Existential Phenomenology

DUQUESNE STUDIES
Philosophical Series
12
EXISTENTIAL PHENOMENOLOGY
by
WILLIAM A. LUIJPEN, O.S.A., PH.D.
Preface
by
ALBERT DoNDEYNE, PH.D.
SIXTH IMPRESSION
DUQUESNE UNIVBllSITY PREss, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Editions E. Nauwelaerts, Louvain
"Philosophy demands: seek constant communication, risk it without
reserve, renounce the defiant self-assertion which forces itself upon
you in ever new disguises, live in the hope that in your very renunci-
ation you will in some incalculable way be given back to yourself."
Karl Jaspers, Ways to Wisdom, New Haven, Yale University Press,
1954, p. 124.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE by Albert Dondeyne x
INTRODUCTION ......................................... 1
CHAPTER ONE-MAN, THE METAPHYSICAL BEING
1. The Authenticity of Philosophy ....... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
2. To Be Man is to Exist. . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . 14
a. Existence as Being-in-the-World, p. 15; b. The Mean-
ing of the World, p. 25 ; c. The Primitive Fact of Existen-
tial Phenomenology, p. 34; d. Existence as Being-Hat" -the-
World: Labor, p. 39.
3. Technocracy and Philosophy ......................... 47
a. Technocracy, p. 47; h. The Metaphysical Question, p. 52.
4. Man, the Metaphysical Being ........................ 65

CHAPTER TWO-PHENOMENOLOGY OF KNOWLEDGE
1. Explicitation 74
2. Descartes ...................................... . . . 79
3. Empiricism and Idealism ............................ 84
4. Critique of Phenomenology on the Traditional Prejudices

Regarding the Nature of Man's Knowledge............. 89
a. Intentionality, p. 92; b. Noesis and Noema, p. 95; c.
Viewpoint, Profile, Unity, p. 97.
5. Sartre's Dualism and the True Immanence of Knowledge .. 103

a. "En-soi" and "Pour-soi," Being-in-Itself and Conscious-
ness, p. 104; b. The Immanence of Knowledge, p. 112.
6. Sensitive and Spiritual Knowing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 117
Vll
VI11 Table of Contents
PAGE
7. The Concept 120
a. The Concept is Abstract, p. 124; b. The Concept is Not
a Schematic Image, p. 128; c. The Concept is Universal,
p.137.
8. The Judgment ..................................... 138
9. Phenomenology of Truth ...................... " .... 142

a. Existence as "Logos," as "Natural Light," as Agent
Intellect, p. 143; b. Objectivity and Objectivism, Subjec-
tivity and Subjectivism, Relativity and Relativism, p. 146;
c. Reason and Science, p. 149.
10. The Criterion of Truth ........ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 158
11. Reasoning and Logic ................................ 169
CHAPTER THREE-PHENOMENOLOGY OF INTERSUBJECTIVITY
1. To Exist is to Co-Exist ............... . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 176
2. The Body as Intermediary ........................... 180

a. Reasoning by Analogy and ((Einjuhlung," p. 181; b.
"My" Body is Not "a" Body, p. 186.
3. Phenomenology of Hatred ........................... 195
4. Phenomenology of Indifference ....................... 206

a. The "We" of Indifference, p. 207; b. The "He," p. 209;
c. Encounter, p. 213.
5. Phenomenology of Love 214

a. Love as Active Leaning, p. 215; b. The Creativity of
Love, p. 223.
6. Phenomenology of Law 231
a. Unsatisfactory Theories, p. 234; b. The Source of

Rights, p. 238; c. Laws and Legal Institutions, p. 246;
d. Natural Right and History, p. 253.
Table of Contents IX
CHAPTER FOUR-PHENOMENOLOGY OF FREEDOM

AND ITS DESTINY
PAGE
1. The Sense of the Question Regarding the Meaning of
Life .............................................. 261
2. Phenomenology of Freedom ......................... 265

a. To be SUbject is to be Free, p. 266; b. Freedom as "Dis-
tance," as "Having to be," and as "Project," p. 269; c. To
be Free is to be Ethical, 281 ; d. Freedom as Transcendence,
p. 294; e. Freedom as History, p. 305.
3. The Atheism of Jean-Paul Sartre ..................... 313
4. Heidegger's "Being-Toward-Death" ................... 330
5. Perspectives 350
INDEX OF NAMES 356
INDEX OF SUBJECT MATTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358

PREFACE
Phenomenology and existential philosophy have been the subject-

matter of numerous and well-informed studies written in the Dutch
language. To this we may add that perhaps nowhere else than in the
Netherlands has the phenomenological method been used so expertly
and with such an ingenious originality for the renewal of psychology
and psychiatry. Hitherto, however, we did not possess any general
philosophical treatise which was conceived and formulated in the
spirit of the new philosophy. The present book very suitably fills this
gap. Although it does not befit the philosopher to indulge in prophecy,
I do not hesitate to predict that Dr. Luijpen's new book will meet
with great success. The openness of the Dutch-speaking intellectual
world for contemporary philosophical thought, the name of the
author, and the scope of his work warrant the accuracy of this
prediction.
In his Introduction the author clearly and unambiguously formu-
lates the intention of his work. It is not an essay ({about existen-
tialism or phenomenology" but "a relatively independent rethinking of
the eternal problems which have always occupied the thinking man."
This rethinking, however, takes place in the sphere of thought proper
to existentialists and phenomenologists, because of the conviction
that hitherto no other way of thinking has ever been proposed which
manages to express the ultimate meaning of integral reality in a
better way and more in accord with life.
True, it is not very likely that integral reality will ever be ex-
pressed in an exhaustive way. With Shakespeare, we will always
have to admit that "there are more things in heaven and on earth
than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Nevertheless, even this say-
ing of a man who did not at all want to be taken for a philosopher is
a philosophical statement. It teaches us, better perhaps than all school
definitions, what philosophy is or at least ought to be to do justice to
its name. Philosophy is no high-flown speculation, no flight from
reality, no conceptual structure estranged from the world. The lover
of wisdom is one who loves the truth, one who is driven by a passion
for truth and veracity, one who struggles with truth to arrive at wis-
dom, at the veracity which makes free. Truth and reality are nearly
synonymous in the prephilosophical language of the people. Thus
x
Preface Xl
being driven by a passion for truth means that reality itself speaks to
man and, as it were, invites him to give expression to this reality, to
show it to the world, to make it public, to free it for the liberation of
mankind, for it is only truth that makes man free. For this reason
man is Logos, i.e., the capacity to be spoken-to and to speak, to par-
take and to impart, to receive and to give. Philosophy is at the
service of Logos. What philosophy wants is to reveal man to himself.
Across and above all external appearance and modes of thinking,
philosophy wants to let man see the true meaning of his tendencies
and deeds, the true meaning of his subjectivity as being a living
tension of situation and freedom, of care of the self and concern for
others, of earthbound gravitation and openness for the celestial, for
"not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth
from the mouth of God." Above all, however, philosophy wants to
sharpen our sense of responsibility for the authenticity of our human
existence itself, for being-man is at the same time a givenness and a
task or, in the words of the author, a "having-to-be-in-bonds-to-
objectivity" and in faithfulness to the ethical movements of con-
science.
[Thus we may say that, in order to be valuable, philosophical
thought must be true to life and in close touch with life. Philosophy
is born from closeness to reality and must lead man to a more genuine
and authentic closeness to reality. In his Letter Concerning Human-
ism Heidegger correctly remarks that under the influence of science
and technology modern man often fosters the illusion that there are
no longer any distances for him. His glance penetrates ever more
profoundly into man's prehistoric past as well as into the farthest
corners of the universe. Nevertheless, man has never felt so lonely
and abandoned on earth as in our time, he has never been so remote
and estranged from all his surroundings, he is without a fatherland.
It is precisely the task of philosophical thought to give us a more
authentic closeness to "integral reality." Whence we may conclude
that a philosophy which is true to life an<i in close contact with life is
one of the most urgent tasks of our time]
In a previous work, Existentie-ervaring en theologie (The Expe-
rience of Existence and Theology), which appeared in 1952, Dr.
Luijpen had already drawn attention to the present-day need for
thinking in faithfulness to life. The new and larger volume now
offered to the public is born from the same concern to fill this need.
xu Preface
It is the fruit of seven years of assiduous study and persevering firm-

ness of proposal, for which we must be grateful to the author.
HIGHER INSTITUTE OF PHILOSOPHY ALBERT DONDEYNE

UNIVERSITY OF LouvAIN
The English edition differs only in a few minor points from the
original text. A number of examples have been modified somewhat
for the convenience of the American reader. Introductory titles (in
italics) permit quick orientation within the various sections of the
different chapters. As a rule, the language of footnote quotations in
French, German, and Latin has been retained, because many of these
quotations are sufficiently paraphrased in the text, and others defy
translation without a context for which there is no room in simple
footnotes. Indexes of names and subject matter have been added to
complete the work.
We have abstained from appending the usual bibliography, be-
cause the copious footnotes adequately indicate which works should
be consulted by anyone who wishes to pursue further studies in the
subject.
Our thanks are due to the Reverend Dr. John R. Kanda, C.S.Sp.,
who has read the text in typescript and suggested a few slight modi-
fications to improve its readability.
DUQUESNE UNIVERSITY, Pittsburgh, Pa. HENRY J. KOREN, C.S.SP.

January 15, 1960
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The editor wishes to express his gratitude to the following pub-

lishers for permission to quote from the books listed below:
Martin Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, copyright M. Niemeyer Verlag,

Tiibingen, 6th ed., 1949.
Einfiihrung in die M etaphysik, copyright M. Niemeyer
Verlag, Tiibingen, 1953.
Karl Jaspers, Einfiihrung in die Philosophie, copyright R. Piper

& Co. Verlag, Miinchen, 1957.
Gabriel Marcel, Journal metaphysique, copyright Librairie Galli-

mard, Paris, 11th ed., 1935.
Du refus d l'invocation, copyright Librairie Gallimard, Paris,
11th ed., 1940.
Jean-Paul Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, copyright Librairie GaIli-

mard, Paris, 29th ed., 1950.
Nausea, copyright New Directions, New York, 1949.
Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, copy-

right Librairie Gallimard, Paris, 14th ed., 1953.
H umanisme et terreur, copyright Librairie Gallimard, Paris,
1947.
Eloge de la philosophie, copyright Librairie Gallimard, Paris,
12th ed., 1953.
xiii
INTRODUCTION
When a book title mentions the terms "phenomenology" or

"existentialism," the reader may expect almost anything in its pages.
Usually such books contain studies concerning phenomenology or
concerning existentialism. They are fairly numerous. The works of
James Collins, Kurt Reinhardt, Frederick Copleston, Emmanuel
Mounier, and Jean Wahl, to name only a few, are excellent intro-
ductions to various aspects and systems of the philosophy known as
existentialism and phenomenology. The careful reader, however,
would not infrequently come to the conclusion that there seems to
be no trace of unity and interconnection in the philosophical thought
of existentialists and phenomenologists.
Nevertheless, at present one can no longer make such an assertion
without betraying a lack of understanding with respect to existentialism
and phenomenology. True, from a certain viewpoint it may be
claimed that Kierkegaard and Husserl, Heidegger and Sartre, Jaspers
and Marcel, Merleau-Ponty and Ricoeur, each have their own world
of thought. But this claim does not do justice to the main element
of their thinking. The principal point is that the difference between
all these authors reveal themselves of little importance, as soon as
one realizes that what nowadays is called "existential phenomenology"
is primarily a "movement," a "climate" of thinking, whose proper
character could not immediately be discovered and expressed. It
was not without reason that the names of certain authors were at once
connected with existentialism and phenomenology, while others were
never mentioned at al1. It was not without reason that, contrary to
others, a certain approach to problems pertaining to positive science
was called "existential" or "phenomenologica1." AU this indicates a
certain unity of "movement" or "climate," no matter how great the
differences may be between the explicit theses of existentialists and
phenomenologists.
An historian of contemporary thought could render a very valuable
service by writing a study about existentialism and phenomenology
in which his principal aim would be to show that these philosophers
have a common style of thinking, for hitherto far too little attention
has been paid to this point. Such a study, however, would still be a
book concerning existentialism and phenomenology. We must
1
2 Existential Phenomenology
emphasize this to make certain that the reader understands the dif-
ference between such a work and the study presented to him in these
pages. It is not our intention to write about existentialism or phe-
nomenology. It is not possible to philosophize in an authentic way if
our thinking does not consist in a relatively independent rethinking
of the eternal problems which have always occupied the thinking man.
Authentic philosophy is the aim of this book. The rethinking, how-
ever, presented in this work, takes places in the "climate" of thought
proper to existentialists and phenomenologists, because we are con-
vinced that rlOwadays existential phenomenology, enriched by the
most profound insights attained by medieval philosophy, offers the
most promising perspectives for any endeavor to express the ultimate
meaning of integral reality. Of course, it is impossible to justify this
conviction in an Introduction. On the other hand, however, the study
itself presented to the reader in the subsequent pages is such a
justification.
The relative independence which is the duty of authentic thinking
implies a certain reservation with respect to the systems and theses
proposed by various existentialists and phenomenologists. We do
not simply follow any existentialist or phenomenologist. Neverthe-
less, we have endeavored to situate our study in contemporary
thought, in proof of which we have added the scientific apparatus
of extensive footnotes. Is it necessary to point out that these quota-
tions or references may never be understood as arguments?
It would have been impossible for us to rethink existential
phenomenology in a relatively independent way if we had been un-
able to profit from the fruits of the thinking offered by the School
of Louvain, who~ main representatives are Albert Dondeyne,
Alphons de Waehlens, and Herman Leo Van Breda. The attitude
in which they met and assimilated contemporary thought was the
immediate reason why present-day thinking did not lose its value
and why its "climate" itself became the object of philosophical re-
flection. The "primitive fact" of existential phenomenology was
brought to light, so that a relatively independent progress in thought
became possible. We do not hesitate to acknowledge explicitly and
gratefully that contact with the School of Louvain has been of de-
cisive importance for our thought. Our gratitude goes out most of
all to Professor Dondeyne. He would object if anyone were to call
himself his disciple. However, if it is agreed that a master is called
a master because the indisputable greatness of his thinking urges
Introduction 3
others on to relatively independent thinking, then it must be ad-

mitted that Professor Dondeyne has many disciples. For this reason
we were very pleased to be honored by a Preface for this study
from his hand. We wish to offer him here our sincere thanks.
It is our heart-felt wish that this work may be fruitful for all
who endeavor to think authentically. Their critique may help us to
continue our own progress in genuine thought.
WrLLIAM A. LUIJPEN, O.S.A., PH.D.

