No description available.

This thesis contributes towards understanding the dynamic phenomenon of entrepreneurship by exploring how entrepreneurs developed resilience within institutional constraints at the lived experience level. This is a qualitative research based on several assumptions of the phenomenological paradigm. The research describes the experiences of thirty-four participants - twenty-three practising entrepreneurs, and eleven Directors whose institutions support entrepreneurship, particularly the dimensions of the institutional profile, as well as how they developed resilience within institutional constraints. The study proposes that entrepreneurial resilience development is dynamic reflecting the context in which it arises. Institutions determine the rule of the game for entrepreneurs, in that entrepreneurs fit within the limitations provided by the institutional framework (North, 1990). The institutions shape opportunity fields for entrepreneurship, determine the ease and transaction cost of entrepreneurship, determine the stability and certainty of the environment, guide the strategic activities of entrepreneurs, confer legitimacy on entrepreneurs, (re)allocate entrepreneurship, and counter market failures for entrepreneurs. The experiences of the individuals indicate such constraint limits what the entrepreneurs are capable of doing. The research therefore focuses on how the entrepreneurs survived within such constraints, especially operating within underdeveloped institutions. In particular, the participants described how they were able to survive within such institutional constraints. The term 'resilience' can sometimes be trivialized to mean 'ego-resilience', which basically talks about certain characteristics that individuals' exhibit to show their resilience. Instead, apart from individuals exhibiting certain characteristics, there are several contextual activities that must be put in place to ensure survival or recovery within institutional constraints. These activities represent the resilience strategies that the entrepreneurs designed and implemented so as to survive institutional constraints - breakthrough, circumvent, destructive, and other strategies. The study concludes that entrepreneurial resilience strategy occupies a central role within three complex, interactive and interdependent processes - institutions, entrepreneurship, and resilience. Furthermore, entrepreneurship is engulfed in institutions, which act as the "determinant", "promoter", and "inhibitor" of entrepreneurial activities. Hence, entrepreneurs need to develop resilience through preventative, reactive or agility strategies, so as to be able to survive the institutional arrangements. The research therefore works towards a more integrated perspective of entrepreneurship development.

Chronic pain disorders are estimated to affect a significant proportion of the global population. These disorders are often debilitating and pose a substantial challenge to the everyday life of those affected. Modern medicine has made great strides in understanding the physiological processes involved in chronic pain. However, chronic pain is more than merely a physiological process. Chronic pain is an embodied mode of being-in-the-world that manifests in multiple aspects of lived experience, from the ability to perform day-to-day tasks to the relationship between body and self. Consequently, it is essential to cultivate a rich appreciation of chronic pain as a lived experience. To rely solely on physiological knowledge in conceptualizing chronic pain precludes the development of such an appreciation. This work examines the ways that phenomenology can be leveraged to broaden the current medical understanding of chronic pain to better incorporate subjective experience. As a rigorous methodology for studying embodied consciousness, phenomenology provides the theoretical and conceptual tools to form a rich description of chronic pain's lived experience. First, a brief history of theories of pain is presented to contextualize the development of modern medical understandings of chronic pain. Following this, the writings of three classical phenomenologists—Husserl, Heidegger, and Merleau-Ponty—are presented, and key phenomenological concepts are introduced. Phenomenology is then used to examine the lived experience of chronic pain. Finally, means of integrating phenomenology into the current medical framework are explored.

