Linguistics--The Sign

Although it is clear that structuralism, as a literary movement is unthinkable without Ferdinand de Saussure, his linguistic argument is difficult to assess. One of the main insights of Saussure’s essay is the arbitrary bond between the signifier and the signified. It is clear that Saussure’s “signifieds” are particles cut from the jumble of thought, which makes the attempt to decipher the relation of the mind to an extrinsic reality to be Saussure’s main goal.

Furthermore, one must understand that the emphasis here is on the reciprocal nature of the sign, which is split into two parts: a signifier and the signified. As he asserts, “The linguistic sign unites, not a thing and a name, but a concept and a sound-image” (Saussure 852). Sign, in this case, is not just a name for a thing, but a complicated entirety that links a “sound-image” and a “concept.” Saussure labels in the Course in General Linguistics, the former to be the signifier, and the latter—the signified. For instance, we have the concept of a car in our mind, but what we also have, is the word “car” which brings about the sound-image. If we think of a car, the form of it or the concept, we also, immediately think of that concept as the “car.” This seems like a standard explanation, in which the “car” for which “car” stands for is presumably the concept of car only, but one does wonder about the reference to the things to which words have no natural relationship. Do things exist outside the mind?

Another ambiguity that comes across while deciphering the text is whether or not a language makes the distiction directly, can also make it indirectly or completely ignore it. Discussion of differences between words in different languages, between synonyms in the same language, between words that are incommensurable or are antonyms, rely ultimately on sense verification in the real world. Certainly, it is true that one may not notice details in a perceived scene for which one has not been prepared by language, but as interesting as this may seem, it is insignificant alongside the inability to avoid certain sensations whether one has language for them or not. For instance, an experience like a headache does not depend on the existence of a signifier.

“So what?” I ask myself. We never get it quite right, and there are no definite outlines. There is nothing novel in recognizing the incongruence of language.

Work Cited

Saussure, Ferdinand. “From Course in General Linguistics.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch. 2nd ed. W.W. Norton & Company Inc.: New York, 2001. 850-66. Print.

Karl Popper--Falsification (Philosophy of Science)

As Popper notes it, “every genuine test of a theory is an attempt to falsify it, or to refute it.” [1] Popper’s continual conjectures and refutations clearly deny any induction as part of scientific method. This is not an entirely jointed theory, yet it makes sense. Popper is not trying to exonerate induction in the scientific method; rather he completely eliminates it while he clarifies the scientific method: “Popper, then, repudiates induction, and rejects the view that it is the characteristic method of scientific investigation and inference and substitutes falsifiability in its place.” [2] He believes that theories are always falsified at a later date. Moreover, he argues that “theories [Marx’s, Freud’s, or Adler’s] appeared to be able to explain practically everything that happened within the fields to which they referred.” [3] But this, in his opinion, is not enough for them to be called genuine. Popper thinks that in every step of the way, these theories find verifications and this in fact, is their weakness. He calls these theories “non-scientific” because they are not disproved or proven erroneous: “A theory which is not refutable by any conceivable event is non-scientific. Irrefutability is not a virtue of a theory but a vice.” [4] On the other hand, scientists might argue that the best scientific theories are the ones that have multifarious verifications and confirmations. Maybe there are no vehement validations or verifications in science but there are some confirmations. In this essay, I will argue that Popper’s theory of falsification is tenable and is skillfully evasive; it is not another hollow conception of disproving theories but a genuine argument against verification.

We are getting closer to the truth as Popper asserts, but what is the so-called truth? How are we getting closer to the truth? At this instant Popper presents his idea of falsifiability. Popper’s notion of verisimilitude is a somewhat hazy and entertaining conception, yet when viewed with care it makes more sense and supports falsification. As noted in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Popper argues that “A ‘good’ scientific theory has a higher level of verisimilitude than its rivals, and he explicated this concept by reference to the logical consequences of theories.” [5] This idea mirrors the mutations in the standards, contrary to which we appraise the feats of the past. Popper’s definition of verisimilitude seems to necessitate the habitual pertinence of mathematical and valid (logical) systematic procedures, which are for many scientists the paragons of external reality. The idea of verisimilitude is not an objective idea; however, general notions of verisimilitude are suitable in scientific applications because they, in fact, raise the applications’ genuine status by hiding assessed aims, concealing themselves in the shadows of antecedent operations. Social sciences are well-acquainted with this plight when innate evaluations are conceded to disguise the end results of logical or mathematical computations. If supposed that verisimilitude of scientific theories are deliberated plainly by a collection of comprehensible genuine outcomes rather by a collection of false outcomes, then any given scientist could augment the verisimilitude in his theories in every step of the way and assumingly innovate science by heedlessly iterating the experiments that are only “corroborated.”

Popper’s critique of Karl Marx’s theory of history, as its “predictions were testable, and in fact falsified.” He argues that the theory is weak because most of the time it was confirmed. [6] What makes it falsifiable? Moreover, Popper asserts that the theory is saved by ad hoc, and “in this way they rescued the theory from refutation.” [7] Likely, Popper is correct. Today, capitalism has expanded the impoverishes of the class of workers and the exploited so quickly that they are strained to make changes and revolutions just to stay alive. These social classes are perpetually positioned in opposition to each other, and the classes are inclined to preponderate; whose standards would be met maximally within the claims of production. Popper argues that Marx’s theory of history is not scientific; moreover, it is scientific only by moral excellence of the determinism of its phantasm. It inclines to ascribe societal mutations to the active directions of social construction.

