"The structural core problem of the Gnostic dualism between the god of creation and the god of redemption governs not only every religion of salvation and redemption. It is immanently given in every world in need of change and renewal, inescapably and ineradicably. The lord of a world in need of change, that is, a misconceived world and the liberator, the creator of a transformed, new world cannot be good friends. They are, so to speak, enemies by definition." Whether Theodor W. Adorno and Walter Benjamin, or Erich Auerbach and Hans Blumenberg, Ernst Bloch and Jacob Taubes, or Carl Schmitt (cited above)--all of them have been more or less fascinated or awed by the dualistic theology of St. Paul's disciple Marcion, and have as prominently and as differently referred to him. Already Adolf von Harnack, author of the Marcion monograph that even today sets the standard, was aware of the timeliness of his research object, in view of a modern Marcionism, right after the First World War.

The fear of the subversive has governed American politics, from the racial conflicts of the early republic to the Hollywood anti-Communism of Ronald Reagan. Political monsters—the Indian cannibal, the black rapist, the demon rum, the bomb-throwing anarchist, the many-tentacled Communist conspiracy, the agents of international terrorism—are familiar figures in the dream life that so often dominates American political consciousness. What are the meanings and sources of these demons? Why does the American political imagination conjure them up? Michael Rogin answers these questions by examining the American countersubversive tradition.

In contradistinction to the many monographs and edited volumes devoted to historical, cultural, or theological treatments of demonology, this collection features newly written papers by philosophers and other scholars engaged specifically in philosophical argument, debate, and dialogue involving ideas and topics in demonology. The contributors to the volume approach the subject from the perspective of the broadest areas of Western philosophy, namely metaphysics, epistemology, logic, and moral philosophy. The collection also features a plurality of religious, cultural, and theological views on the nature of demons from both Eastern and Western thought, in addition to views that may diverge from these traditional roots. Philosophical Approaches to Demonology will be of interest to philosophers of religion, theologians, and scholars working in philosophical theology and demonology, as well as historians, cultural anthropologists, and sociologists interested more broadly in the concept of demons.

Defying the dire predictions that attended its birth as an independent nation-state in 1947, the Indian republic is more than seventy-five years old. And yet, it is a place where criticisms of actually existing democracy are intense and strident. In recent years, the trope of victimized people suffering at the hands of a predatory elite and political dysfunction has reaped rewards. The populist language of redemptive outsiders pledging to combat a corrupt system has been harnessed in successful electoral campaigns, like the majoritarian regime of Narendra Modi. Tracking the shift from postcolonial nation-building to democracy-rebuilding, Srirupa Roy shows how the political outsider came to be a valorized figure of late-twentieth century Indian democracy, tasked with the urgent mission of curing a broken democratic system—what Roy terms "curative democracy." Drawing attention to an ambivalent political field that folds together authoritarian and democratic forms and ideas, Roy argues that the long 1970s were a crucial turning point in Indian politics, when democracy was suspended by the declaration of a national emergency and then subsequently restored. By tracing the crooked line that connects the ideals of curative democracy and the political outsider to the populist antipolitics and strongman authoritarian rule in present times, this book revisits democracy from India, and asks what the Indian experience tells us about the trajectory of global democratic politics.

What meaning can be found in calamity and suffering? This question is in some sense perennial, reverberating through the canons of theology, philosophy, and literature. Today, The Politics of Consolation reveals, it is also a significant part of American political leadership. Faced with uncertainty, shock, or despair, Americans frequently look to political leaders for symbolic and existential guidance, for narratives that bring meaning to the confrontation with suffering, loss, and finitude. Politicians, in turn, increasingly recognize consolation as a cultural expectation, and they often work hard to fulfill it. The events of September 11, 2001 raised these questions of meaning powerfully. How were Americans to make sense of the violence that unfolded on that sunny Tuesday morning? This book examines how political leaders drew upon a long tradition of consolation discourse in their effort to interpret September 11, arguing that the day's events were mediated through memories of past suffering in decisive ways. It then traces how the struggle to define the meaning of September 11 has continued in foreign policy discourse, commemorative ceremonies, and the contentious redevelopment of the World Trade Center site in lower Manhattan.

From the silent era to the present, film productions have shaped the way the public views campus life. Collaborations between universities and Hollywood entities have disseminated influential ideas of race, gender, class, and sexual difference. Even more directly, Hollywood has drawn writers, actors, and other talent from ranks of professors and students while also promoting the industry in classrooms, curricula, and film studies programs. In addition to founding film schools, university administrators have offered campuses as filming locations. In University Babylon, Curtis Marez argues that cinema has been central to the uneven incorporation and exclusion of different kinds of students, professors, and knowledge. Working together, Marez argues, film and educational institutions have produced a powerful ideology that links respectability to academic merit in order to marginalize and manage people of color. Combining concepts and methods from critical university studies, ethnic studies, native studies, and film studies, University Babylon analyzes the symbolic and institutional collaborations between Hollywood filmmakers and university administrators over the representation of students and, by extension, college life more broadly.

In this wide-ranging book, Paul Hoggett argues that human feelings and identities are constitutive of both personal and political life. Engaging with major debates in political theory, sociology, and psychoanalysis, he brings fresh insights to a range of issues: dynamics of political protest, intractable conflicts, fundamentalism and populism, the new political charismatics, the nature of forgiveness, and the relationship between anxiety and governance. The book is conceptually innovative and accessible, carefully introducing different theories of collective emotion and group identity and making extensive use of case studies from the U.S., England, and across the globe.

The post-World War II emergence of a full-blown state of perpetual war is arguably the most important feature of contemporary American politics. This book examines the "warfare state" in terms of a broad ensemble of structures, policies, and ideologies: permanent war economy, national security-state, global expansion of military bases, merger of state, corporate, and military power, an imperial presidency, the nuclear establishment, and superpower ambitions. Carl Boggs makes the argument that the "Good War" led to an authoritarian system that has expanded throughout the post-war decades, undermining liberal-democratic institutions and values in the process. He goes on to suggest that current American electoral politics show no sign of rolling back the warfare state and in fact, may push it to a new threshold bordering on American fascism.

The third edition of Media, Politics and Democracy examines the fraught debate over media influence, who wields it and what effect social and traditional media has on what we think, how we behave, and how we vote. Charting the media conglomerates of old, the alarming rise of the Tech Giants in recent decades, concerns over 'fake news', and the use of social media by political candidates, this book places contemporary anxieties into historical context and compares the response to such issues across different states and societies. Using examples from around the world, Street tackles the changing nature of political communications and brings under scrutiny the question of how a democratic society can function alongside a democratic media. Suitable for students studying politics and the media, political communications and other related fields. New to this Edition: - Completely revised and updated version of Mass Media, Politics and Democracy. - Includes a new chapter on the power of the Tech Giants. - Contains detailed accounts of the significance of figures such as Donald Trump, Rupert Murdoch and Mark Zuckerberg. - Student questions and issues for debate interspersed throughout the book.

In the last three decades, the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos has commanded the close scrutiny of scholars. These studies have focused on the political repression, human rights abuses, debt-driven growth model, and crony capitalism that defined Marcos’ so-called Democratic Revolution in the Philippines. But the relationship between the media and the regime’s public culture remains underexplored. In Passionate Revolutions, Talitha Espiritu evaluates the role of political emotions in the rise and fall of the Marcos government. Focusing on the sentimental narratives and melodramatic cultural politics of the press and the cinema from 1965 to 1986, she examines how aesthetics and messaging based on heightened feeling helped secure the dictator’s control while also galvanizing the popular struggles that culminated in “people power” and government overthrow in 1986. In analyzing news articles, feature films, cultural policy documents, and propaganda films as national allegories imbued with revolutionary power, Espiritu expands the critical discussion of dictatorships in general and Marcos’s in particular by placing Filipino popular media and the regime’s public culture in dialogue. Espiritu’s interdisciplinary approach in this illuminating case study of how melodrama and sentimentality shape political action breaks new ground in media studies, affect studies, and Southeast Asian studies.