Doctor of Philosophy / People gather. Everywhere. They gather to witness. To tell and to listen to stories. To show what was done, and how what is to be done might best be done. To perform the necessary procedures to make sure the gods are glorified and the world continues to be made as it should. To dance, to heal, to marry, to send away the dead, to entertain, to praise, to order the darkness, to affirm the self. People are gathering. As they always have—everywhere. Doctors, lawyers, bankers and politicians don evening wear to attend performances in which people sing in unearthly voices in languages they do not understand, to sit in rows, silent, and to measure the appropriate length of time they should join with each other in continuing to make light slapping noises by striking the palms of their hands together to show their appreciation at the end of the performance. One hundred thousand people gather on the last Saturday of September every year in a giant stadium in the city of Melbourne, Australia at the “hallowed turf” of the Melbourne Cricket Ground, to watch 36 men kick, punch and catch an oval shaped ball with each other, scoring points by kicking it between long sticks planted in the ground. The gathered multitude wears the same ritual colours as the men playing the game. They cry out, stand and sing anthems. This game is played and understood nowhere else in the world, but in the Melbourne cultural calendar it is the most important day of the year. It is what makes Melbourne Melbourne. Before the whitefella came, aborigines from the clans of the Yiatmathang, Waradjuri Dora Dora, Duduroa, Minjambutta, Pangerang, Kwatt Kwatta—the wombat, kangaroo, possum, Tasmanian tiger, echidna, koala and emu, would gather on the banks of the Murray River, near what is now the twin cities of Albury/Wodonga to organize marriages, perform initiations, to lay down weapons, to dance, to settle debts and disputes, to tell stories, to paint their bodies, and to request permission from the Yiatmathang to cross the river and make the climb to the top of Bogong High Plains in late spring, to feast on the Bogong moths arriving fully grown after their flight from Queensland, ready to be sung, danced and eaten. On the island of Sulawesi, a son of a family bears the responsibility of providing the largest possible number of buffalo to be sacrificed at the funeral of his father. A sacrifice which will condemn the son to a life of debt to pay for the animals which must be slaughtered in sufficient number to affirm the status of his family, provide enough meat to assure the correct distributions are made, and assure that his father has a sufficiently large herd in Puya, the afterworld. Temporary ritual buildings for song and dance must be constructed, effigies made, invitations issued. Months are spent in the preparations. And then the people will arrive, family, friends, colleagues and tourists, in great numbers, from surrounding villages, from Ujung Pandang, from Jakarta, from Australia, from Europe, from the USA, to sing, dance, talk, look and listen. And if the funeral is a success, the son will gain respect, status and honour for himself, and secure a wellprovided journey to the afterlife for his father. In a primary school playground, in an outer suburb of any Australian city, thirty parents sit in a couple of rows of metal and plastic chairs on a spring afternoon to watch their own and each other’s children sing together in hesitant or strident voices, in or out of time and tune versions of well-known popular songs praising simple virtues are applauded; the younger the children, the greater the effort, the longer and louder the applause. Some of these people are the same doctors, bankers and lawyers who had donned evening wear the night before at opera houses, now giving freely of the appreciative palm slapping sound held so precious in that other environment. And they will gather and disperse and regather, at times deemed appropriate, at the times when these gatherings have always occurred, these lawyers, doctors, sons, mothers, sports fans, when and where they can and should and must, to sing, to dance, to tell stories, to watch and listen, to be there with and among each other bearing witness to their faith, their belief, their belonging, their values. But what, in these superficially disparate, culturally diverse and dispersed groups of people, what draws them, what gathers an audience, what gathers in an audience, and what in an audience is salient for the audience members? What gathers, what gathers in an audience?

