Mission Statement & Acknowledgements

Dedicated to and in memory of Hank Bedingfield, who not only paved the way for this volume of Anamnesis but also enriched the lives and philosophic hearts of those around him.

Anamnesis is the student-edited philosophy journal of Colorado College. The journal publishes philosophical undergraduate essays from colleges and universities worldwide. Colorado College students founded the journal in order to give their peers a taste of what the discipline can be at its best. In line with this goal, we aim to publish clearly written, elegantly argued essays. We also strive to publish essays that tackle the most interesting, difficult, and pressing issues in both philosophy and our lives.

We would like to thank Cutler Publications and the Colorado College Philosophy Department for making the journal possible this year. Special thanks to Karen West, Lorea Zabaleta and Eli Jaynes for their support.

We would also like to acknowledge that Colorado College is located within the unceded territory of the Ute Peoples.

Letter From The Editors

This year we started with the rather broad theme of Philosophy’s Role in Life, with hopes that this year’s issue would reflect topics that we find relevant and significant in our lives. We have chosen papers that engage with who we are, who we ought to be, and our own construction of the world that then reflects back on ourselves. With many thanks to our editors, artists, and writers who made this edition possible.

Anamnesis begins with an examination of what it means for the self to suffer. Ben King-Hails from Colorado College considers the different ways that Buddhism and Kohut’s Psychoanalysis respond to human suffering. The next essay in Anamnesis challenges us to consider knowledge production in animals - what kind of life is capable of systems of truth, knowledge, and belief. Lauren Dotson of Trinity University examines coherentism as a grounding for knowledge production in animals and non-human life. Following this, the next essay asks us to explore the world and structures we materially inhabit. Yuqin Wu of Haverford College approaches the self and the knowledge it produces as necessarily entwined with the world we have constructed. Finally, we have interwoven excerpts of what we might call wisdom from Professor John Kaag of the University of Massachusetts, Lowell in his examinations of life and philosophy.

We hope you enjoy.

-Shea Li Dombrowski, Mac O’Brien, Hannah Zhao

How to Change Your Mind: A Comparison of Buddhist and Psychoanalytic Methods

Ben King-Hails • Colorado College

Part 1: The Desire to Transform

Western philosophy touts rationality as the supreme method of both discovery and change. The scientific reflex that has resulted from this cultural belief impels us to break down problems into logical components before using our intellectual abilities to solve them. For many problems, this method yields fruit. As a result, our understanding of the material universe has vastly improved. However, when one applies the scientific method to the problem of psychological pain, the results are often lackluster, unactionable, or opaque.

This is because the problems of the unconscious, the source of psychological pain, cannot be solved through reason alone. The language of the unconscious is not reason; the unconscious will not respond to the conscious mind’s requests to change. How then, can one change their unconscious and alleviate their psychological pain? Buddhist meditation and psychoanalysis are two of the most promising solutions. 

Buddhism and psychoanalysis are unique methods of alleviating suffering in that they require only faith to begin. These traditions assert that their practice will create meaningful, timely, observable change. Time and time again, these methods of transformation have indeed heralded change. The Buddhist and psychoanalytic methods of change, however, are vastly different. In this essay, we will examine the differences between the respective methods and end states of the practices of Buddhism and psychoanalysis. From this understanding, we will strive to uncover a unified understanding of the psyche which transforms, and identify which method of transformation is ultimately superior.

Part 2: The Self Which Suffers

In order to understand what self-transformation means, we must first understand how Buddhism and psychoanalysis conceive of that which transforms: the self. 

As a psychoanalytic starting point, this essay will use John Riker’s Kohutian metapsychology. Within this theory, “the unconscious organizing structures that are primarily responsible for producing action are the id, character, self, and the social unconscious” (Riker 81). The id is that  center of psychological function which produces any “drive, desire, emotion, wish, or need that appears to have some kind of biological origin.” (81) The character is that which Plato and Aristotle sought to develop through the practice and cultivation of virtuous living. It is rationally cultivated, though eventually it becomes part of unconscious processes. The social unconscious is the part of us that holds the social blueprint of who we ‘should’ be. The id is natal, character is developed, and the social unconscious is imprinted.

The Kohutian self is, experientially, that which imbues our reality with exuberance and passion. Developmentally, it is that which needs motherly empathic mirroring, and stable idealized selfobjects (people that are psychologically experienced as part of oneself in their performance of a necessary function). When the self is damaged, it causes feelings of fragmented despair and seeks new selfobject relations to repair itself. According to Riker, experiences in which the self healthily takes psychological center stage, “are those that mobilize our deepest ambitions, ideals, idiosyncratic abilities, and spontaneous playfulness.” (86) For both Riker and Kohut, the self is the most fragile, yet the most important influence on conscious experience. People with healthy selves will experience a grounded sense of authenticity, a great ability to cope with hardship, and a deep and vital emotional life. People with damaged selves will experience fragmentation wherein they feel as though their psyche may disintegrate. To protect against these experiences, they will then develop defenses that serve to control experience in a life-limiting way. Finally, the self is never complete, it must always grow beyond itself. 

With this metapsychological framework established, we can inquire into the cause of suffering, the prerequisite of self transformation. Because the id, character, self and social unconscious as the creators of psychological states, suffering must arise from them. Riker defines three primary psychological states which arise from these organizing structures: normalized experience, self experience, and pathologically limited experience. While everyday experiences arise from the social unconscious, self experience arises from a healthy self and pathologically limited experience arises from an injured self, which generally occurs through inadequate parenting or acute trauma. Phenomenologically, in normalized experience there is a kind of everyday flatness which encompasses the world. In self experience, the world is vital, open and full of opportunity. Pathologically limited experience is defined by a conscious or unconscious fear of disintegration. In such experience, defenses against disintegration render the experiencing person constricted and distressed. Insofar as pathologically limited experiences are the most painful, we will assume that most suffering can be understood as such. Thus, Self Psychology conceives of mental pain as that state caused by an injured self structure. 