An example of a theory that has been falsified, which confirms Popper’s falsification, is Kepler’s laws. His three planetary laws state that “every planet travels round the sun in an elliptical orbit, with the sun at one focus. The moon, in the same way, travels in an ellipse round the earth, though in this case he recognized that the ellipse was not perfect.” [8] It is not to oppose that Kepler’s law of planetary motion is not an astounding discovery, yet the laws are proven to be factually erroneous. Kepler’s second law asserts, “The velocity of a planet varies with its distance from the sun in such a way that a line joining the planet with the sun sweeps out equal areas in equal times.” [9] These laws are mere approximations and the uncovering of Kepler’s principles and regulations established a requisite step in an advocating research of science that preceded generously confirmed Newton’s theory from which an altered version of the Kepler’s laws was attained. Kepler’s third law states that “The square of the time taken by any planet to make a complete orbit is proportional to the cube of its mean distance from the sun.” [10] A discovery of untenable principles such as Kepler’s come out to be important in the scientific progress, yet they are still falsified, confirming Popper’s notion of falsification. Popper might assert that theories like this one may have some confirmations or truth content, yet it is not falsified at a later date. It seems like the theory was like creating a mirage, which is illusionary, a fake.

A true theory aggregates to the acquiring of a novel entry of noesis, not just coming across with a fresh target without distinguishing that phenomenon or understanding its importance. Kepler has not realized what he had discovered. Later his theories have been falsified by Newton in regards to the planetary system. Kepler’s first two laws were results of mere observations. “Kepler regarded them as mathematically equivalent, although in fact they are not; the inverse distance law is a good approximation for ellipses of small eccentricity, but is not exact.” [11] It is clear that Newton might have derived from Kepler’s laws to come up with his theory; however, he does not seem to have relied on Kepler’s laws for an explicit empirical substance. When ellipse was accepted by many astronomers, Newton did not identify that the pragmatic ascertainment did not give assurance of an elliptical model. This makes it prominent that Newton falsified Kepler’s laws, which proves Popper’s falsification as genuine. “[Some astronomers] who accepted Kepler's first law with enthusiasm, nevertheless rejected the second and substituted some simpler but less accurate alternative.” [12] They rejected it because the falsity content is higher than the truth content is lower. It is the opposite of verisimilitude.

On Kepler’s first law Newton is considering the area law, utilized to the principal planets merely as a very estimative empirical content. “Newton showed that the area law was derivable from a much simpler and more ultimate set of exact mathematical laws. Even those who accepted the area law in principle often used simpler but less accurate variants in practice.” [13] Newton is not affirming a fixed pragmatic verification of the area rule by Kepler or any scientist, but instead he is requesting us to view the planetary system in a universal and qualitative mode. Newton’s laws are utilized to attain derivative equations for the shifted magnitude and direction from the sun to for instance, Venus or any planet. Then it is displayed that the shifted magnitude and direction are sited in a plane for instance, if the base end is moved without rotation to the point of derivation; the base point sums up the elements as an ellipse.

As Newton states, the number Kepler gives in his Rudolphine Tables for the mean radius of Saturn's orbit, namely 9.51 semidiame-ters of the Earth's orbit, is smaller than the third Keplerian rule would require; with the commonly accepted values for the Earth's and Saturn's periods, the number should be more nearly 9.54. Newton suggests that the error may derive from Jupiter's action on Saturn, and he further gives a rough estimate of the effect he expects.[14]

It is an instant effect of Newton’s laws that the middle point of two entities with their

gravity may succor as the root of an inertial coordinate system. Kepler’s laws do not apply Newton’s Laws or vice versa. Newton did not rely on Kepler’s laws to come up with his Laws. Nevertheless, he falsified Kepler’s laws in his reasoning. Newton’s onset point was the dynamical laws engaging influences of cosmic bodies that decide the orbits of planets. Newton’s theories are different than of Kepler’s laws. Kepler’s determine that if anyone has such laws then it is of great certainty. Popper, here, would argue that this kind of verification is what makes that theory weak or even he might call it “non-scientific.” These kinds of confirmations are what make a theory not genuine: “ Every genuine test of a scientific theory, then, is logically an attempt to refute or to falsify it, and one genuine counter-instance falsifies the whole theory.” [15] Moreover, Popper thinks that theories that put themselves at a greater risk of being refuted are genuine.

Popper’s notion of falsification is tenable at every instance because what makes sense in this paradigm will not be sane in another. As Dr. McHenry puts it, “Verification of scientific knowledge is replaced by falsification. Accumulation of irrefutable facts is replaced by conjecture and refutation.” [16] If there is truth content in a theory, Popper asserts, it has to be marked as false. It is easy to obtain confirmations and verification, says Popper, looking for verifications will work at best if theories are found as mistaken and later replaced by “better” ones. Kepler when introduced his first law, then the third; he applied some modifications later. Kepler, himself, at some point falsified his own theories, proving Popper’s falsification notion. The acceptance of a new thesis lies in the idea whether or not it can e confirmed successfully having steady empirical grounds. The interest for Popper is not so much in confirming a theory; rather falsifying it. Popper’s theory of falsification is very much compatible with actual scientific practice. Nevertheless, is prone to serious questioning especially by physicists. Regarding the basis of the falsification measure by Popper; it is furnished on the proposal that general laws are epistemologically obscure in the consideration of the enigma of inductive illation. A neat give-and take on a scientific theory will seek to show that the conception of scientific theory as interpreted by a physicist, for instance, is at divergence with that articulated by Popper. Popper argues that general (universal) notions are not forthright accounts because they cannot be logically vindicated. Yet they may be genuinely falsified. Popper brings up a seemingly perfect example to justify his approach:

The empirical basis of objective science has thus nothing ‘absolute’ about it. Science does not rest upon solid bedrock. The bold structure of its theories rises, as it were, above a swamp. It is like a building erected on piles. The piles are driven down from above into the swamp, but not down to any natural or ‘given’ base; and if we stop driving the piles deeper, it is not because we have reached firm ground. We simply stop when we are satisfied that the piles are firm enough to carry the structure, at least for the time being. (qtd. in McHenry)

Popper’s “customary” approach is what makes him distinguishable among other philosophers. His one idea-the idea of falsification is a genuine statement.

