Polifem między nomos oraz physis. Homer, Sofiści i „prawa ludzkiej miary” w dramacie satyrowym "Cyklop" Eurypidesa

Jason Stanley's book, How Propaganda Works, is a welcome and needed work in social and political philosophy. It creatively weaves political philosophy, social theory, analytic epistemology, feminism, philosophy of language, philosophy of education, formal semantics, and social psychology. The central goal of the book is to explain how propaganda works in a liberal democratic society. Propaganda exists in totalitarian regimes through the mechanisms of social control like the mass media. That is not surprising. But, does propaganda exist in the United States? The fact that propaganda exists in the United States is perhaps not novel; the novelty of Stanley's book is its philosophical explanation of the mechanism behind propaganda. Stanley does this with the rigor, clarity, and depth that you would expect from such a distinguished philosopher. In what follows, I will provide a brief description of the main arguments of each of seven chapters and offer several observations. These observations are an invitation for further reflection and investigation.I begin by situating Stanley's book in the broader literature. How Propaganda Works situates itself in at least three different terrains of philosophical inquiry. First, Stanley's book is a welcome and important addition to the type of theorizing that blurs the distinction between subdisciplines of philosophy. For instance, Miranda Fricker's groundbreaking book Epistemic Injustice blurs the distinction between analytic epistemology (virtue epistemology), and ethics and politics.1 Stanley's work also blurs the line between analytic epistemology and contemporary social and political philosophy. It would be interesting to see analytic epistemologists working on pragmatic encroachment issues (or what Stanley calls interest-relativism about knowledge) to probe the social-political implications of their apolitical postulates. Second, Stanley's book is a welcome addition to the methodological debate in political philosophy regarding the ideal and nonideal theories. The consequence of this methodological commitment leads Stanley to scour the vast fields of behavioral, social, and human sciences to answer the question of “how propaganda works.” Third, and this may be a hopeful speculation on my part, Stanley's work might legitimize marginalized areas of philosophy, including critical theory and pragmatism. Stanley, for instance, though not uncritical of John Dewey, legitimately recognizes Dewey's contribution to democracy and its culture.How Propaganda Works is comprised of an informative introduction and seven substantive chapters. In what follows, I will briefly discuss the main arguments of each of seven chapters.The goal of chapter 1 is to provide a historical account of the prevalence of propaganda in the history of political philosophy, from Plato to Rousseau to the twentieth century. According to Stanley, one of the central reasons philosophers have endorsed democracy is because of its stability over other political arrangements. Democratic ideals demand that a regime affords liberty to all of its citizens. But having liberty makes it possible to use propaganda or demagoguery to seize power that ultimately makes democracy unstable. This classic problem of propaganda drops out in contemporary political philosophy because of its insistence on political ideals. This reveals the central contention of Stanley's book: ideals can be used to mislead democratic discourse. This also reveals the methodology of the book: we need to connect normative political philosophy with social theory.In chapter 2, Stanley defines propaganda as a means by which the language of democratic ideals is used to undermine the very ideal that it is purported to serve. Stanley attempts to undermine the common belief that propaganda must be false and insincerely made. That propaganda can be true is exemplified by an example that “there is a Muslim in the room.” The assertion is true because it is true that there is a Muslim in the room, but this is an instance of propaganda because it elicits fear about Muslims, that is, all Muslims are potentially terrorists. So, propaganda can be true. This point will be picked up in my discussion of chapter 4. That propaganda can be sincerely made is exemplified by the example of Hitler, who asserted derogatory statements about the Jews. Hitler sincerely held this belief, yet it was used as propaganda to elicit the belief that the Jews were a public health menace. The main problem with the claim that propaganda has to be insincerely made is that it “fails to respect the connection between propaganda and ideology” (46). Stanley draws a distinction between supporting and undermining propaganda: Supporting propaganda: A contribution to public discourse that is presented as an embodiment of certain ideals, yet it is of a kind that tends to increase the realization of those very ideals by either emotional or other non rational means.Undermining propaganda: A contribution to public discourse that is presented as an embodiment of certain ideals, yet is of a kind that tends to erode those very ideals. (53) To illustrate the connection between ideology and (undermining) propaganda, Stanley uses a series of examples. Let me just discuss one such example. The neurosurgeon Carl Hart has persuasively shown that the so-called “War on Drugs” is predicated on Black exceptionalism—Blacks have an exceptional reaction to crack cocaine. This ideology of Black exceptionalism led to sentencing disparity between whites and blacks who consume crack cocaine. This example shows the connection between ideology and undermining propaganda: the “War on Drugs” is intended to promote the rule of law and justice, but the sentencing disparity between whites and blacks undermines the rule of law and justice.In chapter 3, Stanley accomplishes the task of explaining why propaganda is a special problem in democracies. But not all forms of propaganda are bad. There are therefore two types of propaganda. The first type of propaganda strengthens the democratic ideal of reasonableness; Stanley calls this ‘civic rhetoric.’ The second type of propaganda undermines the demo- cratic ideal of reasonableness; Stanley calls this undermining propaganda or demagoguery. Stanley argues that the normative ideal of public reason is central to liberal democracy. Following John Rawls's enormously influential account of public reason, reasons offered in public speech or debate ought to be public, or publicly acceptable. The first normative ideal of public reason is theoretical rationality, by which Stanley means “a contribution to a political debate must be justified, and be assessed solely by its impact on the truth of the issues at hand” (94). The second normative ideal of public reason is reasonableness. According to Rawls's account of reasonableness, reasons offered in public political fora have to be reasonable: that is, one should recognize that there are multiple reasonable comprehensive doctrines, and if one were reasonable, then one should recognize that a doctrine (Christian doctrine for instance) can be rejected by others as unreasonable. Stanley's conception of reasonableness is interesting because he incorporates empathy as part of the concept of reasonableness. The problem with the prison system in the United States, for instance, is that the perspectives of the prisoners are excluded in our public political debates about the prison system. For this reason, those laws and policies about the prison system that are enacted without taking into consideration the perspectives of prisoners in public debate are less legitimate and just.Having given an account of how propaganda works in liberal democracies, Stanley, in chapter 4, argues that seemingly neutral language serves as a mechanism of control. Utilizing his insights from formal and pragmatic semantics, Stanley argues that language is context-dependent. For instance, a universal quantifier, “every,” is contextual; if a teacher says “everyone got an A on the midterm exam,” the teacher is referring to everyone in this class, not everyone in the world. Moreover, Stanley distinguishes between “at-issue content” and “not-at-issue content.” The “at-issue-content” is “what is at issue in the debate” (134). On the other hand, “the not-at-issue content of an utterance is not advanced as a proposal of a content to be added to the common ground” (135). An example of “the not-at-issue content” is an utterance like “welfare”; though the assertion appears to be neutral, its “not-at-issue content” is biased. This is because the repeated assertions make it the case that people connect “welfare” to a negative characterization of a group of people. For example, suppose that a politician uses “welfare” in a political debate to advocate for the reduction of entitlement spending. “Welfare” elicits the connection that negatively characterizes a group of people, so his constituents are proportion- ately against welfare spending. This cuts off rational will and public deliberation. So, “welfare” is a propagandistic tool.Stanley, in chapter 5, discusses ideology. Ideology allows people to navigate their social world. In this sense everyone has ideology. While some ideologies are beneficial—one can acquire a tolerant identity by virtue of living in a tolerant world—some are harmful. The conception of ideology that Stanley pursues in this chapter is flawed ideology. Flawed ideology is characterized by the fact that it is hard to rationally revise one's belief in light of counter evidence. This is puzzling because even if there is good evidence to the contrary, people with flawed ideological beliefs do not revise their beliefs. “The ones that are flawed in the relevant sense are the ideologies that are genuine barriers to the acquisition of knowledge.” In this sense, Stanley's point is not that flawed ideology is a moral and political problem, but an epistemological problem. Unlike some theorists who conceptually connect ideology to psychological or mental states, Stanley instead connects ideology to beliefs, and social identities and practices. So, the reason why flawed ideological beliefs are difficult to revise is due to the adherents' social identities. This move allows Stanley to place the problem of ideological belief within the realm of social reality and not merely one's subjective mental state.In chapter 6, “Political Ideologies,” Stanley advances an epistemological argument for political equality in two steps. First, Stanley provides empirical evidence from social psychology to show that negatively privileged people tend to adopt the flawed ideology of the elites; more specifically, those with negative privilege tend to adopt the ideology that justifies the uneven distribution of goods even if doing this would go against their self-interest. Second, Stanley explains the mechanism under which the flawed ideologies of the elites prevent negatively privileged people from obtaining epistemic resources to counter the dominant narratives. Stanley here appeals to the recent literature in pragmatic encroachment in analytic epistemology. He advances the Knowledge-Action thesis, “one can act on p if and only if one knows that p” (252). Knowledge is relative to the practical interests of an agent: “whether or not someone knows that p at a certain time depends upon the practical decisions they face at that time” (252). So, depending on the practical decision one faces, one could “lose knowledge” if the stakes were high. Applying this seemingly remote epistemological principle to politics, along with the account of flawed ideology, we get the following argument for political equality. Negatively privileged people tend to adopt the flawed ideology of the elites. Negatively privileged people face high stakes when it comes to knowledge claims because they are expected to contribute at an equal level as the elites, but this is not possible for the negatively privileged people. The verdict is that privileged people could literally “lose knowledge.” What is novel about Stanley's argument for political equality is that it is an epistemological argument for equality, not a moral one.Chapter 7, the final chapter, provides a fascinating case study of the ideology of elites. Stanley writes: “The ideology of the elites is a flawed ideology that those who possess more than they deserve tell themselves to justify their