In this article, I argue that individuals could be entitled to rights, outside those that are communally conferred, as part of the primary requirement of being ‘persons’ in the African communitarian set-up if the terms ‘person’ and ‘personhood’ are understood differently from the way they are currently deployed in the communitarian discourse. The distinction between these two terms is the basis of my thesis where clarity on their meanings could be helpful in establishing the possibility of ascribing rights outside those that are communally conferred. I argue that ontologically, a ‘person’ is prior to ‘personhood’ (understood in the normative sense) which is considered to find its fuller expression in a community and by virtue of this, I think that he or she is entitled to some rights outside those that are defined and conferred by the community. This is my point of departure in this article.
A Response to Masaka's Objection of Menkiti
Dennis Masaka argues that individuals have rights outside those conferred by the community. The argument is a critique to Ifeanyi Menkiti’s view of personhood. He argues that Menkiti uses the word person and personhood as synonymous. Masaka makes a distinction between the two, where person is an ontological concept, and personhood is a normative concept. For Masaka, individuals have rights by virtue of being persons and not personhood. My approach to the paper is therapeutic. I argue that Masaka misinterprets Menkiti’s views. I argue that Menkiti does not allocate rights in his idea of personhood and as something conferred by the community as proposed by Masaka. This implies that Masaka’s view is not radically different from Menkiti’s.
Who Is a Radical Communitarian?
characterises an African moral thought. Secondly, I demonstrate that Menkiti actually does not necessarily deny nor reject rights per se; instead, he is proposing an alternative political model that prioritises duties/obligations for the sake of the common good
Tourism, Travel Journalism, and the Construction of a Modern National Identity in Sweden
benefiting the nation. Class differentiation was expressed implicitly in the attempts to define the proper way to travel. Many of the articles commented on the democratization of traveling. Traveling was for everyone and was almost a duty as well as a right
The Melancholy of the Girl Walker in Irish Women’s Fiction
duties as wives and mothers’ (27) appear as ‘untidy foliage’ (24) and a ‘chaste forest of green serge’ (25), whose worryingly nubile bodies are, in the eyes of the nuns teaching them, ‘undoubtedly structured around ambitious wombs’ (27). The nuns
Rennie Parker, John Weston, Derrick Buttress, Sue Dymoke, Tim Thorne, K.F. Pearson, Michael Bartholomew-Biggs, and Hugh Underhill
Thirty Two Poems in the Style of Simon Armitage Personality Fuel RENNIE PARKER
Still Life JOHN WESTON
The Poet of Dluga Street DERRICK BUTTRESS
The Undertaking Final Duty SUE DYMOKE
Meditation on Parliament House, Canberra TIM THORNE
An Analysis of his Portrait K.F. PEARSON
Reduced MICHAEL BARTHOLOMEW-BIGGS
Township Historian HUGH UNDERHILL
Croquet, Female Citizenship, and 1860s Domestic Chronicles
Michelle Beissel Heath
Croquet took fashionable circles in England by storm in the 1860s and 1870s and then suddenly disappeared, replaced in large part by the new sport of lawn tennis. When interest in croquet rekindled in the 1890s, croquet found itself transformed into a 'safe' old-fashioned game that didn't threaten domesticity or women's supposedly established positions. Such a view, this article argues, belies the revolutionary potential of croquet and the debates over women's duties as good citizens, wives, and mothers that surfaced in the 1860s among those who grappled with the idea of croquet mallet-wielding women and girls. Through a consideration of works by Charlotte Yonge, Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865), and Louisa May Alcott's Little Women (1868), along with discussions of croquet and womanly duty on display in periodicals and manuals, this article explores the symbolic status of croquet and the ways in which the surrounding discourse uses it to advocate for a national notion of female citizenship dependent on 'womanly' duty even while offering critiques of manners, morals, and social order frequently dependent on 'womanly' ideals.
Albert Murray's South to a Very Old Place
Carolyn M. Jones
In her essay, ‘Place in Fiction’, Eudora Welty describes place as identity.1 We put a poetic claim on, give a name to, a part of landscape that has put a claim on us. Place, therefore, is space to which meaning has been ascribed2 – as Scott Romine expresses it ‘a network of imperatives, codes, norms, limitations, duties, obligations and relationships’.3 As we name, therefore, we create, as Welty describes it, a crossroads, ‘a proving ground’.4 That place is the South, and the South is the ground of the novel. Yet, so often, as Barbara Ladd reminds us, place can become ‘something phantasmagoric … something longed lost and longed for … a locus of desire’ – a dream rather than a reality. Can place, she asks, function, become viable, dynamic and vital?
Race, Masculinity and Closure in Ernest Gaines's Fiction
Suzanne W. Jones
In A Rage For Order: Black/White Relations in the American South Since Emancipation, Joel Williamson explores the conjuncture of race, manhood, and violence peculiar to the American South. He argues that for southern white men the traditional Victorian masculine role of provider and protector was directly linked with violence because of plantation society’s ‘necessity of controlling a potentially explosive black population.’ As early as the seventeenth century, a patrol system, made up of masters and overseers enforced the laws of slavery. By the nineteenth century, the duty of patrolling was extended to all white men, who had authority over all blacks (even free blacks) and over whites who conspired with blacks. Thus a system for controlling slaves became a practice ‘of all whites controlling all blacks … a matter of race.’ The martial role white men created for themselves became entrenched, particularly in the last decades before the Civil War as slavery came under attack by northerners from without and by rebellious slaves from within. Whites created a complementary stereotype of black people as ‘simple, docile, and manageable’ who if properly handled were like children, but if improperly cared for became animals. Williamson argues that this ‘Sambo’ figure was a figment of white wishful thinking, which functioned ‘to build white egos’ while masking their fears of black rebellion.
Political readings of Treasure Island are rare, and of fairly recent date. David H. Jackson’s account, ‘Treasure Island as a Late-Victorian Adults’ Novel’, identifies a strong element of class antagonism. Against Robert Louis Stevenson’s claim that his early romances are amoral and ahistorical, Jackson proposes that ‘Treasure Island is a simplified account of eighteenth-century hierarchical society’, where ‘the premium virtue is duty – unquestioning loyalty to the hierarchy’, and in which Stevenson promotes ‘firm and conservative social values’. For Jackson, Treasure Island is mainly about good and bad children as defined by obedience to or disrespect for authority figures, engaging ‘the reader’s personal nostalgia for his or her own childhood’. In her postcolonial work Problematic Shores, Diana Loxley also counters the traditional view of this novel as a timeless romance. She finds that it is ‘in fact deeply marked by its moment of historical production in the heyday of Victorian imperialism’, and she convincingly provides ‘the colonial context within which Treasure Island should be read and discussed’.