaps, than you usually do—about why you eat what you choose to eat. They’re not here to tell you what to think—or what to eat, for that matter. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to give you plenty of ideas to digest—at least some of which might leave you feeling bit queasy. Hopefully some of them will also make you laugh—which, as we all know, is a great digestive aid.

This essay explores some well-traveled territory—the area in which eating and suffering come together. I undertake two projects. First, I scrutinize some foods that are often portrayed as unambiguously either good (homegrown organic vegetables) or bad (foie gras), in an effort to complicate the stories we tell about them. What violence has been heretofore invisible in them? What compassion has been occluded? This project informs a second: an answer to the question “how should we eat?” My answer takes up Kelly Oliver’s call for an ethics of “sustaining relationships.” I ground it in an alternative ontology of food, one that views foods not as substances, but as loci of relations.

The notion that "nature" comes equipped with its own set of categories, enabling us to divide up everything that exists without overlap or leftovers, has considerable explanatory and prescriptive power. I examine two apparently unrelated arenas in which this notion is at work; namely, in the alleged discovery and subsequent physical "improvement" of the headwaters of the Mississippi River, and in the surgical alteration of intersex infants. In both cases, reconstruction is undertaken as a means of eliminating an ambiguity regarded as "unnatural" —an "error" in nature that culture must correct. Elilminating ambiguity, in turn, enables accessibility. Fixing a person or a river firmly in a category allows us to have various kinds of access to them. For a river, the access is in part physical; it means being able to walk up to its headwaters without wearing hip waders. For a person, the access is both intellectual and social; only once I know what sex a person, is do I know how to treat them, and only then do I know whether they are an "appropriate" object of my erotic attention.

I think that restaurant authenticity and personal authenticity are deeply intertwined. More specifically, I think that the ways in which we define – and seek – authenticity in things, be they table setting styles, or cooking vessels or ingredients, directly shape, and are shaped by, the ways in which we understand – and cultivate – authenticity in ourselves. To the extent to which we define culinary authenticity as slavish adherence to the methods, ingredients and utensils of the source culture, we not only freeze those cultures in time and ignoring their temporality, but also reinforce in ourselves a sense that we, too, must be unambiguous and unchanging in our identity, clear and complete. On the other hand, if we wish to cultivate an authentic self that is willing to be laughed at by our friends because we believe in a being they do not, well, then we should consider cultivating an understanding of restaurant authenticity that is likewise flexible, spacious and undogmatic.

In this brief paper, I want to begin to explore the possibility that bi-trans dialogue can challenge those forms of oppression that are grounded in sex, gender, and sexuality. I am particularly interested in pursuing the possibility that bi-trans dialogue might result in additional critiques of the sex-gender-sexuality triad. Despite multiple challenges, and myriad historical transmogri-fications (including, it must be noted, the very late addition of gender), that triad maintains its foundationality and posits deep causal links among its three parts. The effect of this causal chain is to render untenable or incomprehensi-ble the lives of all sorts of actual, living persons—lives that are anything but incomprehensible to those living them, but that are made to be so on a system in which there is still a strong tendency to hold that sex causes gender and sexuality. The resilience of this presumed causal connection contributes to ensuring the continued dominance of a two-sex, two-gender, two-sexuality system.

This paper explores two apparently-unrelated forms of authenticity. One, “restaurant authenticity,” is a subcategory of the larger category of authentic objects, focused specifically on food and especially on ethnic cuisines. “Personal authenticity” refers to a set of traits or qualities in oneself. Contrary to appearances, I argue that the two forms of authenticity intertwine in ways that merit thoughtful attentiveness. I suggest that approaching the question of the authenticity of a cuisine with an attitude of flexibility and responsiveness can, in turn, constitute an activity that cultivates personal authenticity, understood as “wholehearted living.” As Diana Meyers might put it, it is itself a practice of authenticity.

In this paper, I undertake an exploration of the similarities I find between the epistemological projects of John Dewey and Evelyn Fox Keller. These similarities, I suggest, warrant considering Dewey and Keller to share membership in an epistemological tradition, a tradition I label the "Coresponsible Option." In my examination, I focus on Dewey's and Keller's ontological assertion that we live in a world that is an inextricable mixture of certainty and chance, and on their resultant conception of inquiry as a communal relationship.

