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TABLE OF CONTENTS


Discussing Montaigne
Jacob Baker Kretzmar.1

Discussing Luther
Austin Hiltz....4

Discussing Renaissance Art
Niki Foley....7

Discussing Rousseau
Claire Ahern.10

Discussing Kant
Saima Desai..14

Discussing De Pizan
Rebecca Steele....18

Discussing Marx and Engels
Jonathan Brown Gilbert..23

Discussing Owen
Maggie ORiordan Ross.28

Discussing Hegel, Eisenstein, and Coppola
Olivia Tucker34

Discussing Einstein
Josh Feldman..39



1


Montaigne
Jacob Baker-Kretzmar

Such defects may be all on the surface, but they augur badly: when we see cracks
in the plaster and cladding of our walls it warns us that there are fissures in the
actual masonry (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, FYP Handbook 151). Discuss.

Although the subject of Michel de Montaignes On sumptuary laws fashion
seems shallow, what underlies his criticism of the laws governing spending on
extravagant clothing and furnishings is a powerful warning against social short-
sightedness. Montaigne was deeply concerned with human nature, and he touches
on it in all his essays, not least of which this cryptic critique. He discusses fashion
and the new laws regulating it, but only in order to address more pressing issues.
He writes, when we see cracks in the plaster and the cladding of our walls it warns
us that there are fissures in the actual masonry, proposing that the seemingly
superficial issues surrounding fashion are in fact indicative of deeper and more
serious flaws in society, and several of his essays support this idea, including On
one of Caesars sayings and On experience (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 151).
In particular, the flaw that he connects to fashion is a fixation with novelty and
change. This hunger for newness reaches so far that it obscures societys view of
the present and alienates them from the past, preventing people from living their
lives in the moment and to their full potential.
Montaigne disdains fashion, particularly the way in which it so rapidly and
arbitrarily changes. The apparent focus of On sumptuary laws is the many issues
surrounding the fashion industry and the attempts to regulate it; however, this
exploration is merely a tool to make his point, and he does not take fashion
seriously at all. He calls spending money on lavish clothing insane and inane,
and goes on to cite the many problems with such luxury, not the least of which
being that kings, who buy fancy clothes most often, need them the least and have
the most already (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 149). He continues to degrade
the practice of spending so lavishly, and suggests that the whole mess could easily
be reversed, because were nobles to stop spending so much, everyone else would
follow suit: The rest of the country adopts as canon the canons of the Court
(Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 150). He lists several other cultural annoyances
that could be remedied in the same way, and then introduces the metaphor of
cracks and fissures in the wall. He begins, Such defects may be all on the
surface, referring to all the problems he has just listed, but primarily fashion,
allowing that they may indeed be of little consequence in and of themselves
(Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 151). But going on to explain that it augurs
badly, he posits that the issues of fashion foreshadow something much more
serious (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 151). In the construction analogy that
follows, he compares fashion to the cracks in the plaster, implying that the
fissures in the actual masonry represent another, graver issue: an obsession
with change (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 151).

2

The deeper problem that Montaigne points to is a lust for novelty that
disrupts mans very ability to live his life in the present and to fully experience it.
He cites Plato in warning against allowing people to change from fashion to
fashion in their dress running after novelties (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws,
151). The problem that Montaigne sees in this unrelenting culture of material
replacement is that no one enjoys what he or she has while they actually have it.
By the time someone purchases an article of clothing, they are already consumed
with thoughts of the next one. They do not enjoy what they have in the moment,
missing the experience of the present on account of a constant anticipation of the
future. To Montaigne, who values the human experience so highly and constantly
encourages his reader to be aware of themselves and live in the present, this
abandonment of the immediate for the expected is unacceptable. In On one of
Caesars sayings, he quotes Lucretius in damning the fickle nature of these
desires: as long as we do not have it, the object of desire seems greater than
anything else: as soon as we enjoy it, we long for something different with an equal
craving (Montaigne, On one of Caesars sayings, 147). Montaignes issue is that
people shift their focus away from the present, and in readjusting their desires so
rapidly they begin to abandon constancy in other areas of their lives too, until little
in them remains constant. He implores us to live in the present, reminding us in
On experience that It is the life of the fool which is entirely sacrificed to the
future (Montaigne, On experience, 420). He warns that the deferral of the present
is dangerous, and that it signals even graver trends.
Some might argue that Montaigne is, in On sumptuary laws, nothing more
than a grumpy old conservative, opposing change only for the sake of opposition.
Quite on the contrary, he is not opposed to social change in general, and in fact
encourages it: he tells the reader earlier in On experience that there is no way of
life more feeble and stupid than one which is guided by instilled habit
(Montaigne, On experience, 386). What he sees as a problem in this case is the
reason behind why these changes are occurring; he takes issue not with fashion
itself but with the motivations behind it, the unceasing thirst for newness and
aversion to stasis. Montaigne argues that nature tells us to take pleasure in the
present. As an example, imagine a person who craves a bag of chips, and indulges.
Montaigne would have a problem if she ate the chips hurriedly and just for the
sake of eating, without fully enjoying them or even really tasting them at all. He
would not take issue with her eating the chips, but would simply instruct that she
should really eat them, enjoying every single bite. For him, what one does is of less
consequence than how one does it: he says of the soul in On repenting that its
value is not in going high but in going ordinately (Montaigne, On repenting, 238).
So, in the case of fashion and the underlying obsession with newness, it is not the
practice of buying new clothes that Montaigne would disparage, but rather the
resulting abandonment of the present in an all-consuming scramble for the near
future.
This skipping over what people are meant to be enjoying, in societys lust for
novelty, has even more serious implications. An obsession with the future that
eclipses both present and past, a constant pressure for radical change, takes too
much attention off the daily experience of living. It is crucial for Montaigne that
people live their lives slowly and fully aware of their experiences. He describes his
own adherence to these principles: When I dance, I dance. When I am strolling

3

through a beautiful orchard I bring [my thoughts] back to the walk and to
me (Montaigne, On experience, 415). When an entire community stops doing this,
stops focusing on the moment and being actively aware of their present selves,
then they lose their connection to the past and to the present. They become unable
to situate the present in its historical context. Montaigne argues that this blind
fetish for change is how all ancient principles are brought into disdain and
contempt (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 151). In discussing Plato, he connects
the traditions of the ancients, and long standing moral customs, to human nature
itself. The laws he refers to, those to which God had vouchsafed so long a
continuance that no one knows that they had ever been different, are nothing
other than human nature, the most basic and pivotal natural customs which
Montaigne values so highly (Montaigne, On sumptuary laws, 151). As people lose
sight of the present, they also lose their knowledge of the wisdom of the past, and
thereby of their own natures. For Montaigne, who believes so strongly in the
human experience, there can be nothing worse.
In attacking fashion, Montaigne in fact warns of the dangers of forgetting
the importance of the present moment. He sees in fashion the trappings of a deeper
preoccupation with newness and the future, one that is in fact beginning to take
precedence even over the lessons of the past. Immersion in the present, with a
consciousness of and connection to the past, is the way to live a worthwhile and
good life, but this masonry of ancient customs and human nature was
threatened by the French nobilitys ceaseless lust for novelty (Montaigne, On
sumptuary laws, 151). He sees people growing distant both from their immediate
physical experience of the world and of their own life, and also from the eternal
thread of human consciousness, from humanity itself. And he fears that this rift
will consume them all in the loss of an awareness of the present, grounded in
history, there is ultimately a loss of self.

Works Cited

De Montaigne, Michel. The Essays: A Selection. Trans. M. A. Screech. New York:
Penguin Classics, 2004. Print.

De Montaigne, Michel. On one of Caesars sayings. Foundation Year Programme
Handbook. Halifax: University of Kings College, 2013-2014. Print.

De Montaigne, Michel. On sumptuary laws. Foundation Year Programme
Handbook. Halifax: University of Kings College, 2013-2014. Print.








4


Luther
Austin Hiltz


Since, therefore, this faith can only rule in the inner man [] and since faith alone
justifies it, it is clear that the inner man cannot be justified, freed, or saved by any
outer work or action at all, and that these works, whatever their character, have
nothing to do with this inner man (Luther, The Freedom of a Christian, FYP
Handbook 92). Discuss.

Luther, in his work On the Freedom of a Christian, reconciles the apparently
incompatible relationship between the performance of works by Christians and the
salvation of the soul solely by virtue of ones faith, asserting that this faith cannot
exist in connection with works (92). Despite this, Luther does not permit the
reader to conceive of a Christian indifference towards the external, asserting later
that faith in Christ does not free us from works but from false opinions concerning
works (105). Moreover, by positing the accomplishment of faith in the soul as the
instrument of salvation Luther resolves the tension regarding the human beings
apparent lack of agency, given that any works are absolutely ineffectual in
attaining righteousness. Luther acknowledges the inability of the human being to
affect his own fate by means of external action as a source of necessary despair,
without conceding that the human lacks agency. Even the externality of
righteousness, available to humanity only by the imputation of God (Thorne FYP
lecture) does not deprive the human being of some essential agency, which is
demonstrable in his very capacity to despair. True Christian liberty, however, is
emancipation from the restrictions imposed upon the unsaved human, who
though an agent lacks an essentially free will.
By the investigation of faith, the conditions of the agency that precede
imputed righteousness are made apparent. It is the imperative of this argument to
examine the means by which Luther identifies the liberation of the Christian will.
Luther conceives of a composite human nature, indicating both a spiritual and a
bodily [nature] in man, which he identifies as the soul and the flesh, respectively
(91). Concerned with the life of the inner man, Luther employs Scripture to support
his declaration that the soul can do without anything except the Word of God
(91), which dismisses the efficacy of works in affecting the soul. Emphasising the
primacy of the Word in the instruction of the soul, Luther later says that faith
alone is the saving and efficacious use of the Word of God (92). That faith is
derived from the intellectual engagement of Scripture (echoed in Father Thornes
explanation of Christian faith as an attentioned listening to the Word) suggests
the activity of becoming faithful. The Word of God is divided into two parts by
Luther: the Commandments, which exist to lead one to despair at ones inability
to fulfill them, and the Promises, which assure one of salvation despite that
inability. Upon study of the Commandments one finds in himself nothing
whereby he may be justified and saved (93) and so becomes humbled. From this
humility regarding the impotence of works the Christian can comprehend that