Bibliography

McHenry, Leemon. “Popper and Maxwell on Scientific Progress,”

<http://www.csun.edu/~lmchenry/PopperandMaxwellonScientificProgress.html>.

Popper, Karl R. “Science: Conjectures and Refutations,” Readings in the Philosophy of

Science, edited by Theodore Schick, Jr., 9-13. Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing Company, 2000.

Thomton, Stephen. "Karl Popper", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

.

Russell, J.L. “Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion: 1609-1666.” The British Journal for

the History of Science. Vol. 2, No. 1 (Jun., 1964): 1-24.

Wilson, Curtis “Newton and Some Philosopher’s on Kepler’s ‘Laws,” Journal of

the History of Ideas. Vol. 35, No. 2 (Apr. - Jun., 1974): 231-258.

---

[1] Karl R. Popper, “Science: Conjectures and Refutations,” Readings in the Philosophy of Science (Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing Company, 2000), 11.

[2] Stephen Thomton, "Karl Popper", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2009 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = .

[3]Karl R. Popper, “Science: Conjectures and Refutations,” 10.

[4] Karl R. Popper, “Science: Conjectures and Refutations,” 10.

[5] Stephen Thomton, "Karl Popper", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2009 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = .

[6] Karl R. Popper, “Science: Conjectures and Refutations,” 12.

[7] Karl R. Popper, “Science: Conjectures and Refutations,” 12.

[8] J. L. Russell, “Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion: 1609-1666”, The British Journal for the History of Science, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Jun., 1964): 2.

[9] J. L. Russell, “Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion,” 2.

[10] J. L. Russell, “Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion,” 2.

[11] J. L. Russell, “Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion,” 3.

[12] J. L. Russell, “Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion,” 3.

[13] J. L.”Russell, Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion,” 3-4.

[14] Curtis Wilson, “Newton and Some Philosopher’s on Kepler’s ‘Laws,” Journal of the History of Ideas, Vol. 35, No. 2 (Apr. - Jun., 1974): 231.

[15] Stephen Thomton, "Karl Popper", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2009 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = .

[16] Leemon McHenry, “Popper and Maxwell on Scientific Porgress,” < http://www.csun.edu/~lmchenry/PopperandMaxwellonScientificProgress.html>.

The Concept of the Other

At first glance, Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex might seem rationalistic, old-fashioned-modernist, and above all—male biased. Should this work be valued only for historical reasons: feminists ought to become more aware of their historical milieu? If the answer is yes, then the work should be dismissed for its outdated ideas. Nonetheless, a rationalistic approach will examine that Beauvoir’s concept of “Self” is very much up-to-date and provides clues to some of post-modern feminist dilemmas.

Beauvoir argues as an intrinsic premise that the man has always conceived of himself as the Self (not to be confused with the Cartesian concept of “self”), the essential, and has made of woman—the Other: “In sexuality and maternity woman as subject can claim autonomy; but to be a ‘true woman’ she must accept herself as the Other” (Beauvoir 1272). In addition, it is apparent that Beauvoir utterly rejects the notion of matriarchy, taking a Levi-Straussian stand—the public and even social prerogative always belonged to men. Societies that regarded woman as Mother or Goddess, indicated that woman’s power was attested outside of the human realm. This then seems to prove the woman’s power to be somewhat “magical,” defined by man out of his needs. Unfortunately, man could eradicate that definition when it no longer served his wants and needs. Hence, the power prevailed in the hands of man.

Furthermore, Beauvoir speaks of several elements that make the oppression of woman inimitable: First, in contrast with the oppression of race and class, the oppression of woman is not a fortuitous historical fact. Moreover, it is not an occurrence in time which has sometimes been traversed or reverted. Woman has always been subordinate to man. Second, woman has interiorized the extraneous perspective that man is indeed the essential, and the woman is the inessential. A question arises: What male advantages make men succeed in the first place? The definitive answer consists of two factors: women are physically weaker than men; and women bear children. One might think that these biological facts were used in such context only in primitive times. How much has changed? In modern times, has the invention of the birth control pill (with its continuing problems/side effects) really enabled women to see the difference between sexual relations and childbearing? Contraceptives have certainly changed some perspective, but to say that they are a way in dilating women into a Self, and the problem is solved—won’t be cogent.

Work Cited

De Beauvoir, Simone. “From The Second Sex.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and

Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch. 2nd ed. W.W. Norton & Company Inc.: New

York, 2001. 1265-73. Print.

Mass Culture

When the beauty of old definitions finally fade, one is confronted with the doleful prospect of creating new meanings, and in the process he is moved to excavate a feeling of what has gone before. Thus, it is worthy to note that in defining the word “culture,” it is impossible to avoid confusion. Moreover, various definitions from different periods imply that there is no pure measure to it because the word itself can be analyzed using several perspectives as noted by Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan in an article called “The Politics of Culture.”

Furthermore, in the eyes of Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer, “mass culture—the culture of television, radio, film, and cheap paperbacks—is a tool of domination.” Instantly, a response formulates, whether these “ingredients” of the above noted term—mass culture—refine the mind, as massively they appeal to the mind. One perspective is that this “mind pollution” is a less appeasing byproduct of industrialization. It is ironic that technology in its high contribution to the fragmentation of life is also, from another perspective, responsible for its amplified relevance. Television, for instance, is a form of technology with its fair share of audiences. So, is it cogent to say that the “amplified relevance” of life, caused by technology is perhaps because audiences, as Rivkin and Ryan assert, “decode’ the cultural messages in ways that allow them to think resistantly about their lives’?”