CHAPTER ONE
MAN, THE METAPHYSICAL BEING
For twenty-five centuries men have busied themselves with
philosophy, but there still is not even a modest number of theses about
which philosophers have reached agreement.! Perhaps we may even
say that there is not a single philosophical proposition which is not
denied by one or the other thinker. While the men of positive science,
marveling at the ever-increasing fertility of their chosen field of learn-
ing, mock or pity the poor philosopher, every century sees at least
one genius propose a new philosophy. Apparently, man is unable to
stop philosophizing. He simply cannot give up philosophy. If only
the mockers could understand this, they would realize that to laugh
at philosophy itself is a kind of philosophy, albeit a bad kind.
Whenever a new philosophy makes its appearance, bad or un-
authentic philosophers turn their eyes to the new system to see whether
or not it presents at last the philosophy. Of course, their expectation
meets with disappointment, i.e., they remain bad, unauthentic philos-
ophers. The authentic philosopher knows better, for he realizes that
there never was and never will be any such thing as the philosophy.
He is keenly aware of the fact that, if the philosophy existed, there
would no longer be any true philosopher.
1. THE AUTHENTICITY OF PHILOSOPHY
To Philosophize is Not to Learn a System of Theses. There exist

fully-constituted philosophies. History knows a few gifted geniuses
who have laid down their thoughts in grandiose masterpieces. 2 What,
then, would be more obvious than to express these great systems in
complexes of theses and simply learn them?
Such an endeavor, however, could have success only with human
beings who suffer from great narrowness of mind and fail to realize
that the theses of great philosophers contradict one another. This
point alone would suffice to reject the view that philosophy is "just
lKari Jaspers, Ein/iihrung in die Philosophie, Miinchen, 1957, p. 9.
2"Aber die schaffende Urspriinglichkeit, der wir die grossen philosophischen
Gedanken schulden liegt . . . bei Einzelnen, die in ihrer Unbefangenheit und
Unabhangigkit als wenige grosse Geister in den Jahrtausenden aufgetreten
sind." Jaspers, op. cit., p. 13.
4
Man, the Metaphysical Being 5
another subject" to be learned. It would simply be impossible to

know which philosophy would have to be "learned," for on what basis
would one decide that one system is better than the other?
This difficulty, however, is only a minor objection against the
view that philosophy is a question of theses. Even if a system would
not contain any error whatsoever, the authentic philosopher would
have very little use for it. For the truth of these theses is not, or at
least not yet, his truth and will never be able to become his truth if
he limits himself to simply learning the theses in question, with or
without the proofs. For authentic or genuine philosophizing is es-
sentially original; it is a personal affair, a questioning and replying
of man himself.3 It is life which raises the philosophical questions. 4
Man has to find a way to consent to his life, but there are so many
situations in which he does not really manage to do so. My life is
mine, however, and I cannot simply leave it aside as if it does not
concern me. It is characteristic of man's being that he maintains a
relationship to his own being. Man himself is what he is.5
Accordingly, it is not a mere coincidence that man is called to
philosophize in an original and personal way. His whole life becomes
authentically human only when he himself lives. Philosophy is
authentic philosophy only when the individual man himself philoso-
phizes, when he himself raises questions, when he himself attempts
to reply, when he himself endeavors to clear away the obstacles to
insight. The questions and answers of a system are impersonal, and
the obstacles that have to be cleared away to make an integral formula-
tion possible are irrelevant with respect to a system. If philosophy
were merely a question of systems and theses, it would be a boresome
thing whose knowledge would no more contribute to making a man
more human than the enumeration of the industrial centers of the
States or the mining regions of Canada.
Nevertheless, it is rather frequent that philosophy is taught and
studied in this way. Hence it should not surprise us that it leaves
us dissatisfied. For if the questions of the systems are not my
3"Das philosophische Denken muss jederzeit urspriinglich sein. Jeder Mensch
muss es seIber vollziehen." Jaspers, op. cit., p. 11.
4 Jaspers, op. cit., pp. 20-26.
I)"Dasein ist Seiendes das sich in seinem Sein verstehend zu dies en Sein
verhalt. Damit is der formale Begriff von Existenz angezeigt. Dasein existiert.
Dasein ist ferncr Seiendes, das je ich selhst bin. Zum existierenden Dasein
gehort die Jemeinigkeit als Bedingung der Moglichkeit von Eigentlichkeit und
Uneigentlichkeit." Martin Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, Tiibingen, 6th impr., 1949,
pp. 52-53.
questions, then the answers are not mine either, so that I never be-
come myself as a philosopher. The whole affair is reduced to what
Heidegger calls ({Gerede," i.e., it is simply "talk."6 The philosopher
talks as ({one" is accustomed to do in a certain tradition; the object
ultimately is the talk itself, devoid of understanding of reality. Speech
is no longer an original appropriation and a personal expression of
reality, but merely a continued talking and repeating in accordance
with what ({one" says in a certain tradition. The end result is a state
in which the philosopher no longer knows whether he really under-
stands something or is simply the victim of what has always been
said. Heidegger expresses this situation by the term Zweideutigkeit,
i.e., ambiguity.7
Philosophy as a Personal Affair. Systematized philosophy is what
the French call parole parlee or solidified thought. This solidified
thought, however, has its origin in the so-called parole parlante,8 the
personal expression of reality. If philosophy is a personal affair, then
as parole parlante it can find its starting point nowhere else but in the
personal presence of the philosopher who I am to reality. This pres-
ence is generally called "experience." It is important, however, that
this term be understood in the broadest possible sense. For, without
raising here the question what the essence of experience is, it should
be clear that there are many ways of experiencing which place us in a
determined reality. There is a difference in the experience of a piece
of rock, H 2 0, a rose, a mountain pass, a liar, a board of examiners,
a police officer, a nice child, and being as being. For this reason we
indicate every presence of a subject to reality in the broadest possible
way as experience. True, we have not yet stated when an experience
can be called philosophical but, nevertheless, it is certain that a philos-
ophy which aspires to be of value must give expression to reality. It
follows, therefore, that philosophy must start from a definite experi-
ence. If the philosopher were to start from theses, he will never know
what he should admit as truth. He does not see reality, but without
doubt is, at least at first, only what he sees.
The same line of thought applies to philosophical formation. This
formation cannot consist in this that the aspirant philosopher is drilled
6"Man versteht nicht mehr so sehr das beredete Seiende, sondern man hiirt
schon nur auf das Geredete als so1ches." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 168.
7Sein und Zeit, pp. 173-175.
8Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, Paris, 14th impr.,
1953, p. 229.
in certain theses, even if from other sources it would be certain that

all these theses are true. There can be question of genuine philo-
sophical training only insofar as the man in charge of the formation
aids the aspirant to make him personally see reality. Of course, it may
be true that for certain persons because of their future activities it is
useful to be subjected to a simple drill in a number of theses, but such
a procedure does not have any philosophical value. Even a real for-
mation, i.e., one which does not amount to a kind of mental drill for
practical purposes, runs the risk of falsifying the aspirant's philosoph-
ical activity, because the aid given to make him personally see reality
consists and has to consist also in imparting knowledge of "previously
philosophized" philosophy. How often does it not happen that the
program does not go beyond this point? What university professors
present as philosophy usually looks like philosophy, but far too often
is not philosophy.9
An Objection and Clarification. The preceding idea requires to be

completed and differentiated lest it give rise to misapprehension.
Although the philosopher strives for personal thinking, it would be
an illusion to imagine that this thinking can be accomplished inde-
pendently of tradition. As a philosopher, I am a person, an I, and my
philosophical thought is authentic only if it is my philosophical
thought. Every person, however, is inserted in a history which is not
personal, which he himself has not made. There is nothing we can do
about this being-inserted and, therefore, I can never begin to think
from zero, as it were, for others have thought before me and I am
carried by their thought. I am in the stream of thought established
by tradition, if only because I speak its language and thus am imbued
with the thoughts embodied in this language. It is impossible to think
without language and impossible, likewise, to think without tradition.
Does it follow, therefore, that the philosopher has to abandon any
claim to personal thought? The reply is definitely in the negative.
Although the philosopher is carried by the history of thought, he is
called to infuse new life into this history. He fulfils his task when he
9"Die Missdeutungen, von dencn die Philosophie standig umlagert bleibt,

werden nun am meisten gefordert durch das, was unsereiner treibt, also durch
die Philosophie-professoren. Deren gewohnliches, und auch berechtigtes und
sogar niitzliches Geschaft ist es, einige gewisse bildungsmassige Kenntnis von
der bisher aufgetretenen Philo sophie zu vermitteln. Das Sieht dann so aus als
sei dies se1bst Philosophie, wahrend es hochstenfalls nur Philosophiewissenschaft
ist." Heidegger, Einfuhrung in die Metaphysik, Tiibingen, 1953, p. 9.
makes a profound study of the works of his predecessors. The philos-

ophers of the past have important things to say. In their own way
they have given expression to their experience of reality and laid it
down in their works. By means of their works they speak to us and
enter into contact with us. What is the purpose of this contact? Does
it mean that we are invited to make ours their conceptual apparatus
and to take over their system? Such an invitation would amount to a
seduction to non-authenticity, to a philosophy that is not genuine. It
would be a denial of our vocation as philosophers. The true purpose
and value possessed by the works of the philosophers of the past are
quite different. These works are the vehicle in which they have laid
down their experience of reality in order to make us sensitive to the
meaning of this reality and to give us access to the wealth of being
which they have perceived.
Philosophizing always means personal experience and expression
of the wealth of being. It is because others preceded us that it is pos-
~iule for us personally to see something to which otherwise we would
perhaps have been blind. If there had been no Plato, our conception
of reality and its deepest meaning would have been much more trivial
and material, or rather, in the totality of all that is we would perhaps
not have experienced, seen and understood what we now understand
when we think philosophically about reality. Without St. Augustine,
we would perhaps not have been sensitive to the meaning of restless-
ness in our being-in-the-world. The philosophers of the past speak to
us to make us capable of a personal experience of reality, to make us
sensitive to the wealth contained in the totality of all that is.lo
Once this view is accepted, there is no reason to be scandalized by
the existence of many contradictory systemsY What matters is not
the system but reality. And in every system some aspect of reality
finds expression. Every truly great philosopher was struck by a
certain aspect of reality. Perhaps a certain aspect of the wealth of
being was unduly elevated by him to the rank of reality pure and
simple; a certain experience may have been proclaimed as the only
lOAlbert Dondeyne, "L'historicite dans la philosophie contemporaine," Revue

philosophique de Louvain, vol. 54. (1956), p. 6, Contemporary European Though,
and Christian Faith, Pittsburgh, 1958, p. 41.
llDondeyne, "Dieu et Ie materialisme contemporain, "Essai sur Dieu, l'homme
et l'univers, edited by Jacques de Bivort de la Saudee, Paris, 1957, pp. 22-32.
Man, the Metaphysical Being ')
experience. Thus the resulting system is not good but, nevertheless,

we cannot do without it. 12
Accordingly, the fact of being inserted in a history which is not
of his own making does not render it impossible for the authentic
philosopher to think in an autonomous, independent, and personal
way. There is, however, a condition-namely, that he take up the
past in a creative way, that he endow it with a new life. 13 Evidently,
he himself has to do this. He does not contract with any school of
thought and does not swear by any formula.14 He does not accumulate
knowledge, but listens to reality, no matter from where its voice is
heard. 15 When he studies the works of the past, he begins with an
attitude of trust in and love of those who speak to him, because he
realizes that they do not demand anything else of him than that he
himself accept or reject their insights. For ultimately only that is
recognized as true which can become a conviction in independent
thought. 16
Philosophy as Truth-for-Me. Precisely because systematized
philosophy can exist and continue to exist only in assertions and
explicitly formulated judgments, there is an obvious temptation to
stop and not to go beyond these judgments. However, just as ethics
l2"Man sieht so eine grosse Reihe von Weltanschauungen, die man mit dem
Namen Materialismus Calles ist Stoff und naturmechanisches Geschehen),
Spiritualismus Calles ist Geist), Hylozoismus Cdas All ist eine seelisch lebendige
Materie) und unter anderen Gesichtspunkten benannt hat. In allen Fallen wurde
die Antwort auf die Frage, was eigentlich das Sein sei, gegeben durch Hinweis
auf in der Welt vorkommendes Seiendes, das den besonderen Charakter haben
sollte, aus ihm sei alles andere. Aber was ist denn richtig? Die begriindung im
Kampfe der Schulen haben in J ahrtausenden nicht vermocht, einen dieser Stand-
punkte als den wahren zu erweisen. Fiir jeden zeight sich etwas Wahres, namlich
eine Anschauung und eine Forschungsweise, die in der Welt etwas zu sehen lehrt.
Aber j eder wird falsch, wenn er sich ~um einzigen macht und alles, was ist,
durch seine Grundauffassung erklaren will." Jaspers, op. cit., p. 28-29.
l3Heidegger, Sein und Zeit. p. 339.
14"The fact that a number of "definite truths" have been discovered pre-
viously, does not mean that we do not have a task of our own to fulfill. These
truths still have to become ours, they remain to be discovered by us as truths,
they remain to be seen in their evidence through our own eyes. Although
philosophical activity is an intersubiective undertaking, it is also and especially
an adventure each one has to undertake on his own-all philosophy has a
moment of solipsism. Even those who adhere to a school will not a priori believe
the truth of this or that thesis but at most suspect its truth. A tradition is not a
creed, but each one for himself has to travel the road to insight, to the discovery
or rediscovery of truth." G. Van Riet, "Geschiedenis van de wijsbegeerte en
waarheid," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie, vol. 19 (1957), p. 177.
l5Cf. Jaspers, op cit., p. 115.
l6Cf. Jaspers, op. cit., pp. 143-145.
does not consist in this that general laws are valid "somewhere," but
in life itself as guided by personally experienced and accepted moral
demands, so also philosophy does not consist in assertions and thes(:s,
but in the personal expression of reality on the basis of a personal
presence to reality.17 The same applies to the principles of philosophy.
These principles are not the most general judgments but rather ex-
perience itself in its most fundamental and decisive dimension. In
systematized philosophies also these fundamental experiences are
laid down in explicit judgments. However, to be of real value, they
have to be given life again by philosophy conceived as parole parlante,
as a personal expression of reality.
"Back to reality itself" was the watchword of Husserl, the founder
of phenomenology. This principle is valid for all authentic philo-
sophical thinking. While studying systematized philosophies, the
philosopher must attempt to return to the reality intended by any
statement whatsoever. Only in the presence to reality, in experience,
is it possible to arrive at the incontrovertible and to accept it per-
sonally. Only in this way does truth become really my truth, and
are "talk" and ambiguity overcome.
Truth-far-Me and Intersubjective Truth. The assertion that
philosophical truth, to be authentically philosophical, has to be truth-
for-me is sometimes misunderstood. Following Kierkegaard, some
say that philosophical truth essentially is not truth-for-all, i.e., not
generally valid and intersubjective. This view may be found, for
instance, in Jaspers' work. In this way the de facto divergence of
opinions is changed into an essential characteristic of philosophy.ls
Where philosophers would reach agreement, philosophy would cease
being philosophy.19 Intersubjectivity would be an exclusive character-
istic of scientific truth. The philosopher would have to limit himself
to a kind of monologue expressing his strictly personal truth.
This view, which was defended by some philosophers of existence,
is now antiquated and abandoned, because it implies a hidden con-
17Cf. J. Plat, "Geschiedenis van de filosofie en waarheid, "Handelingen van

het XXIIe Vlaams Filologencongres, Louvain, 1957, pp. 68-74.
18"Das jede Gestalt der Philosophie, unterschieden von den Wissenschaften,
der einmiitigen Anerkennung aller entbehrt, das muss in der Natur ihrer Sache
liegen." Jaspers, op. cit., p. lO.
19"Was aus zwingenden Grunden von jedermann anerkannt wird, das ist
damit eine wissenschaftliche Erkenntnis geworden, ist nicht mehr Philosophie."
Jaspers, op. cit., p. 9.
tradiction. 20 For, how would anyone seriously endeavor to maintain

such a philosophical conception of philosophical truth, unless he
presuppose that this conception, as true, is in principle valid for all ?21
And without this presupposition it does not make sense to assert that
no philosophical truth is valid for all. Thus the very denial of truth-
for-all has to admit what it denies, and without this implicit affirma-
tion the denial cannot have any conceivable meaning. In Jaspers
the contradiction does not even remain hidden and merely implicit.
For he first asserts that it pertains to the very nature of philosophy
that philosophers do not agree and next he claims that the scope and
culminating point of penetration into the history of philosophical
thought lie in the "moments of communion in the source."22
Jaspers would be right, of course, if he merely wanted to say that
philosophical truth differs from the truth revealed by the positive
sciences. This difference, however, does not mean that, unlike the
latter, the former is not intersubjective. It may be true that inter-
subjectively to undertake a work of research pertaining to the positive
sciences and to verify its results are easier than the intersubjective
examination of a philosophical question, so that de facto there exists
more agreement in the realm of the positive sciences than in that of
philosophy.23 However, in principle every truth is intersubjective
because truth is truth.
This point is strikingly illustrated by Sartre when he reflects on
the origin of anxiety.24 I am anxious, Sartre says, because of the
responsibility which I incur through my choice. For when I choose,
I choose not only for myself but for all mankind. Suppose that as a
laborer I decide to join a Christian organization and not a Commu-
nist union. I do this, then, with the conviction that man has to be
resigned and should not attempt to establish the kingdom of man on
earth, as the Communists want. I choose, therefore, because I am
20Cf. A. de Waehlens, La philosophie de Martin Heidegger, Louvain, 1948,

pp. 295-302.
21"La volonte de parler est une meme chose avec la volonte d'etre compris."
MerIeau-Ponty, Eloge de la philosophie, Paris, 12th impr., 1953, p. 74.
22"Aber Sinn und Gipfel historischen Eindringens sind die Augenblicke des
Einverstandnisses im Ursprung." Jaspers, op. cit., p. 138.
23"Philosophy is not science. However, this does not mean that, contrary
to science, philosophy does not possess any acquired truth, but only that its
truths are not subject to verification as facts and to precise controls." G. Van
Riet, "Geschiedenis van de wijsbegeerte en waarheid," Tijdschrijt voor
philosoph ie, vol. 19 (1957), p. 177.
24L'existentialisme est un humanisme, Paris, 1954, pp. 25-30.
, 12 Existential Phenomenology
convinced of a certain truth. This being-convinced means that I per-