5

their only recourse is to fully trust God and his promises. Here Luther would
remind us that our faith shall be reckoned to us as righteousness if we believe
(94) and thus one can discern a causal link between faith and justification. This
causal link exists not out of necessity, but because of the pure and free mercy of
God (99) who we trust completely to fulfill His promise of salvation. It is apparent
that the righteousness imputed by God is entirely other to our nature. So to be
faithful and to be righteous are one and the same, for one cannot be either without
assuming the other.
The obligation of the Christian to engage in the active study of the Word in
order to recognise his inability to do good (93) and to bring the soul to firmly
[trust] in Gods promises (94) demonstrates an activity of the individual prior to
the imputation of righteousness by God. To become faithful must therefore be an
act undertaken by an individual agent, as Luther notes that [faith] is a splendid
privilege and hard to attain (96) and not experienced universally (90). As becoming
faithful is essentially the recognition of ones own inability, it might be seen as
merely the concession of the impossibility of action. However, this impossibility
applies only to the realm of the external while faith is an act of the inner man.
Furthermore, to concede ones incapacity is an act in itself. Clearly, then, the
unfaithful person possesses the ability to make choices and act, both as an inner
and outer man, for it is possible for him to become faithful by way of his own
action. In this way, the agency of the human being presupposes the Christian
liberty that renders him free from all things so that he needs no works to make
him righteous and save him (97). That Luther refers to the Christian as free from
all things (97) illustrates the relationship between the agency of the individual,
irrespective of the grace of God, and the Christian liberty received by the faithful.
Christian liberty confers a freedom from all things, namely from all works (102)
and from the wickedness (94) that taints all works done in unbelief with sin.
Even an unchristian person seems to possess the capacity to act upon themselves
and so decide independently. For example, he can decide what sorts of works he
might undertake, though he is not at liberty to remove the sinfulness inherent in
works proceeding from unfaithfulness.
Regarding ones capacity to become righteous, one can in fact imagine a man
in chains: if he is an unfaithful man he will have only his works to fall back on,
and seek to be at liberty by the merits of his own struggling against his bonds. By
assuming he has this power the unfaithful man will violently force [himself] into
the office and glory of grace (100), aping the authority of God, the jailor. The
faithful man recognises that he cannot escape his chains by the merit of his own
external action in any measure whatsoever, and so must trust in the pure and
free mercy of God (99), his jailor, to free him from the very chains that He saw fit
to impose. And as it is true that God is truthful and just (94) by ceding our
inability to God and depending on Him for our salvation and liberation we shall
find that we are justified for the same reason our faith shall be reckoned to us as
righteousness if we believe (94). So to be Christian is to be like a stoic, and the
only decision that befalls us is whether to recognise and accommodate our cosmic
predicament or to rally hopelessly against it, like a dog against a cart.
By couching salvation in belief Luther conceives a God who leaves the
human being to secure his own faith and humility independent of His own
involvement. However, it is arguable that because God is omnipotent and extra-

6

temporal the presence of His will in all things necessitates predestination and
renders human agency obsolete. This argument appears to find support even in
Luthers own statements asserting the predestination of salvation in another of his
works, the Disputation against Scholastic Theology. The logical extension of his
own discussion of Gods power in contrast to our incapacity in The Freedom of a
Christian may appear to problematize agency, such as when he says we come to
faith that all things may be Gods alone He alone commands, he alone fulfills
(93), implying the omnipresence of Gods will. This does not nullify Christian
freedom, however, any more than we understand God working through the
Pharaoh in Exodus to deprive the Pharaoh of agency (Brandes FYP lecture). The
double-motivation of the divine will manifest in humans cannot in fact be
understood to deprive us of the freedom to choose independently. The will of God
in man can, however, when properly engaged (that is, by faith) provide one with
the freedom from sin that is essential to Christian liberty.
We have shown here that the human being possesses some innate authority
over himself, which is enhanced and made righteous by the liberating influence of
Christian faith. The emancipation from the necessity of works does not make the
agent obsolete any more than it does the works themselves. Both remain essential
to the life of the Christian from whose faith thus flow[s] forth love and joy (102)
in the form of works undertaken freely and out of love for ones neighbour (103).
Luther responds to the problem of selfish human nature by perceiving that faith
unites the soul with Christ (94) and takes on its sins. Thus one is freed to act,
seeking neither benefit nor salvation since [one] already abounds in all things
(99-100), by virtue of the grace of God. Without depriving the essential agency of
the person as an individual, Luther reveals to his readers the potential to
experience a still greater freedom: the freedom to love. The freedom to love for the
first time, truly unrestrained by the selfishness of merit.

Works Cited

Brandes, Daniel. The Hebrew Bible I: Genesis and Exodus. Foundation Year
Lecture, 5 September 2013.

Luther, Martin. The Freedom of a Christian. Foundation Year Programme
Handbook. Halifax: University of Kings College, 2013-2014. Print

Thorne, Gary. The Protestant Reformation. Foundation Year Lecture, 22
November 2013.








7

Renaissance Art
Niki Foley

What is the attitude of Renaissance Art to antiquity and the value of ancient
sources?

During the Renaissance visual art witnessed a profound shift in the
perception of the value of Antiquity, from a desire to imitate the past to a desire
to surpass the great skill of the Ancients. The fluid combination of Ancient
influences with contemporary stylistic tendencies to produce a work of mastery
with no division between influence and personal style was considered the artists
greatest achievement. The 15
th
century Florentine sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti is
considered to have achieved such a feat with his piece "The Creation of Adam
and Eve" for the doors of the of the Florentine Baptistery (see Figure 1). With this
piece Ghiberti expertly incorporates Antique figures to an extent in which his
own work seems to retranslate Hellenistic characteristics not accessible to the
15
th
century artist. This expert imitation displays Ghiberti's respect towards the
merits and beauty of Antiquity, however it is in his careful manipulation of the
figures of Adam and Eve that Ghiberti surpasses Antiquity. Lorenzo Ghiberti
portrays Adam and Eve as reminiscent of Pagan gods to outline both the way
Antiquity bends to modern desires and the meaning behind The Book of Genesis
and original Sin.
At the time that Ghiberti was creating the 'Gates of Paradise' for the
Florentine Baptistery, his incorporation of Antique-influenced figures was
undergoing a radical shift. Prior to the creation of the gates Ghiberti's work
possessed little Antique influence. As Richard Krautheimer states, at this point
Ghiberti used Antiquity as "a pool from which to draw an occasional motif"
(Krautheimer 25). However the unveiling of the Gates demonstrates the
abounding incorporation of Antique figures into Ghibertis overall aesthetic
design. Krautheimer claims this shift finds root within Ghiberti's visit to Rome
in the 1430s, during which he was exposed to more expansive collection of
Antique artwork than would have been possible in Pisa and Florence.

This claim
offers an interesting explanation for Ghiberti's shifting understanding of the
merits of Antiquity. It presents the notion that through exposure to a greater
variety of Antique influences Ghiberti was capable of discovering figures which
he found aesthetically pleasing and worthy of being incorporated into his own
works. With this greater exposure to Antiquity and the resulting sketches
completed by the artist of those pieces viewed, Ghiberti was capable of evolving
his view of the merits of Antique art. Such a shift provided the basis from which
Renaissance artists ultimately surpass the influences themselves.
The clearest piece in which Ghiberti's Antique influences may be seen is
"The Creation of Adam and Eve," which also serves as the piece in which Ghiberti
may have surpassed the greatness of these influences. Antique influence in
relation to Ghiberti's work is presented most prominently in his figures,
specifically Adam and Eve. These figures resemble the idealized images of ancient

8

Greek and Roman gods as opposed to less idealized traditional Christian figures
(see Figure 2.1, 2.2). The depiction of these figures as such epitomizes a
Renaissance view of Antiquity as full of life, characterized by graceful movement
and elegance. The figure of Adam is presented in an idealized manner, with the
depiction of toned muscle and elegant bodily contours (see Figure 2.3, 2.4). The
more central figure of Eve is similarly presented. Her body is presented in
elegantly curving contours giving a sense of movement to her static figure (see
Figure 2.5., 2.6). The extent of Ghiberti's Antique influence may even be seen in
the figures of God and the Angels. Each wear long flowing robes whose
highlighted drapery explicitly portray a sense of movement beyond the fixed
material image (see Figure 2.7, 2.8). The figures presented by Ghiberti within his
piece clearly display the extent of Antique influence in his work at the time.
Further, the conscious choice to utilize perfected, graceful and elegant figures
represents the respect Ghiberti has cultivated for Antiquity and his
acknowledgement of its greatness. Beginning with his expert replication Ghiberti
is then able surpass these influences with the greatness of his own skill and
personal perspectives.
Upon first glance Ghiberti's "The Creation of Adam and Eve" presents
replicated Antique figures. However with closer analysis it becomes clear that
through carefully considered manipulation of these Antique figures Ghiberti
comes to accomplish the Renaissance ideal of surpassing the greatness of
Antiquity. Within this piece Ghiberti utilizes bodily forms to present a detailed
account of the events of The Book of Genesis. In this single piece one may see the
creation of Adam, the creation of Eve, original sin in the form of eating from the
Tree of Knowledge, and their expulsion from the Garden of Eden. In the account
of these events Ghiberti consciously places Eve as the central figure. The contours
and facial features of Adam are less precisely detailed than those of Eve. For
example, the figure of Eve clearly displays a waistline and belly button, whereas
that of Adam is less defined (see Figure 3.1). At one point, Adam is even completely
hidden by Eves prominent figure (see Figure 3.2). Furthermore, the figure of God,
the seven angels, the lying Adam, and the sharp linear contour of the 'door' within
the piece seem to form a kind of frame around the creation event and figure of
Eve (see Figure 3.3). Ghiberti radically contrasts the treatment of Adam and Eve
to allude to their roles within The Book of Genesis. Adam is seen as passive and
submissive to the more dominant Eve. Moreover, Eve may be seen as the key
figure in Genesis, alluding to views of her as the instigator of original sin, with
the placement of her creation in the centre of the actions portrayed in the piece
(see Figure 3.4), in addition to the frontal positioning of her figure in the portrayed
expulsion (see Figure 3.5). Ghiberti also manipulates the Antique influence of the
figure of Eve to allude to her role as a 'seductress' or 'temptress' in styling her
bodily form in a manner clearly influenced by earlier images of the Greek/Roman
goddesses of sexual love and lust, Aphrodite and Venus (see Figure 2.1). However
it is in Ghiberti's distinct contrast of the figures of Adam and Eve and that of God,
that he displays his true mastery over Antiquity. As written in The Bible, Adam
and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge in hopes of becoming like God. Ghiberti
emphasizes this crucial notion within his piece by forming the figures of Adam
and Eve in a manner reminiscent of Ancient Pagan gods and fashioning the figure
of God in a more traditional Christian image of a divine figure. The contrast of the

9

divinity of these figures serves to visually convey Adam and Eves attempt and
desire to be like God. The presentation of Adam and Eve as merely Ancient divine
figures and distinctly other to the figure of God, serves to outline the failure of
their attempt and the consequential expulsion from Earthly Paradise. With the
masterful manipulation of Antique figural forms, Ghiberti clear represents
visually the Biblical warning of the dangers of betraying God and giving over to
temptation and sin. The manipulation further demonstrates Ghiberti's
accomplishment in mastering and surpassing with his own skill the influences of
Antiquity.
The Renaissance artistic ideal may be seen as a desire to go beyond the
simple replication of Antique influences to surpass and master these influences
with one's own skill. Lorenzo Ghiberti is one artist considered to have
accomplished such an ideal. This success is seen in Ghiberti's incredible
manipulation of Antique bodily figures in his piece "The Creation of Adam and
Eve" to portray visually the events, meaning and Christian teachings of the Book
of Genesis. Figures reminiscent of Pagan gods are used for Adam and Eve to
display the consequence of original sin and attempting to place oneself in the role
of God. In his aesthetic treatment of Antique figural influence Ghiberti is seen to
consider Antiquity as a time characterized by beauty with elegant forms and
graceful movement.

However with the analysis of "The Creation of

Adam and Eve"
it is clear that despite this Ancient beauty, to Ghiberti, the time for the greatness
of Antiquity has passed, displayed in his presentation of the sinning Adam and
Eve as reminiscent of now un-venerated Pagan Gods. Antiquity will come to be
subject to the changing demands and views of a new era, an era to be defined
artistically by ones ability to manipulate and surpass those distant influences.