As the older attractions (religion, conventional family) lose their vibe and “ancient” curiosities seem satisfied, our lives become filled with the mentioned earlier—“mind pollutants”—ignited by ever-alerted cutting-edge industry.

Works Cited

Rivkin, Julie, and Michael Ryan. Literary Theory: An Anthology. Malden: Blackwell, 1998. Print.

Modern Drama--Performance

Time Will Not Tell

Playwrights such as Samuel Beckett and Luigi Pirandello, no longer sustained by the literary tradition, inject an uncommon texture to perennial problems that have distinguished the human race in its evolutionary progress. Their works raise questions about the significance of reality and whether one’s life is a performance that is presented reel after reel to a certain audience. While Pirandello’s primary concerns are illusions and self-deceptions of mankind and the nature of identity, Beckett’s vision of the human condition and of the idea that the universe is purposeless, indifferent, and hostile is quite bleak. Both writers, however, Pirandello in his Six Characters in Search of an Author and Beckett in Waiting for Godot exhibit cryptic but logical situations—developing those seemingly illogically—and by continually tossing the coin until both sides are clearly revealed. They manage to convince their audience that the unconventional and not very credible treatment is in fact wholly cogent and convincing. The playwrights stress the ridiculous nature of the empty substance of language, the mere clichés and slogans that make-up one’s everyday performances that further the misunderstanding between individuals, contributing to the bleakness of the human condition. As a result, each individual formulates the strong desire to achieve his own form, in order to transcend the abasement of his condition.

Is there an original or authentic character, person, action or thought? What are people really like? In the business of everyday life, nothing is commoner than the emphatic judgment sweeping and assured in its affirmatives. But as we cut a little deep into the living matter of the spirit, the problem becomes more complicated. Do we ever understand the whole motivation of an action—not in others only but even in ourselves? The thought that follows then, which may or may not invite us to profound reflection, is that all the questions mold and become the bouquet of human drama which is as absurd, as it is painful. The inarticulate homeless woman, for instance, standing off ramp of the 405 freeway’s Nordhoff exit, hopes to communicate a message to humanity with the help of a phrase written on a rectangular cardboard tablet that reads: “HOMELESS PLEASE DONATE.” The woman’s mere performance seems to be summarized in those three words which vaguely insinuate her reality Her urge to convey the dreadful

condition in a slogan that became her creative piece should shock one into awareness of life’s relentless and inconsolable absurdity. The ordinary event of her standing there and looking at the drivers stopped at a red light has formed her character. Her laborious effort of this artistic creation [herself] is itself a dramatic theme, ever rising to “harass and defeat” anyone who tries to interpret it. The spectator tries to digest the phrase by reducing the already compressed statement in his mind, further deflating it into unintelligible scraps of sounds, systematically emptied of significance. The phrase that represented the woman’s reality now holds no gravity to her audience. Thus, forms the notion that understanding is hardly ever possible between individuals because of the meaninglessness of words, the complex multiplicity of human personality, and the tragic conflict between life, which is in constant flux.

Furthermore, Pirandello’s play Six Characters in Search of an Author addresses the tragic conflict with greatest intensity, and as Pirandello states: “Every imaginary image, every creature of art must have his drama in order to exist . . . all that lives, by the fact of being alive has form” (qtd. in Sogliuzzo 128). The relevance of the playwright’s assertions to the homeless woman then is that the woman is desperate to create a role; her seeking to perform her drama manifests an urge to exist. In the same manner, the Characters in Pirandello’s play gravely seek out a stage where they can perform. Pirandello emphasizes the fluidity of all the elements of production, perpetually set in motion. Drama critic, Antonio Illiano’s comment on the fluxes of life and stage encapsulates Pirandello’s own notions on the topic: “Life has one kind of reality, a transient one—since man is mortal, but art has another kind, since it can outlast its creation, and achieve a permanence we call perennial” (5). In the play, Pirandello’s stage directions imply that everything is a process, even the stage: “From the corner at the back [the technician] takes several stage braces, then arranges them on the floor downstage, and kneels down to hammer some nails in” (492). The stage, much like the Characters, the Actors or the Director, has no permanency, which makes the search for the form even more resolute. The Director’s futile attempts to recreate the six Characters are as irrelevant, as the battle between the Actors and the Characters struggling against each other to establish the supremacy of their own reality. The Director’s illogical approach of recreating the Characters’ experiences and his rapid solutions of rejuvenating their dramas: “Set the stage for the parlor scene. Two wings and a backdrop with a door in it will do, quickly please” (Pirandello 509), proves that the Director tries to establish his own form. However, his attempt to formulate himself conflicts with everybody else’s desire for installation. The want for establishment present in Pirandello’s play and the homeless woman’s urge to communicate her performance to the spectator through art are commensurable as both instances emphasize the desire to declare ascendancy.