Instead of beginning with the truth about what constitutes the self, Buddhism asserts four noble truths about experience: “that there is suffering, that it has a cause, that it can be suppressed, and that there is a way to accomplish this” (Sarvepalli and Moore 272). In order to create a substantive comparison to the psychoanalytic self, we must understand what it is that underlies this suffering. Buddhism, however, proposes that “there is nothing permanent in the empirical self.” (272) For the Buddha, the self is a composite of perception, feeling, volitional dispositions, intelligence, and form. It would seem that something must contain or give rise to these elements of the self which could be said to be the actual self - that which is unchanging about a person. However, because the Buddha is so fundamentally concerned with the “ethical remaking of man”, he believes that “metaphysical disputations would take us away from the task of individual change.” (272) It is for this reason that the Buddha “keeps silent on the nature of absolute reality, the self, and nirvana.” (272) While the Buddha himself does not elaborate further, from his theories of transformation we can extrapolate some basic principles about the self.

According to the Buddha, suffering is caused by “ignorance and selfish craving.” (272) Additionally, the Buddha asserts that “when we get rid of ignorance and its practical consequence of selfishness, we attain nirvana, which is described negatively as freedom from ignorance, selfishness, and suffering, and positively as the attainment of wisdom and compassion.” (272) Nirvana is achieved by cultivating concentration and equanimity through meditation, and transports one from a mental state of attachment to serene detachment. From the Buddha’s words, we can glean that there exists something within the mind that gives rise to “ignorance and selfish craving” that one can rid themself of. Implicit in the creation of the arduous and lengthy transformational method of meditation is the fact that one cannot simply consciously decide to be rid of ignorance and selfish craving. That is, there exists something within that does not respond to conscious logic. This structure for Buddhism, like psychoanalysis, is the unconscious mind - one upon which some modern theorists have expounded. In such contemporary Buddhist theory, “the imprints of past experiences exert a powerful influence on our emotional reactions and behavior in the present.” (Yates 113) While Buddhism and psychoanalysis are alike in this sense, for Buddhism, past experiences are not the primary cause of suffering. The primary causes of suffering are the ignorance and craving that arise from attachments - both to external objects and one’s idea of themself.

Buddhism and psychoanalysis are similar in that their models of the self and suffering include both conscious and unconscious elements. However, it would be a mistake to say that their models of the self and suffering are the same. While they are similar in acknowledging the role of past experience on the unconscious, their ideas of who suffers and why are very different. For Buddhism, everybody suffers by virtue of being human. Inherent in existence is the pain of attachment and loss. Alternatively, psychoanalytic suffering is not necessarily experienced by everyone. For psychoanalysis, damaged self structure gives rise to suffering. Unlike the Buddhist cause of suffering, damage to the self happens, or doesn’t, to singular persons. Buddhist suffering is universal and similar, while psychoanalytic suffering is individual and unique.

Part 3: Methods of Transformation

In order to escape suffering, psychoanalysis and Buddhism propose distinct methods. Within the psychoanalytic method, an analysand (patient) visits an analyst (therapist), often multiple times per week for years. During 50-minute sessions, the analyst and the analysand work together to delve into the analysand’s experience of life, as colored by their unconscious. In a successful analysis, the analysand’s unconscious neuroses are ameliorated by healing their self as they work towards a state of enlivened, embodied living, named vitality. Within the Buddhist method, practitioners meditate for hours every day for years. During meditations, the meditator attempts to remain aware of and equanimous towards all sense data, including thoughts. In a successful practice of meditation, one's conscious and unconscious troubles give way to a state of impenetrable serenity named nirvana. Let us delve further into the differences between these two practices.

Intersubjective self psychology provides a clear explanation of the psychoanalytic curative process. In this theory, the “sustained experience of engagement of the patient’s leading edge with the therapist’s leading edge [causes] the development of new psychic structures.” (Hagman, George, et al. 50) What is meant by ‘engagement with the leading edge’ is engagement with one’s singular hopes and yearnings. While leading edge work causes the development of new psychic structures, “the transformation of existing, maladaptive self structures occurs via the interpretation of the trailing edge.” (48) By trailing edge, the authors are referring to those parts of the psyche which produce pathologically limited experience, and are associated with fear and dread. It is this working through of the leading and trailing edges that therapy heals, through changing old structures and creating new ones. For psychoanalysis, once one has healed the injuries to their self, and built new self structure, they can consciously pursue and achieve a state of vitality wherein they actively, passionately, and dynamically create a meaningful life. The pathologically limited states which caused them to pursue therapy no longer plague one who has completed successful analysis, as the injuries to the self which gave rise to pathologically limited experience are healed.

For Buddhism, through the process of meditation, one becomes less reactive and more equanimous to experience, including that of the mind. While meditative practices can differ, generally meditation involves sitting alone on a cushion and attempting to focus on a stimulus, usually the coming and going of the breath. While focusing on the breath, thoughts and emotions have the chance to arise. Buddhism asks the meditator not to “submerge” into these thoughts and emotions, but to acknowledge their existence and consequences non-judgmentally. Through the consistent practice of meditation, one can “overcome the psychological root of their problems.” (Yates 115) From a psychoanalytic perspective, as we previously identified, the root of the problem would be an injured self. “Psychological root,” however, has a different meaning in the Buddhist tradition. What is meant by psychological root is simply the tendency to immediately react to the meaning made by the unconscious; meditation releases the meditator from their reactivity to conscious and unconscious thoughts and emotions. Through consistent awareness, one becomes both “more attuned and less reactive” to their own mental life. (115) 

Though this description of process does not satisfy the philosopher, as we do not have a coherent metaphysical understanding of the exact relation between unconscious processes, reactions, and awareness, Buddhism is radically focused on process as opposed to that which underlies it. For Buddhism, once one has overcome their reactiveness to their unconscious, and achieved a “purification of mind, they can realize the myth of separation and the unity of the universe.” (Yates 117) This is the state of nirvana, the end goal of meditation. In this end goal, suffering caused by attachment no longer exists, as one is no longer attached to themself or any external object.

Part 4: Functions of Transformation

While the psychoanalytic and Buddhist techniques of transformation are substantially different, they both lead to highly desirable, yet unique, end states. In the ideal psychoanalytic process the analysand and a trained analyst engage in an intimate relationship. Together, they work through the analysand's unconscious neuroses and attempt to strengthen the analysand's self structure. In the ideal Buddhist process, by engaging in mindfulness and meditation consistently, practitioners diminish the influence of unconscious programs, rid themselves of desire and aversion, and achieve the state of nirvana. With the methods laid out, we can delve into the transformative function of the methods: how the methods change the psyche. In order to identify functions of transformation, we will consider the differences and similarities between process and outcome in Buddhism and psychoanalysis. 