Works Cited

Krautheimer, Richard. "Ghiberti and the Antique." Renaissance News. Vol. 6, No.
2. Summer 1953: 24-26. Print.

Polykleitos. Fragments of a Marble Statue of the Diadoumenos. 69-96 AD.
Metropolitan Museum of Art. metmuseum.org. Web. November 26 2013.

Marble Statue of Aphrodite. 1st-2nd century AD. Metropolitan Museum of Art.
metmuseum.org. Web. November 26 2013.

Marble Head of a Goddess. 4th century BC. Metropolitan Museum of Art.
metmuseum.org. Web. 26 November 2013.

Marble Head of a Horned Youth Wearing a Diadem. 3rd-2nd century BC.
Metropolitan Museum of Art. metmuseum.org. Web. 26 November 2013.

10

Rousseau
Claire Ahern

"I am referring to pity a virtue all the more universal and all the more
useful to man in that it precedes in him any kind of reflection" (Rousseau,
Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, 62). Discuss.

For Rousseau, an individual's consideration of that which is outside
of themselves arises from their instinctive experience of pity. Further, he
claims that pity provides the basis of human relationships and ultimately
benefits the community it produces. Pity is an instinctual, compassionate
reaction to the sufferings and misfortunes of others. Rousseau considers
pity to be an immediately felt sentiment because it is a natural, visceral
occurrence in "savage man" (Rousseau, Discourse on the Origin of
Inequality, 40). Rousseau reckons it to be a virtue and quality of moral
merit; a "natural goodness" (55). He argues that pity inaugurates man's
reflection beyond the egocentric confines of self-centeredness, in that it
draws the mind to that which is outside and other than the individual. As
such, pity is the precursor to human relations and society. This paper will
analyze Rousseau's concept of the nature of pity, its contribution to
reflection, and analyze its universal and useful aspects in his Discourse on
the Origin of Inequality.
For Rousseau, pity is a feeling immediately evoked through an
instinctual inclination when one person witnesses the affliction and
adversities of another. As a reaction that occurs prior to any mediation,
"Pity is what carries us without reflection to the aid of those we see
suffering" (55). Rousseau elaborates that pity is mankind's "innate
repugnance to seeing his fellow men suffer" (53). He holds that pity is a
"natural sentiment" and also a "natural virtue", his diction connoting
esteem and summoning acclaim (53). In doing so, Rousseau presents pity
as a positive characteristic of humanity's natural tendencies and praises
it as advantageous (54). In the temperament of the "noble savage",
Rousseau presents compassion as an indication of "[admirable] moral
integrity" (FYP lecture). One might ask why Rousseau expands upon the
principle of pity rather than a concept of natural empathy. To address this
question, the two must firstly be defined. Whereas empathy
involves engaging in feeling someone else's suffering and taking it up into
one's own experience, pity involves simply recognizing their adverse
situation. The individual feeling pity understands that they themselves are
not exempt from experiencing a similar situation in the future.
Simultaneously, they are psychologically removed from the situation in
knowing that they themselves are not currently subject to the distress they
are observing. Pity and empathy have differing implications; empathy

11

would not be compatible with Rousseau's argument for the development
of mankind's cognitive process. I will further elaborate why the emotional
and mental separation between 'self' and 'other' is pivotal to Rousseau's
notion of human reflection.

Rousseau argues that pity precedes reflection for the twofold reason
that while it is firstly an instinctual response that is not founded in
deliberation, it secondly awakens in man the beginnings of reflection.
Rousseau asserts the purity of experiencing pity as a "movement of nature
prior to all reflection" and "is what carries us without reflection to the aid
of those we see suffering" (55, Emphasis mine). His language also
emphasizes the power of pity: "such is the force of natural pity" (54).
Alongside its raw influential capacity, Rousseau highlights its naturalness.
Pity is thereby evoked in man by nature, and cognition plays no role in the
immediate matter. This analysis addresses the concepts implicit when
Rousseau writes about pity as 'preceding' reflection. Rousseau describes
meaningful thought as an effect of compassion. Pity urges "natural man"
(59) to consider persons outside of his own self; in acknowledging them,
the existence of a reality beyond his own being emerges and becomes
validated. From this mental response, the piqued intellect begins to form
distinctions and associations: "Everything begins to take on a new
appearance People become accustomed to consider different objects and
to make comparisons" (63). Egotism arises from man's developing
reflection: "it is reflection that strengthens [self-love]" (54). Rousseau
suggests that while pity is an instinctual emotional response, it irreversibly
stirs a person's potential intellect, thus triggering the onset of reflection.
Pity is a universal sentiment for Rousseau because it is inherent to
his concept of human nature. Prevalent in his writing is the consideration
of pity as a "natural sentiment", described as a "pure movement of nature"
(54-5). By emphasizing its organic character, Rousseau asserts that pity
is a deep-rooted component of human nature. He uses the example of
theatrically evoked pity by writing that "Even the most depraved mores
still have difficulty destroying [the force of natural pity], since everyday one
sees in our theatres someone affected and weeping at the ills of some
unfortunate person" (54). Rousseau demonstrates how in the crafted
simulations of theatre, which imitate but never replicate reality, pity reigns
true in the face of corrupt custom. Instinctual pity is so fundamental that
it can be activated through artificiality, and is powerful enough to
overcome depravity. He further casts light on its presence in the most
uncompassionate individuals, calling on the historical figures of Sulla and
Alexander of Pherea, who were both despots (54). Alongside their ruthless,
"bloodthirsty" passions, they are presented as subject to pity in their
respective "sensitiv[ity]" and "not dar[ing] to attend the performance of any
tragedy for fear of being seen weeping" (54). This ubiquitous notion of
compassion is embedded in Rousseau's "movement to a deeper standpoint
within us, our fundamental, natural selves" (Robertson. FYP lecture).

12

Thus, the universality of pity is derived from its presence in every human
being.
Rousseau argues that pity is useful because it benefits every person
as an individual and therefore promotes the collective well-being of
humanity. Every individual's intrinsic disposition is tempered by pity and
acts as an agent of unified good, exemplified when Rousseau writes that
"nothing is so gentle as man in his primitive state limited equally by
instinct and reason to protecting himself from the harm that threatens
him, he is restrained by natural pity from needlessly harming anyone" (64).
Alongside being a virtue, pity is an agent of moderation; "a natural
sentiment which, by moderating in each individual the activity of the love
of oneself, contributes to the mutual preservation of the entire species"
(55). Rousseau addresses the effect of pity on the self-centeredness of
human nature, where pity "inspires all men of a [useful] maxim of natural
goodness: Do what is good for you, with as little harms as possible to others"
(55). Rousseau's maxim of natural pity is pragmatic; each individual
attends to the necessity of one's own welfare, without imposing upon the
well-being of others. This maxim is crucial considering the life cycle of
man, especially the tenderness of childhood and frailties of old age: "Pity
is what will prevent every robust savage from robbing a weak child or an
infirm old man of his hard-earned subsistence, if he himself expects to be
able to find his own someplace else" (55). Pity is a faculty that serves the
individual in view of long term safekeeping, while providing for others
through circumstantial solicitude. What is omitted in the initial quotation
this essay addresses is restored here: "I am referring to pity, a disposition
that is fitting for beings that are as weak and as subject to ills as we are; a
virtue all the more useful to man" (53, Emphasis mine). Our limitations
necessitate pity as a tactic of survival and continuance of the human race.
Rousseau goes beyond this practicality, demonstrating pity's social uses,
where "benevolence and even friendship are, properly understood, the
products of a constant pity fixed on a particular object; for is desiring that
someone not suffer anything but desiring that he be happy?" (54). Here
Rousseau ties together how pity provokes an awareness of others, and its
virtuous nature. He argues pity as a basis of moral quality: "In fact, what
are generosity, mercy, and humanity, if not pity applied to the weak, to the
guilty, or to the human species in general" (54. Emphasis mine). This
quotation also demonstrates Rousseau's claim that the attribute of
humanity, a characteristic linguistically linked to what it is to be
essentially human, is itself based in pity.
Rousseau finds pity to be a focus of consideration when seeking to
understand humanity's base emotional constitution and ability to reflect.
He outlines a compelling relationship between compassion and
contemplation, where a primal reaction acts as a precursor of human
thought and ultimately human community. This community then turns to
the natural faculty of pity as a means to sustain itself. Rousseau presents
in this co-dependence a profound linkage, where society and each

13

individual's prosperity become indebted to pity's usefulness and
universality. Since pity is imminent in mankind, it affects every individual,
from the theatre-goer to the tyrant. Because of its commonality, every
individual operates as an agent of pity for the benefit of the feeble, in light
of their own certain weakness. Therefore, Rousseau advocates that pity is
ingrained in our nature and acts to our collective benefit so that "no one
is tempted to disobey [pity's] sweet voice" (55). Pity draws man beyond
oneself and into the engagement of reflection and ultimately, employing
Rousseaus positive connotation of the term, into a pitiful society of pitiable
creatures.


Works Cited:

Robertson, Neil. Shakespeares The Tempest. Foundation Year Lecture,
10 January 2014.

Rousseau, Jean- Jacques. Basic Political Writings of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau. Ed. Trans. Donald A. Cress. Indiana: Hackett
Publishing Company. 1987. Print.





















14

Kant
Saima Desai

Question 10: How are synthetic propositions a priori possible? (Kant,
Preamble, Prolegomena to any Future Metaphysics, 18). Discuss

When Hume first proposed that our notion of causality was derived
from habit rather than reason, he threw all prior metaphysics into doubt
by undermining the way that metaphysicians viewed the attainment of
knowledge. Roused from his dogmatic slumber (Kant 5) by this assertion,
Kant set out to redefine and strengthen the foundation of metaphysics, so
that we can once more examine how the mind links events together. What
he accomplished was to locate metaphysics completely in the realm of the
mind, thereby revolutionizing the study of being. Kant proposed that
mathematics, natural science, and metaphysics were all types of a priori
synthetic propositions. But the two concepts of a priori and synthetic are
not ones that are easily reconcilable. I will be answering the question that
Kant posed at the beginning of his Prolegomena: how are synthetic
propositions a priori possible? (Kant 18). In order to do so, I will break it
into three smaller questions and deal with each individually. What are
synthetic a priori propositions? Where do they come from? What causes
them to arise?
When dealing with the first question, one must combine the
concepts of synthetic judgments and a priori knowledge. While the
concepts of a priori and a posteriori are epistemological, the
synthetic/analytic distinction is structural. An analytic judgment is
accurately named because it requires only analysis in order to understand
it. An analytic predicate contains certain characteristics, and it is by
dissecting the predicate that one can know the characteristics implied in
its existence (10). Synthetic judgments, on the other hand, connect two
unattached analytic judgments and require an additional cognition to do
so (11). A posteriori is knowledge that comes from experience, while a
priori, is knowledge that precedes experience. The latter are concepts
inherent to all rational minds that cannot be contradicted or altered by
anything our senses tell us. It is for this reason that Kant considers a priori
to be pure knowledge.
A priori knowledge, therefore, naturally seems to accord with
analytic judgments, because in its purity it should be self-contained. All
analytic judgments are a priori (10) because both a priori and analytic
judgments rely on a notion of wholeness in that they contain their own
truth. A basic example of this is numbers, since you can count to five in
your head and the idea of five contains within it the notion of consecutive
increasing amounts. Numbers are ideas independent of experience;