However, the question still remains—who is more supreme or in lesser terms “real”: In Pirandello’s play, are the Actors along with the Director more dominant than the Characters, and in the homeless woman’s case, is the woman more supreme than her spectator? The answering to the question will unfold who actually has established the form, and therefore, the ability to exist in a hopeless and meaningless universe. In Pirandello’s play the Characters represent art, as they are the creation of the playwright. The Father wittingly states this notion: “The man will die, the writer, the instrument of creation; the creature will never die!” (Pirandello 497-98). The Characters do not represent life; rather they epitomize art. Although, they seem esoteric, each of the six Characters has his or her own conflict and drama, which is more ordinary or “real” than the Actors who anticipate the Director’s staging and guidance in order to be. In the case of the homeless woman, things are a bit more complicated as it is unclear whether at the moment of the performance the woman lets go of her suffering and completely annihilates herself in her performance, at the same time transcending pain or whether her performance is not mere acting because she does not literally act. Her creation or her art—the piece of the cardboard tablet, exists outside of her, as the phrase only sits on the sign, never voiced by her; therefore, making her superiority vulnerable. As the passing spectator views the sign, he does not instantaneously link the phrase on the tablet to the condition of the homeless woman, but rather sees it outside of her, as another poster or sign which can simply be non-correlative to the person holding it. The short period of being stopped at the red light, does not allow some spectators to fully decipher the woman’s condition, making her not superior, therefore not in her form, and therefore, still in her bleak condition, waiting.

Thus, the world without soothing illusions about the human ability to ascend dreadful conditions, the importance of hard work and achievement, the inevitability of process and flux further contribute to the austere condition. When I interviewed the woman about her condition and asked for her reflections, she responded: “They [the drivers] never donate; when they approach me they roll up their windows and don’t look at me as if I am invisible. The only help I get is from the nearby 7 eleven store on Balboa. Yes . . . I never say it. I write it down.” It is clear that the woman is estranged from her universe because she no longer believes in any of the rational schemes that explain it. Much like Didi and Gogo from Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot, the homeless woman lives in a world where ferocity and savagery can appear at any moment, often victimizing her directly. Here, this ferocity appears to be the ignorance of the spectator; whereas in Beckett’s play, it is the hopeless uncertainty of waiting for the mysterious Godot. Gogo and Didi live in a world where almost nothing is indubitable, where taking one’s boots off is quite an achievement. However, for the homeless woman, the attainment lies upon her ability to get food. In the play, Pazzo’s assertion of “let us not speak of our generation again” (Beckett 865) emphasizes not only the ignorant nature of his character, but also encapsulates Beckett’s dismissal of language as an infallible source of security. The mere clichés and slogans cannot be counted on to carry meaning precisely, making linguistic purpose simply an approximation. Thus, Beckett shows Gogo and Didi spending most of their time dancing around words, which fail to wrestle their lives into consistently coherent patterns of meaning.

Moreover, Beckett’s description of the places his characters inhabit is graphic, and none of his details of scene are accidental; yet those details mark the absence rather than the presence of the signs of nature and culture. The indeterminate setting of the play “A country road. A tree. Evening” (Beckett 849) holds no detail that would give Didi and Gogo a personal connection to the location. The bare environment compels these two characters to focus upon their basic human processes: taking off boots (849), their inadequate food [carrots] (857), and most importantly their relationship with each other. In the same way, the homeless woman’s setting is also undifferentiated. Although the spectator is aware of her geographical location, still the woman’s constant maneuvers from one venue to the next, in search of food, blurs the concreteness of her coordinates. Besides, the impressionistic scene of the little flowers, where the woman stands, juxtaposes the urban concrete landscape of a freeway off-ramp, creating a space between her and the spectator. The same objectivity of the dramatic form exists in Beckett’s play, where the space, which the spectator sees and the characters who inhabit, are separate. According to Charles Lyons, “We see the scene and, as well, witness the ways in which the consciousness of each character uses the details of that space to establish a sense of his relationship to external reality” (23). The spectator sees every detail of the scene; whereas the two characters, especially Didi, view the land as a barren compass, where [Didi] dwelled “all [those] years” (Beckett 850). Beckett succeeds in creating a critical audience by defining the boundaries of its ignorance. The indeterminate “all these years” and barren land are foils to this oblivion. The character-spectator relationship in Waiting for Godot then is still correlative with the homeless woman’s situation, whose audience is inattentive and does not see every detail of the woman’s setting or in that matter, contemplate the bleakness of her condition.

In addition, from the above relationship, we discern how inevitably isolated man is, not only in the grand universe, but also within himself. In Waiting for Godot, even though the company of another human being is one of the few distractions from the dreadful condition and anxiety, moments of real companionship are transient. Didi’s ignorant address to Gogo “ . . . where would you be . . . [Decisively] You’d be nothing more than a little heap of bones at the present minute, no doubt about it” (Beckett 850) shows the characters’ separate streams of thought. The misunderstanding between the two men lies in their ineffective ways of communication. Their need to think merely only aggravates egocentrism which imprisons the characters within themselves. The same way, the spectator from the freeway off-ramp fails to keep ahead of the homeless woman’s reality or to not only communicate with her, but also try to understand her circumstances. As a result, she is left there to wait and transcend her condition through her performance, in search of a form.

Despite the fact that this waiting might imply some kind of hope for their irremediable state; nonetheless, the recurring and static comment of “nothing to be done” echoed throughout Waiting for Godot undermines the notion of hope, invoking helplessness and hopelessness. Beckett’s approach is not an arbitrary choice, but rather a necessary complement to the bleak vision of human condition. The spectator, as a result, experiences what it feels like to live in an absurd world. However random the characters’ assertions about waiting are, they still are not going to move on, and they are not going change their conditions. Under ordinary circumstances the workings of the mind—the anticipation of something, even if it reinforces man’s basic isolation, do provide some comfort. The trouble is, according to Beckett, that “circumstances never remain ordinary for very long” (qtd. in Webb 31). The illusions that seem to give some meaning to life subsequently disappear: Godot never comes, nor does the savior of the homeless woman who will unchain her from her bleak condition.