While Buddhism and psychoanalysis have very different understandings of how to alleviate pain caused by the unconscious, both traditions emphasize the necessity of recognizing that the pain originates from oneself. Without this recognition, one will remain in a state of avoidance wherein the pain is not accepted but projected outwards onto the world. While it may seem like a simple realization, it is often difficult for individuals to accept this fact due to the longevity of their suffering. One may wonder, if I am the cause of this pain and I have had it for as long as I can remember, am I bound to experience it for the rest of my life? If so, is life worth living? However, to recognize it as one’s own is a prerequisite for undertaking any path towards healing. Seeing, understanding, and accepting oneself as one truly is, is the process of self empathy. Though self empathy ultimately plays very different roles in the processes of Buddhism and psychoanalysis, it is the function which allows the psyche to see itself as in pain. 

Buddhist master Jon Kabat-Zinn extols the importance of the foundational attitudes of non-judging and acceptance to meditation. (Kabat-Zinn) These attitudes are part of the composition of the awareness necessary for meditation. For Buddhism, “if you do find yourself getting caught up in self-reproach, you’re just reacting from and reinforcing more unwholesome programming.” (Yates 116) In order to escape this cycle of chastising, one must be both non-judging and accepting. Taken together, non-judging and acceptance amount to self empathy whereby one accepts who they are without negative judgment. While for Buddhism, self-empathy is a byproduct of the mental meditative stance, it is a key component of the psychoanalytic cure.

The answer to the question of how psychoanalysis influences the psyche may lie in the most confusing, yet most important element of Kohut’s theory: empathy. Kohut gives a rare analysand-based description of analysis, stating that, “the heretofore isolated pathological sector of the personality establishes broad contact with the surrounding mature sectors so that the preanalytic assets of the personality are strengthened and enriched.” (Kohut 33) Here, Kohut describes a process in which healthy parts of the personality accept a previously unaccepted pathological part. The result is a more whole psyche which does not disown an injured part of itself; a psyche that has empathized with itself.

Though self-empathy plays a very different role in the healing trajectories of psychoanalysis and Buddhism, for both traditions it performs the function of allowing the individual to see themselves as they are. While this may seem like a small alteration of the psyche, the switch from judgmentally relating to oneself to empathically relating to oneself has significant consequences. First, it allows for an honest evaluation of one’s psychological health, a prerequisite to taking action to change it. Secondly, when one relates to oneself judgmentally, one will relate to the world judgmentally. By empathically accepting yourself as you are, you can accept others and the world as they are. For both Buddhism and psychoanalysis, self empathy allows one to embark on the journey of change by acknowledging and owning the burden of pain.

While Buddhism and psychoanalysis share self empathy as a part of the curative method, their subsequent methodologies are distinct. The two primary dissimilarities are in the ownership of psychological states, and the number of people involved in the cure. I propose that these two fundamental divergences in method lead to the fundamental differences between nirvana and vitality.

In the face of pain, both Buddhist and psychoanalytic instruction is to remain with it. Psychoanalysis asks the patient to delve deeply into their thoughts and feelings about the pain. Indeed, part of the psychoanalytic process is taking conscious ownership of unconscious material. Alternatively, Buddhism asks the meditator to simply view such material the same way they would view a passing cloud - nothing more than a part of the sense data of experience. Buddhism promotes a similar process towards psychological states that are pleasurable. When experiencing meditative joy, instead of identifying with it, meditators are instructed to view it, again, as a passing cloud. Through non-identification with all psychological states, meditators alter their psyche towards a “deep purification of mind” in which their own emotions and thoughts are no more their own than the flap of a bird's wing or the flow of a nearby stream. (Yates 117) While nirvana is characterized by a merging of the self with the world (sometimes referred to as ‘stream entry’), psychoanalytically cured individuals see themselves as a distinct force differentiated from, yet dependent upon, the world. It is due to this merging with the world that those who have achieved nirvana present similar characteristics. In a sense, they have become the same thing. Those who have achieved vitality through successful psychoanalysis, on the other hand, identify deeply with their idiosyncratic experience of the world and are thus noticeably distinct. I believe that meditation’s depersonalization of psychological states causes the dissipation of the sense of self in nirvana while psychoanalysis’ ownership of psychological states causes the strengthening of a sense of self which characterizes vitality.

The other primary difference between the Buddhist and psychoanalytic paths to healing is the relational aspect. While psychoanalysis is undergone with another individual, meditation is usually practiced alone. Part of the psychoanalytic relationship is acting out one’s unconscious organizing structures within the therapeutic setting, a process called transference. Transference is defined as “the transfer of past experiences, beliefs, affects, and relational patterns onto the present, typically onto the person of the therapist.” (Hagman 25) In experiences of transference, “the real and true present is distorted by a past which looms too large to be shed.” (25) Psychoanalysis seeks to use the transference to understand, work with, and ultimately shed that which “looms large”. Insofar as analysands are encouraged to act out their transference on the analyst, an act which would likely have detrimental impacts if done in everyday life, the analysand is taught to express and embody their own thoughts and feelings, no matter how painful. As the analysand is healed and their emotional responses are no longer overdetermined by injury, they will become able to work, love, and play with their full self. The Buddhist practitioner, on the other hand, has no one to relate to, so transferences are not acted out. As such, Buddhist practitioners do not learn to express that which they experience in their interpersonal relationships. Instead, the emotions that arise from their idiosyncratic neuroses become incorporated as another indistinct, unowned aspect of experience. This leads to the difference in emotional embodiment between persons who have achieved nirvana versus those who have achieved vitality. While those who have achieved nirvana present with a consistent detached serenity in interpersonal interactions, vital individuals relate to others dynamically, as they have learned to own and express their entire range of emotions.

Part 5: The Implications

But even if we understand the differences between the Buddhist and psychoanalytic methods and outcomes we might still be wondering which one we should pursue - which one is superior. While both methods have the potential to eliminate suffering, the people who emerge from the distinct transformations are very different. While Buddhists can achieve a state of passive, blissful, serenity, those who have undergone successful psychoanalysis can achieve a state of active, passionate, vitality. While one may strive to achieve both, I believe that the ends of the paths, nirvana and vitality, exclude each other. The meditative serenity that comes from disowning one’s primacy excludes self affirming vitality.