sonally have come to the insight that it is true, but also that everyone
must admit this truth because it is true. For this reason Sartre can
say: when I decide, I decide for the whole of mankind. 25 Accordingly,
in principle there is nothing arbitrary about truth, in principle there
is no chaos in life.
De facto, however, truth is not recognized by all. This fact should
not become an inducement to profess a relativistic pacifism, a "live
and let live" which leaves each one his truth or error without attempt-
ing to arrive at a mutual agreement. A society which is truly worthy
of man demands a common acceptance of the truth. The essential
intersubjectivity of truth reveals itself as an impossibility to barter
with truth. Although truth has to be unveiled by man, it transcends
us human beings: we are subjected to truth. Truth as truth is dis-
owned when tolerance is interpreted as relativism. In such a case it is
impossible still to speak of truth. 26
The awareness which the true philosopher has of the absolute
right to recognition that is implied by truth makes him to some extent
intransigent. Truth is truth and, therefore, has to be recognized as
such. Whoever for any reason whatsoever is interested in doing vio-
lence to the truth wilI find the philosophers against him. In a certain
sense the philosophers speak as representatives of the human race and
protect one of man's most precious abilities-namely, the one of be-
coming truly human. When a society bases itself on lies, the philoso-
phers will either fall as martyrs 27 or function as puppets and thus
cease to be philosophers. 28
Philosophy and Usefulness. For the positive scientist philosophy
is a joke. 29 In self-defense the philosopher could be tempted perhaps
to demonstrate the usefulness of philosophy. Such an effort, however,
25Ibid., p. 27.
26Cf. Albert Dondeyne, "L'idee de tolerance," Les etudes philosophiques,
vol. XII (1957), Actes du IXe Congres des Societes de philosophie de langue
francaise, pp. 398-399.
27Cf. G. Verbeke, "Apologia philosophiae," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie, vol.
19 (1957), pp. 580-583.
28Herman Leo Van Breda, "Les entretiens de Varsovie," Tijdschrift voor
Philosophie, vol. XIX (1957), pp. 713-721.
29"On ne pourra jamais dire a que! degre l'image de l'atelier d'usine et celie
du laboratoire auront obsede les philosophes. Et ici it y aurait a creuser pro-
fondement. Complexe d'inferiorite du philosophe en face du savant-mais du
philosophe qui a trahi. Le philosophe, fidele, lui, ne cedera jamais." Marcel, Du
retus d l'invocation, Paris, 11th impr., 1940, p. 86.
Man, the Metaphysical Being. 13
would be in vain. so How would it be possible for those who do not

see the value of philosophy to attribute any other meaning to the term
"useful" than the usefulness which they experience in the pursuit of
their own sciences. Nuclear physics, biology, economics, psycho-
technique, etc., are useful-namely, for the world of labor in which
they are integrated-but with respect to this world philosophy is
wholly useless. Sl As Josef Pieper expressed it in a splendid address
concerning philosophy and the world of labor: a first description of
philosophy is "an act through which we pass beyond the world of
labor."s2 The philosophical act leaves far behind itself "usefulness"
as it is strived for in the world of labor. Philosophy is characterized
by a "uselessness" which it cannot abandon under penalty of ceasing
to be philosophy.sS Precisely, however, because our society tends
more and more to become a technocratic organization of labor,34
philosophy is not only useful-albeit in a totally different sense from
its technocratic meaning-but even necessary, at least for many.
This assertion cannot be proved outside the pursuit of philo-
sophical thinking. The understanding of the usefulness and the neces-
sity of philosophy presupposes presence to the reality called philo-
sophical thinking, to the experience of genuine philosophizing. Be-
cause this reality is absent in one who is wholly absorbed in a tech-
nocratic mentality, it must be admitted that whatever the philosopher
states regarding the act of philosophizing can at most be accepted in
good faith by the non-philosopher. Moreover, as was explained
previously, there exists the difficulty that such an acceptance is non-
philosophical. As a rule, therefore, a plea for the usefulness of
philosophy fails to convince the non-philosopher. Philosophers, on
the other hand, do not need such a plea, because the value of philosophy
clearly reveals itself in philosophical thinking itself.s5
SO"Die Philosophie 5011 sich also rechtfertigen. Das ist unmoglich. Sie kann
sich nicht rechtfertigen aus einem anderen, fUr das sie infolge ihrer Brauch-
barkeit Berechtigung habe. Sie kann sich nur wenden an die Krafte, die in
jedem Menschen in der Tat zum Philosophieren drangen." K. Jaspers, op. cit.,
p. 16.
slJosef Pieper, Was heisst Philosophieren?, Miinchen 1956, p. 23-34.
32"Philosophieren ist ein Akt, in welchem die Arbeitswelt iiberschritten wird."
Pieper, op. cit., p. 12.
33Cf. Verbeke, art. quoted in footnote 27, p. 598.
34Cf. Remy C. Kwant, Het arbeidsbeslel, Utrecht, 1957, and Philosophy of
Labor, Pittsburgh, 1960.
35"J ede Philo sophie definiert sich selbst durch ihre Verwirklichung. Was
Philosophie sei, das muss man versuchen. Dann ist Philosophie in eins der
Vollzug des lebendigen Gedankens und die Besinnung auf diesen Gedanken (die
Reflexion) oder das Tun und das Dariiberreden. Aus dem eigenen Versuch
In this chapter we intend to make the reader experience the value

of philosophy by raising the philosophical question par excellence, the
metaphysical question. By actuating philosophical thinking itself it
is possible to make the reader experience "true to life" what philosophy
is and how enormous the value is of the "useless" thinking of the
philosopher. We are convinced that philosophy cannot be dispensed
with in the development of our modern society. Modern man is
more and more in danger of becoming the victim of a technocratic
mentality. The more this process advances and extends itself, the
more difficult it becomes for man to consent to his existence. The
questions which arise in such a situation are always of a philosophical
nature.
Thus it is quite natural that we will begin by describing man as
laborer to show how man in his labor has called technology to his
aid. In itself this aid is a benefit to mankind. Man, however, has
allowed himself to be dominated by his own creation. Technology
has become a dictator, and society a technocracy However, since
laboring is a mode of being human, and the modern laborer a type
of man, it may be good first to point out some fundamental essential
characteristics of being-human in general. In this way it will be
easier to describe being a laborer, a technologist, and a technocrat.
2. To BE MAN IS TO EXIST
Whosoever endeavors to penetrate into the history of thought will

be forced to admit that the effort to describe what man is amounts
to the search for a difficult balance. Both the materialistic systems
and the exaggerated spiritualistic systems clearly testify to the diffi-
culties which thought encounters when it wants to express what man
is. At the same time these systems are the result of a certain lack of
equilibrium in thought. This does not mean that they are useless,
for there is no philosophy which is simply not concerned with any-
thing. Moments of equilibrium, however, are relatively rare in the
history of philosophy.
Such a moment of equilibrium is present in the contemporary
philosophy known as existential phenomenology. This philosophy
knows how to retain the values perceived by materialists and exag-
gerated spiritualists, without falling into the onesideness of either
heraus erst kann man wahrnehmen, was in der Welt als Philosophie uns
begegnet." Jaspers, op. cit., p. 14.
Man) the Metaphysical Being 15
system. 36 It 1S in the usage of the term "existence," which expresses

one of the most fundamental essential characteristics of man, that
this equilibrium of vision regarding man is, as it were, crystallized.3T
This point will be made clear in this section.
a. Existence as Being-in-the Warld
Materialistic Monism. All materialistic systems agree in this

that they consider man as the result of processes and forces, just as
things also are the result of processes and forces. A materialist,
therefore, would say that the being of man is a being-in-the-world
in the sense that, just like all things, man is a thing in the midst of
other things of the world, a fragment of nature, a moment in the
limitless evolution of the cosmos. 3S
This idea is not so foolish that it can be dismissed as wholly im-
pertinent. It expresses a valuable vision, it accounts for a reality
which may never be lost sight of, it takes seriously the irrefutable fact
that man is whatever he is only "on the basis of materiality."39 For
there is no spiritual knowledge without sense perceptible objects,
without brains, without physiological processes, without sense images,
or without words. There is no spiritual love without sensitive love.
There is no personal conscience without a biological substructure.
There is no artistic act without expression in matter. Thus it is
possible, for instance, to speak as a biologist about knowledge, love,
or conscience, and the assertions of the biologist are concerned with
reality.
The example shows how it is possible that a certain way of
thinking is materialistic, although the thinker in question does not at
all explicitly state that man is a thing. Materialism is very often
camouflaged. It reveals itself most of the time as scientism or
physicalism, as an over-evaluation of the physical sciences, which are
ex professo concerned with things and utilize categories and schemata
86This point may be found more extensively in almost every study of existen-
tial philosophy. For a very clear explanation of the critique which the philos-
ophers of existence address to the materialists and the idealists, d. Dondeyne,
"Beschouwingen by het atheistisch existentialisme," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie,
vol. 13 (1951), pp. 1-41.
s7Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sens, pp. 142-143.
sSCf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 142.
89Cf. Dondeyne, art. quoted in footnote 11, p. 24.
that are exclusively applicable to things. Esteem for science becomes

scientism when one asserts that there are no other realities than those
discovered by the physical sciences. Scientism is a materialistic theory
for, apart from the material things with which the physical sciences
busy themselves, nothing else is insofar as the adherent of scientism
is concerned.
With respect to man, materialism means, according to the expres-
sion of Ie Senne, a "detotalization of reality."40 Materialism at-
tempts to explain man, i.e., to express what man is, to account for the
totality of man, but fails because it indicates only one aspect of the to-
tality, albeit an essential one. Materialism is a kind of monism in which
there is in the totality of reality room only for one type of being-
namely, the being of a material thing. Therefore, man also is a thing,
and human life is a concatenation of processes.
If one were to claim merely that man is also in some way a thing
and that his life has also process-like aspects, there would be nothing
wrong with the assertion. Materialistic monism, however, means the
"detotalization of the reality" which is man, the neglect of an essential
aspect, because the assertion that man is a thing does not account for
the undeniable fact that man exists-for-himself and that things exist-
for-man. The being of man has meaning for man himself and the
being of things has meaning for man, while things have no meaning
either for themselves or for one another. If there were nothing else
but things, nothing would have any meaning. Materialism, then,
neglects the fact that it is only with and through man that there can
be question of things and processes. For this reason alone the being
of man cannot be like the being of a thing.
Accordingly, it is the subjectivity of man which is simply omitted
by the materialist. 41 The being of man on the proper level of his being-
man is a being-conscious and a being-free, by virtue of which man can
name himself. Man is a self, an "I," a person. As long as the sciences
speak of the physiological processes involved in knowing, they do not
speak about knowledge itself; as long as they refer to the biological
substructures of conscience, they do not speak of conscience itself.
4oQuoted by Dondeyne, ibid., pp. 24-25.
41"]e ne suis pas Ie resultat ou l'entrecroisement des multiples causalites qui
determinent mon corps ou mon 'psychisme' j e ne puis pas me penser comme
une partie du monde, comme Ie simple objet de la biologie, de la psychologie et
de la sociologie, ni fermer sur moi l'univers de la science. Tout ce que ie sais
du monde, meme par science, ie Ie sais a partir d'une vue mienne ou d'une
experience du monde sans laquelle les symboles de la science ne voudraient
rien dire." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. II.
As soon as they claim that what they are saying refers to knowledge
and conscience themselves, they go beyond their domain and become a
philosophy-namely, that of materialism.
Materialism actually lives by virtue of a hidden contradiction. 42
For it is entirely impossible for a materialist, as a materialistic phi-
losopher, to account for his own being if he continues to hold fast to
the conception that there is only one type of being-namely, the being
of a thing. The contradiction consists in this that the materialist, on
the one hand, admits that tables and chairs, geological layers, and
rain showers are incapable of creating a philosophy while, on the other,
as a materialistic philosopher, he wants to explain his own being by
means of the same categories through which he expresses the being of
tables and chairs, geological layers and rain showers. 43 In materialism
we find not only the material world but also the materialistic philoso-
pher, who is a human being. 44 Not everything is material, for man is
spirit also.
Spiritualistic Monism. The fact that things and processes have a

meaning for man as a conscious subject justifies us in attributing a
certain priority to subjectivity with respect to things.45. Without
man's subjectivity things and the world would have no meaning.
\Vhen things are affirmed, they are affirmed in their being-for-man,
and outside this affirmation there is no meaning. This point is exag-
gerated by spiritualistic monism, i.e., the relative priority of subjec-
tivity with respect to material things is explicitated by it as an abso-
lute priority. The absoluteness attributed to subjectivity amounts to
this that the being of material things is reduced to that of subjectivity,
42"Les vues scientifiques se10n lesquelles je suis un moment du monde sont

toujours naives et hypocrites, parce qu'elles sousentendent, sans la mentionner,
cette autre vue, celie de la conscience, par laquelle d'abord un monde se dispose
autour de moi et commence a exister pour moi." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. II.
43Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Sense et non-sens, p. 143.
H"Materialism, which wants to reduce the totality of being to an interplay
of moving particles of matter which can be explained only in a causal way,
cannot be refuted throuirh a priori concepts. It does not contain a contradiction
in terms but a practical contradiction, i.e., in materialism we find, in addition to
the system of the material world with its causal laws, also the affirmation of
this world and the conscious appeal to causal explanations. This appeal is an
act of consciousness which, considered in its essential structure, transcends causal
determinism." Albert Dondeyne, "Belang voor de metaphysica van een accurate
bestaansbeschrijving van de mens als kennend wezen," Kenleer en Metaphysiek
(Verslag van de 12de alg. verg. der Vereniging v. Thomistische Wijsb. en van
de 3de studiedagen v.h. Wijsgerig Gezelschap te Leuven) , Nijmegen, 1947, p. 39.
45"Un au-deli de la pensee est impensable" (Ed. Le Roy).
of the conscious self. Thus the direction in which the "detotalization of

reality" is accomplished in spiritualistic monism is exactly opposite
to that taken by materialism. While materialism simply neglects the
meaning of subjectivity, spiritualistic monism lets the density of ma-
terial things evaporate into the thin air of "contents of conscious-
ness."46 In the next step the "other self" likewise is conceived as a
content of consciousness. Finally, they would have us admit that
everything which we call a reality is nothing else than a function in an
all-embracing Self or absolute Spirit.47
Spiritualistic monism takes seriously the element neglected by ma-
terialism-namely, the originality (aus-sich-sein) of subjectivity. As
a subject, man cannot be the result of material processes; hence the
subject is original (aus-sich). However, if this originality is exag-
gerated, it easily leads to a view which makes this originality its own
origin (aus-sich becomes duych-sich). Subjectivity becomes a kind
of divine Ego before which the things of the world lose their con-
sistency.48 Such a subjectivity, however, which is closed upon itself
and fully self-sufficient, is not a human kind of subjectivity. Thus
spiritualistic monism retains nothing of the fundamental and unde-
niable intuition of materialism that whatever man is he is only "on
the basis of materiality."
Man's B eing-in-the-W orid. In the first section of this chapter we
remarked that the authentic philosopher is not scandalized by the exist-
ence of contradictory systems. Philosophy is not concerned with the
system as such but with seeing reality, and every system contains the
expression of a certain vision of reality. There is no philosophy which
is simply concerned with nothing. This thought will guide us when
we attempt to express in our own way what it is to be man. We
reject both materialistic and spiritualistic monism, but give full value
to the reality which these systems have sighted.
What, then, is man? To be man is fundamentally and essentially
to exist. 49 This term may be understood quite literally as to "ex-sist."
46"L'idealisme transcendental lui aussi 'reduit' Ie monde, puisque, s'iI Ie

rend certain, c'est a titre de pensee ou conscience du monde et comme Ie simple
correlatif de notre connaissance de sorte qu'i! devient immanent a la conscience
et que I'aseite des choses est par Ia supprimee." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenol-
ogie de fa perception, p. X.
47Cf. Dondeyne, essay quoted in footnote 11, pp. 26-27.
48Cf. Dondeyne, article quoted in footnote 36, pp. 24-25.
49Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sens, p. 143.
Man is a subject, undoubtedly, but he is an existing subject, a subject

which places itself outside itself, in the world. 50 As Heidegger ex-
presses it, to be man is to-be-in-the-world 51 or, what amounts to the
same, Dasein. 52 The German prefix Da indicates the eccentric char-
acter of man's subjectivity. The subject which is man simply does
not occur without being involved in the world, it presents itself only
in relation to the world. This assertion cannot be demonstrated in
the strict sense of the term, i.e., it cannot be derived with certainty
from another and more fundamental insight. The truth of the asser-
tion can be indicated53 only by showing that no real mode of being
man can be conceived which is not a mode of being-in-the-world. 54
There.is no mode of being-man which can be described without
being obliged to name the world in the description. The emphasis
which we put on the importance of the subject is demanded by the
expression being-in-the-world, for with respect to the being of man
this expression could be misunderstood. Materialistic monism could
appropriate this expression and mean by it that man is in the world
as a pen is in a drawer or a cigar in a box. 55 Such a view would be a
failure to recognize man as a subject. Moreover, there can be ques-
tion of a cigar in a box only when a subject surveys in a glance the
distance of the cigar to the sides of the box, i.e., only when we admit
an existing subject. Accordingly, that man exists means that the
being of man is a being-conscious-in-the-world, a dwelling in the
world, a being-at-home-in-the-world. 56
Consciousness. The same thought gradually arose also in the