The homeless woman’s absurd condition can be viewed from the perspectives of the two playwrights who genuinely represent the Theatre of the Absurd. Pirandello’s and Beckett’s plays reflect the absurdity of existence and what it means to live in a universe that falls apart for their characters into a meaningless flux. There is a pondering on the question of the human condition: who are we as humans and what is our short life on this planet really like? In order to have the audience view the absurdity of their characters and their current state, Beckett, for instance, completely undermines the familiar qualities of conventional plays. This, in a way, reflects the juxtaposed locale of the homeless woman freeway off-ramp, who tries to communicate to her audience her bleak condition through the simple phrase of “HOMELESS PLEASE DONATE.” However, this fails, as the tablet is just a repetitive and sometimes cyclical slogan, which apparently does not help her transcend her situation. Her decay continues, despite her attempt to carry linguistic meaning across.

Works Cited

Beckett, Samuel. “Waiting for Godot.” The Norton Anthology of Drama: The Nineteenth

Century to the Present. Eds. Peter Simon, et al. New York: W.W. Norton & Company,

Inc., 2009. 849-905. Print.

Illiano, Antonio. “Pirandello's Six Characters in Search of an Author: A Comedy in the

Making.” Italica 44.1 (1967): 1-12. Print.

Lyons, Charles. Samuel Beckett. New York: Grove Press, Inc., 1983. Print.

Pirandello, Luigi. “Six Characters in Search of an Author.” The Norton Anthology of Drama:

The Nineteenth Century to the Present. Eds. Peter Simon, et al. New York: W.W.

Norton & Company, Inc., 2009. 491-530. Print.

Sogliuzzo, Richard A. Luigi Pirandello, Director: The Playwright in the Theatre. Metuchen,

N.J.: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1982. Print.

Webb, Eugene. The Plays of Samuel Beckett. Olympia, WA: The University of Washington

Press, 1974. Print.

Cacoethes: Destruction through the Illogical

In Lord Byron’s Sardanapalus the inequitable division of passion and virtue paints an uttermost conflict between the inherently rational and animalistic realms of a being on a canvas of his existence. Sardanapalus, the king of Nineveh and Assyria, is an epicene ruler who distances himself from traditional royal principles. Sardanapalus’s inability to separate vice and virtue is voluntary; nonetheless, the satisfying of his desires through lust and luxury relies on the unconscious deliberations of the non-rational. The insidious, destructive, and malevolent aspects of Sardanapalus’s passions have no self-restraint, diminishing many and bringing about his tragedy. The protagonist’s and his lover’s, Myrrha’s suicides are resulted not only by the king’s compelling emotions and miscommunication, but also by Myrrha’s decision to give in to her lover’s non-controllable irrationality. The play is comparable to Shakespearean tragedies such a Romeo and Juliet; however, it is in direct contrast with Paul’s definition of love in I Corinthians, Plato’s definition of “happiness,” and John Winthrop’s notion of charity. Sardanapalus’s reasons are overwhelmed by his passions, which in turn cast a shadow on his ability to act logically, thus becoming a catalyst to the failure in achieving the praise of his own people and Myrrha, the Ionian slave, further leading him to his doom.

The missing precepts of Sardanapalus’s “charitable” actions are reason and justice—the pellucid positive guides of human behavior. The disorderly elements of the non-rational cloud his judgment, making him to pay frequent homage to his heart rather than to his mind. In the play, the voice of reason, Myrrha, is in stark contrast with Sardanaplus’s pathos. During the hour of possible attack by revolutionaries, Sardanaplus’s mind wanders toward the execution of a festive banquet: “Come, we’ll think no more on’t—/But of the midnight festival” (Byron 26). In direct opposition with his uttering is Myrrha’s logical rejoinder: “’Tis time/To think of aught save festivals. Thou has not/Spurn’d his sage cautions?” (Byron 26). Myrrha’s reasonable assertions illuminate the fact that the king follows his desires, rather than rules the kingdom. The letting go of traditional royal responsibilities foreshadows possible disarray. Sardanapalus’s fallacy lies in his delusional cognition of desire and love, trying to patch the blemishes of certain conditions, such as the upcoming turmoil in a form of rebellion. Nonetheless, reality dictates something irrevocably polarizing to the former analogy: Sardanapalus’s passions and vices mold together as one entity and venture forth for destruction. Wittingly noted by Salemenes, his brother-in-law, Sardanapalus is “short of the duties of a king” (Byron 22). There is a replacement of kingly duties and responsibilities with the urge of lust, which contributes to the disarray in Sardanapalus’s court. The animalistic side of human consciousness becomes the destructive element and is no stranger to Sardanapalus’s cosmos, where reason, as a faculty of mental insight, is a mere derelict in an abandoned shore.

The reminiscence of Sardanapalus to Shakespearean tragedies is almost a given fact, rather than a possible observation. For Sardanapalus, what ought to be valuable (virtue) is regarded cipher and vice versa. When reason rules, the faculties of the body become subdued; however, such approach is the missing ingredient in these plays. Sardanapalus’s overwhelmed address to Myrrha in the moment of hazard is beyond logic, as it manifests internal disposition to irrationality, which is not immune to invasions of mania. The king refers to his beloved Ionian slave: “I love thee far—far more/Than either the brief life or the wide realm” (Byron 27). The vulnerable assertion is responded by Myrrha’s critical stance: “That means thou lovest nor thyself nor me;/For he who loves another loves himself,/Even for that other’s sake” (Byron 27). Clearly, Sardanapalus’s conception of love bears very little relation to Myrrha’s logical address, however “consequential” it seems, yet it proves the arid nature of his actions. As critic Arthur D. Kahn notes, “Sardanapalus is presented as a lax, irresponsible monarch, an incorrigible, effeminate hedonist, unfaithful to his wife and blindly enamored of his paramour” (658). The king is constricted in the labyrinth of his passions whose insecurities surface, and he becomes incapable of focusing his thoughts. These faults are the essence of his character bringing him later to his tragedy.