Throughout this essay I have referred to “a” state of vitality, and “the” state of nirvana because vitality comes in many different shapes and forms, while nirvana looks similar for those who achieve it. These states reflect the Buddhist and psychoanalytic views of psychological pain. While Buddhism sees all people as plagued by the same problems of attachment and aversion, psychoanalysis sees every individual’s pain as unique and distinct. A proponent of psychoanalysis could argue that in its exploration of personal experience, psychoanalysis allows for more personalized treatment. In response, however, a Buddhist could make the claim that the Buddhist conception of suffering both underlies the psychoanalytic conception of suffering, and as such meditation has a greater healing capacity. Insofar as nirvana and vitality are exclusive, and the answer to this question is firmly planted within the experiences of such states, to know the truth is impossible.

Be that as it may, by viewing aversion and attachment as primary to emotional experience, and subsequently “healing” by removing aversion and attachment to everything, including one’s idiosyncratic emotions, one becomes less oneself. The psychoanalytic cure seeks to make us more our individual selves by resolving that which makes us disown ourselves, while Buddhism seeks to thwart our very belief in owning and disowning. I propose that it is better to embrace yourself and live a particular, unique and creative life than to retreat from yourself into unaffected serenity. However, insofar as I have acknowledged my inability to know the truth, I am stating my idiosyncratic preference, not a philosophical truth. By choosing either of the two paths, you assert your freedom to strive towards as fulfilling a life as possible. To choose neither and retreat into disguised suffering is to forsake the chance of living a more full life. Ultimately, the only wrong path is not choosing a path at all.

Citations:

Hagman, George, et al. Intersubjective Self Psychology. Routledge, 2019.

Kabat-Zinn, Jon. “Attitudinal Foundations of Mindfulness.” MasterClass, MasterClass, 27 May 2021, https://www.masterclass.com/classes/jon-kabat-zinn-teaches-mindfulness-and-meditation/chapters/attitudinal-foundations-of-mindfulness.

Kohut, Heinz. The Restoration of the Self. University of Chicago Press, 2009.

Radhakrishnan, Sarvepalli, and Charles A. Moore. A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy. Princeton University Press, 1989.

Riker, John. Why It Is Good to Be Good. Jason Aronson, 2010.

Yates, John. The Mind Illuminated. Atria, 2019.

Knowledge and Coherentism: Standardized Justifications for True Belief

Lauren Dotson • Trinity University

Introduction:

Human knowledge and knowledge of non-human organisms cannot justifiably be separated. Knowledge is belief which is reliably produced based on truth. Knowledge, for an organism, must then have some kind of system of truth—structure which allows belief to have basis—which informs decision-making. A system of knowledge burgeons from this establishment of truth, allowing for of the justifications of  knowledge to be shared  amongst all those who reliably and consistently inhabit reality. Systems of belief can be cultivated based on coherentist theory thus allowing for fallible ideas of truth to be justifiably gleaned. Through this framework, organisms can understand a proposition of kind, p, to be true. An explicit criteria can be fabricated from this system allowing for truth and falsehood to be observed from a range of organisms. Then, human knowledge is set on the same criteria as non-human organisms. Due to a sliding scale of cognitive capacities the capabilities for knowledge can vary; still, knowledge is distinctly on the same scale for all organisms. 

Defense:

Coherentism is the epistemic justification of belief which argues that circular reasoning is justified grounds for establishing truth in a fallible manner. As stated by Laurence Bonjour, coherentism attempts to establish a method of epistemic belief which avoids the epistemic regress problem. The epistemic regress problem states that any rationalization for basic beliefs can only be justified if the justification does not end in: circular reasoning, infinite regress, and termination in unjustified belief. Bonjour’s coherentism firstly argues for circular reasoning going against the epistemic regress problem to assert that belief can be justified via circular reasoning formats. Bonjour thus uses circular reasoning to state that a belief can be justified by the: inferability from another set of particular beliefs, coherence and justification of the overall system of basic empirical beliefs, and, given that the justification of a particular basic empirical belief is due to its standing in the system of other basic empirical beliefs (Bonjour 2002, p. 389). Further, this system of belief can be justified via the observation requirement which allows sense data to justify belief (Bonjour 2002, 396).

This kind of proposed system allows for a sequence and system of thoughts to be crafted for an individual allowing truth to be found fallibly through epistemic belief. This proves to be a crucial point because this allows organisms to have a system of truth which is true and can be fallibly understood based on their personal cognitive abilities. Organisms can have a range of cognitive abilities which allow them to understand their systems of truth differently. I argue that the system of truth for organisms stack on each other as cognitive ability increases. Thus, our systems of truth are different, but only in the sense that there are more details and empirical beliefs that exist as cognitive ability increases. That is, some organisms maintain a higher order, more sophisticated, belief system than others, but these beliefs in themselves are justified by a coherentist framework. The coherentist framework that this paper will be working within does not necessarily entail Bonjour’s exact coherentist theory, but parts of Bonjour’s coherentism, elaborated and reconstructed to better answer the epistemic belief question for organisms. 

Thus, knowledge is truth which is reliably produced based on true belief that is true for the system. Given both criteria are true then knowledge can be gleaned. If both aren’t true, and it's true only for the system, then you can have a system of belief and fallible truth but not knowledge. Knowledge has a circular structure because it allows for beliefs to connect and inform other beliefs that an individual holds. This kind of structure allows for inferential justification which can aid in the attenuation of new information into the organism’s system of belief and thus allow for truth to be had. Given that truth can be fallibly gained, that means these justification of truth systems can be edited when they are proved wrong while still retaining truth and the possibility for knowledge. 

Then, I argue that despite some organisms having a higher cognitive ability allowing for more elaborate systems of truth the justification for this truth is the same. This is because the organisms, if they interact with each other, must exist in the same plane allowing for the sense data of one organism to be comparable to the sense data of another organism. This base level sense data can be used as justification for epistemic beliefs (as a part of the observation requirement). This exhibits that organisms’, if they exist in the same plane and can actively build communities, must experience the same sense data which means that justification for beliefs must be the same for these organisms.

To elaborate, one might wonder if plants can have cognitive ability and such. To this I would say that we must first establish that the reason why sentient animals can have a system of truth is because they have a mentalistic framework which can be observed through their behavior and social frameworks. For plants the same framework is not present as they consistently do not present a basal level of cognitive ability. I thus introduce a spectrum basis where there is cognitive ability and sentience which plants do not appear to share; this mental representation does not appear in plants as plants respond in one or two ways which are particular and do not indicate the ability to reason and make spontaneous judgment which is available in higher mental state animals (Kornblith 2002, 39-42).