excessive control over the goods of the society into which they are born” (268). The ideology of elites makes it possible to justify their excessive control over the goods by appealing to natural facts about their intelligence or superiority. Against Plato and Aristotle, who believed that some are naturally intellectual and others are suited for practical activity, Stanley dispels the idea that the distinction is a natural fact.Stanley's book contains deep insights, rigorous argumentation, and interesting case studies that we would expect from such a distinguished philosopher. It is a challenging book because there are a number of intersecting and crisscrossing arguments. It is also a rewarding book because there are many important insights and arguments, as it should be evident from my discussion. In what follows, I would like to focus on three observations and criticisms that may be of interest to the readers of this journal.First, the book is rich in analysis and explanation, but weak on proposals. The book does not have much to offer in terms of solutions to the problem of propaganda that he is articulating. Here I am reminded of the last chapter of Peter Levine's book, We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For, where he articulates strategies for civic renewal, in addition to articulating facts and values. Stanley does a phenomenal job of articulating facts and values.2 For instance, when he discusses education in the second part of the twentieth century as a mechanism of social control, he argues that democracy is fundamentally about equality and autonomy. The problem with “The Cardinal Principles of Secondary Education” (282–88) is that the document talks about secondary education to further the goals of democracy, but democracy is fundamentally about social efficiency. This is a wonderful example of how facts and values are woven together. There is however no strategy here. This criticism cannot be an internal criticism—criticism about the argument of the book—because the explicit aim of Stanley's argument is to provide a theoretical explanation of why and how propaganda arises in a liberal democratic society; that is, his aim is not to provide a strategy on overcoming propaganda in a liberal democratic society. But one may naturally wonder about what we ought to do, given what we know. I propose one answer: in line with Levine's general thesis, a way of overcoming the general malaise when it comes to civic life is not merely the media, education, government, but the citizens themselves who are active and creative agents of their common worlds. Similarly, the way of overcoming propaganda has to include the citizens themselves. This is the reason why the discussion of ideology in chapters 5 and 6 are so trenchant.Second, if what Stanley argues about were true, then it would pose a significant problem for democratic theory, especially the deliberative or epistemic conceptions of democracy. According to the deliberative conception of democracy, the primary purpose of democracy is not voting, but deliberation. Deliberative democracy postulates that citizens are competent, motivated, and capable of publicly deliberating about the common good. However valid these ideals may be, they may be practically infeasible. Chapter 4 shows that language couched in neutral language could still have negative effects in political discourse. One avenue to counter this problem would be to engage with empirical research in deliberative democracy. Indeed the last decade or so has seen a tremendous amount of empirical research in deliberative democracy that attempts to map out whether the ideals of public reason are practically feasible or not. The jury is still out on that project, but it would be interesting to see Stanley engage with that body of literature. Stanley's project also poses a significant problem for epistemic conceptions of democracy. Epistemic democracy argues that democracy is capable of making good decisions and that the reason why we prefer democratic over nondemocratic regimes is that it has the capacity to make better decisions. Though there are different formulations of epistemic democracy, they all assume ideal conditions. For instance, theories inspired by the Condorcet Jury Theorem assume ideal conditions in which voters decide. Ideal conditions are free of ideology. So, the question is: do flawed ideologies cause problems for the voting public reaching the “right” answer? Although I cannot answer that question here, I suspect that the project of epistemic democracy would be considerably more complicated.Third, one of Stanley's main concerns is the ideology of elites (in other places Stanley refers to this as the ideology of technicism). The basic idea is that epistemic authority does not entail practical authority. This poses a significant problem for democracy because the expert's epistemic authority underwrites their practical authority to rule over the rest of us. So, for instance, those with positive privilege tend to invoke epistemic authority to justify their superiority (culture or material) and those in negative privilege tend to believe this, even when there is evidence to the contrary. The negatively privileged people are not only excluded from knowledge acquisition, but they also lose self-respect. This is precisely why the ideology of elites is so virulent: it thwarts the democratic ideal of citizens as equal and autonomous agents. Here I am reminded of what Alasdair MacIntyre dubs “manipulative expertise.”3 One possible response to the ideology of elites can be found in a small, but growing, body of literature that suggest that deliberation among cognitively diverse perspectives is better at solving complex problems than expert deliberation.4 This literature has garnered much attention lately, and it would have been interesting to have Stanley engage in that debate.In conclusion, I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in propaganda, social and political philosophy, civic studies, and social theory. This book challenges our conception of democracy and its ideals and causes us to be more cognizant of the ways in which flawed ideological beliefs can color the way we look at the world and interact with one another as equals.