Considering a stylistic perspective in comparing Sardanapalus’s “passion-over-reason” stance to Romeo’s and Juliet’s tragedies, analyzes the former’s artificiality in terms of expressing his affections toward his subjects or mistress. Sardanapalus’s “benevolence” toward his court is contingent, and his enthusiastic speeches do not have a powerful crescendo, despite Byron’s abundance with exclamation points throughout the king’s sentimental speeches: “I have by Baal! done all I could to soothe them:/I made no wars, I added to new imposts,/I interfered not with their civic lives,” (22). Similarly, Juliet’s unconsciousness caused by a potion is exaggerated by her family, emphasized in the play with legions of exclamation marks in the family members’ passages such as “O me, O me! My child, my only life!” (Shakespeare 4.5.19). Capulets’ absurd over-dramatization of situations and obsessive grief-play at a particular scene gives insight to the idea of miscommunication and over-sentimentality, showing that these are possible causes of the tragedies. Further, Romeo acts in the same over-dramatized manner, ignoring all and residing his attention to the potion which is part of his dramatic speech deliverance, rehearsed earlier in his mind: “Come, bitter conduct; come, unsavory guide!” (Shakespeare 5.3.101). The artificiality of passionately staged worries and pity form the question whether such innovations are taken too far. In Sardanapalus, such factitiousness is proven to be present, despite the king’s earlier persuasion of his “benevolence”: “So my dogs’ are;/And better, as more faithful” (Byron 22). It can be stated that both plays’ protagonists’ optimistic views, ornamented with artificiality, are heartening; nevertheless, the present metaphors and similes do not always succor furnishings what they pretend to be implying.

Using a platonic perspective in analyzing Sardanapalus’s passions will illuminate the deleterious causes of his tragic end. Let us pretend for a moment that values, in general, are objective and are inherently instantiated in one’s physical realm. However, any value, to some extent may seem valueless considering different points of views. Furthermore, in order to consummate what is indeed the most valuable, one ought to strive for the ideal, the “Form” of the value that contains no such contradictions. The quest for the ideal value can only be attained by intellectual means—through reason. By rationalizing, one ascends the obscure values of the physical, faulty world in order to grasp, for instance, the Form of Justice or Wisdom. Sardanapalus, as the object of this analysis, drives away from such strife, embracing his passions. When criticized by Salemenes, “another thing thou knowest not,” (Byron 12), Sardanapalus responds in rather satirical fashion, basing his assertion on the word “virtue”: “Not know the word!/Never was word yet rung so in my ears—/Worse than the rabbles’s shout, or spliting trumpet;/I’ve heard thy sister talk of nothing else” (Byron 12). Sardanapalus, the non-oppressive king, is strictly constricted into the visible realm; thus not being able to combine noesis and dianoia in order to pursue happiness. His vices—love for lust, luxury, and artificiality are not representative of the Form; however hazy, however dubious. As Rupert Clendon Lodge suggests, “The Platonist regards all such roads, as commonly understood, as failing to lead one, with any sureness, to anything worthy the name of happiness” (226). The king is mistaken where happiness lies, and his constant rejections of criticism prove a weakness of his will. Plato’s passage encapsulates the above-mentioned more precisely: “In the visible realm, light and sight are rightly considered sunlike, but it is wrong to think that either of them is the good—for the good is yet more prized” (500). Whatever Sardanapalus considers to be the path to happiness, runs counter to his real desires, thus shifting all the failures to being non-deliberate. Such approach justifies the tragedy; his and Myrrha’s suicides, undeniably blaming one of the faculties of human psychological make-up—the appetite. The potent appetite of passions conquers reason, ignorantly causing destruction and self-destruction.

Sardanapalus’s definition of love is different than Myrrha’s comprehension of it. For Sardanaplaus, love is equivalent to pleasure; however, for his beloved, that is not the case. Sardanapalus’s definition of love can be contrasted with Paul’s depiction of it in I Corinthians. Since for Sardanapalus, love’s worthy competitor is pleasure, the occurrence of the latter subduing the former is not impossible; in fact, such stance betrays not only the welfare of the being adapting such faculties, but also it is harmful to the well-being of communities. Although indirectly, yet Paul contrasts Agape, the highest form of love, with the impatient, the boastful, the malevolent—all that fits Sardanapalus’s definition of love:

[Love] doth not behave itself unseemingly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth no in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether ther be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. (The Holy Bible, I Cor. 13:5-8)

Sardanapalus has no self-control or moral restraint and most importantly, cannot stand criticism. Sardanapalus’s ability to enamor his beloved Myrrha fails, as his words are not steeped in the highest form of love, but in lust. His apparent gift of speech knows nothing of virtue; moreover, offering nothing eternal. The humble willingness to allow such love and oppress the destructive elements is missing from Sardanapalus’s definition of love. It is not to be confused that there is an expectancy of the king to know the scriptures; rather, the concept of such love (Agape) should be praised and valued. Sardanapalus’s failure to act in such a manner; moreover, embracing fleeting passions, lead to the destruction of his court and to his inevitable doom.