15

nothing you can experience can convince you that five is not a valid
concept. And while the most basic a priori knowledge is analytic, it is by
combining multiple analytic a priori ideas that we arrive at complex
metaphysical judgments, such as all substance is permanent (40).
This leads to the second question: where do they come from?
Synthetic a priori propositions introduce a difficulty because they beg the
question of what connects these two self-contained pure ideas. Kant uses
the example of the sum 7+5=12 to illustrate synthetic a priori judgments.
In this case, the sum 7+5 contains merely their union in a single number,
without its being at all thought what the particular number is that unites
them (11). This means that a separate cognition is required to reach the
answer. Since 7, 5, and 12 are all distinct predicates, there is an
intellectual leap required to traverse the distance between the sum and
the answer. Upon examining the sum, it is easy to say that the + sign is
the factor that unites the a priori concepts of 7 and 5, but in reality
addition is simply another a priori concept in itself. The intellectual leap is
somewhat more similar to the = sign in the equation, in that it actively
connects the sum to the answer by equating the two.
Kant believes that by applying the rules of space, time, and causality
to the concepts of 7, 5, and 12, one can link them together. This is possible
since he proposes that concepts of space, time, and causality, rather than
being actual qualities inherent in things in themselves (27), are
embedded within our minds. Kant calls them the form of sensibility (27)
in that they allow us to make sense of our ideas and perceptions. All our
a priori as well as our a posteriori knowledge must conform to the rules of
space and time. These concepts differ from a priori notions because theyre
not exactly ideas in and of themselves they affect all our other ideas and
are necessary for us to understand them. Theyre more functional than
ideas, so theyre more akin to lenses through which everything in our mind
is viewed.
By accepting this premise, we can attain an answer to our second
question: a priori synthetic judgments arise from our lenses of space and
time. In the example of mathematics, Kant argues that our synthetic a
priori understanding of geometry comes from the pure intuition of space
(24) that is built into our minds. Although we already contain the a priori
concepts of straight lines and shortness, by viewing these two concepts
through the lens of three-dimensional space, we can go on to assert that
the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Similarly, Kant
argues that by applying the lens of temporality (which implies consecutive
increase) to the sum 7+5, we can reach the conclusion that this equals 12
(25).
So while we may think that a priori knowledge is the most
fundamental that our knowledge can be, in reality these lenses are much
more primal and integral to our minds. A priori knowledge is simply
contained by our minds from birth, making it less fundamental to the
function of our brains. But the architecture of the mind itself is that of

16

spatial and temporal understandings, and it is by applying these form[s]
of sensibility that we can come to synthetic a priori conclusions, often
without even realizing it. We are absolutely dead certain of the truth of our
a priori knowledge because it is derived exclusively from the most basic
truths that our minds contain space, time, and causality. This is not to
say that our rules of space, time and causation are truths in the
universal moralistic sense, but that they are present as the building blocks
of all rational minds and so they comprise our human definition of truth.
This brings us to the final and perhaps most important Kantian
question to the field of metaphysics. What causes synthetic a priori
judgments to arise? We still dont know how a priori synthetic knowledge
comes from the forms of sensibility, only that it does. The idea of space
is applied to the concepts of shortness and straight lines, but what is the
force doing the application?
I talked earlier in this essay about the leap of intuition required to
combine analytic a priori ideas. Kant calls this pure reason (64) the
force that connects two predicates when they are unable to be experienced.
Reason is a faculty a force which the mind employs to merge ideas with
lenses, with the aim to understand the collective unity of all possible
experience, and thereby go beyond every given experience (65). Therefore,
the deeper question implied here is where does reason come from? By
applying Kants theories that I have already outlined, we can come to the
conclusion that this is an unanswerable question.
Just as we can perceive but not experience noumena, we can know
that reason exists but not know anything about its true nature. Similarly,
we can observe the actions of reason and understand its function, but
trying to get at its essence is futile. Even saying that reason is a faculty is
simply a tautology. We run up against a boundary in which reason cannot
inquire about itself. But by being aware of this boundary, we can come to
understand that we have reached the crux of metaphysics. Because we are
unable to move any further in our inquiries, it means we have reached the
basis of all knowledge. We have no deeper faculty that would help us
understand reason reason is the First Cause in a long chain of intuitions
and cognitions that lead to our experience of the world.
There are some concepts that are simply beyond the realm of our
understanding. Kant revolutionized metaphysics by locating temporality,
spatiality, and causality within our minds, but by doing so, designated an
entire realm of the world incomprehensible. Similarly, he methodically
dissected the contents of knowledge and distilled out rationality as the
underlying force. In the end, we do get an answer to the question how are
synthetic propositions a priori possible? Reason applies the lenses of
space, time, and causality to inherent concepts in order to join them
together into complex abstract ideas. But the answer is unsatisfying,
because the essential actor in that sentence remains indefinable. Even as
metaphysics is driven by the insatiable human desire to understand
ourselves, Kant admits that human faculties are bounded. Kants

17

metaphysics challenges us to both marvel at the power of our reasoning,
as well as come to peace with its limits.


Works Cited

Kant, Immanuel. Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics. Trans. James
W. Ellington. 2nd ed. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company
Inc., 1977. Print.





























18

De Pizan
Rebecca Steele

Discuss the role of freedom in Christine de Pizan.

In her book The City of Ladies, Christine de Pizan hopes to secure a
freedom for women that is quite different from the petitions of 21st century
feminist. She is unconcerned with a womans place in society and instead
focuses on a much more fundamental struggle surrounding the inherent
nature of women. It is precisely this, the identity of women, which de Pizan
seeks to protect through her creation of the City of Ladies. By making a
clear connection between identity and freedom, Christine de Pizan
supplies an important contribution validates her contributions to a debate
on women that has thus far excluded its subject. Shifting the focus of
womens freedom to a more personal level allows her to reject premises
backed by authority in favor of arguments grounded in example. Christine
Laennec explores how de Pizan compels men to engage with her work in
Unladylike Polemics: Christine de Pizans strategies of Attack and
Defense, an article that will support my claims regarding de Pizans
tactics. By changing the scope of the debate on women, Christine de Pizan
creates a long overdue opportunity for women to engage in the discussion
surrounding their own identity.
De Pizan identifies mens evil spoken of women as the mechanism
by which men dictate womens identities and thus limit their freedom
(I.2.2). Christine and the personifications of virtues that appear to her take
issue with these false assertions predominantly because they have proven
to be convincing. Men have made women less attractive to other men in
a successful bid to control the way womens characters are perceived
(I.8.5). Furthermore, men have been able to determine even how women
see themselves. Christine herself illustrates this point as she describes
how she detested [herself] and the entire feminine sex (I.1.1). Women are
barred from realizing their full potential when they undervalue it, an effect
that is compounded by the limitations placed on them by men who are
unable to appreciate their merit. It is the prevention of exactly these sorts
of attacks that necessitates the protection the City of Ladies. Without this
protection, women are internally and externally denied the fundamental
freedom of dictating and realizing the potential of their own identity.
Men are able to achieve this control over womens identity and by
extension freedom through the use of authority. This concept is explained
most explicitly by the figure of Reason, who articulates the common belief
that all the words of the philosophers are articles of faith (I.1.2) It is not
just Christine that has erroneously subscribed to this view that texts must
be accurate and truthful if their authors are old and well known. Many

19

men have been convinced as well; men who in order to show they have
read many authors [] repeat what other writers have said (I.8.4). The
fact that this concept is criticized by the physical embodiment of reason it
a testament to the lack of critical thinking and intelligence that this
fallacious appeal to authority involves. Nevertheless, the success of this
strategy has resulted in a situation wherein authority is necessary for
women to disprove these men, but women must disprove these men in
order to have authority. Considering this paradox, it is difficult to imagine
how women might be able to enter the discussion in order to defend
themselves and redefine their identity.
Aware that it is impossible to win on such terms, de Pizan launches
a criticism against authority and introduces new methods of
argumentation to validate her cause. She explicitly refutes the infallibility
of authority with the reminder that these same philosophers contradict
and criticize one another (I.2.2). De Pizan also makes an implicit criticism
of appealing to authority. After describing many mens tendencies to cite
different authors, on the subsequent page she herself mentions an
argument whose source she attributes to the man I cannot remember
which one (I.8.4, I.8.8). Considering the ease with which she could have
determined the name of the author, the reader can assume that it was a
calculated decision to forget his name. This instance provides a
substantial criticism of her opponents rhetoric, suggesting that such
sources are not universally recognized let alone universal truths. In
contrast to mens tendencies, it also shifts the focus to the content of the
source rather than its author, in a way that allows her to engage more
effectively with the ideas being presented. In doing so, de Pizan
demonstrates that her arguments can stand alone, whereas men who use
famous names without engaging much with the material often fall into the
logical fallacy of circular reasoning.
Christine Laennec provides complementary analysis of how de Pizan
denies authority in her essay on Unladylike Polemics: Christine de Pizans
Strategies of Attack and Defense. Laennec suggests that admitting
weaknesses or faults actually strengthens de Pizans case, arguing that
the less authority for her writing she appears to have, the greater the force
of her arguments [] weakness (like victimization) is a sign of her
intellectual superiority (Laennec 52-53). Laennec derives this idea from
Reasons explanations of how certain deficiencies are signs of other
strengths, considering that Nature makes up the difference with an even
greater boon than she has taken away (de Pizan I.13.1). I would argue
that the instance of de Pizan neglecting to source her argument is just
such an instance of turning a weakness into a strength. Forgetfulness is
certainly a sign of a lack of authority, but de Pizan has set herself up in a
way that has not only removed authority as a necessary prerequisite to her
argument but actually turns reliance on authority into a weakness.
Explicitly and implicitly, Christine reminds the reader that the
effectiveness of an argument must be determined based on its contents as

20

opposed to its author. She has removed authority as an entry barrier to
the debate surrounding the identity and freedom of women and therefore
opened it up to women themselves.
Considering the personal nature of a discussion surrounding
identity, the example-based proofs that de Pizan favors over authority are
undeniably more appropriate. Initially this strategy may seem similar to
the examples men employ, but I would argue that they put these examples
to entirely different purposes. The text indicates that men use examples
as a starting point from which they make a series of extrapolations that
successively become farther removed from the truth. De Pizan illustrates
this tactic in her discussion of church attendance, in which misogynists
claim that women go there all dressed up to show off their beauty and to
attract men, when the truth of the scenario is that for each of these
women there are twenty or thirty old women dressed simply (I.10.1). In
contrast, the examples presented on behalf of women by Reason avoid this
fallacy of composition. Each of the stones that are used to build the City
of Ladies is an example of a particular woman, and the physicality of this
analogy is symbolic of how Christine substantiates her examples in a way
men do not. De Pizan attributes sense, prudence, and strength to
Thamiris, and takes the time to authenticate these assertions by detailing
the conquests that rightfully earned her this reputation (I.17.2). This tactic
is representative of her approach to redefining the identity of women as
something that is unique and personal. She portrays identity as a concept
that applies on an individual basis instead of a constructed character
forcefully applied to the group as a whole.
To some extent, Christine is more successful in her use of examples
because she has a lesser burden- whereas men make assertions pertaining
to the entire female sex, Christine rejects universals and recognizes that
there are women who are evil, dissolute and perverted and do not fit into
her narrow definition of a virtuous women (I.8.3). She simply demonstrates
the potential of women and their right to be considered based on their
individual virtue and merit. Despite the moral difficulties with her
definition of virtuous women, she cannot be faulted from an argumentative
standpoint for refusing the impossible burden of proving identity as
something universal as men do. It may seem as though de Pizans
judgments of women promotes an unfair or elitist view of freedom,
considering that women who lack virtue are excluded from the protection
of the City of Ladies (I.3.3). However, Christines definitions assume that
women who lack virtue are already free. The City of Ladies is built to
protect women who have no defense against the false accusations against
them and therefore find their identity subject to the manipulation of men
(I.3.3). Christine suggests that the women excluded from her city have
earned their reputation; it is a more accurate representation of their
identity and therefore they need no protection. Recognizing the
distinctions between women allows de Pizan to make compelling