<p>Con la ayuda de cuatro filósofos políticos tomistas contemporáneos (Copleston, Lachance, Maritain y Chal- meta), trazamos esbozos del paradigma de la filosofía política de Tomás de Aquino1, que servirá de base para el diálogo con los filósofos políticos contemporáneos. El presente artículo integra, en este estado inicial de la investigación, dos ensayos: el primero presenta nuestra posición frente a la distinción entre filosofía política y ciencia política, clave epistemológica del arranque de la investigación; y, el segundo, trata de articular tres épocas del tomismo político contemporáneo (los primeros tres cuartos del siglo XX, último cuarto y contemporaneidad) en torno a las relaciones entre los conceptos de “bien común”, lo “uno” y lo “múltiple”.</p><p> </p><p>Los mencionados ensayos pertenecen al “contexto de descubrimiento”, según lo planteara Reichenbach en su <em>Experience and Prediction </em>(1938). En el aludido “contexto” de la ciencia encontramos la investigación en el siguiente estado: búsqueda, recolección de información y organización de datos.</p>

According to most of our historical sources, namely the Greek and Roman writers, the Samnites were a tough and warlike people who lived in the mountains of central Italy (known today as the Apennine mountains) and who challenged Rome for many decades during the 4th and 3rd centuries bce. Ancient authors describe the Samnites as having a common origin (as descendants of the Sabines, according to one version), and their own distinctive cultural traits, such as language, religious traditions, and the habit of living scattered in villages and farms instead of in cities. They were said to rely on pastoralism instead of agriculture, and they were considered on the whole to be less wealthy and sophisticated than their neighbours who lived in the rich coastal plains of Italy. Modern interest in the Samnites can be traced back to 19th-century southern Italy: the so-called Agnone table, an Oscan-language inscription with a series of cult instructions, was discovered in 1848 near Pietrabbondante, where soon afterwards the impressive Samnite-period sanctuary was brought to light with its limestone temple and theater. These discoveries were followed by archaeological excavations and surveys that became increasingly systematic over the 20th century, resulting in the exponential growth of material and epigraphic data. The key challenge, however, is to determine how the communities that inhabited the central Italian mountains match up with the people who are described in ancient accounts as the Samnites. It has proven very difficult to locate the Samnites as a stable and geographically cohesive group in antiquity. As is the case with other ancient Italic peoples, the Samnites were not so much a cultural or political unit, but rather a fluid and changing collective whose boundaries shifted depending on the context. In ancient texts, the name “Samnite” is given to different communities and regions of central and southern Italy, albeit with a tendency to focus on the portion of the central Apennine mountains which roughly corresponds to the modern provinces of Campobasso, Avellino, Chieti, and Isernia. Roughly speaking, this is the area that runs from the Apennine mountains to the Adriatic sea, from the south of the modern region of Abruzzo to the area just north of Naples. The ancient inhabitants of this region saw themselves, and were seen by others, as part of networks that extended throughout Italy. But they also seem to have subscribed to more local identities associated with specific towns or districts. All of this has led to complexities in how the Samnites are defined in modern scholarship. Some scholars favor a broader outlook and use the term “Samnite” to mean the ancient inhabitants of large portions of central and southern Italy on the periphery of Etruria and Latium, most of whom spoke dialects of the Oscan language. Other scholars work with a narrower definition that normally encompasses the central Apennine communities only—and even then there is some additional fuzziness as to where the Samnites end and neighboring mountain “peoples” begin, such as the Vestini, Marsi, Marrucini and Paeligni. If we also take into account the earlier period before the 4th century bce, the issue becomes even more complex, as it is not entirely clear at what point it makes sense to start speaking of Samnites. There are many equally difficult questions around which modern scholars have been working, such as: what did the Samnites call themselves and did they see themselves as a people at any point? To what extent did cultural stereotypes and prejudices shape the way in which Greek and Roman authors portrayed the so-called Samnites? What kind of socio-political organization did these communities develop and is it comparable to anything we find in Greek or Roman Republican history? Does it make sense to regard the Samnites as a nonurban society? How were they affected by the rise of Roman supremacy and to what extent did their experience of Roman power differ from that of other Italian and Mediterranean communities? And at what point does it become impossible to speak of Samnites in any meaningful sense? The following discussion offers a general assessment of these and other key issues in the field. Given the complexities noted above, this article will focus mainly on the communities and areas of central Italy more frequently associated with Samnites in the historical record as described above, while also considering studies that adopt a broader outlook. In terms of chronology, not just the last four centuries bce are considered, when references to Samnites appear in our sources, but also the earlier period, to provide a long-term context.