At another instance, Sardanapalus’s idea of love is in contrast with John Winthrop’s concept of charity. Unlike Sardanapalus, Winthrop has a personal motive for reassessing his spiritual state and the commonwealth of the people. There is the idea that love must come from the soul; moreover, charity or love toward another being only a manifestation of well-ordered life. Furthermore, he dwells on the soul’s purest faculties; whereas Sardanapalus tries to initiate Utopia based on bodily elements. His love for the court and the people of Assyria is exemplified by artificiality. Salemenes recognizes the need for avoidance of luxury and warns Myrrha of the dangers of such attitude: “ . . . to have him king, and yours, and all/He should, or should not be; to have him live,/Let him not sink back into luxury” (Byron 76). This is not the way to the commonwealth, and certainly not Winthrop’s idyllic society, in which everyone has need of the other, and all work together in a bond of brotherly affection (Winthrop 69). Sardanapalus’s aristocratic pride disables him be the leader who is capable of building “a city on the hill.” Although at times he is the “benevolent” emperor—“enough/For me, if I can make my subjects feel/The weight of human misery less” (19); nonetheless, at many instances he is a bloodthirsty despot, ready to “use the sword/Till they shall wish it turn’d into a distaff” (Byron 21). He speaks of “vile herds” referring to citizens who have “grown insolent with feeding” (Byron 21), his pride verging on disgust. His ironical attitudes and ineradicable pride are the seeds of his illogical behavior, which is a result of his uncontrollable passion that imprisons and oppresses him. The sense of communalism is the missing ingredient from Sardanapalus’s reign, so evident in Winthrop’s “Model of Christianity.”

Sardanapalus’s excess sentimentality becomes a barricade for his acting of kingly duties, making him vulnerable to illogical judgments. At one instance, his refined sensibility is ornamented with his love for luxury, capturing the essence of his character. He is poetic and touched by the slave’s death: “Slain! Unrewarded!/And slain to serve my thirst: that’s hard, poor slave!/Had he but lived, I would have gorged him with/Gold” (Byron 74). Sardanapalus’s vernacular assertions create a sense of deceit that not only poses a threat to himself as an individual, but also to the whole nation of Assyria. According to drama critic, Charles J. Clancy, “Sardanapalus is the catalyst of the play’s antagonism. His poetic language develops, by means of false starts unsuccessful concrete examples, and, on occasion, unsuccessful literary and cultural anachronisms (70). Such poetic reality clouds Sardanapalus’s mind, disabling him to sense complicated and serious situations or events such as war. His search for personal satisfaction and meaning in life disable him to capitalize situations that ought to be dealt with much consideration. Sardanapalus’s reason is missing a link to the controlling button to his emotions, therefore, leaving him non-adaptive to his world, which is not forgiving to adaptive failure.

Doesn’t history inform that rulers and sovereigns practice power rather gladly, finding it easy to vindicate their peculiar use of it by reference to necessity? The necessity appears in the form of overwhelming passion in Byron’s Sardanapalus. The king is caught in a paradox he has created, by molding his definition of love with his definition of pleasure. When uncontrollable lust and desires sink in, the result is tragedy, as reason becomes possessed by lower, bodily faculties. The corrupting effects of such emotions become apparent in the subservient rebellion and Sardanapalus’s and his lover’s suicides. Sardanapalus’s escape from responsibility and his clear adaptation to artificiality invoke images from works such as Romeo and Juliet, and Othello. Despite the similarities to other works, the play can be contrasted with a segment of Paul’s ponderings on love and Winthrop’s idea of charity. The king’s “charity” fails, as does the strife to grasp platonic happiness.

Works Cited

Byron, Lord. Sardanapalus. Print.

Clancy, Charles J. “Death and Love in Byron’s Sardanapalus.” Drama Criticism 24 (2005).

66-73. Print.

Kahn, Arthur D. “Seneca and ‘Sardanapalus’: Byron, the Don Quixote of Neo-Classicism.”

Studies in Philology 66.4 (1969): 654-71. Print.

Lodge, Rupert Clendon. “Platonic Happiness as an Ethical Ideal.” International Journal of

Ethics 36.3 (1926): 225-39. Print.

Plato. “Republic VI.” Readings in Ancient Greek Philosophy: from Thales to Aristotle. Eds.

Cohen, S. Marc, et al. 3rd ed. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.,

2005. 477-503. Print.

Shakespeare, William. “Romeo and Juliet.” The Complete Pelican Shakespeare. Eds.

Stephen Orgel, et al. Penguin Books Inc.: New York, 2002. 1257-1294. Print.

The Holy Bible: King James Version. Iowa Falls, IW: Thomas Nelson, Inc., 2001. Print.

Winthrop, John. “A Model of Christian Charity.” 69-83. Print.

Just something about it . . .

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Diction and Tone--A Powerful Crescendo

After great pain a formal feeling comes--

The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.

“After great pain a formal feeling comes—

Pondering on McConvillian Synthesis

** McConville's essay (not available) is an interpretation of "The Lotos-Eaters" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

McConville’s interpreation of Tennyson’s “The Lotos-Eaters” as a possible biblically referenced piece of work is impressive because too often the second voice in the poem is neglected.

In his essay, “Genesis and ‘The Lotos-Eaters,’” McConville states: “the lines allow the reader to believe that the poem is transferring from waking-life to a dream,” referencing the poem’s “Along the cliff to fall and pause did seem” (Tennyson 10). The earlier assertion of the word “courage” molds with the stated lines above with its unequivocally placed accent, providing a trochaic response to the unfaltering iambics of the mariners’ mourning. Such rejoinder indeed triggers the dream vision; furthermore, the author here treats the aesthetic experience in its imaginative rather than its observable qualities. The symbolic landscape, reminiscent of Eden, as McConville states: “A return to Eden, perhaps?” emerges as the imagination’s own kingdom, something that grants form to the inner life of the aesthetic. This biblically ornamented version of reality for which the mariners relinquish their collective life is found not only in the elevated awareness drawn from the splendor of the external world, but exists merely with the volitions laid asleep and the grip of the external world upon consciousness broken. The mind can move in liberation, through unbounded space amidst that chimerical order produced by dream which forms the poem’s major analogue.