Environmental issues are high on today's political agenda. Why we have landed in our present undesirable, and possibly even dangerous, situation and how we should act differently in the future, are questions central to our time. Max Oelschlaeger joins the current debate on both these questions. As historian he examines the roots of our environmental problems and looks, in some detail, at the history of wilderness as an idea. As philosopher he outlines some of the principal positions taken by eco-philosophers towards wilderness and its preservation; he also presents his own views.

For some 20 years now, Judith Jarvis Thomson has written penetrating, insightful and scrupulously argued essays on controversial issues involving rights. The most important of these were collected and edited by William Parent in a volume entitled Rights, Restitution, and Risk. In an Afterword, reflecting on these essays, she lists a number of things that she felt were lacking from her discussions. Three of them are particularly important: a clear account of what it is to have a right, a clear statement of what rights we have and a clear statement of the role that detailed discussions of controversial cases play in moral theory construction. The volume under review expands and refines her earlier work on rights, and provides a more systematic treatment by, among other things, filling these three gaps. Those familiar with her work will not be disappointed: the new book is as lucid, challenging, illuminating and vigorously argued as her earlier essays, but now affords an overview of the realm of rights, as well as a delineation and location of “the territory of rights” on “the continent of morality” (p. 3).

La correspondance latine échangée entre Leibniz et Tun de ses maîtres, Jacob Thomasius (1622–1684), professeur de philosophie morale, puis de dialectique et d'éloquence à l'Université de Leipzig, figure dans l'Akademie-Ausgabe des œuvres de Leibniz. Richard Bodéüs nous en donne ici la premiére traduction intégrate en français, assortie d'analyses: celles-ci figurent dans I'introduction, dans les notes qui accompagnent le texte, et dans les commentaires qui suivent chaque piéce de la correspondance.

Dans les premières années qui ont suivi la parution de son monumental A Theory of Justice (1971), Rawls s'est surtout employé dans quelques articles à répondre à ses critiques, à dissiper les malentendus ainsi qu'à expliciter certains aspects de sa théorie, sans proposer de changements significatifs. À partir de la publication des Dewey Lectures (1980), sous la pression des critiques ou suivant le cours naturel de sa réflexion, Rawls a graduellement procéde à d'importantes révisions. Presque essentiellement préoccupé par la signification et la justification de sa théorie, et laissant à peu prés intacts sa structure et son contenu, Rawls a successivement élaboré une conception de la personne et de la société, développé une méthodologie contextualiste et constructiviste, limité considérablement la portée de sa théorie et finalement, pour encadrer le tout, proposé une interprétation politique de la «justice en tant qu'équité». Ces changements, que d'aucuns ont perçus comme un recul ou comme un important virage, n'ont pas toujours été, selon Rawls, bien compris. Dans son dernier ouvrage, Political Liberalism, qui, est-il besoin de le dire? était depuis longtemps attendu, Rawls rassemble et raffine ses nouvelles idées, les présente de façon systématique et, somme toute, convaincante.

R. C. Sleigh's Leibniz and Arnauld: A Commentary on Their Correspondence is a very good book: it is detailed, clearly written, well argued and attentive to the historical background. The more I read it, the more I enjoyed it and the more I learned. Not only does it offer a wide variety of interesting points for the reader to agree and disagree with, it has, also, the virtue of pretty well forcing the reader to think about the issues involved and their connection with a variety of other philosophical problems. It breaks a good deal of new ground and, as is the way with new ground-breaking, it sometimes (explicitly) only scratches the surface: it points out both the need for further, more detailed investigations and the way in which such investigations might fruitfully proceed. By and large, however, it does a great deal more than scratch the surface: its depth of discussion is such that only a comparably sized book could hope to discuss in all their ramifications the problems raised (and often solved) by Sleigh.

Confrontations With the Reaper is a brilliant philosophical investigation into the nature and value of death. In what follows, I adumbrate the contents of the book and then turn to some critical discussion.

Adam Morton treats decisions that are difficult because the options available serve incomparable desires. In the first part of the book he presents principles that address these dilemmas. In the second part he formulates a theory that categorizes the principles. And in the third part he applies the principles to some issues in ethics. To illustrate, let us consider one of the principles, its assignment to a category, and its application to an ethical issue.

No idea sounds so silly that no ancient Greek fervently defended it. I hope we do not lose sight of the value there is in studying the Greeks. Yet it is even better to do as they did and not just to study what they said.