21

arguments that the men who tend towards generalizations are precluded
from.
Shifting the debate on the identity of women to something more
example-based and personal is fitting, but there is no guarantee that men
will accept this approach and engage with the words of someone with no
authority to back them. Christine Laennec encapsulates the strategy de
Pizan uses to engage men by citing the martyrs referenced in the book
itself: it is through being attacked that the martyr herself defeats her
opponents (Laennec 48). By responding directly to accusations Christine
justifies herself as a defender of women, although often the pretense of
defense reveals itself to be a counter-attack (50). De Pizan capitalizes on
her position as the victim, with the assumption that if women are attacked
they are in the right (51). By justifying her involvement in the debate in
this sense, de Pizan is able to elicit responses that further validate her
claim without taking on the position of the antagonist.
Laennec tends to focus on the rhetoric structure of de Pizans
argument, and in fact takes issue with the plot it is embedded in.
Laennecs commentary on the description of the impenetrable city that
will never be destroyed is that this claim to immunity from attack is
highly problematic, considering that de Pizans engagement is entirely
through response. (de Pizan I.4.2, Laennec 49). However, I would argue
that the construction of the City of Ladies is exemplary of de Pizans form
of example-based response. Contrary to Laennecs criticism, de Pizans
claims of an invincible city actually invites attack in that it presents the
reader with a challenge. She posits that the city will be stormed by
numerous assaults but that it will never be taken or conquered (de Pizan
I.4.2). Recognizing that men will argue with her but preemptively claiming
they will fail is an invitation for her opponents to try to prove her wrong.
The writing of the book The City of Ladies is in fact symbolic of the
building of the city itself, and therefore de Pizan invites her readers to
attack the material within her book, solidifying her place within the debate.
Laennec stipulates that attack is essential: without it, the primary
justification for the entire work would not exist (Laennec 50). Although
outwardly denying attack, the creation of the city provides a challenge that
de Pizans opponents would find difficult to turn down. She is fulfilling the
role of the martyr Laennec identifies her with, and by inviting attack on
her own work turns herself into one of the examples of women that have
the potential to redefine their identity.
De Pizan has created a place for every woman within the debate
surrounding womens character. She has turned herself into an effective
example that disproves false allegations against women, and in
symbolically laying the bricks of the City of Ladies she paves the way for
other women to do the same. De Pizan has demonstrated that identity is
not something that is universally applicable but instead something that
must be discovered on an individual basis, which implies that a woman
can be the only authority on her own identity.

22




Works Cited
Pizan, Christine. The Book of the City of Ladies. New York: Persea, 1998.
Print.

Laennec, Christine Moneera. "Unladylike Polemics: Christine De Pizan's
Strategies of Attack and Defense." Tulsa Studies in Women's
Literature 12.1 (1993): 47-59. Web.






























23

Marx & Engels
Jonathan Brown Gilbert

You reproach us, therefore, with intending to do away with a form of
property, the necessary condition for whose existence is the non-existence
of any property for the immense majority of society (Marx & Engels, The
Communist Manifesto, 14). Discuss.

Published in 1848, Karl Marx and Frederick Engels Communist
Manifesto gives voice to a powerful political movement that was emerging
at the time, and the ideas it presents remain enormously relevant to
contemporary political and economic discourse. The Manifesto provides a
brief but sharp analysis of the ideological influence the bourgeoisie
1
exerts
on all members of modern society. The cultural acceptance of bourgeois
values is demonstrated by the reproach with which Marx and Engels were
met for their [intention] to do away with a form of property, the necessary
condition for whose existence is the non-existence of any property for the
immense majority of society (Marx & Engels 171). The interests of the
enormous majority, the proletariat, are in direct conflict with those of their
oppressors, the bourgeoisie; however, because the bourgeoisie is the ruling
class, the dominant political and cultural forces of society reflect bourgeois
interests. It is my contention that the revolutionary potential of the
proletariat is undermined by the widespread influence and internalization
of bourgeois values, especially among those whose interests such values
do not represent.
Marx and Engels suggest that because ones socio-economic class
determines the social and material conditions of their existence, it also
determines their consciousness. It seems relatively uncontentious to point
out that ones class has a significant impact on ones relation to society,
its institutions, and its other members. Marx and Engels extend this train
of thought, arguing that, as a consequence of this impact, mans ideas,
views and conceptions, in one word, mans consciousness, changes with
every change in the conditions of his material existence, in his social
relations and his social life (174). The mediation of an individuals
experience by the social and material conditions of their existence results
in the possession of particular interests according to ones class-
positioning with society.
Marx and Engels argue that every past society has been structured
according to the relation of different classes, structured according to the

1
By bourgeoisie is meant the class of modern Capitalists, owners of the means of social production
and employers of wage-labour. By proletariat, the class of modern wage-labourers who, having no
means of production of their own, are reduced to selling their labour-power in order to live. [Note
by Engels to the English edition of 1888] (158).

24

advantage of one class at the expense of another. To this effect, they write
that the history of all past society has consisted in the development of
class antagonisms, antagonisms that assumed different forms at different
epochs. But whatever form they may have taken, one fact is common to
all past ages, namely, the exploitation of one part of society by the other
(175). This class-antagonism rooted in exploitation, Marx and Engels
suggest, has, despite taking on different forms, remained constant
throughout history: freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and
serf, guild-master and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed
(159). In each case, there exists a different exploitative class-relation in
which the interests of the ruling class conflict with the interests of those
they exploit.
History, Marx and Engels argue, has been the playing-out of the
conflict between opposing classes. The Manifesto begins with the famous
declaration, The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of
class struggles (Marx & Engels, 158). According to this model, all major
historical events have been the manifestation of opposing class-interests,
the exploited rising up against their oppressors, a fight that each time
ended, either in a revolutionary reconstitution of society at large, or in the
common ruin of the contending classes (Marx & Engels 159). These
events, The Manifesto suggests, eventually resolve into a new society with
a different class structure and a new set of corresponding class-tensions.
The bourgeoisie, Marx and Engels contend, have created the
conditions for a proletarian revolution, and consequently, their own
destruction. The Capitalist class, they argue, is responsible for the
growing proletariat, increasingly desperate, and increasingly unified. The
bourgeoisie, they write, keeps more and more doing away with the
scattered state of the population, of the means of production, and of
property. It has agglomerated population, centralised means of
production, and has concentrated property in a few hands (Marx & Engels
162-3). Marx and Engels are calling attention to the fact that, responding
to the demands of modern industrial production, the bourgeoisie is
responsible for the rapid geographical concentration of the proletariat, as
well as their reduction to a common state of material poverty, concluding
that the necessary consequence of this was political centralisation (163).
The emergence of the proletariat as a unified political body represents the
first step towards a revolution, the consequence of which would be a
complete restructuring or even undoing of class-relations. The
bourgeoisie, they assert has left remaining no other nexus between man
and man than naked self-interest, than callous cash payment. It has
resolved personal worth into exchange value In one word, for
exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted
naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation (161). Unlike societies of
the past, which obscured and justified their exploitative class-structure
with religious and cultural traditions, the relationship between bourgeoisie
and proletariat is transparent in its exploitation. As a result of the

25

historically unique transparency and brutality with which the bourgeoisie
exploits the proletariat, the proletarian revolution unlike the class-
restructurings of the past cannot be successful without doing away with
this exploitation all together, that is, the total disappearance of class
antagonisms (Marx & Engels 175). For Marx and Engels, this represents
the end of history as it has been known thus far.
Marx and Engels argue that the consequence of the proletarian
revolution is the abolishment of private property. The theory of the
Communists, they write, may be summed up in the single sentence:
Abolition of private property (170). Private property, they suggest, is the
means by which Capitalism functions, producing wealth for the owners of
at the expense of the labourer, it is the final and most complete expression
of the system of producing and appropriating products that is based on
class antagonisms, on the exploitation of the many by the few (Marx &
Engels 170). It is through abolishing private property, then, that this
exploitation is prevented. The bourgeoisie, The Manifesto claims, do not
see the logic in doing away with hard-won, self-acquired, self-earned
property! (Marx & Engels 170). Here Marx and Engels ask a crucial
question, Does wage-labour create any property for the labourer? Not a
bit (170). Commenting on Capitalist industrial society, they note that
those of its members who work, acquire nothing, and those who acquire
anything, do not work (172). If, however, by property was meant the
property of the petty artisan and of the small peasant, Marx and Engels
write, There is no need to abolish that (170). Communism does not
prohibit the individual from enjoying the products of their own labour, nor
does it deprive man of the power to appropriate the products of society;
all that it does is to deprive him of the power to subjugate the labour of
others by means of such appropriation (172). What is being abolished in
the proletarian revolution is the exploitation of those who do not have
property by those who do.
Marx and Engels argue that the bourgeoisie maintain their power
through the propagation of the values, norms, and interests of their class.
The ruling ideas of each age, they write have ever been the ideas of its
ruling class (Marx & Engels 174). The interests of the ruling class have
always constituted the dominant values of society, and those promoted by
its institutions. Marx and Engels suggest that this influence is now so
absolute that the bourgeoisie has at last, since the establishment of
Modern Industry and of the world market, conquered for itself, in the
modern representative State, exclusive political sway. The executive of the
modern State is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the
whole bourgeoisie (Marx & Engels 161). The representative state tends to
represent those with the most power, and thus serves the interests of the
bourgeoisie at the expense of the proletariat. Bourgeois values extend
throughout the different branches of the government, propagated by each
of the many institutions the state supports. With regard to the legal
system, Marx and Engels address the bourgeoisie, stating that, your very

26

ideas are but the outgrowth of the conditions of your bourgeois production
and bourgeois property, just as your jurisprudence is but the will of your
class made into a law for all, a will, whose essential character and direction
are determined by the economical conditions of existence of your class
(172). The legal system operates according to a bourgeois perspective, and
so, like all state institutions, it tacitly functions in such a way that it serves
the interests of the bourgeoisie.
The revolutionary potential of the proletariat is undermined by the
widespread influence of bourgeois values, and their internalization among
those whose interests they do not represent. Marx and Engels recognize
that [their current] culture, the loss of which [the bourgeois] laments, is,
for the enormous majority, a mere training to act as a machine (172).
Insofar as culture encourages one to participate in Capitalist society, it is
serving the interest of the bourgeoisie. Education too the promises of
which are all the more enticing for the disenfranchised can be seen as
preparing us for such participation, making us more useful under the
guise of giving us an advantage. And an advantage over whom? we might
ask, remembering that our success in a Capitalist system relies on the
subjugation of others. It is for reasons such as this, Marx and Engels
suggest, that Communists seek to rescue education from the influence of
the ruling class (173). The revolution is stifled by the internalization of
bourgeois values by the proletariat, a result of the ideological control the
bourgeoisie achieves through private businesses, such as news
organizations; state institutions, such as public education; and broadly
through popular culture.
Capitalism will continue to function so long as it is able to counter
opposition with reforms and maintain ideological control. The scene has
changed considerably since the publication of The Communist Manifesto in
1848. The majority of unskilled factory wage-labour has since been
outsourced from the developed to the developing world. In so-called
developed nations, a large middle-class of voracious consumers has
emerged, and the bourgeois state has become increasingly effective at
convincing us to buy into its competitive game. Capitalism has learned to
appropriate and commoditize opposition; even political revolution can be
aestheticized, mass-produced in China, and sold back to us for a small
fee. Capitalism has also seen some reform since the time of Engels and
Marx. Citizens of economically developed nations receive varying degrees
of support from their governments in the form of social services. These
services have been funded primarily with graduated income tax schemes,
a practice Marx and Engels include amongst their measures for a
Communist state (175). All these developments have contributed to
keeping the proletarian revolution at bay. Whether capitalism is capable
of effective reform remains a matter of much debate. Marx and Engels
certainly thought the answer was no, and with many of todays thinkers
arguing that Capitalist reforms are but a band-aid solution to a
fundamentally problematic economic system, perhaps they were correct in

27

their suggestion that Capitalism would continue until it creates the
conditions for its own destruction, if not about the specifics of when and
how.