Animals and organisms have a system of truth of some kind. Animals’ specific behaviors and social practices are evidence of the fact that animals can cognitively create systems of truths and interact with these systems allowing for knowledge to be gleaned (Kornblith 2002, 34). Animals must then adhere to the observation requirement of the coherentist theory; individuals create a system of truth which allows them to have a fallible understanding. For example, different species of birds have different mating and social requirements which allow them to garner mates. Flamingos are known for their ritualistic mating dance featuring sharp head movements and back-and-forth strides across a plain. Depending on the bird's environment, access to mates, and mood, the ritualistic dance can be modified to better secure a mate. This kind of complex activity can further suggest animals are capable of creating systems of beliefs due to their ability to use the observation requirement to inform individual, and later collective action (Studer-Thiersch 2000, 150). 

Furthermore, the flamingos’ behavior and success in their environment indicates cognitive ability. It is mentioned in the text that the flamingos can spot, evade, rebut and predators depicting a cognitive ability which can be translated to demonstrated action (Studer-Thiersch 2000, 157). It is determined that animals consistently (as derived from our system of truth as described above) have intentional action which allows for intentional purpose.  Animal behavior is not random because the animals respond, particularly and specifically, to their environment and outward influences (Kornblith 2002, 42). Thus this exhibits the idea that animals are affected and influenced by the exterior world; this further demonstrates cognitive ability as the animals actively make decisions and respond to their system’s of truth. 

The crucial part is that collective action occurs for these organisms; the flamingo’s actively work together as a unit to reconstruct their mating dance. This exhibits how organism’s existing on the same plane can share the same experience of sense data which serves as justification for their belief. and thus later informing decision-making; in this case, how the mating dance will manifest in a particular season. Moreover, flamingo’s seem to exhibit a level of cognitive ability in order to be able to complete these actions; however, this cognitive ability, based on what we have qualitatively observed from these birds, does not seem to be on the same level as human cognitive ability. Yet, these animals are still able to interpret their environment in a similar manner to how humans would. That is, flamingos are able to interpret their sense data to be able to, for example, recognize time of day and schedule their routines based on the perceived time (whether it's light or dark outside). Humans can also recognize time of day and we also schedule routines based on this. 

This was an elaborate example to explain that despite flamingos and humans being vastly different organisms they can experience sense data in a similar manner and have specific reactions to this data. Furthermore, there is a distinct cognitive difference between these two organisms given that one set is able to effectively create rudimentary societal structures (flamingos) and the other able to build exceedingly complex societal structures and systems (humans). Thus, this exhibits that despite the cognitive divide, the fundamental justifications to allow for the creation of these structures lies in sense data that we appear to interpret in similar fashions; that is, the justifications for our, flamingo and human, beliefs come from the same source, yet the way that sense data is later interpreted and used depends on the cognitive ability of the organism. This kind of analysis can also be applied to a wide variety of sentient organisms, which appear to build structures similar to humans.

An objection may arise that suggests that human cognitive ability is vastly different from other organisms and should thus exist in its own category due to the existence of complex language systems and societal structures. That is, the existence of, specifically, human language provides a basis to assert that justifiably differentiates human system of truth (and thus knowledge) from non-human system of truth and knowledge. I argue that the capacity for language is not essential to change the standard of knowledge because the systems of truth still conform to the present basic facts which then inform the human ability to converse. This base level of truth is then shared amongst all organisms, however humans may be the only ones to have the active cognitive ability to build off the essential truths and converse—this does not speak to the fact that system of truth is inaccurate for other organisms’ instead it confirms that different cognitive abilities are present among disjoint organisms. To elucidate, despite other organisms, say the flamingo, not having a method of concrete communication, this does not mean they are unable to represent facts about the world. Flamingos must have some other form of communication between themselves which allows for the species to build their intricate mating styles. This kind of logic may also be applied to other species of organisms.

To conclude, I assert that organisms do not need language to have belief when the justification for belief is based around the same sense data that all organisms appear to share which allows for lower-level signs of communication which can in itself show that organisms have the similar systems of truth. That is, animal behavior exhibits social interaction which confirms that the justification for their systems are shared between organisms as exhibited through animal social hierarchies and ability to reproduce which is akin to rudimentary human communities.

Reflection, as in internal thoughts of memories and information, furthermore, is necessary for the justification of retained belief. I argue that the existence of  different mental capacities does not make knowledge different for different minds because the  standards of knowledge remain consistent despite differences in cognitive capacities (Kornblith 2002, 105). Then, organisms must retain a baseline ability to reflect which allows them to build these systems of belief and make decisions based on their systems. For example, this would be how flamingos are able to change their mating dance depending on mood, place or both (Studer-Thiersch). Thus, the ability of organisms to curve or change behavior based on success or mood entails reflection because it demonstrates the ability to build some kind of rudimentary system to organize thoughts. That is, I’m suggesting that the motions of organisms and the routines they appear to have are not arbitrary but suggest a sort of cognitive intelligence which is  elementarily comparable to human intelligence. Observed consistency is then seen within these sentient organisms which allows for this direct action to be detected. This kind of system creation and use is of course fallible—prone to mistakes—and yet this does not suggest that these decisions are randomly made, merely that they are based in a system which has been inaccurately constructed. For example, when a young flamingo tries to find a mate during a low rainfall season and is subsequently rejected by all the females who only mate during high rainfall (because more food is available at this time) (Struder-Thiersch 2002, 154). 

To clarify, human knowledge cannot be argued to be separate from non-human knowledge on the basis of reflection as this then asserts that there is a specific threshold of metacognition that is necessary to have all knowledge in itself. I argue that reflection is a sliding scale ability that organisms who are able to actively react to their surroundings utilize in order to have spontaneous decision-making. There is not a threshold for metacognition then but more of the recognition of the ability and the different levels of said ability. Thus the ability to reflect is necessary for reflection and I argue that because of organisms spontaneous ability to decide they demonstrate a level of reflection which fits the coherentist framework. To give an example,  when a dog sticks its head into a prickly cactus and gets stabbed. The dog will later avoid such plants in the future demonstrating an action which reflects the dog's understanding of its system of belief.  This would then demonstrate the dog’s ability to cognitively reflect—as the dog’s actions speak to recognizing a piece of information in their belief framework and utilizing this belief to act. Further its the beings ability to also have spontaneous action despite their systems of belief which can be categorized as exploration; this helps distinguish the sentient being as 1) having an internal state and 2) acting as a sentient being not a reactionary machine (Kornblith 2002, 37). 