works of Husser!' While Heidegger speaks of man, Husserl prefers
U
50 La premiere verite est bien 'Je pense,' mais i condition qu'on entende par
Ii 'je suis i moi' en etant au monde." Merleau-Ponty, PhCnomenologie de fa
perception, p. 466.
51Sein und Zeit, p. 43.
52Ibid., p. 41.
53"Le rapport au monde, tel qu'il se pro nonce infatigablement en nous, n'est
rien qui puisse etre rendu plus clair par une analyse: la philo sophie ne peut
que Ie replacer sous notre regard, l'offrir a notre constatation." Merleau-Ponty,
PhCnomenologie de la perception, p. XIII.
54Cf. Sein und Zeit, pp. 56-57.
55Cf. ibid., p. 54.
56"Das In-Sein meint so wenig ein raumliehes 'Ineinander' Vorhandener
als 'in' urspriinglieh gar nicht eine raumliche Beziehul).g der genannten Art
bedeutet; 'in' stammt von innanwohen, habitare, ~ich aufh<:llten; 'an' bedeutet:
ich bin g-ewoll11t, vertraut mit, ieh pflege etwas; es hat die Bedeutung von
colo im Sinne von habito und diligo." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 54.
to speak of consciousness. The emphasis, therefore, is different. Hei-

degger's philosophy has a more anthropological orientation, while
Husserl's thought is more directly an occasion for epistemological
questions. 57 Consciousness, however, is always and of necessity con-
sciousness of something-namely, of something which is not con-
sciousness itself. Consciousness is essentially orientation to something
or intentionality. If the "something" which is not consciousness itself
is thought away, consciousness itself also is thought away. For other-
wise consciousness would have to be thought of as consciousness of
nothing, which is not consciousness. 58
The full emphasis has to fall upon "something which is not
consciousness itself," for spiritualistic monism also makes use of the
expression "consciousness is consciousness of something." Its "some-
thing," however, is nothing else than consciousness itself. Conscious-
ness is conceived as closed and fully self-sufficient, and that of which
it becomes conscious is conceived as a content of consciousness. Such
a consciousness, however, does not occur, it is not a human conscious-
ness, for human consciousness is always and of necessity involved in a
world which is the world itself and not a content of a consciousness. 59
Consciousness is not locked up in itself but is intentional; it exists. 60
Can the same affirmation be made with .respect to consciousness
insofar as it is self-consciousness? The reply has to be in the affirma-
tive. I am conscious of myself as, say, a walter, a jailer, an engineer,
a teacher, a New Yorker, as just, as a thief, or whatever else it may
be. But what else are these modes of being-man than modes of being-
in-the-world? The same applies to the consciousness of the modes of
being-man which are usually called "psychical activities." For in-
stance, I am conscious that I hear, see, taste, feel, that I am sad,
happy, or bored. But to see, hear, etc. cannot be conceived otherwise
than as seeing-something, hearing-something, and sadness, happiness
and boredom cannot be understood without a certain outlook pre-
sented to me by the world.
We may not yet stop our explanation here, for one could ask
whether the conscious self exists necessarily. By the self we mean
57This does not mean that the epistemological questions implied by being-
in-the-world escape Heidegger. Cf. ibid., pp. 59-63.
58Cf. Marcel, Journal Metaphysique, p. 26.
GOCf. Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sens, pp. 143-144.
the subject-"I," the subject which is always identical with itself and
which we express when we say: HI hear," "I see," HI am bored," the
subject which is the source of actions on the basis of which I am
ultimately called a jaiier, an engineer, just, or a thief. Concerning
this self, we can only assert that it does not occur otherwise than as
the source or origin of actions which are mediately or immediately
directed to the world. We never meet an isolated self.6! As soon as
man says "I," he expresses himself as a being-in-the-world. 62 It was
our intention to stress this point when above we said that that the
self posits itself only in relation.
My Body. The idea of existence as expressing the essence of our
being-man imposes itself also through the analysis of the meaning of
the body. This is the approach preferred by Gabriel Marcel and
Merleau-Ponty. Let us point out first of all, however, that it is
necessary to conceive the body here really as the human body. My
body is not just one of the many pertaining to the large family of
bodies. 63 My body is mine because it is fused with the subject which
I am. It pertains to the side of the subject. 64 My hands do not belong
to the world that can be seized, my feet to the world that can be
walked upon, my eyes to the visible world, my ears to the audible
world, and my skin with its sensitivity does not pertain to the hard,
soft, angular, sticky, warm, cold, tasty world. My body is not a thing
among other things; it is mine, but in a very different sense from
that in which my golf clubs or books are mine. My body, as mine, is
interpenetrated by subjectivity, it is "subject-body" (Merleau-Ponty),
it is not something which I "have" (Marcel).
Thus we have to discard the view that my body means what is
asserted of bodies in books about physiology.65 For in these books
61"Si Ie sujet est en situation . . . c'est qu'i1 ne realise son ipseite qu'en
etant effectivement corps et en entrant par ce corps dans Ie monde." Merleau-
Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 467.
62"Im Ich-sagen spricht sich das Dasein als in-der-Welt-sein aus." Heideg-
ger, Scin und Zeit, p. 321.
63Jean-Paul Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, Paris, 29th impr., 1950, p. 278.
64"Le corps objectif n'est pas la verite du corps phenomenal, c'est-a-dire
la verite du corps tel que nous Ie vivons, iI n'en est qu'une image appauvrie,
et Ie probleme des relations de l'ime et du corps ne concerne pas Ie corps
objectif qui n'a qu'une existence conceptuelle, mais Ie corps phenomenal."
Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 493.
65"En ce qui concerne Ie corps d'autrui, iI nous faut apprendre a Ie distinguer
du corps objectif tel que Ie decrivent les livres de psysiologie." Merleau-Ponty,
ibid., p. 403.
there is no question of the self, while the body is human precisely

because of subjectivity. Once this point is understood, it is easy to see
also that my body is the transition from me to my world, that my
body is the place where I appropriate my world,66 that it grafts me on
the realm of things, and that it secures for me a solid or a labile stand-
point in the world. It is also because I have hands with five fingers
that can grasp the world in a certain way, different from the way in
which I could seize it if 'r had only one finger on each hand; it is also
because I have feet that the world can be walked upon in a certain
way, different from the one I would use if I had wings or webfeet; it
is also because I have ears that the world is for me a world of sound;
it is also because I have eyes that the world is for me a field of vision;
it is also from the standpoint which is my body that I call Mount
McKinley high and the sidewalk low, that I say that Sirius is far
away and my desk nearby,61 that fire is hot and that ice is cold. My
body, therefore, is situated on the side of the subject which I am, but
at the same time it involves me in the world of things. My body opens
me for the world, or rather, opens me toward the world, and signifies
my standpoint in this world. 6s My body keeps the visible scene con-
stantly alive, animates and nourishes it.60 When my body disinte-
grates, my world likewise "goes to pieces,"1o and the complete dis-
solution of my body means a breach with the world and at the same
time death-the end of my being as being-conscious-in-the-world, the
end of my being-man.l1
Accordingly, my body must be conceived as intentionality, as
existence; it is essentially the giving of meaning to the world. Al-
though my body lies on the side of the subject, nevertheless it is
involved in the world. Usually "my body knows more of the world
than I myself."12 This point shows itself when one thinks of such
66Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 180.

67Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 502
6s u Mon corps est aussi ce qui m'ouvre au monde et m'y met en situation."
Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 192.
60u Le corps propre est dans Ie monde comme Ie coeur dans I'organisme: i1
maintient continuellement en vie Ie spectacle visible, i1 l'anime et Ie nourrit
interieurement, i1 form avec lui un systeme." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 235.
10"Or, si Ie monde se pulverise, ou se disloque, c'est parce que Ie corps
propre a cesse d'etre corps connaissant, d'envelopper tous les objects dans une
prise unique." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 327.
l1Cf. Merleau-Ponty, La structure du comportement, Paris, 3rd impr., 1953,
p.226.
12Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomen%gie de la perception, p. 276.
acts as walking, swimming, skating, cycling, typing, doing the dishes,

playing the piano, etc. When I am typing, my fingers, my "hand-
subject," knows more of the keys than the conscious subject which I
am. 73 My eyes, my ears, and my feet know their way around in the
world much better than I myself ;74 my sexual body knows more of
the other sex than I; my lips know certain prayers much better than
I myself.
Refiection on the Sciences. Finally, the idea of existence, as ex-
pression of man's essence, imposes itself inevitably through the reflec-
tion of the scientists on the nature of the objectivity which is revealed
in their sciences. The exercise of this reflection evidently is not the
pursuit itself of these sciences; for instance, to reflect on physical
science and its objective value is not to study physical science. Such
a reflection is a philosophical task, just as also the rejection of philos-
ophy is a philosophy, albeit a bad one. The reflection in question has
been performed by Heisenberg, von Weizsacker, Buytendijk, and
others.75 It showed that the objectivity of the sciences may not be
understood in an objectivistic sense,76 i.e., objectivity may not be con-
ceived as the meaning which the world would possess in itself, inde-
pendently of man-as-the-purpose-of-the-world. Epistemological con-
siderations show that the objectivity of the sciences must be conceived
as a well-determined realm of objectivity devised by man and co-
constituted by the fundamental interest of the sciences in question.
The objectivity of the sciences, the reality which they reveal, is not
independent of man, but is only a true reply to a definite scientific
question of the subject which man is, and has a function in relation
to the fundamental interest which is specific for a given science. In
other words, the objective world, better still, the objective worlds, of
73Cf. Remy C. Kwant, "De geslotenheid van Merleau-Ponty's wijsbegeerte,"

Tijdschrift v. Philosophie, vol. XIX (1957), pp. 223-224.
74"I1 Y a done un autre sujet au-dessous de moi, pour qui un monde existe
avant que je sois Ja et qui y marquait rna place. Cet esprit captif ou naturel,
c'est mon corps, non pas Ie corps momente qui est !'instrument de mes choix
personnelles et se fixe sur tel ou tel monde, mais Ie systeme de 'fonctions' ano-
nymes qui enveloppent toute fixation particuliere dans un projet generaL"
75 Cf. F. J. J. Buytendijk, "Vernieuwing in de Wetenschap," Annalen van
het T hijmgenootschap, vol. 42 (1954), pp. 230-249.
76"Physical science always presupposes man and, as Bohr expresses it, we
have to become aware of it that we are not merely spectators but always players
in the spectacle of life." Werner Heisenberg, "Das Weltbild der heutigen
Physik," Die Kunste im technischen Zeitalter, Munchen, 1954, p. 52. Quoted by
Buytendijk, op. cit., p. 240.
the sCiences are inseparably attached to the questions raised by the

subject. 77
Accordingly, the subject is fastened to many worlds, and it is this
that is meant by the philosophers when they call man "existence."78
When the sciences observe that they are unable to make assertions
about nature in itself in an objective way-they really mean in an
objectivistic way-because man and his fundamental interests are
always involved in it, they implicitly admit that man must be con-
cei ved as existence, as being-conscious-in-the-world. 79
A Misunderstanding. All these preceding considerations should
be kept in mind when the terms "existence" or "existential" are used.
De facto, however, it is only rarely done with the result that a termi-
nology as technical as that of phenomenology is sometimes used as a
kind of jargon by which an attempt is made to give the greatest non-
sense a chance of being admitted as truth. Many old problems are
taken up again or rejected as pseudo-problems by the philosophy of
existence, and this leads some to the conclusion that as an "existen-
tialist" one can say anything as long as it is "personal." Many old
terms receive a new meaning, which others fail to perceive and on the
basis of this lack of perception they attribute to themselves the right
to reject existential thinking.
One of these misunderstandings we will discuss here briefly, be-
cause the reply to it fits in with the subject matter of our discussion.
The accent placed on existence, so it is said, means neglect of the
idea of essence, which is indispensable in genuine philosophy.80 The
reply is extremely simple: the emphasis given to existence means
precisely the stressing of the importance attached to the classical idea
of essence for, when the philosopher of existence calls man existence,
he wants to express the view that being-conscious-in-the-world con-
stitutes the essence of man. 81 This being-conscious is that through
which man is man and not a thing, a pure spirit, or a divine Being.
77C. Buytendijk, op. cit., p. 240.
78"Ce concept (namely, the "concept-limite d'objectivite absolue") revenait
en somme a celui de 'monde desert' ou de 'monde sans les hommes', c'est-a-wre
une contradiction, puisque c'est par la realite humaine qu'il y a un monde."
Sartre, L' etre et Ie neant, p. 369.
79Cf. H. C. van de Hulst and C. A. van Peursen, Phaenomenologie en
Natuurwetenschap, Utrecht, 1953.
BOOne can appeal here to explicit texts of the philosophers of existence them-
selves. They constantly repeat that there is no such thing as human nature.
However, in this expression "nature" must be understood as "part of nature,"
i.e., as a thing.
81"In-Sein dagegen meint eine Seinsverfassung des Daseins und ist ein
Existenzial." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 54.
Accordingly, we must say that things, pure spirits, and God do not
exist, i.e., they are essentially distinct from man. 82 Being-conscious-
in-the-world constitutes what man essentially is. Man does not enter
into the world because there happens to be a world and it is up to
him to enter it or not or to withdraw from it at his discretion. There
is only one way possible for man to withdraw from the world-namely,
by death. But through death he ceases to be man, for neither the im-
mortal subjectivity nor the physico-chemical mass which after death
is removed from the world of men is man. It is possible for man to
withdraw from this or that world, but in doing so he inevitably enters
into a new world. To withdraw definitely from the world can be
accomplished only by giving up one's being-man.
Accordingly, existence is not a property which man has or does
not have or which he attributes or does not attribute to himself. Man
is not first man and then enters or refuses to enter into a relation
with the world. 83 To exist is a so-called existentiale, i.e., it is an
essential characteristic of being man. 84 Man is embodied subjectivity-
in-the-world. 85
At present philosophers in general acknowledge the truth of this
assertion. The catastrophic historical events of the past decades have
contributed very much to the fact that this aspect of being-man is no
longer minimized. However, the principal consequence of the idea
of existence is still far from being generally accepted. This conse-
quence is concerned with the ontological status, the mode of being
pertaining to things of the world and to the world itself.
h. The Meaning of tbe World

If the idea of existence, as the expression of an essential aspect
of man, is really taken seriously, there cannot be any misunderstand-
ing about the mode of being of the world. If man is attached to the
world, the world likewise is attached to man, in such a way that it
is no longer possible to speak about a world-without-man. In other
82Cf. Dondeyne, "Beschouwingen bij het atheische existentialisme," Tijd-
schrift v. Philosophie, vol. XIII (1951), pp. 6-10.
83"Das In-Sein ist nach dem Gesagten keine 'Eigenschaft', die es zuweilen
hat, zuweilen auch nicht, ohne die es sein kCinnte so gut wie mit ihr. Der Mensch
"ist' nicht und hat uberdies noch ein Seinsverhaltnis zur 'Welt', die er sich
gelegentlich zulegt. Dasein ist nie 'zunachst' ein gleichsam in-sein-freies-Seiendes,
das zuweilen die Laune hat, eine 'Beziehung' zur Welt aufzunehmen." Heidegger,
Sein und Zeit, p. 57.
84Cf. Heidegger, ibid., pp. 42 and 54.
85"N ous ne sommes pas esprit et corps, conscience en face du monde, mais
esprit incarne, etre-au-monde." Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sens, p. 148.
words, the world is radically human. The thought of existence forces

us not only constantly to say something of the object pole when we
want to affirm something of the subject pole, but also reversely to
name the subject pole when we want to speak of the object pole.
The Cultural World. At first sight, this assertion may sound
strange. Let us try to make its depth and scope gradually more ac-
cessible. We may start with a few very simple examples. Entering
the hall of a stately mansion, I see a toy gun, a cap, and a torn glove.
They are part of a world, a child's world, of which I will not under-
stand anything unless I include the child in my understanding. This
part of the world betrays immediately the presence of man and with-
out this little man it cannot be understood in its true sense. Likewise,
a full ashtray, an untidy laboratory, a well-groomed garden, a bombed-
out city, etc. cannot be understood without the presence of man.
Thus we should speak of a world for the farmer, a world ior the
commercial traveller, a world for the journalist, for the politici:lll, the
hermit, etc. The essential element of all these worlds is to-ue-worJd-
for-man; without man, or rather, without a certain form of being man,
nothing can be understood of all these worlds. What these worlds are
cannot be expressed without naming man.
Although these examples are easy to understand, they do not suf-
ficiently illustrate the meaning of the humanity of the world. For
one could make the remark that all these examples merely describe
cultural worlds; obviously, such worlds cannot be understood with-
out man's influence precisely because man's influence makes the world
a cultural world. But what about the world of trees, animals, plants,
seas, mountains, continents, and my fellow men? It is precisely here
that there are difficulties, because we have become accustomed to
consider man and the world separate from each other. Even those
who accept the idea of existence as expressing the "ex-centric" char-
acter of subjectivity, often lose what they have gained on spiritualistic
monism by conceiving the world as a world which even without man
is what it is, as a N atur an sich, a monde-en-soi, a world in itseli, an
agglomeration of brute realities. For, a world conceived as a reality
isolated from man isolates man as subject again from his world. This
means that the subject is once more locked up in itself. The result
is that if one asserts that man knows things and the world, knO\dedge
has to be conceived as a process which takes place "fr0111 within."
Thus one is faced with the impossible task of explaining how it is
possible for a subject that is locked up in itself to establish outside
itself contact with a real world by means of a process ocurring "from