Works Cited

Marx, Karl, and Frederick Engels. Selected Writings. Ed. Lawrence Hugh
Simon. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1994. Print.





























28

Owen
Maggie ORiordan Ross
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest / To children ardent for
some desperate glory, / The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est / Pro patria mori
(Owen, Dulce et Decorum Est 24-28). Discuss.

In the act of analyzing literature, one must consider how much
influence the author should have in ones understanding of the work.
When the author is anonymous, or unknown, the answer is already
provided. Yet when ones subject matter and poetic style is so deeply
shaped by their personal experiences, when does one draw the line?
Wilfred Owen is Englands most beloved war-era poet, and his art is
profoundly defined by his mental trauma and personal life. Can the
analysis of his poetry be differentiated from an understanding of the
person? Would a Freudian reading distort Owens person, or would it
provide an insightful study of his poetry? I do not claim to give a Freudian
account of Owens shell-shock condition it would be in bad taste to
project Freudian ideals on anyone, much less one as talented and beloved
as Wilfred Owen. Rather, it is my endeavor to outline an analysis of Owens
Dulce et Decorum Est using a Freudian lens to provide check-points to
help guide the reading. As it is with any great poet, his writing is the
greatest way to access him an analysis of the poem ought to give us an
insight into the man himself. Through the three indicators of destruction-
drive, or a compulsion to repeat, Eros, and the theme of irony, I hope to
shed some light on Wilfred Owens poetic style and attitude towards the
horrors of the Great War.
Wilfred Owen, like so many of the soldiers at the front in the Great
War, suffered from war neurosis, experiencing repeated nightmares.
Sigmund Freud, in Beyond the Pleasure Principle, accounts for this
tendency to repeat symptoms of traumatic stress as the ego portion of the
mind suppressing the content to obviate the unpleasure that would be
excited by the release of the repressed content (62), while the traumatic
content causes an impulsion to repeat (61), for it wishes to be expressed
somehow. The compulsion to repeat is brought on by the destruction-
drive, an impulse to lead the organism to death (77). One can see the
repetition compulsion at work in Owens writing when he accounts for his
dreams. Owen writes, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
(3). The haunting flares are like the repetition of nightmares, following
you. The repression of the material is implied by saying, we turned our
backs, like one turning ones ego against the traumatic material. Owen
describes watching a man succumb to the chlorine gas, writing, But
someone still was yelling out and stumbling / And floundring like a man
in fire or lime... (11-12). The man flounders like a fish out of water. Air

29

should be his natural element, but it has paradoxically been turned
against him. The nature of war is like drowning above water. The ellipsis
after the burning lime represents the moment before Owen pulls the
mask over his face. He should be able to breathe after this, yet the
atmosphere of the poem is hazy and smothered, as though it is in slow
motion. He then writes, Dim, through the misty panes and thick green
light, / As under a green sea, I saw him drowning (13-14). Dim is a
powerful word to start the sentence, sounding like a drone in a Gregorian
chant where one note is held throughout the duration of the hymn. The
closed short vowel sound i indicates narrowness, like a musical note,
while the m sound implies hollowness--there is no true end to the sound,
thus it carries. Dim contributes to the hazy atmosphere of the poem. It
reminds the reader of the way that sound is different when one is under
water or a mask. Sounds from outside sound muffled, while sounds from
under the mask ring. The green light seems unnatural, until one realizes
that the gas masks had green panes of glass--Owen would have literally
seen this experience in green light. This sequence is about Owens
repeated dreams of the man paradoxically drowning above water where
life cannot be sustained. He then writes, in what would have been most
relived, In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, / He plunges at me,
guttering, choking, drowning (15-16). Words like plunges, guttering
and drowning further bring out the metaphor of the sea. Under this
green sea, logic has been inverted. Men can drown out of water. The sea
is usually seen as being life-giving, yet life is undermined in this war. Life
itself has been poisoned. Wilfred Owens struggles with war neurosis and
repetition compulsion due to his trauma can be outlined through the
theme of dreams in Dulce et Decorum Est.
According to Freud, there is a tension between the destruction-drive,
which leads to recurring nightmares, and Eros, the pleasure principle,
which wishes to self-immortalize (83). The theme of repetition of dreams is
evidence of the destruction-drive, but the need to bear witness to those
who have died is unarguably Eros. In The Great War and Modern Memory,
Paul Fussell observes that revisiting the battlefields in memory becomes
as powerful a ritual obligation as visiting the cemeteries (327). With so
many soldiers dying deaths of the masses, one needs a way to provide a
voice for those who die as cattle (Anthem 1). Owens poetry tends to
focus on the physicality of man; his semi-erotic poems depict fragments of
the male body in an era when complete physicality was understood to be
essentialto see a broken man was to see a family without means of
support, or someone lacking masculinity. He picked up on the fact that
true suffering could be portrayed through elements of the male body. In
reference to this, Fussell notes, he arrives by disciplined sublimation at a
state of profound pity for those who for such a brief moment possess them
(291). Owens usual style is to romanticize the body, as he does in Anthem
for Doomed Youth. He writes, but in their eyes / Shall shine the holy
glimmers of good-byes (10-11). Their eyes is the last word of the line,

30

thus it gains a sense of permanence and echoes through the readers mind.
Yet in Dulce et Decorum Est, Owen abandons this elegiacal diction, and
provides a distorted, satanic account of the drowned man, saying, And
watch the white eyes writing in his face, / His hanging face, like a devils
sick of sin (19-20). His usage of imagery is appropriate here; had he
painted a picture of the glimmers of good-byes, the reader may have
gained a sense of the glory and romanticism of war, which would have
contradicted the theme of the poem. By using such disturbing imagery,
like that of the hanging face, he fragments the soldiers body and urges
the reader to focus on each distorted element. He describes the face as
being like a devils sick of sin. The s sibilant in devils sick and sin
sounds like a hissing snake, winding through the words and following the
reader. The closed short vowel k sound in sick adds a touch of
harshness and precisionOwen chooses these words and sounds very
wisely, and they have their desired effect of burning on the readers tongue,
sounding harsh and evil.
In May of 1917, Wilfred Owen was being treated in England for war
neurosis, or shell-shock. In a letter he describes being trapped in close
proximity to the fragments of a friends body. He describes it as being in
various places around and about, if you understand. I hope you dont!
(242). Both the physical fragments and the mental trauma seem to haunt
his writing. His method of using elements of the body to account for their
suffering is a way to universalize the experience and account for the
masses while retaining the pathos that only individual accounts can bring.
One is not sensitive to words like thousands died, but individual elements
of particular suffering, like the hanging face and innocent tongues,
draw up individual images which deeply affect the reader. As Fussell puts
it, To speak of sufferings is not enough; one must see and feel the bloody
head cradled on ones own shoulder (295-296). This method of expressing
the particulars of their body, likely brought on by his particular trauma of
being so near the physical fragments of a fellow soldier, translates the raw
pain of an entire generation into a language that retains the deep pity he
himself feels. In Freudian terms, it is his Eros that drives him to write; the
will to live and preserve memory. The last letter he writes his mother
describes his fellow soldiers and the effects they have on him. Owen tells
her, Of this I am certain you could not be visited by a band of friends half
so fine as surround me here (362). The Eros that illuminates Owens
writing is undeniableit is the driving force of his poetry. One can come
to understand the Eros in Owens poetry through his style of expressing
universal suffering through particular fragments of the male body.
Freud describes a paradox (75) in the organism between the
pleasure principle, or Eros, and the destruction drive. He writes that the
organism seeks to die only in its own way; these guardians of life, too, were
originally the bodyguards of death (78). Freuds work is deeply
paradoxical, attempting to convince the reader that every living being is
pulled by their impulses in one direction towards life, and in another

31

towards death. One must question, is similar irony expressed in Owens
writing? Fussell argues that this is unavoidable, as irony is an essential
element of war and its expression in literature. He writes, Every war is
ironic because every war is worse than expected. Every war constitutes an
irony of situation because its means are so melodramatically
disproportionate to its presumed ends (7). This is particularly evident in
the Great War, as combat on that large a scale had never been seen before.
Dulce et Decorum Est exhibits the way that modern irony was born in
the trenches. It is seeping with irony, which is outlined through diction,
structure, and intertextuality. Owen describes the soldiers as Bent
double, like beggars under sacks, / knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we
cursed through sludge (1-2). Rather than singing songs praising their
country, they are only capable of coughing and [cursing] through
sludge. Like Caliban in The Tempest, who says to Prospero, You taught
me language, and my profit ont / Is I know how to curse (I. ii. 366-368),
all England has given these soldiers is knowledge of the ways that
language can be twisted. The Latin title brought expectations of praise to
language and the human mind, which is crushed by the basest expression
of human language, that of cursing. Lines like Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!--
An ecstasy of fumbling (9) offer paradoxes that may throw the reader off.
An ecstasy reminds one of a religious experience, which fumbling would
not normally be connected to. This is a clumsy, reactionary ritual. Nothing
spontaneous or glorious is going on, only a ritual of daemonic chaos. The
dash -- is that split-second reaction of life-impulse taking over. In
addition to the diction, the poetic structure is ironic as well. The lack of
convention may be unsettling to one accustomed to reading strictly
formatted poetry. The structure is similar to a French ballade poem, with
twenty-eight lines, however the structure is broken by the irregular
division of stanzasthe two lines in the middle divide the rhyme scheme.
One might expect them to be a rhyming couplet, because of the way they
have been singled out, but they rhyme with lines in the previous stanza.
There is no closure to the lines, which is very off-putting. Owen is outlining
how convention and the tradition of values in society are breaking down
and cannot be sustained through poetic structure. Owen chose not to form
a couplet. The atrocities of war do not allow for such closure; there must
be irony and fragmentation when writing about war. The poetic structure
itself is like a man walking with an awkward limp in his gait--strides are
no longer measured. In Poetic Meter and Poetic Form, Fussell writes that
meter is pleasurable due to a humanistic delight of witnessing order and
containment being born out of chaos (6). The reader expects similar order
and containment in the poem, after all, it seems like it could have
structure, as it has a clear rhyme scheme. However, the expected iambic
pentameter is nowhere to be found; the poem hobbles along in pentameter,
with five feet per line. This breakdown of metering is disturbing, and one
may feel disoriented in reading the poem. Like walking down a steep
staircase without a banister, there is little convention to hold on to. The