Yet another objection would be one that discounts the foundations of coherentism. Given that coherentism works off a circular framework some may wonder how this kind of system avoids the epistemic regress problem surrounding circular reasoning. To this I would respond by maintaining that the coherentist framework is a different kind of belief system altogether which requires that the system itself be both the justification and evidence of belief. Given that the two other parts of the regress problem—termination in unjustified belief and going on infinitely—are versions of skepticism then the circularity premise is the only one to which a system of coherent belief can be framed (Bonjour 2002, 389). It is akin to viewing the problem of epistemic regress in a different light, coherentism is a completely different kind of belief system from that of its predecessor: foundationalism. Further, the coherentist framework is like comparing algebra versus calculus—both of which are completely different and approach solutions to the same problem divergently

Summary

Knowledge is thus achievable for all sentient organisms—those which can reflect, spontaneously act and therefore demonstrate cognitive ability. Furthermore, based on a coherentist framework the epistemic beliefs which can lead to knowledge justify how organisms can have systems which inform individual action. This coherentist framework uses sense data via the observation requirement to allow belief to be created and inserted within an individual’s personal system. The complexity of this system is what defines the difference between species and, further, cognitive ability. Notably, humans will be able to accomplish much more complex thought and constructions of belief (and further knowledge,) but because the initial sense data is the same for all sentient organisms, the basis for knowledge must, therefore, be on the same scale. 

The complexity of the interpretation of this initial sense data then allows for differentiation. This can be exemplified in the flamingo which has convoluted mating techniques which hinge on the cooperation of a large group, as well as a vast amount of external factors (some of which have been determined to depend on the temperament of the birds at that specific time).  This kind of framework also allows for fallibility which is important in maintaining truth despite possibly being mistaken because of inaccurate interpretation of sense data or an inaccurate epistemic belief system.

Reflection is paramount in determining whether or not organisms actually retain a system of epistemic belief; reflection is a trait that all sentient beings hold—to varying degrees. It is noted that without the ability for organisms to reflect then structured decision-making would not occur as consistently and steadfastly as it does. That is, I make the claim that beings which are sentient are aware of their decision-making in the past which allows for them to make further informed decisions based on the existence of observed consistency, as elaborated above.  Then, language is not necessary for coherentism to be applied in this case because reflection can be demonstrated in action rather than through explicit communication. Language, then, will also not alter the standards of knowledge but enforces the idea that different cognitive abilities exist which allow for more complex societal systems to be constructed; reflection can still occur so the coherentist framework may still be applied. 

Therefore, it can be concluded that knowledge is on the same scale for all sentient beings as justified by a coherentist framework and further hinging on the premise that these organisms can reflect.

References

Kornblith, H, 2002. Knowledge and its Place in Nature. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Bonjour, L, 2002,  “The Structure of Empirical Knowledge.” Epistemology: Contemporary Readings. 2nd edn. ed. M. Huemer, New York: Routledge, pp. 387-40.

Studer-Thiersch, A, 2000,  ‘What 19 Years of Observation on Captive Greater Flamingos Suggests about Adaptations to Breeding under Irregular Conditions’, Waterbirds: The International Journal of Waterbird Biology 23, pp. 150–159. 

The Housework in Modern Houses: An Investigation on the Relation between Space and Knowledge Production

Yuqin Wu • Haverford College

Is knowledge embodied or disembodied? This seems an unnecessary question, for we usually think of knowledge as disembodied because knowledge production seems to be an intellectual and abstract activity. However, I argue that humans are, by our nature, embodied in the physical space we live in; and we are thus affected by the social norms implicitly delivered by artificial spaces. In other words, our knowledge is closely related to space because the design of the spaces we live in delivers a certain understanding of the relationship between humans and space and what it means to be a human. In this essay, I will take the modern house as an example and start by analyzing how the modern house oppressively imposes an image of the ideal “modern man” on people living in it. I will then argue that our understanding of housework, as a way to interact with objects, is related to a more general understanding of creativity and productivity. Specifically, the common devaluation of housework, which comes with the image of the ideal modern man, reflects a limiting understanding of creativity and a reductive way of living. However, a feminine way of thinking and living, which involves a rich experience of housework and thus an intimate relationship with space and the embracement of an embodied self, is the way to liberate oneself from the aggressive masculinity embedded in modernity.

The Embodied Nature of Humans

To investigate the relationship between knowledge production and space, let us first focus on the questions: Are humans embodied, and what does it mean for humans to be embodied? We spend most of our lives in artificial spaces like houses, public institutions, and human-transformed natural spaces, and there are multiple understandings of the relationship between humans and artificial spaces. In the modernist understanding, humans are socialized, souled, active, agentive entities living in a material world that is neutral, objective, stable, unsouled, passive, and indifferent. By attributing opposite qualities to humans and space, this understanding separates humans from the space they live in and identifies the essence of humans as their abstract and spiritual part, which allows them to see the world from above. Also, humans are advanced because they can produce knowledge through a purely intellectual and conceptual process, and they can obtain true knowledge that is universal and transcendent.

But humans are, by their nature, embodied entities, and artificial spaces are not neutral but, borrowing a word from Sarah Ahmed, always “oriented.” Artificial spaces are not built out of a vacuum, but are designed and constructed by real people affected by specific cultures and social norms. As a result, the characteristics of space (the texture, color, lighting, and composition of objects) presume and impose certain ways of living on the inhabitants. They deliver specific social norms regarding what it means to be a human, like how humans should act, live, and interact with one another. This making of meanings happens not only when a space is built but also in its daily usage. In Ahmed’s words, space is the sediment of people’s actions; it is made of “straight lines,” which function as “alignment” (Ahmed 12). The lines ask people to keep aligned by directing them to pay attention to some things and put others into the background. We are thus “oriented.” When we inhabit a space, we need to familiarize ourselves with the space, and by doing so, we face the direction that is already faced by others; we shape our body to fit the space that has already taken its shape (15). The orientation of space can be understood as “collective directions” or “collective facing,” and the repetition of the act of following the lines makes the lines disappear, meaning that the inhabitants accept certain social norms and perspectives without noticing them (16). In this understanding of the human-space relationship, the social norms underlying artificial spaces implicitly orient us to see the world in a certain way. Therefore, our perception and experience, emotions and reasonings, and even our knowledge and identity are never isolated from space but rather greatly influenced by space. In other words, we do not respond to space, but we are formed by space. It should be noted that there is no one clear cause-and-effect chain. Neither knowledge nor space exists prior to the other; rather, they shape, orient, and define each other. 