This paper is premised on the observation that the processes leading to the emergence of the Slavic national systems and their subsequent institutionalization fit rather weI! into general models in which the sociocultural system is viewed from an evolutionary perspec­ tive. According to Max Weber, an initial interplay of the material interest and charismatic inspirations of the few becomes the 'life-style' of a distinct status group, and in tum eventually becomes the dominant orientation, the 'common value system' of a whole nation or civilization. I It is easy to think of the ethnic intelligentsia in Slavic societies, at the time of their National Revivals, in a charismatic role, transferring their values to the masses and thus pervading them with a common national consciousness. While the linguistic and social gulf between the masses and the status-competing non-Slavic groups explains the failure of the latter to impose its system, the linguistic and social bond between the masses and their own intellectual elites, who were engaged in the building of a new vernacular educational system (wherever such a bond existed 2), explains and justifies the success and ultimate victory of this value system in Slavic societies. Hence the role of language in the formation of national intelligentsia in Slavic societies in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The conceptual frame of our discussion is sociocultural and linguistic, more precisely sociolinguistic, i.e., stipulated in terms of an interdependence and interaction between language and society. The time axis of our discussion is represented by the historical movement of the Slavic National revival, somewhat arbitrarily dated between the mid­ eighteenth and mid-nineteenth centuries, and intellectually representing a Slavic Enlight­ enment and Romanticism where these literary and philosophical movements took root in Slavic society. The model to be presented, a single model from a universe of differentiating variables of the role of language, is that of the evolution of national intelligentsia in Slavic societies. What we propose to show is that from the nexus of sociolinguistic functions of literary languages, i.e., modem standard languages, at least one, the prestige junction, should be added to the parameter of factors predicating the historical role of Slavic intelligentsia during their National Revivals. 2. Attitudes to Slavic Languages 2.0. The intellectual climate in Slavic societies at the beginning of their National Revivals, and the attitudes among their elites toward their native languages, may perhaps be best understood against a typology of general conceptions of the time about Slavic languages, their written traditions and their prospects for the future. There are three types of mental image of this kind which influenced the development of the Slavic written traditions during this period: 3

This article presents a summary of excavations that took place some 30 years ago at Horvat Tov, a late Iron Age fortress in the northeastern Negev. The finds suggest that Horvat Tov was established in the transitional period from the Iron IIB and IIC, and was destroyed like most of the other sites in the region at the end of the 7th or early 6th century BCE. The study reconstructs the historical framework of Judah’s southern frontier, with an emphasis on the Arad–Beer-sheba Valley during the 7th century BCE, and examines the ties between Horvat Tov, the nearby fortress at Tel Arad, and other fortresses in the region at the end of the Iron Age.