32

rhyme scheme ties in the Horace tag in the last two lines which flawlessly
proves that hollow words are the foundation not only of the poem, but of
the horror of the front. Owen writes,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori. (25-28)

The glory before it seems to hang off the line, rich and promising, but
mori crushes this hope, and the extent to which glory is empty is fully
realized. The denotative value of Lie is that the saying has no true worth,
while the connotative value of capitalizing the word implies that it is based
in tradition. Perhaps Wilfred Owens poetic genius is best expressed here.
Using intertextuality, he outlines the longstanding tradition of glorifying
war. British schoolboys during the Great War were repeatedly told, it is
sweet and meet to die for ones country. It is as though one does not need
to hear the last linethe reader intuitively has the final word on his tongue
before Owen writes it. Through irony in diction, poetic structure, and
intertextuality, Owen contrasts the glory of tradition with the hollow
realities of the Great War.
By reading Wilfred Owens Dulce et Decorum Est through a
Freudian-oriented lens, one can come to better understand the tensions
experienced in his life which became essential features of his writing. Due
to his trauma, he is torn between desires to repress his experiences, and
compulsions to provide a voice for other drowning men. Wilfred Owen is
the kind of person who is impossible to separate from his poetry; his
mental trauma, personality and distinct writing style persistently shine
through any attempt at distancing him from his poems. In his last letter
to his mother, he writes, It is a great life. I am more oblivious than alas!
yourself, dear Mother, of the ghastly glimmering of the guns outside, & the
hollow crashing of the shells. There is no danger down here, or if any, it
will be well over before you read these lines (362). Wilfred Owens poetic
genius is truly intertwined with his experiences of the ghastly glimmering
of the guns; through his poetry, one arrives at an intimate understanding
of his trauma, as well as his personality, which shaped it into something
timeless and true.

Works Cited

Freud, Sigmund. Beyond the Pleasure Principle. Ed. Todd Dufresne. Trans.
Gregory C. Richter. Peterborough, Ont.: Broadview Editions, 2011.
Print.

Fussell, Paul. Great War and Modern Memory, The. Oxford University Press
USA, 2000. Web. 14 April 2014
<http://www.myilibrary.com?ID=53524>

33

Fussell, Paul. Poetic Meter and Poetic Form. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill,
1979. Print.

Owen, Wilfred. Anthem for Doomed Youth. The Collected Poems of Wilfred
Owen. Ed. C. Day Lewis. New York: New Directions Pub, 1965. 44-
45. Print.

Owen, Wilfred. Dulce et Decorum Est. The Collected Poems of Wilfred
Owen. Ed. C. Day Lewis. New York: New Directions Pub, 1965. 55-
56. Print.

Owen, Wilfred. Wilfred Owen: Selected Letters. Ed. John Bell. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1985. Print.

Shakespeare, William. The Tempest. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1987, Print.


















34


Marie Antoinette: Alienation and the Aestheticization of History
Olivia Tucker
Sofia Coppolas Marie Antoinette has received both praise and
criticism for its portrayal of the famous queens life on screen. The film
bids the viewer to relate to the characters while simultaneously leaving the
characters largely undeveloped by the traditional means of dialogue. How
then does one come to connect with such a character? The film uses
alternate methods to allow the viewer to connect with Marie, such as
through its cinematography, soundtrack, and selective intentional
anachronisms. Marie Antoinette, though a film featuring historical
characters in Coppolas interpretation of an historical setting, stands apart
from traditional historical film for the same reasons it is praised and
criticized. It goes about portraying a section of an historical individuals
life in a far less dialogue-driven manner than normally seen in historical
drama, also choosing to attempt to present the story through the lens of
Maries own experience rather than from the perspective of the exterior,
all-seeing eye of the future. Coppola has a singular aesthetic vision which
drives the movie, and her aestheticization of the history of the doomed
queen is the driving force behind how one relates to the story. Today,
history is most accessible to the masses through film, but how might the
consummation of such unavoidably aestheticized versions of history affect
ones own world view?
From the very beginning of the film, we are immersed in the world
of the late-18
th
century as Marie Antoinette sees and experiences it, rather
than as the world of today (and supposedly the world then) perceives her
in it. This is particularly evident when Marie, shortly after arriving at
Versailles, surveys her new lodgings (Coppola, Marie Antoinette, 14:50-
16:34). The camera alternates between lingering shots of rooms and
architectural detail from Maries point of view, and shots of her observing
it all herself vaguely reminiscent of a modern-day 21
st
century house
hunting reality television show. In his essay on the cinematographic
montage, filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein gives his definition of the
filmmaking method: What then characterizes montage and, consequently,
its embryo, the shot? Collision. Conflict between two neighbouring
fragments. Conflict. Collision. (Eisenstein, Beyond the Shot, 19) In this
scene this collision is present in the two alternating viewpoints.
Throughout the entire scene, Marie is silent the only sense of her the
audience is given is through her subtle expressions. This emphasizes the
relationship between the shots.
The few times a scene outside of Maries experience is shown, it is
poignantly different from the rest of the film. The two scenes in which Louis
XVI is actually shown making important decisions affecting the outside

35

world (Coppola, 1:14:49-1:15:31 and 1:39:01-1:39:23), the viewer is taken
to a far more familiar historical film setting a group of old white men
seated around the table discussing Important Political Matters, in a
soberly coloured room missing the decadence evident in the rest of
Versailles, and in the film itself. However, these scenes do not entirely
revert to such a model of historical filmography, as Louis acts as a stand-
in for Marie he is entirely aloof to the importance of the matters at hand.
These scenes are short, and we quickly revert to the candy-coloured
cocoon of Marie Antoinettes life. These few scenes are so alien because
they do not belong to Marie to her, even to Louis to a degree, they are of
a different world, a distant fiction, almost like a movie they cannot touch
her. They are as close to her as Rousseau is during her recitation on his
state of nature at the Petit Trianon (Coppola, 1:25:09-1:25:34) she recites
the rather bucolic quotation, but has no need of Rousseau beyond face
value, a philosophic poetry. She has no real connection to it, as it is a part
of the outside world which she is isolated from.
If one only viewed the previous shots mentioned, one would have no
relationship with this film whatsoever the dialogue is so minimal, the
characters so secluded from the greater reality of their time, they are left
just as isolated from us. Marie Antoinette transcends a dialogue-based plot
to reach the modern viewer through a different method and
consequentially in a different way. A small but poignant difference which
separates Marie Antoinette from the majority of historical dramas is its lack
of affected English accents Marie Antoinette herself is American. There
is a variety of accents in the film, but they are authentic to the actors
themselves, with such a blend of accents and even languages creating a
sense of naturalism, rather than overt theatricality. A few very particular
anachronisms are scattered throughout the movie which serve to connect
the early-21
st
-century viewer to the centuries-old story from a pair of
Converse sneakers in the frame (Coppola, 55:53), to a reference to Mark
Waters movie Mean Girls (Coppola, 1:10:06-1:10:14), to hints of a drug
habit, common to parties, which arose in the mid-20
th
century (Coppola,
1:09:32-1:09:39). These small visual suggestions help to relate the
characters to the modern viewer, and help the modern viewer to remove
Marie and her companions from history enough that they may be viewed
as human, without the mythology surrounding them, presenting the
viewer common ground on which to interact with the centuries-old figures.
The most poignant use of modern culture to humanize Marie to the
modern viewer is the films mixed soundtrack. The soundtrack includes a
few songs contemporary to Maries own time, but is laden with modern
music, popular and instrumental. The placement of the songs is not
random the songs have very much to do with Maries relationship to her
particular situation. For example, the busy routine of Versailles, starting
with waking in the morning, is accompanied by Vivaldis hectic Concerto
in G, a routine played out thrice in the film (Coppola, 22:56, 35:58, 40:26).
This song, although to our point of view perfectly appropriate in a film set

36

in such a time period, is nevertheless alien to the modern audience in that
it is not directly relatable to their lives it is not contemporary. Even if
they listen to it in their everyday lives, it still has the connotations of being
original to the 18th century, not their own. This creates an intrinsic
alienation between the modern viewer and the scene, mimicking Maries
own alienation from routine that is portrayed by the actress. In contrast,
scenes like the I Want Candy montage (Coppola, 55:42-58:27) which
features the song of the same name, and Marie Antoinettes 18
th
birthday
party which features the song Ceremony by New Order (Coppola, 1:08:20-
1:12:05), feature modern music which serve to translate the 18
th
-century
scene to 21
st
-century sensibilities, making these scenes almost as familiar
to viewers as a scene from a film set in the 21
st
century. This not only
works with the familiar anachronisms to bridge the gap between centuries
for the movies viewers, but demonstrates times in the movie when Marie
herself doesnt feel alienated from her situation, feeling rather a sense of
belonging, where she doesnt have to worry about keeping up appearances
or the events unfolding outside of her immediate perception which we
know lead to her eventual demise.
As Hegel is convinced of a world Spirit, which flows through and
remains the same throughout all history, his work should be quite
applicable to historical film particularly Marie Antoinette, which
attempts to invoke the emotions of the modern man through modernizing
an historical movie while maintaining its historical setting. In talking
about all history has witnessed and how it could portray humanity, he
says, we could paint the most fearful picture of the misfortunes suffered
by the noblest of nations and states as well as by private virtues and with
that picture we could arouse feelings of the deepest and most helpless
sadness, not to be outweighed by any consoling outcome (Hegel,
Introduction to The Philosophy of History, 24). But in what medium could
one paint this metaphorical picture? In film, one has several of the senses
as well as a certain temporality through which this moving picture can be
conveyed. According to Hegel, through looking back at history, we return
to the selfishness of standing on a quiet shore where we can be secure in
enjoying the distant sight of confusion and wreckage (Hegel, 24). This is
the essence of film, partaking in the ideas and events without the
prerequisite of physical presence rather, one becomes the observer from
a safe vantage point a world apart.
In his critique of Hegels aesthetic narrative of history, Dienstag
clarifies the intentions of Hegels aesthetic theory when he says,

To consider history aesthetically does not mean simply to
beautify it. Just as a decision to evaluate an action morally
does not dictate whether one judges it as good or evil, viewing
an object from an aesthetic point of view does not
predetermine the evaluation of it as beautiful or ugly. One of
Hegel's aims in the Aesthetics is to make history seem a fit

37

object (or, rather, set of objects) for aesthetic judgment.
(Dienstag, Building the Temple of Memory: Hegels Aesthetic
Narrative of History, 669)

History can now be interpreted aesthetically twofold due to the innovation
of film history as an object itself and its interpretation through the
medium of film. And as we are forbidden from evaluating it as either
beautiful or ugly, we are made to view it from different points of view
without applying superficial qualifiers to it.