Therefore, it is important to investigate artificial spaces because specific traits of space give us a starting point to articulate the ideology, social norms, and basic logic behind our knowledge production, which are usually hidden from us. Additionally, because spaces are in line with certain norms, people who do not align with those norms will experience, feel, and respond to that space differently from those who are more in line. In Ahmed’s words, these people have a “queer” way of understanding space and living. When she uses the word “queer,” she is referring to both its original meaning in German as being “oblique” and “transverse” (to the “lines” in space) and its contemporary meaning of identifying one’s gender and sexual orientation out of the heterosexual norms. Queerness is important because it stands outside ideologies and social norms and uncovers to us the oriented background of our knowledge production. It thus inspires us to create alternative knowledge that challenges dominating ideologies and brings the possibility of a new way of understanding ourselves and our relation to the world.

In the remaining part of this essay, I will analyze the modern artificial space that originates in the time of the rise of industrialization and capitalism because the space we inhabit now is largely characterized by modernity. I will try to answer the question: towards which direction is the modern space oriented? Some may argue that it is oriented towards the dominating groups of people, meeting their needs and realizing their fantasies while excluding minorities. This is true to some extent, but this does not explain why modern spaces generally make people feel stressed, detached, and objectified. I argue that modern spaces are oriented towards an ideal modern man who never really exists, and this ideal man is characterized by his masculinity. Specifically, I will focus on middle-class houses in western countries. Even though not everyone lives in such a house, it is worth studying because it is the typical setting of the ideal modern life, an alluring life that is advanced but still accessible, and we can see traits of it embedded in houses of other classes and cultures.

The Orientation of the Modern House

To articulate the traits of the modern middle-class house, I will compare Jean Baudrillard’s The System of Objects (1996) and Gaston Bachelard’s The Poetics of Spaces (1968). Written around a time of huge technological, social, and ideological changes, the former book discusses the effect of consumerism on the design of modern houses, and the latter book is a poetic and nostalgic remembrance of the beauty of traditional houses.

Firstly, the human subject no longer affines the house but rather dominates the house. In traditional times, the human subject was closely related to space. The house was where our dreams settled, and our unconsciousness dwelled with peace (Bachelard 7). The house was the primary, reliable, and immediate source of happiness and had a unique value for humans (8). In modern times, however, the human subject dominates over the objects. The fabrication and composition of objects in a modern house aim only to solve problems and meet practical needs, and the human subject controls objects in manipulative and tactical ways to make his life easy, efficient, and productive (Baudrillard 16). The human subject uses the objects but is not related to the objects.

Secondly, the vibrancy that once lived in objects is now lost. In traditional times, objects were perceived as containers with substances in them, so they were similar in structure to humans. Thus, they functioned in people’s lives like human organs and could only be given but not produced. There were also transcendental correlations between the substances of the objects through which they responded to each other (Baudrillard 25). In modern times, objects are not perceived to have substances anymore. People no longer think that there is a boundary between the outside and the inside of an object or that there are any transcendental links between objects. Objects become dispensable and disposable; they are produced rather than given; they are put into computational and informational models (27). The spiritual core in objects is now dead.

Thirdly, the once intimate and physical relationships between humans and objects become virtual and abstract. In traditional times, when people moved or used objects, they usually needed to do a lot of labor. They had to use a lot of muscles, motivate their entire body, and get truly involved in the process. It is a flow of energy composed of gestures that emphasize labor (Baudrillard 49). In modern times, however, people control objects through remote controls. They try to put in a minimal level of energy and make changes to the house by only using their fingers and eyes (50). The interaction between humans and objects is composed of gestures that are directed by the notion of manipulation, and thus both humans and space become abstract.

From the changes in the meaning of the house to humans, the nature of objects, and the way humans interact with objects, we can see that modern spaces and living presuppose people to be the ideal “modern man”; the “modern man” is always efficient, productive, organized, self-disciplined, competent, indifferent, individualistic, autonomous, and unbiased. In the context of capitalism, these traits promise to help the person organize his life and achieve personal success. But this is only a myth. These characteristics are celebrated because they reduce man to a resource that contributes all his effort to the growth of capitalism. They also reduce a man to a perfect consumer whose success is only defined by the value of the commodities he possesses. The myth thus detaches humans from intimate relations with other humans or objects and discourages them from understanding the value and meaning of their lives creatively. 

It should be noted that the ideal modern man is a male, not a female, because the traits of the ideal modern man (to be productive, indifferent, and autonomous) largely align with the common understanding of masculinity. It is especially accurate to relate the image of “the ideal modern man” to that of “the masculine male” because, firstly, both “modernity” and masculinity are not something a person naturally has without effort. A male is neither born with masculinity nor is he always masculine throughout his life. Rather, he learns to be masculine through socialization and is haunted by the phantom of masculinity, for he has to constantly perform in certain ways to make himself appear masculine. Similarly, a modern person is only productive and competent when he constantly puts effort into proving it. The second reason why it is accurate to link “the ideal man” with “the masculine male” is that people who conform to the two images both gain privileges and pay for that privilege by living a reduced life. These people seem to earn success by living under social norms, but they are also disadvantaged as they are prohibited from being emotionally vulnerable and are pushed into aggressive competitions. They are also deprived of the drive and ability to develop their own understanding of the unique meanings of their lives. And they are epistemologically ignorant of the power structure they live in due to their privileged position in it.

Diverged Lives in the Modern House

The figure of the ideal modern man brings pressure to both men and women, but their situations are different as men are further privileged and women are further oppressed. It is acceptable for a man to be detached from the space he lives in, meaning that he does not need to worry about housework, because he should put all his time and effort into “productive” work for his “important” career. In contrast, a woman is expected to facilitate the man’s work by taking care of the house and having everything prepared for him, in other words, doing all the “trivial” and “unproductive” housework. Therefore, the difference between a man’s and a woman’s life in the modern house is most evident in their diverged understandings, experiences, and imaginations about housework.