The modern self, with its inwardness, its freedom and its individuality (p. ix), suffers, Taylor tells us, from disenchantment (p. 500, cf. pp. 17-18, 186). Moreover, disenchantment has come in spite of the advance, to which Taylor wishes to give full credit, that modernity has made in giving great value to ordinary life at work and in the family (p. 211). For religion, though still present as one layer of sentiment among many in the historical deposits that compose modern culture, has given ground to “disengaged instrumentalism” or to its antagonist, romantic “expressivism” (p. 498). Taylor, a philosopher of uncommonly generous spirit, is willing to find good in each of these orientations: the first, for example, has with utilitarianism put the relief of needless suffering at the top of the moral agenda (p. 331), along with redeeming from superstitious repression a number of innocent pleasures; the second has deepened human capacity, on the one hand by deepening emotions (both in the sense of oneself and in concern for others), on the other hand by gaining for them intellectual respect (pp. 294, 372, 419).

This book is a collection of 12 essays, divided into five parts, entitled respectively, “Foundationalism,” “The Nature of Epistemic Justification,” Internalism and Externalism,” “Self Knowledge” and “The Foundations of Epistemology.” These parts are preceded by a good Introduction which not only serves as an effective summary of the main theses developed in the papers but also amplifies and corrects those theses.

For some years now Martha Nussbaum's reputation as a brilliant literary critic, literary scholar and philosopher has grown with each new publication until today the fact is readily acknowledged even by her most vigorous opponents. Her splendid book, The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy put her in the first rank of both Greek scholarship and contemporary ethical thought. It has already achieved the rare stature of one of those monumental works by which moral philosophers and literary scholars must now orient their work. Love's Knowledge, however, is not likely to enhance her considerable reputation by much since it contains very little that is new.

Richard Gale, noting the “startling resurgence of theism within philosophy during the past thirty years or so” (p. 2) led by William Alston, Alvin Plantinga and Richard Swinburne, concludes that “there is need for a return visit from Hume's Philo.” But fans of Philo may be disappointed with the present version. To be sure, Gale as Philo possesses both the wit and the critical acumen to make him a worthy successor to the original. What is lacking, however, is the animus and the scornful rejection of biblical religion which so notably motivated both the original Philo and his creator.

This is a Big Book from one of Canada's preeminent philosophers. It aims at nothing less than to define what characterizes modernity, and then to tell us what is wrong with it. Like many a Big Book, it is predictably full of interesting things, and equally predictably disappointing, not to say feeble, in some of the central theses for which it argues. But then what more, in philosophy, can we really expect? It's what we tell our students: you don't have to be right, and you don't have to make me agree with you, but you do have to produce interesting arguments and show that you have thought seriously about the issues.

Although legal positivism is still a position to be reckoned with, the fact that philosophers of law are again talking about “natural rights” indicates that positivism is no longer to be taken for granted. One result of this movement is an incipient interest, among English-speaking philosophers, in Kant's theory of rights as presented in The Doctrine of Right, Part I of The Metaphysics of Morals. For the past two decades German Kant scholars have been analyzing and commenting on The Doctrine of Right; but Mulholland's book is, to the best of my knowledge, the first systematic treatment of the theory in English. It is, on the whole, a helpful introduction to the subject, which should be of interest not only to Kant scholars but also to contemporary legal, political and social philosophers.

In Leibniz: Perception, Apperception, and Thought, Robert McRae alleges a flat “contradiction” (McRae 1976, p. 30) at the heart of Leibniz's doctrine of three grades of monads: bare entelechies characterized by perception; animal souls capable both of perception and of sensation; and rational souls, minds or spirits endowed not only with capacities for perception and sensation but also with consciousness of self or what Leibniz calls (introducing a new term of art into the vocabulary of philosophy) “apperception.” Apperception is a necessary condition of those distinctively human mental processes associated with understanding and with reason. Insofar as it is also a sufficient condition of rationality, it is not ascribable to animals. But apperception is a necessary condition of sensation or feeling as well; and animals are capable of sensation, according to Leibniz, who decisively rejected the Cartesian doctrine that beasts are nothing but material automata. “On the one hand,” writes McRae, “what distinguishes animals from lower forms of life is sensation or feeling, but on the other hand apperception is a necessary condition of sensation, and apperception distinguishes human beings from animals” (McRae 1976, p. 30). “We are thus left with an unresolved inconsistency in Leibniz's account of sensation, so far as sensation is attributable both to men and animals” (ibid., p. 34).

These two interesting papers raise a number of important issues. I will limit myself, however, to drawing out some of the recurring questions, in order to keep myself from wandering too much down fascinating side alleys.

I cannot resist, however, beginning with what sounds like a digression. There is a lot of misunderstanding of what I was trying to say, especially in Braybrooke's paper. My author's reflex is to blame my readers. But a moment's quiet thought makes me aware of how far from totally clear I was. More than that, some of what is at issue between us is precisely the grid within which these questions should be debated. I am dissatisfied with the accepted way of putting some of these questions, and I want to propose new terms. It was inevitable that misunderstandings arise in these circumstances.