The paper deals with the finds from the Late Persian-Early Hellenistic period settlement unearthed at Tel ͑Eton. The settlement, which existed during the 4th and early 3rd centuries BCE, was comprised of a fort at the top of the mound and a large village that surrounded it. The article presents the architectural, ceramic and additional finds and discusses the possible circumstances involved in the establishment of the site in the 4th century BCE, after a settlement hiatus of some 300-350 years. It also examines the possible causes for its abandonment during the course of the 3rd century BCE.

Infectious disease in the ancient Aegean: Intestinal parasitic worms in the Neolithic to Roman Period inhabitants of Kea, Greece

The article reevaluates the archaeology and history of Kadesh Barnea in view of some recent publications. It argues that the finds at the site cover the entire sequence of the Iron Age and later, up to the Persian period. The main conclusions are: (1) Substratum 4c represents the earliest occupation, which dates to the Iron I in the 12th to 10th centuries BCE. The radiocarbon results from seed samples that ostensibly belong to Substratum 4b provide dates in the 10th century BCE, and should be affiliated with this settlement. (2) Substratum 4b is a settlement (rather than an oval fortress) that features at least two phases. It covers the entire sequence of the Iron IIA, between the late 10th and early 8th century BCE. (3) Strata 3–2 feature the remains of a single rectangular fortress with a solid wall built as a foundation for a system of casemates. This fortress was built in the second half of the 8th century, with the Assyrian take-over of the region, and continued to function until ca. 600 BCE. It features three construction phases.

This timely volume brings together a diverse group of expert authors in order to investigate the question of phenomenology’s relation to the political. These authors take up a variety of themes and movements in contemporary political philosophy. Some of them put phenomenology in dialogue with feminism or philosophies of race, others with Marxism and psychoanalysis, while others look at phenomenology’s historical relation to politics. The book shows the ways in which phenomenology is either itself a form of political philosophy, or a useful method for thinking the political. It also explores the ways in which phenomenology falls short in the realm of the political. Ultimately, this collection serves as a starting point for a groundbreaking dialogue in the field about the nature of the relationship between phenomenology and the political. It is a must-read for anyone who is interested in phenomenology or contemporary social and political philosophy.

In contemporary Anglo-American political philosophy, perfectionism is widely understood as the idea that the state may, or should, promote valuable conceptions of the good life and discourage conceptions that are worthless or bad. As such, debates over perfectionism occupy a central place in contemporary political philosophy because political philosophers are deeply concerned about whether or not a liberal state is permitted to promote any particular ethical or religious doctrine or impose it on its citizens. In general, contemporary perfectionists do not argue for the state’s pursuit of any religious doctrine. They only maintain that the state is permitted to make a wide range of public policies with the aim of promoting the good life. These policies, commonly found in liberal democratic societies, may include subsidizing museums and art galleries, preserving cultural heritage, setting up public libraries and providing free access to reading materials, encouraging athletic excellence, conserving nature and biodiversity, and educating citizens about the harm of recreational drugs. Nevertheless, perfectionism remains controversial among philosophers and political scientists. It might be beneficial to take a sympathetic view of perfectionism and consider how perfectionists might defend their position against some of the common objections. These objections mainly include: (a) that the state does not possess legitimate authority to make decisions about the good life and seek to promote it; (b) that perfectionist policies are generally illiberal and paternalistic; and (c) that conceptions of the good life are objects of reasonable disagreement and hence cannot legitimately be promoted by the state. In addition, the nature and importance of perfectionist policies and politics will be discussed.

David Rondel’s Pragmatism Egalitarianism offers valuable contributions to both contemporary pragmatist scholarship and contemporary political philosophy. The book was the focus of a discussion at the American Philosophical Association’s Pacific Division meeting in April of 2019 in Vancouver, British Columbia. That discussion forms the basis for the four essays gathered here: three critical responses from Susan Dieleman, Alexander Livingston, and Robert Talisse, as well as David Rondel’s reply to these critics. This brief prefatory essay summarizes the book and its contexts in contemporary pragmatism scholarship and political philosophy.

This article argues about John Rawls' paradigm shift in contemporary political philosophy. In the article, this paradigm is defined as democratic insofar it claims, among other things, to leave enough room for democratic deliberations and citizens’ political autonomy. On this specific issue, Rawls and Habermas dialogue is still particularly fruitful. Both authors believe that contemporary political philosophy must be modest in some relevant theoretical and methodological aspects but they disagree on which of these aspects should be more or less modest. This article argues that when we look for the legitimate boundaries of the contemporary political philosophy, Rawls and Habermas projects should be seen as closely complementary to one another. On the one hand, the article partially agrees with Habermas’ objections to Rawls that political philosophy should not be too modest in providing orientations for the normative grounds of the political justification. On the other hand, against Habermas, the article remains on Rawls's side on the idea that political philosophy cannot be agnostic regarding the substantive and distributive issues of social justice.