Modernity facilitates man’s gender privileges. George Wagnar’s analysis of the Playboy apartment built in many states in the United States in the 1950s shows that it is the ultimate male fantasy of the house. The apartment is located in a high building, detached from the city. A remote control allows the owner to control everything (the music player, the lights, and the curtains) in the house instantly and effortlessly. Unfortunately, this level of control is designed to let the male owner hunt girls the most easily. This house represents the male fantasy of enjoying covert pleasure at night while maintaining his decent image in the daytime. Despite the fact that this man’s joy is based on objectifying women, we should also notice that this is a house that is not a home. The man enjoys himself in the house without doing any physical labor (housework) or emotional labor (mental support for his family). The house appears to be already made for the man, just like how it appears to most men in real life, because women have done all the work of taking care of the house. 

This ignorance of physical labor affects man’s knowledge, and this is most evident in the knowledge produced by male philosophers who do not identify gender inequality. Ahmed analyzes phenomenologist Edmund Husserl’s mediation on his writing table and points out that even though he claims to produce universal knowledge, he is, in fact producing male-specific knowledge. He tries to do a complete and detailed meditation of the nature of the table, but he takes the table as pre-given: he ignores all the physical labor that has to be done to make the table ready for him to write on and all the mental labor that keeps his children from disturbing him. Males’ orientation away from housework reflects the common devaluation of housework, the view that housework is trivial and only valuable because it supports real creative and productive works. However, from the example of Husserl, we can see that one’s knowledge cannot be separated from one’s relation to physical space because it is precisely the “trivial”, “physical” work that makes the “creative”, “intellectual” work possible. In fact, as we will see from a feminist perspective, the division between the trivial and the productive, the mundane and the creative, is not objective but culturally constituted.

Men are ignorant of housework, but women know housework well. They develop a more intimate relationship with objects and have more knowledge about how to interact with the physical world. According to Ahmed, these are “queer” experiences because they are from perspectives that do not align with that of the ideal modern man. Thus, this kind of knowledge provides us with the possibility to reflect on and challenge the arbitrary division of labor into the trivial and the productive. In other words, acknowledging the unique value of housework leads us to rethink the concepts of creativity and productivity.

Rethinking Creativity and Productivity

Housework is usually perceived as mundane, but Bachelard challenges this idea and explains the unique creativity in housework. When a person does cleaning, fixing, and maintenance for an object, she actually “create[s] a new object” and “register[s] this object officially as a member of the human household” (Bachelard 67). She “experience[s] a sort of consciousness of constructing the houses,” in the sense that she takes effort to “keep it alive” and “rebuild” it “from the inside” (67, 68). Thus, the person becomes ever sensitive, caring, and creative in a unique way; and those who do not do housework could never get access to this experience. Housework is also valuable because doing housework makes the person live integrated with “the vastest dreams” (the career, the ultimate life project) and “the humblest occupations” (the housework, the daily mechanical work that makes a career possible), and thus the person becomes humble and grounded (68).  Therefore, a feminine way of living that values housework and physical attachment is filled with creative, fluid, and nuanced experiences. It also allows the person to be intimately related to herself, other people, and even non-human agents. All of these traits are forces that challenge the reductive tendency of modernity.

This understanding of housework brings us to reflect more critically on the binary of trivial and productive labor and the concepts of productivity and creativity. It is commonly thought that creative work means to create and produce things and is often done by males, while trivial work is to maintain and take care of things and is often done by females. Nika Dubrovsky and David Graeber argue that this is a very limiting understanding of creativity, and it is not an objective classification but a cultural product with a history. The idea that creativity is some “spiritual,” “individual,” and “genius” quality emerged along with Romanticism during early industrialization, serving to mark the difference between artistic works and factory products. On the other hand, the idea that productivity is to create work through a “mysterious” and “painful” process has a Judeo-Christian-Islamic heritage. It is the most obvious when we think about the production of children from a man’s perspective, the production of modern electronic devices from a customer’s perspective, and the production of artwork from a viewer’s perspective. Therefore, the division of labor into the trivial and the productive is ideological: creativity does not necessarily belong to an artistic, genius individual, and productivity does not necessarily mean creating things out of nothing. Only by expanding the definition of creativity and productivity can we develop a more inclusive and egalitarian way of understanding labor; and one possible starting point is to recognize the value in cleaning, fixing, transporting, and maintaining objects.

Conclusion

In this essay, I argue that humans are embodied entities by revealing that the modern space affects people by imposing on them the figure of the ideal modern man. I also argue that our relationship to space affects our knowledge production by analyzing the relationship between the evaluation of housework and the concepts of productivity and creativity. It is a western, white, and patriarchal way of thinking to separate humans from the space they live in. This way of thinking advocates for the masculine, modernist ideology by universalizing the specific knowledge of the privileged, and dismissing other experiences and knowledge. Acknowledging the embodied nature of knowledge production provides us with the starting point of reflecting on this dominating ideology and thinking of alternative ways of understanding humans, knowledge production, and living. We should legitimize different kinds of experiences and knowledge and develop a more inclusive and just way of knowing. In addition, the study of modern houses and housework is one example of investigating the influence of space on people’s knowledge production. More studies could be done on how modernity is embedded in other kinds of spaces like public spaces and artificially transformed nature; and we could also study the different ideologies that lie in space in other cultural and historical contexts.

Works cited

Ahmed, Sara. “Introduction: Find Your Way.” Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others, Duke University Press, Durham, 2006, pp. 1–24.

Bachelard, Gaston. “The House. From Cellar to Garret. The Significance of the Hut.” and “House and Universe.” The Poetics of Space: The Classic Look at How We Experience Intimate Places, translated by Maria Jolas, Beacon Press, Boston, 1994, pp. 3–37 and 38–73.

Baudrillard, Jean. “The Functional System, or Objective Discourse.” The System of Objects, translated by James Benedict, Verso, London, 1996, pp. 13–65.

Dubrovsky, Nika, and David Graeber. “Another Art World, Part 2: Utopia of Freedom as a Market Value”. E - Flux Journal, 2019, https://www.e-flux.com/journal/104/298663/another-art-world-part-2-utopia-of-freedom-as-a-market-value/.

Henderson, Susan. “A Revolution of the Woman’s Sphere: Grete Lihotzkhy and the Frankfurt Kitchen.” Architecture and Feminism, edited by Elizabeth Danze et al., Princeton Architectural Press, New York, NY, 1996, pp. 221–253.

Wagner, George. “The Liar of the Bachelor.” Architecture and Feminism, edited by Elizabeth Danze et al., Princeton Architectural Press, New York, NY, 1996, pp. 183–220.