Doctor of Philosophy / People gather. Everywhere. They gather to witness. To tell and to listen to stories. To show what was done, and how what is to be done might best be done. To perform the necessary procedures to make sure the gods are glorified and the world continues to be made as it should. To dance, to heal, to marry, to send away the dead, to entertain, to praise, to order the darkness, to affirm the self. People are gathering. As they always have—everywhere. Doctors, lawyers, bankers and politicians don evening wear to attend performances in which people sing in unearthly voices in languages they do not understand, to sit in rows, silent, and to measure the appropriate length of time they should join with each other in continuing to make light slapping noises by striking the palms of their hands together to show their appreciation at the end of the performance. One hundred thousand people gather on the last Saturday of September every year in a giant stadium in the city of Melbourne, Australia at the “hallowed turf” of the Melbourne Cricket Ground, to watch 36 men kick, punch and catch an oval shaped ball with each other, scoring points by kicking it between long sticks planted in the ground. The gathered multitude wears the same ritual colours as the men playing the game. They cry out, stand and sing anthems. This game is played and understood nowhere else in the world, but in the Melbourne cultural calendar it is the most important day of the year. It is what makes Melbourne Melbourne. Before the whitefella came, aborigines from the clans of the Yiatmathang, Waradjuri Dora Dora, Duduroa, Minjambutta, Pangerang, Kwatt Kwatta—the wombat, kangaroo, possum, Tasmanian tiger, echidna, koala and emu, would gather on the banks of the Murray River, near what is now the twin cities of Albury/Wodonga to organize marriages, perform initiations, to lay down weapons, to dance, to settle debts and disputes, to tell stories, to paint their bodies, and to request permission from the Yiatmathang to cross the river and make the climb to the top of Bogong High Plains in late spring, to feast on the Bogong moths arriving fully grown after their flight from Queensland, ready to be sung, danced and eaten. On the island of Sulawesi, a son of a family bears the responsibility of providing the largest possible number of buffalo to be sacrificed at the funeral of his father. A sacrifice which will condemn the son to a life of debt to pay for the animals which must be slaughtered in sufficient number to affirm the status of his family, provide enough meat to assure the correct distributions are made, and assure that his father has a sufficiently large herd in Puya, the afterworld. Temporary ritual buildings for song and dance must be constructed, effigies made, invitations issued. Months are spent in the preparations. And then the people will arrive, family, friends, colleagues and tourists, in great numbers, from surrounding villages, from Ujung Pandang, from Jakarta, from Australia, from Europe, from the USA, to sing, dance, talk, look and listen. And if the funeral is a success, the son will gain respect, status and honour for himself, and secure a wellprovided journey to the afterlife for his father. In a primary school playground, in an outer suburb of any Australian city, thirty parents sit in a couple of rows of metal and plastic chairs on a spring afternoon to watch their own and each other’s children sing together in hesitant or strident voices, in or out of time and tune versions of well-known popular songs praising simple virtues are applauded; the younger the children, the greater the effort, the longer and louder the applause. Some of these people are the same doctors, bankers and lawyers who had donned evening wear the night before at opera houses, now giving freely of the appreciative palm slapping sound held so precious in that other environment. And they will gather and disperse and regather, at times deemed appropriate, at the times when these gatherings have always occurred, these lawyers, doctors, sons, mothers, sports fans, when and where they can and should and must, to sing, to dance, to tell stories, to watch and listen, to be there with and among each other bearing witness to their faith, their belief, their belonging, their values. But what, in these superficially disparate, culturally diverse and dispersed groups of people, what draws them, what gathers an audience, what gathers in an audience, and what in an audience is salient for the audience members? What gathers, what gathers in an audience?

La présente étude se donne pour objectif principal de reconstruire les diverses (re-)mises en question de la notion de donné sensible dans le néokantisme et la phénoménologie sur la scène philosophique allemande au tournant du XXème siècle. À la question cruciale de savoir quel est l’intérêt d’ouvrir en 2013 un tel dossier vieux déjà de plus d’un siècle, nous répondons qu’il est au moins double : d’abord, nous voulons montrer que les critiques du donné ont joué un rôle capital dans la genèse des trois principaux mouvements présents sur la scène philosophique austro-allemande à la fin du XIXème siècle, à savoir le positivisme, la phénoménologie et le néokantisme. Ensuite, ce travail présente un intérêt tout à fait actuel, puisqu’il se conçoit comme une exploration de l’arrière-plan historique et continental de la controverse autour du « mythe du donné » (the Myth of the Given) initiée par Wilfrid Sellars en 1956, controverse qui continue à occuper une place de choix aujourd’hui, notamment dans les débats sur la perception dans la Philosophy of Mind. / This study is a reconstruction of the different ways neo-kantians and phenomenologists have questioned the notion of the sensory given. Why is it interesting to open—in 2013—this old dossier of criticisms of the given in german philosophy at the turn of the XXth. Century? First, it is shown that critiques of the given have played an essential role in the genesis of the three most important movements of german and austrian philosophy at the end of the XIXth century, namely, positivism, phenomenology, and neo-kantianism. Century. Second, this work contributes to live discussion because it is an exploration of the historical background in continental philosophy of the « Myth of the Given » introduced by Wilfrid Sellars in 1956, which still occupies a central place in contemporary debates about perception in philosophy of mind.