We have tried to scrutinize the results of the excavations at Ashdod and the widely accepted interpretation of the finds. Our main proposals are summarized below (see Table 2):1. Most of the remains dating to the terminal Late Bronze Age should be ascribed to general Stratum XV and dated to the late 13th century BCE. What we would describe as Stratum XIV is represented mainly by local Stratum H6. It is contemporary with Level VI at Lachish and was likewise destroyed in the mid-12th century BCE. The Ramses III scarab that was found in a later context in Area G originated in this city, which was partially (that is, not overwhelmingly) destroyed by fire.2. Both the Late Bronze and the Iron I settlements were unfortified. What was described as a Stratum XII city wall in Area G is a section of an elaborate building.3. The Qasile X phase is apparently missing from the Ashdod sequence. It should have been found between Strata XI and X. This means that there was probably an occupational gap at Ashdod for most of the 10th century BCE.4. The Stratum X City Wall 4014 of Area G should be reassigned to Stratum VIII. It was constructed in the 8th century BCE or a short while earlier.5. Stratum IX at Ashdod cannot be interpreted as an independent layer. It was created because of possible evidence for constructional phases in the Stratum VIII-VII continuum and boosted in order to provide a pre-8th century date for the four-entry gate in Area M. All remains which were ascribed to this stratum should be assigned to the city of Stratum VIII.6. We have endorsed Ussishkin's interpretation of the stratigraphy of the gate in Area M. The four-entry gate of Ashdod was erected in the time of Stratum VIII.7. The site of Tel Ashdod was not inhabited (except for possibly squatters activity) in the 7th century BCE. The typical 7th century pottery types of Philistia are missing. But Ashdod is mentioned in the historical records throughout the 7th century BCE. We have argued that 7th century Ashdod should be sought at Ashdod-Yam. Sargon II conquered Ashdod, deported its population and established a major Assyrian centre at Ashdod-Yam – until then probably a relatively small settlement on the seashore.This analysis emphasizes once more the correct order of archaeological investigation: it should start with a careful method in the field, then proceed to establishing a well-controlled stratigraphy and reconstructing safe assemblages of finds. Only then can one engage in historical reconstruction.

Pontecagnano is one of the largest pre-Roman sites in southern Italy, best known for its necropolises, located around the inhabited area. Archaeological excavations of the burial areas have uncovered more than ten thousand burials. Several studies have highlighted different phases of the settlement’s development from the 9th to the 3rd century BCE, which are marked by major societal and cultural shifts. In turn, these periods are reflected by changes in funerary customs. The present study aims to provide further evidence of these social transitions through an interdisciplinary analysis focused on the non-adult population. The analysis integrates archaeological, anthropological, and archeozoological data relating to 152 burials from three chronologically and spatially distinct funerary sectors: Colucci (early Iron Age, 9th century – 8th century BCE); De Chiara (Orientalizing period, 7th century – 6th century BCE); and Baldi (Archaic period, 6th century – first half of the 5th century BCE).

Recent research into contemporary African social and political philosophy has emphasized African folk and indigenous heritage, as well as the legacies of eminent African leaders and precolonial African societies. Such research has also attended to theoretical debates and discussions and clarifications of concepts employed in the political and social spheres. The core themes and issues driving this subject area relate to African people’s daily lives, the search for better modes of political and social organization, and the challenges that African people must face. In accordance with this contemporary definition, African social and political philosophy draws on African people themselves and considers them to be actively engaged in philosophical theorization work while tackling the challenges that reality poses to their lives. Democracy is one of the main challenges for Africa. In particular, on the continent, democracy is increasingly following an alternative trajectory toward anocratic forms of government. Anocracy is examined to describe the path to democratization that various African countries are following. The analysis of acts of civil disobedience carried out in an anocratic regime, such as that of Sudan, provides additional evidence of the role that African people are playing in dealing with injustices and democratizing their countries from below. Through these processes, African people are philosophizing from below, and it is on this process that African social and political philosophy should concentrate to further develop as a field of study.KeywordsAfrican social and political philosophyDemocracyAnocracyCivil disobedienceSudan