within." The reality of an external world thus has to be proved from
an internal world. This problem is traditionally called the problem
of knowledge. 86
The Natural World. In this chapter we would like to avoid as
much as possible all epistemological and gnoseological questions be-
cause they will be considered ex professo in the next chapter. How-
ever, it is not very well possible to avoid them entirely. We meet
them here, for example, when we raise the question concerning the
mode of being proper to the world.
The problem is to show that the world in which man as a subject
is involved is radically human, so that it is impossible to speak about
a world-without-man. The point is evidently clear as far as cultural
worlds are concerned. But what is the situation with respect to the
natural world-let us simply say, the world which man merely per-
ceives? Is this world not in itself, separate from man?
&an's description as existence forces us to conceive the world in
which man as a subject is involved as being a real world. This asser-
tion may sound trivial. It would be trivial, indeed, if there was no
spiritualistic monism which makes the reality of the world evaporate
into the "thin air" of contents of consciousness. It is precisely this
point which we want to deny because otherwise nothing would remain
of the reality of the world. As subject, man is involved in things
which are not contents of consciousness but the solid and immovable
massiveness and density of reality.87 It is meaningless to object that
such an assertion simply eliminates the whole problem of knowledge. 88
Obviously, there can be no question of proving a real external world
from the consciousness of an internal world. However, such a proof
86"Je eindeutiger man nun festhalt, dass das Erkennen zunachst und eigentlich
'drinnen' ist, ... urn so voraussetzungsloser glaubt man in der Frage nach dem
Wesen der Erkenntnis und der Aufklarung des Verhaltnisses zwischen Subjekt
und Obj ekt vorzugehen. Denn nunmehr erst kann ein Problem entstehen, die
Frage namlich: wie kommt dieses erkennende Subjekt aus seiner inneren
'Sphare' hinaus in eine-'andere und aussere', wie kann das Erkennen iiberhaupt
einen Gegestand haben, wie muss der Gegenstand selbst gedacht werden, damit
am Ende das Subj ekt ihn erkennt, ohne dass es den Sprung in eine andere
Sphare zu wagen braucht?" Heidegger, S ein und Zeit, p. 60.
87"La verite n' 'habite' pas seulement l' 'home interieur', ou plutot il n'y a
pas d'homme interieur, I'homme est au monde, c'est dans Ie monde qu'il se
connait. Quand j e reviens a moi a partir due dogmatisme de sens commun
ou du dogmatisme de la science, je retrouve non pas un foyer de verite intrin-
seque, mais un sujet voue au monde." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomen%gie de la
perception, p. v.
88e. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 61.
becomes superfluous as soon as the subject is conceived as existing,

as involved in the world. s9 It does not make sense to ask if there is
a real world, for the world is precisely that without whose reality
man is not existence and, consequently, not man. If there is a problem
of knowledge, the terms in which this problem is expressed will have
to be supplied by knowledge as it really occurs and not by a philosoph-
ical system of knowledge. 90 But knowledge as it occurs appears as a
mode of existing pertaining to a subject, as a mode of being-in-the-
real-world.91
4Ihe real world in which man exists as a subject is not a world-
without-man, not a brute reality, a world in itself.92 The idea of exist-
ence, as expressing the essence of man, makes a contradiction of the
thought construct "a world-without-man." As existence man is at-
tached to the world, so that reversely also the world is attached to
man. It is never possible for me to ask whether there is a world-
without-man or what kind of a world it is, for a world-without-man
presupposes that man withdraws from the world the question-
addressed-to-the-world which he himself is or that he could ask a
question outside this question. A world-without-man simply cannot
be thought, for it presupposes that it is possible to think a world
without the thinking presence of an existing subject.
A world without man would be a world of which man is not con-
scious, which he does not know, of which he has not heard and,
consequently, a world which is not affirmed in any way. Such a
world simply is nothing-for-man. A world which is not affirmed can-
not be affirmed; man cannot be conscious of a world of which he is
not conscious; one cannot speak of a world that is not spoken of.
The thought construct "a world-without-man" is a contradiction. Any
proclaimed speaking of such a world is nothing but the formation
of meaningless combinations of words, just as when one alleges to
speak of square circles or pentagon triangles. Evidently, in such
cases there is no real speech, no expression of reality.
SO"Je dirais pour mon compte que Heidegger a montre d'une fac;on probable-
ment definitive qu'il est absurde d'isoler Ie sujet existant et de se demander a
partir de lui si Ie monde existe ou non. Car en fait ce sujet existant n'est tel
que dans sa relation au monde." G. Marcel, L'homme problematique, Paris,
1955, pp. 141-142.
90"Welche Instanz entscheidet denn dariiber, ob und in welch em Sinne ein
Erkenntnisproblem bestehen soli, was anderes als das Phanomen des Erkennens
selbst und die Seinsart des Erkennenden?" Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 61.
91"Erkennen ist eine Seinsart des In-der-Welt-seins." Heidegger, ibid.
92Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 370.
An Objection. One could raise perhaps the following objection:

a world without man cannot be affirmed, as is shown by the preceding
line of thought, but there is such a world without man.
To understand the meaning of the term "existence" it is absolutely
necessary to see that such a statement is meaningless. Of course,
from a purely verbal viewpoint the statement can be formulated, but
it has no meaning, it does not express any reality. When man uses
the term "is," he affirms the being of whatever he wants to affirm.
However, he does not make this affirmation outside his own presence
as existing subject; in other words, man always affirms the being-
for-man and never anything else. Thus the term "to be" does not
have any other meaning than to-be-for-man.93 Therefore, I must say
that without man there is no world. 94 For "to be" cannot have any
other meaning than to-be-for-man; therefore, what I am saying
amounts to this: without man there is no world for man. How
could I say anything else?
As existing subjectivity, man is the affirmation of the real world. 95
The reality of the world, however, must be conceived neither subjec-
tivistically nor objectivistically.96 Conceived subjectivistically, the
world would be delivered to the arbitrariness of the subject and,
consequently, cease to be objectively rea1. 97 If, on the other hand, the
world is understood in the objectivistic sense, the subject would be
annihilated as existing affirmation of the world and thus would cease
to be a real subject. 9B A thing of the world is not a brute reality but
self-revealing being, phenomenon,99 a meaning-for-the-subject. And
93Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. III.
94"Wenn kein Dasein existiert, ist auch keine Welt 'da'." Heidegger, Sri
und Zeit, p. 365.
95This affirmation, however, is not exclusively the task of the ego-body,
as Merleau-Ponty thinks. Every affirmation of the ego-body, conditioned by
space-time, contains an affirmation of the subj ect which transcends all space-
time. This affirmation is the classical intelligere, which Merleau-Ponty com-
pletely ignores-a neglect which leads him to re-introduce the 'in-itself' (en-soO
in his explanations. Cf. below, p. 135 ff.
96"La plus importante acquisition de la phenomenologie est sans doute
d'avior joint I'extreme subjectivisme et I'extreme objectivisme dans sa notion
du monde ou de la rationalite." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la percep-
tion, p. XV.
97"Die Bedeutsamkeitsbezuge, welche die Struktur der Welt bestimmen, sind
daher kein Netzwerk von Formen, das von einem weltlosen Subjekt einem
Material iibergestiilpt wird." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 366.
98Cf. Marcel, L'Homme probIematiqlle, Paris, 1955, pp. 50-51.
90"Der griechische ausdruck phainomenon, auf den der Terminus 'Phanomen'
zuruckgeht, leitet sich von dem Verbum phainesthai her, das bedeutet: sich
zeigen; phainomenon besagt daher: das, was sich zeigt, das Sichzeigende, das
Offenbare." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 28.
the world is a system of nearby and distant meanings. All being is

essentially "sense" ;100 outside the "sense" no reality can be affirmed,
and without affirmation of reality words have no meaning. As the
scholastic philosophers used to say: being and truth are convertible.
Against the assertion that there is no world without man the
objection is often raised that the findings of the empirical sciences
show the contrary. Geologists, geophysicists, and astrophysicists have
established the fact that the world is much older than man and that
the world was prior to man, i.e., without man. According to Father
Laplace's theory, our earth resulted from a primitive nebula, and
the physical conditions of this nebula were such that no life-a
fortiori, no human life-was possible. The appearance of subjectivity
in the infinite evolution of the cosmos is of a fairly recent date. What,
then, is the sense of claiming that there is no world without man ?101
Of course, there is not a single phenomenologist who even thinks
of throwing doubt on the results of the empirical sciences. All accept
that the earth is much older than Adam, and none wants to make
any difficulties against Laplace's primitive nebula. (Incidentally, con-
temporary empirical scientists now raise serious objections against
it.) It must be admitted, of course, that certain empirical sciences
speak about a world dating from before the first man. However, does
this mean that, say, geologists speak of a world-without-geologists?
This is the point at issue, and an affirmative reply to the question does
not make any sense. What would be the meaning of Laplace's primi-
tive nebula, of his formulas and calculations without the presence-in-
the-world of the subjectivity of Laplace or of those who took over his
viewpoint ?l02
The same conclusion imposes itself inevitably-the world is radi-
cally human, and the truth about this world likewise is radically
human.103 Without man's subjectivity no affirmation of reality has
lOO"Le monde phenomenologique, c'est, non pas de I'etre pur, mais Ie sens
qui tranparait a I'intersection de mes experiences et a I'intersection de mes
experiences et de celles d'autrui, par I'engrenage des unes sur les aut res, il est
done inseparable de la subjectivite et de l'intersubjectivite qui font leur unite
par la reprise de mes experiences passees dans mes experiences presentes, de
I'experience d'autrui dans la mienne." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomblologie de la
perception, p. XV.
lOlef. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 494-495.
l02"La nebuleuse de Laplace n'est pas derriere nous, a notre origine, elle
est devant nous, dans Ie monde culture!''' Merleau-Ponty, ibid, p. 494.
l03"Le monde phenomenologique n'est pas I'explicitation d'un etre prealable,
mais la fondation de !'etre, la philosophie n'est pas Ie reflet d'une verite pn:alable,
mais comme I'art la realisation d'une verite." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. XV.
meaning, and without any affirmation of reality all words and formulas
are empty shells, about as useful as square circles. The world is not
the sum total of brute realities, which are what they are-without-man
in an "absolutely objective" isolated manner of being. The most
penetrating minds among the empirical scientists realize this truth
when they say that there is no such thing as "absolute objectivity,"
i.e., objectivistically conceived reality.
We realize that a very large number of epistemological questions
are raised again by existential phenomenology. They cannot be
treated here. However, once it is understood that the world and the
truth about the world are radically human, there is a possibility
to understand that there are very many human worlds and very many
human truths about the world. Man is essentially intentionality,
orientation to the world, but the meaning of the world is differentiated
according to the standpoint or attitude (Husserl's Einstellung) taken
by man in the world.
Human Standpoints and the World. We have to limit ourselves
here to a few examples of human standpoints. A first example is
provided by sensitivity. Subjectivity, as "meaning of the world," is
embodied in definite senses. These senses mean a definite attitude
of the subject which I am, and at the same time they, as it were, cut
out a world-for-me. My field of vision is conceivable only in relation
to my eyes, and a world of sound only in reference to my ears.
There are no sounds in my field of vision nor is anything visible in
my world of sound.
As a second example we may name the standpoints to which the
many cultural worlds are attached. The worlds of the farmer, the
professor, the revolutionary, the travelling salesman, the hermit, the
politician, the artist, etc. are fundamentally very different, because
the modes in which these human beings stand in the world differ
fundamentally from one another.
Omitting provisionally the meaning of love and of history as stand-
points,104 as well as the fundamentally diverse interests of the various
sciences,105 we may offer a few very concrete examples. What is
104Cf. below, pp. 154 ff., 162.
105"Es gibt kein \;\feltbild, sondern nur eine Systematik der Wissenschaften.
Weltbilder sind immer partikulare Erkenntniswelten, die falschlich zum Weltsein
iiberhaupt absolutiert wurden. Aus verschiedenen grundsatzlichen Forschungs-
ideen erwachsen je besondere Perspektiven. Jedes Weltbild ist ein Ausschnitt
aus der \Velt; die \N elt werd nicht zum Bilde. Das 'wissenschaftliche Weitbiid'
im Unterschiecl yom mythischen war seIber jeclerzeit ein neues mythisches
WeitbiIcl mit wissenschaftlichen Mittein und cliirftigem, mythischen GehaIt."
Jaspers, Ein!iihnmg in die Philosophic, p. 75.
water for me? It is that which is regularly used for washing and
for drinking. Let us suppose, however, that I love bathing. In this
case water ""ould show itself quite different to me. I would refer to
is as "the cooling waves." 1 I were a fireman, water would again
be something else-an extinguisher. I would never be able to affirm
this meaning if I did not know what a fire is and what is meant by
extinguishing a fire. For a fisherman water is neither a cooling wave
nor an extinguisher, for a fisherman faces water with a quite different
intention, so that it has an entirely different meaning to him. Any-
one who in wintertime has the misfortune to break through the ice
and is carried underneath the frozen surface sees the most fearsome
aspect water can show. No one, however, ever froze to death in "the
cooling waves." Finally, to terminate with another arbitrary example,
there is a single standpoint from which water is H 2 0-namely, that
of the chemist. One who asks water what it is by means of analytic
techniques will receive the answer: H 2 0. Outside this standpoint
of the chemist, water, of course, is not H 2 0-just as water is not
"the cooling waves" for the non-bather or for one who refuses to
place himself in the "world-meaning" which constitutes being a bather.
Many Real Worlds. This example shows us 11wny worlds, worlds
that are real, because we live in them, at least from a certain stand-
point. There is not a single world in itself. A church tower is not
a thing in itself. It has a certain meaning for the pastor or the min-
ister, but this meaning differs from that of the architect. For the
sacristan who goes to it every day to ring the bells the tower has
another meaning than for the altarboys who secretly climb it to play.
One who is obsessed by his sexual instincts does not see the meaning
which the tower has for an artistically gifted soul, and the artist's
meaning differs again from that which the tower has for the flyer who
has to take care all the time to avoid hitting it. Such examples can
be multiplied endlessly. Human nudity, to give a final example, does
not merely have a sexually stimulating meaning. It constantly means
something else according as the situation is dominated by a sexual,
an artistic, a medical, an athletic, or an hygienic intention.
From these examples it is easy to see how readily man can come
to consider a certain particular world as the world. Such an attitude
implies that a certain mode of being-in-the-world is interpreted as the
only one, as being-in-the-world without any qualification. It estranges
man from the wealth of possibilities contained in his own being and
reduces his world to the narrow dimension of his field of interest.
M an, the Metaphysical Being 33
Is this View a Kind of Psychologism! When this objection

is raised, attention has to be paid to what is understood by the term
"psychologism." In general, it is used to indicate the tendency to
reduce all philosophical problems, i.e., all problems of logic, ethics,
esthetics, and metaphysics, to psychoiogical problems. lo6 When there
is a psychological tendency in philosophical thought, the meaning of
reality is reduced to, and explained by means of the psyche, the
thinker's structure of consciousness, or the genesis of his thought.
Those who accuse us of a kind of psychologism want to say that we
project meanings which belong to consciousness outside consciousness
toward things themselves and ascribe these meanings to them. The
special meaning of water for the fisherman, the bather, or one who is
thirsty, they claim, lies only in consciousness and may not be ascribed
to water itself.
The reply of this objection is very simple, for the difficulty pre-
supposes two postulates that are not tenable. The first of these claims
that the psyche or consciousness is an interiority closed in itself and
that meanings dwell in it which we unjustifiably project outside on
"things." The second assumes that the "things themselves" are brute
realities of which, for instance, the chemist would be qualified to speak.
However, there is no consciousness closed in itself with meanings
pertaining to it. To be conscious is a mode of existence, of being-in-
the world. Secondly, there is no such thing as brute reality. There are
existing subjects and many human worlds. Finally, if "the cooling
waves" have to be called a psychological meaning of water because
it evidently cannot be defined independently of human existence, the
same will have to be said with respect to H 2 0. The meaning "H 2 0"
is attached to the "world meaning" which constitutes being a chemist
and to the analytic techniques used by him. Without taking the special
viewpoint of the chemist into account when speaking of water, nothing
intelligible is implied or expressed by the formula H 2 0. The "unity
of reciprocal implication of subject and the world"lo7 is the original
dimension in which man stands, thinks, and speaks. Once he places
himself outside this dimension, he does not stand anywhere and does
not speak about anything.
l06ef. Lalande, Vocabulaire technique et critique de la philosophic, Paris,

1947, pp. 836-838.
l07Remy C. Kwant, "Mense1ijke existentie en geschiedenis vol gens het
wijsgerig denken van Maurice Merleau-Ponty," Algemeen Ned. Tijdschri/t v.
Wijsbegeerte en Psychologie, vol. 46 (1953-54), p. 234.
c. The Primitive Fact of Existential Phenomenology

Every Philosophy Has an Original Intuition. By speaking about
the unity of reciprocal implication of subject and the world we indi-
cated what nowadays in imitation of Dondeyne is fairly generally
called "the primitive fact of existential phenomenology."lo8 The term
is borrowed from Maine de Biran. Sometimes, however, the same
reality is indicated by the expression "central reference point," used
by Marce1. 109 What is meant by these terms?
Dondeyne clarifies the matter by showing that in every great
philosophy an original intuition, an all-illuminating light is at work,
by virtue of which it is possible for the philosopher to bring clarity in
the complexity of reality. This is true, for instance, for the philoso-
phies of scholasticism, Descartes, Kant, Hegel, Bergson, and others.
There is no philosophy which stops at the complexity and plurality of
what is immediately given and is satisfied with a disorderly enumera-
tion. A philosophy is not a "tale told by an idiot." A philosopher
endeavors to reduce the plurality to a kind of unity, he tries to discover
structures, he wants to com-prehend (Brunschvicg). In attempting
to do so, he does not know beforehand how the unity will be brought
about or how the structures are to be discovered. The light by which
he thinks is not first determined and then put into operation. It may
perhaps be said that every new philosophy begins with the vague
suspicion that a certain approach will be fruitful before the philosopher
realizes exactly what he is doing, by what principle he is guided, by
which light he is proceeding, or which fundamental intuition he is
using. Usually the evident fruitlessness of a certain way of thinking
employed in the past gives rise to and guides a new mode of thinking,
but provisionally it is not clear at all in what this new mode consists.
Thus, for instance, it may happen that a psychologist comes to the
conclusion that a physiological explanation, e.g., of puberty, is insuffi-
cient and tries to proceed along new paths. What he is first of all
interested in is the explanation of puberty and not the reflection on the
light in which he considers puberty. Only much later this light be-
comes the theme of an investigation, and often this investigation is not
performed by him who first made use of this light. Thus it could
happen that the philosophies of Husserl and Heidegger were much
better understood by others than by these two philosophers themselves.
l08Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought and Christian Faith, Pitts-
burgh, 1958, p. 25 fr.
l09Du reius d l'invocation, p. 18.
Evidently, a philosophy wiII be fruitful to the extent that its prim-

itive fact is capable of making the multiplicity and complexity of reality
transparent and of reducing it to unity. For instance, I can reach no
results at all with the idea of a "big elephant," while the idea "matter"
offers at least some explanation. llo
Existence as the Primitive Fact of Existential Phenomenology.
After these explanations it is easily understood that at one time there
were existentialists and phenomenologists, although there was prac-
tically no one capable of defining either existentialism or phenome-
nology. If one examines what was supposed to be existentialism or
phenomenology, he gets the impression that these terms have as many
meanings as there are thinkers who call themselves phenomenologists
or existentialists. Considering, moreover, what specialists in such posi-
tive sciences as psychology, psychiatry, and sociology called or still
call "phenomenological" or "existential,"lll this impression is still
further strengthened. Finally, there is the difference between existen-
tialism and phenomenolgy-Kierkegaard is the founder of existential-
ism and Husser! that of phenomenology, but one could hardly call
Kierkegaard a phenomenologist or Husser! an existentialist.
All this should be no reason for surprise. Man's whole life is
something which runs its course in semi-darkness. Man, as conscious
existence, knows what he does when he lives, but at the same time he
also does not know it. He does not escape from himself but, on the
other hand, he is not fully transparent to himself. Philosophizing itself
is a mode of living and, consequently, likewise not fully transparent.
A new mode of philosophizing is a new way of living and therefore
of non-transparency. Moreover, thinking endeavors to express pri-
marily reality and not the mode in which this reality is expressed.
The way itself in which reality is expressed is last in receiving reflec-
tive attention. Thus one can understand that a philosophy first exists
as a kind of movement and style of thinking and only later arrives at
full consciousness itself.n 2 At first one finds everywhere only symp-
llO"Ainsi, si quelqu'un venait nous dire que Ie monde n'est finalement qu'un
immense elephant, dont la multiplicite des existants qui composent Ie monde ne
sont que des aspects ou des manifestations, nous Ie prendrions pour un insense
et non sans raison." Dondeyne, "Dieu et Ie materialisme contemporain," Essai
sur Dieu, l'homme et l'univers, ed. by Jacques de Rivort de la Saudee, p. 23,
note 1.
11lS ee, e.g., H. C. Riinke, Psychiatrie, Amsterdam, 1954, vol. I, pp. 63-71.
112"La phenomenologie se laisse pratiquer et reconnaitre comme maniere
ou comme style, eUe existe comme mouvement, avant d'etre parvenu a une
entiere conscience philosophique." Merleau-Ponty, Phinomenologie de la
perception, p. II.
toms of the style, but the primitive fact itself through which this style
is what it is cannot yet be clearly determined.
At present these difficulties have been overcome. The primitive
fact itself of the new movement, of the new style of thinking, was
reflected upon and expressed after Kierkegaard's existentialism and
Husserl's phenomenology had, as it were, fused together in the
work of Heidegger. At present it is realized that the new style of
thinking uses as its primitive fact, its fundamental intuition, its
all-embracing moment of intelligibility, the idea of existence or,
what may be considered synonymous with it,1l3 the idea of inten-
tionality.l14 Let us emphasize it once more, this primitive fact
was not chosen beforehand. It imposed itself in the very thinking
about reality and could be accepted only in an act of loyalty to
realityY5 It is for this reason that we began our study by de-
veloping the theme of existence and that of intentionality in a
discussion with materialistic and spiritualistic monism, guided by
the strong points of these systems and avoiding their weaknesses.
Only after developing these themes, did we consider the question
of the primitive fact proper to the new, style of thinking called
existential phenomenology.
Expression of the Primitive Fact. A search has been made for
terms which express as unequivocally as possible the fundamental
moment of intelligibility proper to existential phenomenology. The
main purpose of this search was to give expression to the fact that
it is impossible to think subject and world as separate from each
otherY6 Perhaps "encounter" is one of the most suitable terms
for this purpose. For an encounter as encounter is wholly un-
thinkable unless both terms of the encounter are conceived in
relation to each other. An encounter is not an encounter if the
subject does not meet "something." For if he did not encounter
anything, he would meet "nothing," so that there would be no
113"The term 'to exist' thus becomes synonymous with being-to-the-world,

it is ultimately only another way of expressing what Husserl meant by the
intentionality of consciousness." Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought
and Christian Faith, p. 29.
114"Existential phenomenology appears in the history of philosophy as a
manner of philosophizing centered round the notion of existence." Dondeyne,
ibid., p. 25.
115Cf. Dondeyne, work quoted in note 110, p. 23.
116"On sait qu'i1 n'y a point, d'une part, un pour-soi et, d'autre part, un
monde, comme deux touts fermes dont it faudrait ensuite chercher comment its
communiquent." Sartre, L'itre et Ie neallt, p. 368.
encounter. Likewise, the "something" which is encountered would
not be the term of an encounter without the subject which en-
counters. Both terms, therefore, imply each other. On the other
hand, it must be admitted that the use of this term for the purpose
of expressing the reciprocal implication of subject and world suffers
from a serious handicap. This handicap lies in the fact that in
ordinary speech the term is used only for the meeting of one subject
with another subject.n 7 However, as a technical philosophical
term it is not subject to misunderstanding. Moreover, it is already
widely used in this technical sense.
The term "dialogue" is suitable also. Existence is a dialogue
in which both participants contribute their share. If either of them
is thought away, the dialogue itself vanishes. The unity of subject
and the world is a dialectical unity, the unity of a dialogue. This
dialogue is the very source from which all statements of philosophy
draw their origin. The dialogue which is existence cannot be
dissolved in more simple elements without reducing the whole 1\:0
nothing. lIs Expressing this dialogue which is existence is called
dialectics. lID
Still other terms are used to give expression to the primitive fact
of existential phenomenology. Gabriel Marcel prefers to use the term
"participationJJ120 in the twofold sense of having part and taken part
in the world. Merleau-Ponty speaks of "presence."121 This term
also is very clear, for a presence is unthinkable without "something"
to which a subject is present and, reversely, an area of presence is
meaningless without a subject.
An Exaggeration. One may ask whether or not these considera-
tions sufficiently illuminate the primitive fact of existential phenom-
enology. We are convinced that the reply has to be in the negative.
Of course, it is not subject to doubt that all philosophizing, no matter
about what, is always and of necessity concerned with man as exist-
1I7Cf. Remy C. Kwant, "De harmonische uitgroei van een Wijsbegeerte,"
Studia Catholica. vol. 30 (1955), p. 207, note 9.
lISC. Merleau-Ponty, Phtinomenologie de la perception, pp. 467 and 491.
1I9Cf. Remy C. Kwant, ibid., pp. 216-219.
120"Mais alors cette participation qui est rna presence au monde, je ne puis
I'affirmer, ou la retrouver, la restaurer, qu'en resistant a la tentation de la nier,
c'est-a-dire de me poser comme entite separee." Marcel, Du refus d l'invocation,
pp. 34-35.
121"[L'analyse du temps] eclaire les precMentes analyses parce qu'elle fait
apparaitre Ie sujet et I'objet comme deux moments abstraits d'une structure
unique qui est la presence." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception,
p.492.
ence, as intentionality, understood as the unity of reciprocal implica-

tion of subjectivity and world. Even in love and in prayer man is
embodied-subjectivity-in-the~world. If he is not such a subjectivity
then he is not man, not even a loving or praying man. The being of
man is a being-conscious-in-the-world. This consciousness belongs to
his very essence. Hence man can never put it away or justifiably deny
it as long as he is man.
On the other hand, one would be going too far by saying that
man's being, as being of necessity and essentially in the world, may
be qualified as being exclusively in the world, i.e., that there is nothing
else in man than the relation of subjectivity to the world and the
modalities of this relation, and that whatever man is must be con-
ceivable in terms of such a modality if it is to be called reality. To
give an example, if this supposition were true, love and hatred could
no longer be realities. Although it is quite true that the loving or
hating man is related to the world, nevertheless love and hatred cannot
be said to be notll1:ng else than modes according to which a subject is
related to a worldly object. It would be incongruous if through a dog-
matic a priori view the philosopher were to exclude himself from the
possibility of recognizing as reality what everyone calls reality. Of
course, he has the right to investigate critically what is objectively
tenable and what needs to be rejected in whatever assertion or con-
viction presented to him. But he does not have the right to pre-
decide the issue of his critique through a dogmatic a priori view. The
primitive fact of a philosophy is only then not a form of dogmatism
when it is accepted in an act of faithfulness to reality.
There are forms of existential-phenomenological thought in which
the primitive fact is existence or intentionality, conceived exclusively
as the unity of reciprocal implication of subject and world. Such a
form undoubtedly is the atheistic existentialism whose main repre-
sentatives are Sartre and Merleau-Ponty. vVhen Merleau-Ponty says
that man as subject is nothing else than the project of his world,122
nothing else than a possibility to become involved in worldly situa-
tions,123 he arbitrarily locks man up in a very limited and narrow
dimension of existence and arbitrarily closes and limits the horizon
122"Le monde est inseparable du sujet, mais d'un sujet qui n'est rien que
project du monde, et Ie sujet est inseparable du monde, mais d'un monde qu'i1
projette lui-meme." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 491.
123"Si Ie sujet est en situation, si meme il n'est rien d'autre qu'une possibilite
de situations, c'est qu'i1 ne realise son ipseite qu'en etant effectivement corps
en entrant par ce corps dans Ie monde." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 467.
of existence to worldly things. Evidently, such an a priori view at

once gives an atheistic character to a philosophy.
For, what sense could it still make to say that man is orientation
to God when one has first decreed that being-man is exhausted by
being-in-the-world and that the horizon of existence is exclusively
worldly? The affirmation of God could not be anything else than the
affirmation of a deified, absolutized worldly form or of a "world-
bound," degraded Transcendence. Such an affirmation of God can
never be what it is supposed to be-namely, the affirmation of the
Transcendent. It is intentionally that we express ourselves here with
all due precaution. For in this question also it is true that the philoso-
pher has the right and the duty to investigate critically what is tenable
in no matter what conviction. He has the duty critically to see what
has to be retained in such a generally admitted affirmation as that
there is a God. He does not have the right, prior to all critique, to
decide the issue of his investigation by means of a dogmatic a priori
View.
Summary. For us the primitive fact of existential phenomenology
is existence or intentionality, conceived as openness of the subject to
all that is not the subject itself. At least the material things, the
world, belong to that which is not the subject itself. The unity of
reciprocal implication of subject and world is an essential moment of
existence. However, there is nothing which gives us the right to
limit the openness of the subject to the world. Such terms as en-
counter, dialogue, participation, and presence may be retained, for
they are adaptable enough to be used in a broadened sense if sub-
sequent philosophical thinking should make it necessary.
d. Existence as Be;ng-"at"-the-World,. Labor

Meaning of "At." In giving expression to human existence we
have emphasized being-in-the-world to such an extent that the im-
pression may have been created that existence is wholly static an?
devoid of any dynamism. It is time to correct this erroneous impres-
sio']. To exist does not mean only to be in-the-world but also to be
"at" -the-world. 124 The particle "at" is used here in an unusual way
to express a kind of dynamism whose character, despite its unmis-
takeable presence, cannot be readily indicated. 125 The meaning of
124Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 496-520.
125The proper nature of the dynamism pertaining to human existence will
be considered in Chapter IV.
this preposition approaches that of ordinary language in the expres-

sion "He is at it again."126
This sentence is used to convey the idea that the person in ques-
tion is doing something. Accordingly, by saying that man's existence
is being-"at" -the-world we want to indicate that he is not wholly
immobilized in his world.
Self-Project. When man reflects upon his existence, it is undoubt-
edly true that he finds himself "already" involved in a definite body
and in a definite world. He is never sheer indetermination. He finds
himself as an American, a Hebrew, as intelligent, a cripple, a laborer,
rich, fat, etc. All this constitutes what he "already" is, or to say it
differently, his past. Sometimes the term "determination" is used to
describe this condition, for there is question here of that which is
meant by all kinds of "determinations." The most current terms, how-
ever, are situation and facticity.
I t should be clear that the facticity of existence means a kind of
immobilization, as is clearly manifested by such determinatic(:) as
cripple and fat. Facticity implies that certain potentialities are elimi-
nated. For instance, a person with an LQ. of 80 cannot become Sec-
retary of the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. On
the other hand, it is undeniable also that there is no facti city without
potentialities. If one is a lawyer, stupid, or ill, and these determina-
tions do not include any possibilities, then he is not really a lawyer,
really stupid, really ill. One who is ill has always at least the pos-
sibility of accepting or cursing his illness, of taking it as a penance,
or of tyrannizing his surroundings. Thus every determination that is
"already" present in a human existence implies also something that
is "not yet" there; every past implies a future. Existence is opposi-
tional unity, unity in opposition of what de facto is and what can be.
As such, man's existence is called project or plan. 127
I t is very important to realize that both facticity and possibility
are related to the subject which man is. My facti city is mine and my
possibilities are mine. Man is not de facto fat in the same way as a
dead elephant is fat. The potentialities of a fat man are not those of
a dead elephant to which "something can happen."128 This idea may
be expressed succinctly by saying that the project which man is is a
self-project.
126Cf. Dondeyne, "Beschouwingen bij het atheistisch existentialisme,"
Tijdschrift voor Philosophie, vol. 13 (1951), p. 17, note 14.
127Cf. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 145.
128Heidegger, ibid., p. 143.
Self-Realization. Man is also the execution of the self-project

which he is. This execution is not something accidentaI,129 for every
being "does" something. A thing that does not work and a man, on
the proper level of his being-man, who does not "act" are not really
a thing and a man. To be a being is to be active. As far as man is
concerned, this being active means that the subject transcending his
facticity, i.e., what his existence is "already," stretches out toward
the fulfilment of one of the modes in which he can be, one of the
modes pertaining to what he is "not yet," and himself brings this
mode to realization. What exactly is meant here by himself is a ques-
tion which will continue to occupy our attention for a long time. At
present we limit ourselves to the observation that man himself acts
because and insofar as his action is not the "effect" of a determining
influence of his facticity. Man's action, in the fullest sense of the
term, is the creation of a new meaning. It implies, moreover, that he
knows what he is doing. The "light" which is his subjectivity is at
the same time an original vision of his situation. For a man to act
himself is to act rationally. The idea of responsibility is immediately
connected with it. For man's action is not a process, but a "reply"
to being addressed by his situation, and he has a "word" to fix the
objective meaning of this situation. Things do not have "words," they
do not give a "reply," and they are not "responsible" (Buytendijk).
Care should be taken not to lose sight of the fact that at present
we are exclusively concerned with man on the proper level of his
being-man, with man as acting himself or personally. We do not
wish to imply that man always or of necessity finds himself on this
level. The contrary is true. Very often it is almost not man himself
or man personally who acts. The subject of human actions is not
always the self, the I in person, but rather the impersonal ((they."130
The I can let itself drift, it can think what "they" think and do what
"they" do. The impersonal "they" can deprive man of being-
himself.l3l It hates originality and is addicted to "as everybody knows
or does" and to "being one of the crowd."133 Such a man makes us
think of an automaton. His potentialities are less and less his own,
and their execution becomes more and more a process. The imper-
129"Das 'Wesen' des Daseins Iiegt in seiner Existenz." Heidegger, ibid.,
p.42.
130"Zunachst ist das Dasein Man und someist bleibt es so." Heidegger,
ibid., p. 129.
131Cf. Heidegger, ibid., p. 126.
132/bid., p. 170.
133/bid., p. 127.
sonal "they" can account for everything, for there really is not anyone
who has to render an account. 134
We do not want to follow Heidegger in disparaging the positive
value of the impersonal "they," of the almost impersonal, almost auto-
matic, and almost process-like way of acting. It would be simply
impossible for man to live if in a way he could not rely on this way
of acting, if he had exclusively to exist personally in the almost over-
wrought sense which Heidegger seems to consider its only acceptable
meaning. However, the impersonal "they" can mean the doom of
the I with all its disastrous consequences. It is imperative that this
distinction of "they" and HI" be clearly perceived, for in subsequent
pages we will have to make use of it.
Labor as a Mode of Being-Uat" -the-vVorld. Man's action means
his self-realization and the humanization of his world. These two go
hand in hand, for man is essentially the unity of reciprocal implication
of subject and world. Labor is a mode of being-Hat" -the world. Not
all actions are labor in the proper sense. 135 Walking, courting,
mountain climbing, holding a party, enjoying beauty, loving, praying,
etc. are human actions but not labor. Moreover, we meaningfully
distinguish between time of labor and free time. Free time is pre-
cisely the time in which we do not labor.136
What is labor? \Ve cannot be satisfied with the inadequate de-
scription stating that labor is the mode of being "at" the world in
which man transforms nature as it is given in order to take from it
what he needs to provide for his physical being. Man does not
merely labor to live, to remain alive by eating and drinking. Strictly
speaking, not even of eating and drinking may we say that we do
these actions exclusively in order to live. What man wants is to
live, and eating and drinking themselves are modes of living. 137 Man
does not eat and drink in the same way as an engine is given a new
134"Es kann am leichtensten alles verantworten, wei! keiner ist, der fUr
etwas einzustehen braucht." Heidegger, ibid., p. 127.
135Jean Lacroix does not admit this. "Le travail ... est liberte en action,
c'est-it-dire effort pour actualiser des valeurs dans et par des mouvements,
information nerveuse selon une norme, emission d' esprit, pour reprendre la
belle figure de Proudhon, dans la nature et par la mediation de l'organisme."
Personne et amour, Paris, 1955, p. 91.
136ef. F. Tellegen, Zelfwording en zel/verlies in de arbeid, Delft, 1958, p. 6.
137"Nous respirons pour respirer, mangeons et buvons pour manger et pour
boire, nous nous abritons pour nous abriter, nous etudions pour satisfaire it
notre curiosite, nous nous promenons pour nous promener. Tout cela n'est
pas pour vivre. Tout cela est vivre." E. Levinas, De l'existence a l'existant
Paris, n. d., p. 67. '
supply of gasoline. There is a big difference between meals and taking

pills. By identifying drinking and eating with filling the gas tank
one disregards what is specifically human in these actions.13s
Something similar applies to labor. Man wants to live and for
this reason he also wants to labor. To work is for man a way of
realizing himself, of becoming man. 139 We do not mean that man
does not labor to provide for his physical needs, for evidentl man
does work also for this purpose. Perhaps it is even for this reason
that a certain mode of being "at" the world is called labor and not
something else. l4O On the other hand, it is undeniable that the self-
realization, the becoming-man, which is attained in labor does not
mean very much if man does not intend anything else than providing
for his physical needs. In and through this work man realizes him-
self, but only as laborer, much in the same way as through eating
and drinking he realizes himself but only as eater and drinker. True,
his work always implies a certain liberation from the bond and
physical pressure of nature. Nature loses something of its inhospitality
and menace through labor. The almost instinctive character of the
primitive search for food is somewhat interrupted by the rationality
with which man turns to the earth in this labor. l41
However, with respect to what we would like to call "being inte-
grally man," this mode of becoming man has very little meaning. Labor
becomes human in the sense of becoming meaningful for being in-
tegrally human, only from the moment that man strives to wrest a
surplus from nature. "Labor is essentially productive. The process
of labor consumes the vital forces of one's own body to transform
nature in order to restore these vital forces and to build up a system
of forces available for higher purposes. The essential point is that
man by virtue of his spirit wrests a surplus from nature."l42 In this
way culture and civilization in the full sense become real human
possibilities. It is undeniably true that the culture and civilization
of the western world have been made possible by the fact that western
man went to work.
The demand, however, that work be really productive begins to
be fulfiller!. to some extent, only when man begins to divide labor.
Each assumes a special task in order to be capable of executing it more
13SC. Levinas, ibid., p. 68.
139Cf. Tellcgen, ap. cit., p. 9.
14oCf. Tellegen, ap. cit., p. 3.
14IC. Lacroix, ap. cit., p. 87.
142P. de Bruin, "De structuur van het economisch arbeidsbegrip," Tijd-
schrift vaar Philasaphie, vol. 4 (1942), p. 128.
fruitfully. He fulfils this task for himself and for others; he lets
others profit from his labor and, in his turn, profits from the work
of the others. Thus labor assumes the character of a service. In the
perspective of a national economy labor and services are spoken of as
economic factors.143 Labor becomes more productive because there
is a greater surplus; and precisely for this reason labor becomes more
human, more meaningful for being integrally man, for culture and
civilization.
As soon as labor in the more restricted sense makes it possible
to attain a more integral mode of being human through higher cultural
activities, the meaning of the terms "labor" or "work" is extended and
applied to these higher cultural activities themselves-namely, when
they are performed in the service of others and compensated by goods
or money in order to supply the laborer in question with the necessary
means for his own physical needs and with a certain surplus for
activities which lie outside the realm of his assigned labor. Thus,
contrary to what used to be the case in former times, those who
devote themselves to science and art may now be said to perform
labor.144
Nevertheless, there remains a difference between work or labor
and occupation. "Labor in the proper sense is only that occupation
which produces goods or services and thus contributes to maintaining
the life of society, while any action in which man puts his spiritual
or bodily forces to work is an occupation. The labor of one may, of
course, be directly or indirectly the occupation of the other. In this
matter the boundaries are very uncertain, for there are many activities
which are at the same time labor and occupation and, on the other
hand, there are activities which have many characteristics of labor
but few of occupation, and vice versa. Often an activity passes from
one category to the other depending on who does it. The gardener
who raises vegetables for the market certainly performs labor; the
factory worker who farms his half-acre in his spare time works and
plays at the same time, certainly nowadays when he does not strictly
need his homegrown vegetables; the retired gentleman-farmer whose
enthusiastic hobby is king-sized watermelons can hardly be said to
labor."145
143Cf. de Bruin, ibid., pp. 130-131.

144Cf. Remy C. Kwant, Ret Arbeidsbestel, Utrecht, 1957, pp. 29-47;
Philosophy of Labor, Pittsburgh, 1960, pp. 29-58.
140De Bruin, op. cit., p. 131.
Man, the Metaphysical Being 4S
As we have seen previously, one of the aspects of man's action,

by virtue of which this action can be called human, consists in its
rationality. It was Descartes whose vision foresaw what man would be
capable of if he allowed his labor to be guided by the rationality which
manifests itself in the physical sciences. Descartes foresaw that man
could become master and possessor of nature if for the prescientific
light of reason with which labor had hitherto been performed he would
substitute the rationality of the sciences of nature. l46 His dream has
become reality in modern technology-labor has become technical
work.
Labor and Being-Integrally-Man. It is from the beginning of
technocracy that dates the exaltation of labor as the mode of man's
self-realization and humanization, as the condition for the rise of
human relations and true peace. A labor civilization arosel4 7 as well
as a philosophy whose primitive fact may be said to be labor. The
French socialists Saint-Simon and Proudhon laid the foundation for
the philosophy of labor of Marx.l4S To be genuinely human, man
was supposed to be a laborer.
This development should not cause any surprise. As we have seen,
labor can be called human, in the sense of meaningful for being-
integrally-man, only from the moment when man through his work
wrests a surplus from labor which makes cultural activities in the full
sense possible. Evidently, it was only through the introduction of
technology that this condition was fully satisfied. Moreover, through
labor man enters not only into relation with nature but also with
his fellow men. Wherever man really begins to labor he has constantly
more and more to do with fellow human beings.149 It was the merit
of Saint-Simon and Proudhon to have realized this meaning of labor
when, despising politicians, lawyers, contemplatives, and philosophers,
they described labor as formative of society. ISO Since the introduction
of technology this character of labor has become visible to all. Labor
means the humanization of man in the intersubjective sense.
A philosophy does not fail because of what unfolds of reality,
but because of what it eliminates from reality, because of its "detotali-
146C( Remy C. Kwant, "Arbeid en Leven," Arbeid, V crslag van de 22ste
alg. verg. 'u. d. Ver. v. Thomistische Wijsbcgcerte, Utrecht, 1958, pp. 39-44.
147C. Lacroix, op. cit., pp. 111-112.
148C. Lacroix, op. cit., pp. 98-104.
HO"Le travail n'est pas seulement rapport de I'homme a 1a nature, mais
relation de I'homme a I'humanite . . . unc societe ne s'edifie qu'autour d'une
oeuvre ree1le et a que1que degre commune." Lacroix, op. cit., p. 83.
I50"La paix pour et par la production, c'est-a-dire pour et par Ie travail,
telle est done l'idee centrale du saint-simonis me." Lacroix, op. cit., p. 105.
zation of reality" (Le Senne). It is here also that we must seek the
failure of Marxism which unqualifiedly defines man as a laborer. It
is not the emphasis on the humanization of man .through labor nor
the accent on the formative value of labor for society which constitute
the mistake of Marxism, but the elimination of being-human from this
"humanization" and from this form of society. Labor is human because
of its value for being integrally man. If the integral man is defined
as a laborer, how could labor still be called inhuman? The definition
which Marxism gives of man eliminates precisely that which makes
man's labor human. The thesis that labor means unqualifiedly becom-
ing human is valid only in the supposition that to be man is identical
with to be a laborer. This supposition, however, is false, for labor
itself can be inhuman. Labor is inhuman when in humanizing nature
man is reduced to mere nature. 151 This happens when labor has no
longer any meaning for being-integrally-human. As soon, however, as
it is realized that labor is human because of its meaning for being-
integrally-man, man can no longer be defined as laborer, and labor
can no longer be proclaimed to be unqualifiedly the humanization of
man.
The same must be said with respect to the formative value of labor
for society. Of course, it is true that labor brings very many human
beings into contact with very many other human beings, that man
becomes man in an intersubjective sense--but is such a network of
relations necessarily human? Is its definition necessarily the definition
of brotherhood and peace ?152 To be truly man certainly is to be a
brother to fellow men, but since to be a laborer is not the same as
to be truly man, the intersubjectivity of being a laborer may not be
defined as brotherhood and peace.
All this remains rather abstract. We have to look at society around
us to see the concrete meaning of the dictatorship of technology, as
it reigns in Marxism and Americanism. 153 The realization of its
meaning drove Gabriel Marcel to pronounce a sharp condemnation
of technocracy.
151"Le travail est bon en tant qu'il est une humanisation de la nature,
mais il comporte aussi un risque perpetuel de naturalisation de l'homme."
Lacroix, op. cit., p. 100.
152"Dans notre monde de plus en plus collectivise, Ie mot avec perd son
sens et une communaute reelle apparait de moins en moins concevable." R. Trois-
fontaines, De l'existence Ii tetre, la philosophie' de Galn'iel Marcel, vol. I,
Louvain-Paris 1953, p. 66.
153Cf. Marcel, Les hommes contre I'hu1I1uin, Paris, 1951, p. 198.
3. TECHNOCRACY AND PHILOSOPHY
No one can arraign technology without making himself ridiculous.

It is more than evident that most monuments of genuine human
greatness, no matter what their nature, are unthinkable without tech-
nology. It would be absurd to expeot any benefit from the closing
of factories and 1aboratories. 154 Man did not acquire any real power
over nature before he began to place his labor under the guidance of
the physical sciences and used the means made possible by these
sciences, i.e., he did not acquire any real power over nature before
the use of techno10gy.155 To abolish technology would mean anarchy,
barbarism, hunger, disease and death-briefly, the loss of whatever
man has gained in human:ity through a ruthless struggle with
nature. 156
The rationality which man uses in his technica11abor is a genuine
human good, one of the most eloquent possibilities and expressions
of human genius. The power which man acquired over the cosmos
by means of his technology means a confirmation of his superiority
over mere things. Technology is a good which can never be sufficiently
appreciated. 157
a. Technocracy
Absolutism of Technology. Man has the duty to realize whither
he goes when the spirit of technology begins to predominate to such
an extent that technology is made the absolute. The fact that this
spirit predominates so much should not cause surprise, for no form
of rationality has shown itself so convincingly fruitful in its pursuit
as the rationality which expresses itself in the physical sciences. This
fruitfulness, moreover, finds its confirmation in the real power which
man has gained over nature. What is more tempting for man than
to surrender himself to a rationality supported by such promising
perspectives and what is more natural than that he should overestimate
the golden future to flow from this surrender? Is it not to be expected
that the physical sciences will solve all questions and that technology
will satisfy all needs?
154Cf. Marcel, ibid., pp. 63-64.

155"Enfin, et c'est peut-etre Ie point capital, nous nous rendons de mieux
en mieux compte que to ute puissance au sens humain du terme implique la
mise en oeuvre d'une technique." Marcel, Etre et avair, p. 272.
156Cf. Marcel, Les hammes contre l'humain, p. 50.
157Cf. Marcel, ap. cit., p. 64.
Man has thought so, but he was mistaken. The physical sciences
are good and technology is a benefit to mankind, but the absolutism
of the spirit of technology gave rise to what nowadays is often called
technocracy. As early as 1933 Marcel pronounced his terrible
indictment of this technocracy. Practically all philosophers who still
had any awareness of man's true destiny later signfied their adherence
to Marcel's indictment.
In a technocratic society the spirit of technology has become
absolute. In what does this spirit consist and what is this absolutism?
Scientism. Insofar as the spirit of technology pertains to the
order of knowledge, it is determined by the rationality of the sciences
of nature. If this rationality is proposed as the absolute norm, it
degenerates into scientism. 159 The physical sciences attained great
fruitfulness as soon as man decided to question nature in a very
definite way-namely, by means of mathematical categories, i.e., in
terms of quantity. The manner in which the physical sciences question
nature means a determined approach to the world; in reply to a
question the world shows a definite objective aspect-namely, that
of quantity. It reveals itself insofar as it is calculable, measurable.
Previously it was pointed out that to every standpoint of intentional
consciousness there corresponds a determined aspect of the world.
The present case of the physical sciences shows very clearly the
correctness of this assertion.
It is easy to see to what the absolute conception of the standpoint
of the physical sciences, which in its non-absolute form is wholly
legitimate, must lead. The reality of anything in the world which
cannot be calculated or measured, which cannot become a "problem"
of the physical sciences,160 is simply denied. What cannot be meas-
ured or calculated is meaningless and simply is not so far as the
physicist is concerned. To revert to the above-quoted example, for
one who is imbued with the absolutistic view of scientism, water is
exclusively H 2 0, and all other meanings of water are relegated to
the domain of romanticism, mystification, and vain pretense. For
the technocrat the world is energy (Heidegger).
158"Positions et approches concretes du mystere ontologique," Le monde

casse, Paris, 1933, pp. 255-301. New edition with an excellent introduction by
Marcel de Corte, Louvain-Paris, 1949. The original pagination has been in-
dicated in this edition.
159Cf. Marcel, Homo Viator, Paris, 1944, p. 195.
160Cf. Marcel, work quoted in footnote 158, pp. 258-272.
Evidently in such a view the humanity of the world, its original

and affective meaning is denied. But when I go for a walk and
want to rest for a while in nature, the world is not available energy.
\Vhen on a hot day I go bathing, I do not need to ask the chemist
what the "cooling waves" are; he would not be able to tell me anyhow.
Affective Cansequences. The spirit of technology, however, does
not pertain only to the order of knowledge. It is also of an affective
character, and is determined by the desire to dominate, to "have."
Of course, once more, there should be no question of minimizing the
positive value implied by the realization of this desire. However,
what happens when this desire is made absolute? The progressive
possibility of dominating the world strangles the power to wonder
over the world. 161 According as technology progresses, man finds
himself and his own creations more and more and forgets that the
world was "already" there before he transformed it into energy. Ac-
cording as he "possesses" the world more and more through his
technology, he becomes less and less capable of gratitude. Gratitude
presupposes the reception of a gift,l62 but the world is no longer a
gift, for man conquers it. In this way he is led to pride.
The technologist deals not only with nature but also enters into
relation with human beings. Insofar as he has surrendered to sci en-
tism, men are not subjects for him. To be a subject is not reducible
to a category of quantity. For the scientist human beings are bodies,
or rather, bodily "forces," and "functions" in systems of tools and
machines. 103 As such they are measurable and subject to calculations.
The affective relationship of the technocrat to man is likewise de-
stroyed. Technocracy does not know a "neighbor" ;164 the technocrat
exploits man even if he pays a "just" wage.
Let us repeat once more: we are not speaking here of technology
but of the technocratic mentality. Until the present the reality of
this mentality has nearly always been described from the viewpoint
of the existence of the technocrat. We must therefore add a very
IGle. ~1arcel, Homo Viator, p. 157.