Hegel's aesthetic narrative of history is best understood, I will
argue, neither as an inspirational account of progress nor as
a critique of bourgeois generalities, but as an attempt, in the
Nietzschean sense, to seduce us to life. By "seduction to life" I
intend: to give meaning to the world and thus to block an
interpretation of life that is world-denying. A seduction
requires an attraction and an attraction requires beauty.
(Dienstag, 700)

Sofia Coppolas Marie Antoinette conveys this idea of presenting history to
seduce us to life rather than to romanticize it. As a film on the monarchs
who directly preceded the French Revolution, it is very vulnerable to being
turned into such a critique of its subjects, but Coppola avoids this and
presents the historical situation instead as something beautiful which has
decayed, without taking sides. This quote also further affirms the place of
film in Hegels historical aesthetics, and the room for interpretation and
consequent multiple film explorations of same events. It places value on
the individual interpretations people choose to present, and how those are
in turn interpreted by the viewers.
Marie Antoinette uses many techniques to demonstrate alienation in
the titular characters own life, as well as to bridge the pre-existing
alienation of the audience from the 18
th
-century monarch. Sofia Coppola
presents her own aesthetic interpretation of history, seducing us into life
without seducing us into Marie Antoinettes. In Dienstags work, we are
warned of improperly interpreting this seduction:

The real danger of Hegel's strategy, I will argue, is not so much
that we gloss over the ugly past, but that we fall so deeply in
love with our own image (for Hegel thinks that history is
nothing but the reflection of human spirit) that, like
Narcissus, we become rooted to the spot, lost in admiration of
and desire for our own reflection. The seduction is hazardous,
I maintain, not because we ignore the faults of the past but
because we become imprisoned in our memory of it. (Dienstag,
701)


38

Here he highlights something that can never be overlooked, whether
concerning the study of history or the interpretation of it in historical film:
the danger of falling too in love with our past. We must not romanticize
the past to the point where we create a golden age, negating the promise
of a future or trying to live up to specific, antiquated ideals which can lead
to dangerous ideologies. Film plays a huge role in the edification and
interpretation of history for the masses, which brings us back to the
significance of the multiple interpretations of single historical events which
proceed out of each filmmakers desire to realize their own historical ideal.
Although Marie Antoinette presents the titular characters life as at times
very decadent and luxuriant, it perpetuates a sense of alienation from her
surroundings and isolation from the external world, and ultimately a
melancholic turn leading to a demise which does not leave the viewer
longing to fill her shoes no matter how exquisite they may seem.

Works Cited

Coppola, Sofia. Marie Antoinette. Columbia Pictures, 2006. Film.

Dienstag, Joshua Foa. Building the Temple of Memory: Hegels Aesthetic
Narrative of History. The Review of Politics. Vol. 56, No. 4 (Autumn,
1994): pp. 697-726. Print.

Eisenstein, Sergei. Beyond the Shot [The Cinematographic Principle and
the Ideogram. Foundation Year Programme Handbook. Halifax:
University of Kings College, 2013-2014. Print.

Hegel, G.W.F. Introduction to The Philosophy of History. Trans. Leo Rauch.
Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1988. Print.














39

Einstein
Josh Feldman

What has nature to do with our coordinate systems and their state of
motion? (Einstein, What is the Theory of Relativity?, M10, 71). Discuss.

In an address delivered at the celebration of theoretical physicist
Max Plancks 60
th
birthday, Albert Einstein begins by outlining two types
of scientists: those who study for a joyful sense of superior intellectual
power and those who study for utilitarian purposes (65). Einstein
proclaims that if they were the only types there were, [science] would
never have come to be, any more than a forest can grow which consists of
nothing but creepers (65). Although these two groups of thinkers
contribute to the fields development, they are not responsible for the
fundamental theories upon which science is based. The final group, which
includes Max Planck, studies for the love of science (67). For Max Planck
and his colleagues, science is an end in itself rather than a means to an
end, considering the scientific theory to be meaningful separate from its
uses. What is unique about this loving relationship that leads to the
discovery of essential concepts? To answer this question, this paper will
first define science and from this definition, determine what necessitates
sciences existence. It will then be shown that only a love of science can
fulfill the aforementioned requirement. Underlying Einsteins claim at
Plancks birthday party is the belief that the intuition necessary for the
development of fundamental scientific theories requires a love of science.
Science is the attempt to provide logically coherent order to
experience through the creation of a conceptual system. Experience begins
when ones mind derives mental pictures from the data provided by our
sense organs (53). Series of pictures are further developed from these
individual ones and stored in our memory. At this point, experience is
meaningless and disordered data. The mind transitions from experiencing
to thinking when it recognizes a repetition in the data. This pattern is
understood as a concept (53). Once identified, the mind can attempt to
apply this concept to all experience with the intention of structuring the
worlds unpredictability. Einstein provides effect connected with direct
touch as an example of a concept he developed at a young age (54). In
this case, young Einstein understood the experience of movement as one
body coming into contact with another. When observing a compass,
however, the concept was contradicted by experience: the magnet moved
without direct contact with another object. Einstein was forced to revise
his conceptual system of the universe in order to accommodate for this
inconsistency. A scientist is constantly reworking his system of guesses
to ensure it does not contradict empirical evidence (63, 60). Furthermore,

40

when there are multiple theories that describe a phenomenon, the concept
with the most definite and simple premises should remain while the
others should be dismissed (61). Until these two criteria are met, scientists
must continue to develop new theories.
The development of such a concept is complicated by the logical
chasm between phenomena and theory. Einstein asserts that all
concepts, even those which are the closest to experience are from the point
of view of logic freely chosen conventions (56). Humans impose concepts
upon experience rather than deducing them from experience. Phenomena
are facts and we provide the interpretation. Einstein, in agreement with
the philosopher David Hume, believes that there are no logical
preconditions for experience (Frappier FYP lecture). Although the mind
might recognize an ordering principle or concept within experience, there
is no logical reason to believe that the cosmos is governed by such a
principle. To demonstrate this point, Einstein calls to mind the example of
a watch. If one cannot open up a watch and observe its mechanisms, it is
impossible to ensure ones picture is the only one which could explain
[the]observations (63). Although one can develop a conceptual picture
that fits the totality of ones experience, one can never be quite sure his
picture is the only one which could explain his observations (63). The
sensory experience of the watch does not provide sufficient evidence to
know what is inside without opening it up. To compare ones
understanding to the mechanism behind real world experience is
impossible (63). Because the mechanism will always remain hidden,
concepts must fit experience but can never be deduced from experience.
Due to Einsteins dismissal of the logical deduction of concepts,
hypotheses must be generated intuitively. Einstein states that there is no
logical path to these laws; only intuition [] can reach them (67). To
clarify, these laws are not logical extrapolations of existing theories; rather,
they are radical, original, and creative ways of organizing the universe. He
is not discussing the majority of 19
th
century physics, which used
Newtons laws to deduce new theories about the world (59). Einstein is
asserting, however, that Newtons revolutionary formulas must have been
developed with intuition in the first place. Thoughts can be developed from
other ideas rationally because the relations between [] concepts and
proposition among themselves and each other are of a logical nature (55).
Pursuing original concepts rationally is impossible because the world of
phenomena and the world of theory have no analytical connection.
Instead, we must rely on the only way to develop an idea without logic:
intuition. The value of an intuitive idea does not rely upon deductions from
premises according to the rules of logic. Rather, it assigns value to a
concept on emotional grounds. The scientist believes a hypothesis matches
the totality of experience not because he thinks it is accurate, but because
he feels it is accurate. Only after generating the hypothesis with intuition
can the scientist rationally find external confirmation through
experimentation to provide the hypothesis with meaning or content

41

(56). Emotional intuition is a prerequisite for any scientific discovery, but
must be corroborated through rational experimentation.
Scientific intuition is only possible if one finds beauty in objective
truth. Einstein states that intuition relies upon a sympathetic
understanding of experience (67). To understand this concept, consider
the example of the poet. Like the physicist, the poet develops a simplified
and intelligible picture of the world (66). Whereas the poet expresses his
picture of the universe through poems, the physicist articulates his
worldview through equations. Although the medium and goals are
different, the process of developing such a worldview always necessitates
intuition. For the purpose of this example, that which is beautiful is that
which is emotionally meaningful. Because experience is only meaningless
sense impressions, beauty is the significance we find in the world
nonetheless. Consequently, witnessing beauty gives rise to a feeling of
pleasure. The poet appreciates the beauty of his art and reading a beautiful
poem is gratifying. It is only when he conceives a poem that fits his
conception of beauty and similarly provides pleasure that he begins to
write. Similarly, the physicist needs to understand the beauty in a logically
precise concept that explains sense experience to see beauty in her own
ideas. Without the appreciation of scientific beauty, one could not develop
an emotional relationship with a scientific idea. In both fields, each makes
this cosmos and its construction the pivot of his emotional life (66). Rather
than asserting a concept must be true because of evidence, intuition
believes a concept should be true because it is beautiful. A sympathetic
understanding of experience means that one appreciates scientific beauty
and in this way allows for intuition.
Scientists such as Max Planck make physics possible because their
love for the beauty of science enables the intuition necessary for
innovation. The first two types of scientists, those who want to affirm their
intelligence and those who want to use science for practical benefit treat
science as a tool to achieve other goals. On the other hand, Planck and his
fellows treat science as an end in itself, finding pleasure in the scientific
theories themselves. These scientists state of mind is akin to that of the
religious worshiper or the lover; the daily effort comes from no deliberate
intention or program, but straight from the heart (68). Scientists like
Einstein and Planck are driven by their love of scientific beauty. Without
this appreciation it is impossible to assign emotional value to speculative
ideas, a necessary condition for intuition. An appreciation of scientific
beauty is necessary for science to exist at all because original concepts
can only be achieved through intuition alone.
Science is fundamentally an emotional endeavor. To determine the
mechanism behind experience, concepts can only be developed intuitively.
Intuitions emotional response to an idea involves the ability to recognize
beauty in the theory. Therefore, one can only develop an innovative idea
through an appreciation for the beauty of science. In an epistemological
system where reality is inaccessible, Einstein demonstrates that emotion

42

is our best tool to uncover the underlying mechanisms of the cosmos.
Einstein exposes the misconception that science is purely rational.
Although concepts must accurately describe experience and contain no
internal fallacies, the creation of theories demands an appreciation of
beauty above all else.


Works Cited

Einstein, Albert. Autobiographical Notes. Foundation Year Programme
Handbook. Halifax: University of Kings College, 2013-2014. Print.

Einstein, Albert. Rise of the Mechanical View. Foundation Year
Programme Handbook. Halifax: University of Kings College, 2013-
2014. Print.

Einstein, Albert. Principles of Research Foundation Year Programme
Handbook. Halifax: University of Kings College, 2013-2014. Print.

Frappier, Melanie. Einstein: The end of absolutes. Foundation Year
Lecture, 7 March 201




7

Appendix

Figure 1:


Figure 2.1:
8


(Marble Statue of Aphrodite, c. 1st-2nd century AD)
(Marble head of a goddess, c. 4th century BC)

Figure 2.2:
9


(Marble head of a horned youth wearing a diadem, circa 3rd-2nd century BC)
(Fragments of a marble statue of the Diadoumenos, Polykleitos, circa 69-96 AD)



Figure 2.3:
10


Figure 2.4:


Figure 2.5:
11



Figure 2.6:


Figure 2.7:

Figure 2.8:
12


Figure 3.1:


13
Figure 3.2:


Figure 3.3:


14
Figure 3.4:


Figure 3.5: