From absolute value to Zeno's paradox, Sidebotham (mathematics, St. Bede's College, New Zealand) offers entries of three types: processes that explain specific skills (such as algebra), definitions of words with applications (such as proportion), and enrichment material, for entertainment (such as hexomino. The alphabetical arrangement of entries is intended to make the book a useful reference for general readers, but a well-indexed thematically arranged text might have succeeded better as an antidote to "math anxiety," which the author states as his goal.

"SPECTACULAR" is a mild word for describing the strange experiment with life that comprises the story of Nikola Tesla, and "amazing" fails to do adequate justice to the results that burst from his experiences like an exploding rocket. It is the story of the dazzling scintillations of a superman who created a new world; it is a story that condemns woman as an anchor of the flesh which retards the development of man and limits his accomplishment and, paradoxically, proves that even the most successful life, if it does not include a woman, is a dismal failure.

Т. 1. - С. 3-519

The evidence has become notorious. As our chronological distance from Nazism and its phenomenal core the mass extermination has increased, the latter's historical weight has grown as well. No introduction can do justice to this paradox's many sources, some of which I explore in the chapters that follow. Let us here simply note that the growing centrality of the Holocaust has altered the entire warp and woof of our sense of the passing century. If, well into the 1970s, wide-ranging portraits of the epoch would grant the Holocaust a modest (if any) mention, it now tends to fill the entire picture. The incriminated event has thus become the epoch's marker, its final and inescapable wellspring.

Clean code that works - now. This is the seeming contradiction that lies behind much of the pain of programming. Test-driven development replies to this contradiction with a paradox-test the program before you write it. A new idea? Not at all. Since the dawn of computing, programmers have been specifying the inputs and outputs before programming precisely. Test-driven development takes this age-old idea, mixes it with modern languages and programming environments, and cooks up a tasty stew guaranteed to satisfy your appetite for clean code that works-now. Developers face complex programming challenges every day, yet they are not always readily prepared to determine the best solution. More often than not, such difficult projects generate a great deal of stress and bad code. To garner the strength and courage needed to surmount seemingly Herculean tasks, programmers should look to test-driven development (TDD), a proven set of techniques that encourage simple designs and test suites that inspire confidence.

При разработке лекций использовались знания, полученные автором при разработке различных баз данных Access, Paradox, dBase в области авиационной и легкой промышленности в Москве и Гамбурге (ФРГ).

Plutarch tells the story of a man who plucked a nightingale and finding but little to eat exclaimed: "You are just a voice and nothing more." Plucking the feathers of meaning that cover the voice, dismantling the body from which the voice seems to emanate, resisting the Sirens' song of fascination with the voice, concentrating on "the voice and nothing more": this is the difficult task that philosopher Mladen Dolar relentlessly pursues in this seminal work. The voice did not figure as a major philosophical topic until the 1960s, when Derrida and Lacan separately proposed it as a central theoretical concern. In A Voice and Nothing More Dolar goes beyond Derrida's idea of "phonocentrism" and revives and develops Lacan's claim that the voice is one of the paramount embodiments of the psychoanalytic object (objet a). Dolar proposes that, apart from the two commonly understood uses of the voice as a vehicle of meaning and as a source of aesthetic admiration, there is a third level of understanding: the voice as an object that can be seen as the lever of thought. He investigates the object voice on a number of different levels the linguistics of the voice, the metaphysics of the voice, the ethics of the voice (with the voice of conscience), the paradoxical relation between the voice and the body, the politics of the voice and he scrutinizes the uses of the voice in Freud and Kafka. With this foundational work, Dolar gives us a philosophically grounded theory of the voice as a Lacanian object-cause.

This book intervenes in contemporary debates about the threat posed to democratic life by political emergencies. Must emergency necessarily enhance and centralize top-down forms of sovereignty? Those who oppose executive branch enhancement often turn instead to law, insisting on the sovereignty of the rule of law or demanding that law rather than force be used to resolve conflicts with enemies. But are these the only options? Or are there more democratic ways to respond to invocations of emergency politics? Looking at how emergencies in the past and present have shaped the development of democracy, Bonnie Honig argues that democracies must resist emergency's pull to focus on life's necessities (food, security, and bare essentials) because these tend to privatize and isolate citizens rather than bring us together on behalf of hopeful futures. Emphasizing the connections between mere life and more life, emergence and emergency, Honig argues that emergencies call us to attend anew to a neglected paradox of democratic politics: that we need good citizens with aspirational ideals to make good politics while we need good politics to infuse citizens with idealism. Honig takes a broad approach to emergency, considering immigration politics, new rights claims, contemporary food politics and the infrastructure of consumption, and the limits of law during the Red Scare of the early twentieth century. Taking its bearings from Moses Mendelssohn, Franz Rosenzweig, and other Jewish thinkers, this is a major contribution to modern thought about the challenges and risks of democratic orientation and action in response to emergency.

Several scholars have stressed the limits of language in the course of researching violence or when writing about it (Appadurai 1996, Das 2007). Our language seems insufficient to describe the horrors of violence (Binford 2004). Often, words seem to be frozen, and experiences of violence thus appear as if they could only be voiced from a distant position (Das and Kleinman 2001). How can we grasp the meaning of violence? How can anthropologists document the far-reaching and long term effects of violent actions? Focusing solely on narratives of violence and the context in which they emerge, is not sufficient to understand the meaning and the effects of violence. Particularly in realms of human experience, it is obvious that verbal language represents merely one among several ways of expression like gestures, rituals or certain kinds of public manifestations. An exploration of the vast range of different modes of expression thus promises to be the more adequate way to approach, register and understand the comprehensive manifestations and long-lasting effects of violence. This is the basic consideration why we chose ‘expressions’ of violence as the title for this volume, and asked the contributors to document and to analyze the diverging forms in which violence is addressed or conveyed. All the chapters of this volume thus deal with a paradox, as they attempt to turn into text violent experiences that, as we just presumed, cannot be expressed through verbal everyday language. The chapters discuss violence that is communicated through silences, rumours, literary narrations, represented in muted bodies, in rituals or role models. In order to grasp the meaning of violence as such, the contributors applied different perspectives, methods and analytical approaches. To comprehend the unspoken and the silence, most of the researchers have chosen a haptic approach. We borrow this term from Nordstrom (2010), who has defined her approach as ‘research through the senses’. Nordstrom has described the complexity of violence, its blurriness and its routinization or almost naturalization. In a similar approach, Verrips (2007) criticized researchers’ self-imposed restriction on visual manifestation in general, and claimed that a more balanced attention should be paid to our entire bodily sensorial experience. ‘We would then focus on [the] difficulty to grasp phenomena as deeply felt emotions and desires […] as well as the irrational and the fantastic, the absurd and the surreal.’ Our heavy emphasis on the role of the mind, reason and rationality, should give way to an increased interest in the sensual and emotional dimensions that are inherent in ‘our somatic experience of reality’ (Verrips 2007: 31).

The wider peacebuilding field has long suffered under the weight of an intriguing paradox: Violence has never been more studied, understood in terms of its dynamics and patterns, and officially identified as a policy challenge than it has in past the twenty years. And violence continues to unfold with extraordinary resilience in too many communities around the world. In this book Joe Bock makes a significant step into unpacking and suggesting creative ways to respond to this dilemma. I say that as a practitioner- scholar with thirty years of experience in community conflict and as a critic of the difficulties that this promising area of exploration — all too often misnamed as conflict prevention — has failed to deliver. From the standpoint of the practice of strategic peacebuilding several key contributions are worth highlighting from this book.

Soviet socialism was based on paradoxes that were revealed by the peculiar experience of its collapse. To the people who lived in that system the collapse seemed both completely unexpected and completely unsurprising. At the moment of collapse it suddenly became obvious that Soviet life had always seemed simultaneously eternal and stagnating, vigorous and ailing, bleak and full of promise. Although these characteristics may appear mutually exclusive, in fact they were mutually constitutive. This book explores the paradoxes of Soviet life during the period of "late socialism" (1960s-1980s) through the eyes of the last Soviet generation.

It is widely assumed that Americans care little about income inequality, believe opportunities abound, admire the rich, and dislike redistributive policies. Leslie McCall contends that such assumptions are based on both incomplete survey data and economic conditions of the past and not present. In fact, Americans have desired less inequality for decades, and McCall's book explains why. Americans become most concerned about inequality in times of inequitable growth, when they view the rich as prospering while opportunities for good jobs, fair pay, and high quality education are restricted for everyone else. As a result, they favor policies to expand opportunity and redistribute earnings in the workplace, reducing inequality in the market rather than redistributing income after the fact with tax and spending policies. This book resolves the paradox of how Americans can express little enthusiasm for welfare state policies and still yearn for a more equitable society and forwards a new model of preferences about income inequality rooted in labor market opportunities rather than welfare state policies

This book is a result of my increasing irritation at the colonization of our life-world by fear. Books motivated by irritation have a tendency to be polemical, and this book is no exception. It is an attack on the tendency to consider practically all phenomena from a perspective of fear. A paradoxical trait of the culture of fear is that it emerges at a time when, by all accounts, we are living more securely than ever before in human history. One of my most important arguments against the culture of fear is that it undermines our freedom. It might seem strange to be writing a book about our living in a culture of fear after having previously written a book about our living in a culture of boredom. The two diagnoses of our present culture as being one of fear and one of boredom respectively would seem on the face of it to be contradictory. If one is consumed by fear, one is not bored. But every life will contain both elements. In the poem ‘Dockery and Son’ (1963), Philip Larkin seems to imply that these two emotions, broadly speaking, sum up human existence: ‘Life is first boredom, then fear.’ Every society – and not least postmodern ones – is characterized by many contrasting movements and phenomena. Two phenomena such as boredom and fear, however, do not simply oppose each other but can also build up under each other. Fear is not simply something we are exposed to against our will; it is often also something we voluntarily expose ourselves to in an attempt to transcend a banal, boring everyday existence. I attempt in this book to unravel what kind of an emotion fear is, what role it plays in present-day culture and, not least, what political use is made of it. The book consists of seven chapters. In chapter One I give a brief account of ‘the culture of fear’, that is, how fear has become a kind of culturally determined magnifying glass through which we consider the world. Chapter Two is an attempt to describe what kind of a phenomenon fear is, and adopts a number of different approaches, ranging from neurobiology to phenomenology. In chapter Three I examine the role of fear in ‘the risk society’ and demonstrate how our attempts to minimize risk contain many irrational aspects. Chapter Four deals with the fact that we often voluntarily seek what is frightening – in extreme sports and entertainment, for example – something that is paradoxical, taking into consideration that we normally try to avoid sources of fear. In chapter Five I take a look at the concept of trust and point out that the culture of fear has an undermining effect on trust – something that in turn increases the scope of fear. When general trust decreases, this has a disintegrating effect on social relations, although fear for its part can also have an integrating effect. This integrating role of fear is central in a number of political philosophies, not least those of Machiavelli and Hobbes, and in chapter Six I look at the role of fear as a basis for political philosophy as well as the political use that has been made of fear in the ‘war against terror’ of recent years. Finally, the concluding chapter asks if there is any way out of fear, if we can break down the climate of fear that surrounds us today. A theme that will only be dealt with to a slight extent is the fear of death in general, as this is such a wide-ranging theme – because it calls for a thorough thematization of our conceptions of death – and must therefore be dealt with elsewhere. Anxiety – or Angst – will also be dealt with just as briefly. An obvious question is: Why write a ‘philosophy of fear’ when it is not so much fear as anxiety that has been traditionally dealt with in philosophy? Since anxiety is in addition ascribed major metaphysical implications, fear would seem to be trivial by comparison. Anxiety is ‘deep’, whereas fear is ‘shallow’. In Roland Barthes’ words we can say that fear would appear to be a ‘mediocre and unworthy emotion’.1 Nevertheless, fear would seem today to have greater cultural and political consequences than anxiety. Furthermore, it is basically rather pleasant to do away with all the ‘metaphysical hand-luggage’ that accompanies the concept of anxiety.