George Yancy writes that he edited White on White/Black on Black in order “to get white and Black philosophers to name and theorize their own raciated identities within the same philosophical text. … My aim was to create a teachable text, that is, to create a text whereby readers will be able to compare and engage critically the similarities and differences found within and between the critical cadre of both white philosophers and Black philosophers” (7-8). White on White/Black on Black collects together essays by fourteen philosophers—seven identified as white, seven Black—who explore, by turns, their identities, the natures of whiteness and Blackness, and conceptualizations of race more generally.

In this paper, I develop a way to conceive of free speech that begins by redefining speech. My definition affirms the fact that speaking is an activity that goes on among people in a community. Speaking, I will suggest, is an activity that involves not only the present speaker, but also others who act as listeners and potential speakers. I contend that liberal conceptions of free speech have often proven ill equipped to address certain free speech issues, precisely because they have tended to conceive of speech not as a collective activity in which participation involves both speaking and listening, but as an individualized activity in which only speakers and their utterances are relevant.Of course not all liberal notions of speech are radically individualistic; a useful distinction might be made between "solipsistic" liberal models, and "two-or-more-person" models. The latter sort do ascribe some sort of role to those who hear and respond to speech. John Stuart Mill's arguments for the value of free speech, for example, display a significant emphasis on the role of the community. Mill's model emphasizes the importance of free debate and discussion as a means by which to improve one's ideas. One of his chief arguments in support of free speech is that collecting others' responses to one's speech enables one to develop clearer, stronger ideas. But such a view only addresses others' roles as speakers--as producers of ideas. My position recognizes an even broader role for these others; I shall suggest that listening/potential speaking are themselves aspects of speaking. Thus, others' interests are do not become relevant (and eligible for protection) only when others themselves become speakers; the interests of listeners (and even "ignorers") as listeners must be taken into account in evaluating whether speech in a particular situation is free.¯ The conception I develop defines speaking as collective, thereby illuminating the role played in it by listeners/potential speakers. In the bulk of activities that go under the name "speech", a community of "others" (listeners, potential listeners, "ignorers") plays some sort of role. Those instances of speaking in which there are no relevant others may be defined in terms of their relation to speech-with-listeners. That is, they are exceptions to the general cases, and their presence in the category "speaking" can be understood by reference to one of these general cases. My original motivation for developing this conception of speech was to provide a way to illuminate those forms of sexual harassment that consist of sexist speech. I intend for the conception to characterize free speech in such a way that preventing someone from using sexist language does not (at least automatically) constitute a violation of their free speech rights, but in fact may increase the level of freedom of the community. I develop my account by first providing a critical outline of one version of a liberal conception of free speech.In the course of this outline, I examine two central liberal justifications for protecting speech; the argument from individual rights and the argument from utility. I conclude this section by making explicit my criticisms of this liberal conception. Following this, I turn to develop an alternative collective conception of speaking and of free speaking. I argue that this conception is preferable for two reasons; first, because speaking is a collective activity, and to treat it otherwise is to mask its powers and disguise the benefit or harm it may bring to users. Second, a collective conception of speaking preserves the values of free speech advanced in liberal views better than does a liberal conception.

This paper explores two apparently-unrelated forms of authenticity. One, “restaurant authenticity,” is a subcategory of the larger category of authentic objects, focused specifically on food and especially on ethnic cuisines. “Personal authenticity” refers to a set of traits or qualities in oneself. Contrary to appearances, I argue that the two forms of authenticity intertwine in ways that merit thoughtful attentiveness. I suggest that approaching the question of the authenticity of a cuisine with an attitude of flexibility and responsiveness can, in turn, constitute an activity that cultivates personal authenticity, understood as “wholehearted living.” As Diana Meyers might put it, it is itself a practice of authenticity

Carnal Appetites does not fully work out a single coherent thesis. Rather, it is a preliminary exploration of a set of issues about food, culture and identity. Here is how Probyn describes her project: “The aim of this book is simple but immodest. Through the optic of food and eating, I want to investigate how as individuals we inhabit the present: how we eat into cultures, eat into identities, indeed eat into ourselves. At the same time I am interested in the question of what’s bothering us, what’s eating us now?” (2-3). Chapters explore shame, disgust, caring, sensuality, colonialism, racism, and global capitalism.