lr.~"Renclre grace, ccla suppose un don re<;u." (Troisfontaincs).
163''Lc monde du problematique est en meme temps celuj du desir et de la
(rainte, qui ne se laissent point separer I'un de I'autre; c'eSt aussi sans doute
Ie muncie fOIlCtionIlalise au fOllctionnalisable que j 'ai defini au debut de cette
meditation, c'est enfin celui au regnent les techniques queUes qu'eUes soient."
~larcel, work quoted in footnote 158, p. 28.
I G4"Mais comment ne pas voir que la technocratie consiste justement avant
tout it iairc abstraction du prochain et, en fin de compte, a Ie nier?" Marcel,
Lrs hOJlll/1es (Olltre /'I11mzain, p. 200.
so Existential Phenomenology
brief description of this same reality from the standpoint of the exist-
ence of those who have become victims of technocracy.
The Victims of Technocracy. Let us start with the remark that
most of the victims are not aware of their condition, at least not
through an intellectual, reflective return to their own existence. Such
a reflection would be impossible for them anyhow. Life in a tech-
nocratic society, like any way of life, is not transparent to itself but
rather a semi-darkness. Man realizes what he is and does, but at the
same time it is true that he does not realize it. Only the most pene-
trating minds are capable of describing their own time, provided that
this time has already assumed very striking features.
However, it is not only in an explicit intellectual reflection that
the reality of life reveals itself. There is also the revealing value of
what Heidegger calls Befindlichkeit, i.e., the "mood" of existence,165
although at present we must abstract from the exclusively negative
interpretation which he has given to it.
As we have seen previously, the beirig-in-the-world which defines
man may not be conceived in the same fashion as a cigar is in a box.
Such a conception would be a disavowal of the subjectivity of human
existence. Man finds himself in the world. Being-man is being-
conscious-in-the-world, it is "Welterfahrendes Leben" (Husserl), i.e.,
a certain affirmation, albeit not in a judgment, of the world. This
finding of oneself, however, is not of a purely cognitive nature, but
has also an affective meaning. The use of the term "affective" should
not make us think here of the definition of affections according to
the classical psychology of consciousness, in which the affections were
conceived as a kind of commentary "inside" consciousness upon an
event occurring "outside" consciousness. The affective meaning of
the involvement of subjectivity in the world co-defines the being of
man as being-conscious-in-the-world. We give expression to this
meaning when we call the world our home, in which we long for a
better fatherland.
The way in which we have expressed ourselves here indicates
that the "mood" of existence includes a positive and a negative mo-
ment. On the one hand, it is certainly an assent to the world-though
not in the form of a value judgment-but this assent is not global
and definitive; on the other hand, it is also a certain rejection of the
world. Both moments define what man as existence essentially is.
IG5Cf. Heidegger. Sein und Zeit, pp. 139-140.
Finding-oneself as affective tone of existing, as "mood" of exist-

ence,166 is equally immediately a finding oneself to be well and a
finding oneself not to be well. It reveals what the world and being-
in-the-world are worth and not worth.
It is only on the level of the "mood" of existence that the victims
of technocracy realize their condition. In our technocratic society
finding oneself not to be well has fully overpowered finding oneself
to be well. As Marcel expresses it, our society is characterized by
a "choking sadness." Man does not feel at home in a technocratic
society, because in it integrally being human, authentically being a
person, is mutilated. The world raised by technology in which man
has to live is wholly a world of mathematical calculation; it is empty
and sounds hollow. 167 In the world of technology there is practically
no longer any difference between day and night, nor are there any
seasons left. The rhythm of life becomes more and more the rhythm
of a machine. 16s Within it man is a "function," and his fellow-man
is "another function"; being-together becomes a "coordinate func-
tion," calculated by the psycho-technician. Technocracy has deprived
man of his selfhood. Nowhere so much as here is he reduced to
anonymity.
In practice, however, it is not possible for man to behave as an
anonymity on one level of existence and as a person on a different
level. The fact that the masses living in a technocratic society do not
know what to do with their leisure shows this. These masses have
lost their integral selfness to such an extent that they are willing
slaves of any kind of propaganda or advertising. Goebbels, the
Minister of Propaganda under the Hitler regime, saw this very
clearly, and others realize it just as well as he did. 169 Insofar as man
profits from technocracy, he has likewise lost his selfhood, for he has
placed the focal point of his existence and the basis of his human
balance in television sets and motorcars. 170 He loses himself in the
products of his own technique. From the religious viewpoint the
victims of technocracy belong to the category of those who "apostatize
without noise." The los~ of personality is very widespread.
"Choking sadness!" No wonder that many are tempted to despair
as soon as their blindness disappears.171 They are faced with nihilism,
166Cf. C. A. van Peursen, Rislwnte filosofie, Amsterdam, 1955, pp. 23-26.
167Cf. Marcel, work quoted in footnote 158, p. 49.
168Cf. Marcel, Homo viator, pp. 112-113.
169Cf. Marcel, work quoted in footnote 164, p. 43.
17oCf. Marcel, ibid., pp. 46-47.
171Cf. Marcel, ibid., p. 72.
S2 Existential Phenomenology
although it is not technology which is nihilistic but technocracy.172

Marcel's expression clearly paints the picture of the situation en-
tangling modern man. Technocracy means the nihilation of the in-
tegral human personality. Characterizing the nihilism of our time
in a dialogue with Ernst Junger, Heidegger calls it "forgetfulness of
being" (Seinsvergessenheit) .173 Technology is a good, but man has
not succeeded in mastering his own mastership of it.174 Clearly, to
master this mastership is not a question of technology. It pertains, at
least in part, to philosophy.175
h. The Metaphysical Question

The Insufficiency of Technocracy. How is it possible that it
belongs to philosophy to make man master his mastership if it is
true that in a technocratic mentality there is no room for philosophical
endeavors? Must not a technocratic society by virtue of its internal
purpose tend to eliminate everything which does not want to serve
its organization? Undoubtedly, this "everything" includes philosophy,
for the philosopher does not contribute anything to the "usefulness"
at which technology aims and which technocracy adores. 176
If the internal purpose of a technocratic mentality would be
fully realized, philosophy would be doomed to death. However, as is
shown by the above-mentioned "mood" of existence, it is a fact that
our technology-struck society has become unbearable to itself. Al-
though the protest against it is usually still merely of an affective
nature, it is sufficient to prevent the system from becoming closed
upon itself. The resulting breach in the system leaves enough room
for an authentic philosophical question, and this question may be the
beginning of genuine philosophical thought.
Camus bears witness to this possibility in the following words:
"It may happen that all of a sudden the whole scenery collapses. To
get up, take the street car, work for four hours in the office or the
172"C'est un fait a la fois mysterieux et profondement significatif que,

dans Ie monde qui est aujourd'hui Ie notre, Ie nihilisme tend a prendre un
caractere technocratique et que la technocratie est inevitablement nihiliste."
Marcel, ibid., p. 197.
173Heidegger, Zur Seinsfrage, Frankfurt a. M., 1956, p. 41.
174"Livre a la technique, ai-je dit: il faut entendre par Ia, de plus en
plus incapable de la maitriser ou encore de maitriser sa propre maitrise."
Marcel, work quoted in footnote 158, p. 282.
175Cf. Marcel, Les hommes contre l'humain, p. 99.
176Cf. G. Verbeke, "Apologia philosophiae," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie,
vol. 19 (1957), p. 598.
Man, the M ctaphysical Being 53
factory, eat, take the streetcar, work for four hours, eat, sleep, all the
time in the same rhythm on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thurs-
day, Friday, and Saturday-usually man has no trouble in following
this routine. But one day the question 'why' arises. Everything
'begins' in this boredom, once it is colored by wonder. We say
'begins,' for this word is important. Boredom lies at the end of the
activities of a mechanized life, but at the same time it puts conscious-
ness into motion. It arouses consciousness and incites it to continue.
The result is either an unconscious return to the chain or being
definitely awakened."177 A similar thought is expressed by Heidegger:
"Always on the point of self-destruction, this Europe now lies between
the giant pincers constituted, on one side, by Russia and, on the
other, by America. From the metaphysical viewpoint Russia and
America are both the same-the same disconsolate raging of un-
chained technology and of the endless organization of men, reduced
to anonymity. When the most remote corner of the earth has been
conquered and economically exploited, when any event whatsoever has
become accessible wherever, whenever, and as quickly as desired,
when you 'can be there' at the same time for a murder attempt on
a king in France and a symphony concert in Tokio, when time is
reduced to speed, immediateness, and simultaneity, when time as
history has disappeared from the existence of all peoples, when a
boxer has become the great hero of a people, when the millions turn-
ing up for monster-rallies are a triumph-even then the question
'whither? whereto? and what next?' looms as a specter over all these
chimeras."178
The Mystery of Being. As long as man is still somewhat human,
as long as he is capable of being bored, he will not be able to prevent
this "why" from coming up. And when it arises, everything begins,
everything begins to be, i.e., it ceases to be a matter of course and
begins to be mysterious. To be, i.e., that something is, becomes a
mystery. f,Vhy is there something and why is there not rather nothing!
For, nothing is so much more simple (Leibniz).
Within this questioning everything begins to be mysterious. As
soon as man asks about the "why" of being, he ipso facto includes in
his question all that is and was and will be. We do not mean that he,
as it were, marches along the line of beings, for with respect to the
177 Le my the de Sisyphe, Paris, 1942, p. 27. Quoted by Verbeke, op. cit.,
p. 579.
178Einfuhrung in die Metaphysik, pp. 28-29.
question of being it does not matter what kind of being any being is. lTD
A being is not a being because it is a tree, a cloud bank, a child, or
a dog. If one were to assert that a being is a being because it is a tree,
he could no longer affirm that a child is a being, because a child is not
a tree. The question of being leaves the particular nature of all par-
ticular beings out of consideration and wants to ask only about their
being beings. 18o This implies that the questioner himself and his ques-
tion likewise are contained in the question, for the questioner is not
nothing but being.l 81 Thus it is excluded that the questioning would
be a "disinterested" questioning, for the reply is of "interest" to the
questioner because it decides about the being which he is. Such a
question is bound to escape the technocrat. In his world being never
occurs as being. Being appears to him only as raw material, as energy,
etc., and he himself appears to himself only as their calculator and
master. This is what is of "interest" to him.182 But the question con-
cerning being does not aim at a particular being as such.
Metaphysics. The preceding paragraphs indicate what is tradition-

ally called "the metaphysical question." The science which undertakes
such questioning critically and systematically is called "metaphysics"-
a name derived from the place assigned to it in the collection of
Aristotle's works by Andronicus of Rhodes, who located it after the
works about physics.
We have already indicated how the metaphysical questions and
metaphysics itself must be described. It may not be amiss, however,
to return to this point more explicitly because, as far as the use of the
term "metaphysics" is concerned, there is if not much misunder-
standing at least much confusion of terminology. Sometimes "meta-
physics" is used as synonymous with "philosophy."18s In this way
U9Cf. Heidegger, ibid., p. 2.

180"Bei der Frage halten wir uns jedes besondere und einzelne Seiende als
gerade dieses und ienes vollig fern." Heidegger, ibid., p. 3..
181"Indem [das Fragen] dem Seienden im Ganzen gegenubertritt, sich
ihm aber doch nicht entwindet, schlagt das was in dieser Frage gefragt wird,
auf das Fragen selbst zuruck." Heidegger, ibid., p. 4.
18S"Le domaine de la metaphysique, si on Ie distingue de celui de la
theodicee (qui, en fait, en constitute la partie principale) est done celui des
absolus relatifs dont nous parlions plus haut et que nous avons pu, en discutant
l'hypothese positiviste, ramener a trois; la pensee, l' etre et la valeur, qui font
I'objet respectivement de trois traites, appeJes psychologie, ontologie et axio-
logie." R. Jolivet, L'homme metaphysiqlle, Paris 1958, p. 74.
Man, the Metaphysical Being ss
there is question of a metaphysics of society, values, poetry, knowledge,
nature, man, etc. In general, the view amounts to this: alongside
the knowledge given by the various positive sciences, there is room
for the knowledge of more general structures, for philosophical knowl-
edge. To give an example, the physicist questions nature from a
determined viewpoint; he seeks laws of nature that are empirically
verifiable. He presupposes, however, a certain knowledge of the things
of nature as such, which he does not make the object of his inquiry.
The thematization of this knowledge is the task of the philosophy of
nature. But the philosophy of nature nowadays is also called meta-
physics of nature. Thus we are faced with the curious situation that
the scienc~ which in the orderly arrangement of Andronicus of Rhodes
is called "physics" at present is known also as metaphysics (or special
metaphysics) ,184 although metaphysics received its name precisely
because of its location after philosophical physics.
We do not wish to follow this strange terminology and reserve
the term "metaphysics" for the science which considers being as being.
The question of being as being began with Parmenides, was brought
to a climax by Aristotle185 and Thomas Aquinas,186 and in our days
was taken up again in its original sense by Heidegger. 187
Being as Being. The question about the meaning of being as being

is concerned with being insofar as it agrees with any being whatsoever.
Thus the metaphysical question is a query with a very special intention,
a query in which the subject assumes a very definite standpoint. As
a consequence, reality is structured in a very special way. When I
consider a watch as a watch, my consideration extends to the watch
not as made of gold or silver, as big or small, but as in agreement with
any watch whatsoever. It does not matter whether the watch is made
of gold or silver, big or small, for these determinations do not concern
the watch as watch, i.e., as agreeing with any watch whatsoever.
184Cf. Louis de Raeymaeker, The Philosophy of Being, St. Louis, 1954, p. 4.

185"There is a science which investigates being as being and the attributes
which belong to this in virtue of its own nature." Metaphysics bk. III, ch. 1.
186"Dicit aut em [Philosophus] 'secundum quod est ens', quia scientiae aliae,
quae sunt de entibus particularibus, considerant quid em de ente, cum omnia
subjecta scientiarum sint entia, non tamen considerant ens secundum quod
ens, sed secundum quod est huj smodi ens, scilicet vel numerus, vel linea, vel
ignis, vel aliquid hujusmodi." S. Thomas, In Metaph. IV, lect. 1 (Cathala, 530).
187"Durch dieses Fragen wird das Seiende im Ganzen allererst als ein
solches und in der Richtung auf seinem moglichen Grund eroffnet und im
Fragen offengehalten." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 3.
S6 Existential Phenomenology
In principle, therefore, every watch falls under my consideration.

Or, as de facto amounting to the same, by means of the standpoint of
the knowing and questioning subject which I am, an entire region of
reality, a whole "landscape," is, as it were, drawn into the foreground
of the general area in which my existence is present, and other mean-
ings are relegated to the background. Within this selected region of
reality the individual realities are in agreement. Asking about the
meaning of a watch as a watch, I ask about the watch as pertaining to
a certain "landscape," a determined region of reality.
If, instead of asking about the watch as a watch, I ask about it
as a cultural product, my field of presence undergoes a change of
structure. There is no longer question of the watch as a watch, but
about the watch as in agreement with no matter which. other cultural
product.. The region of reality selected by the special viewpoint of
my question contains also ash trays, bicycles, alarm clocks, wigs, etc.
It is accidental to a cultural product to be a watch, for an ash tray
is also a cultural product but is not a watch. The special determina-
tions of the various .cultural produots withdraw into the background
of my field of presence as soon as I ask a question about a cultural
product as such.
In ordinary life man does not explicitly pay attention to all this,
but he presupposes it when he takes a streetcar, lights a cigar, buys
a book, uses an ash tray, finds a watch, takes a bath, marries a wife,
drinks a glass of water, etc.
From this it is easy to understand the meaning of the question
about being as being or the intention of the metaphysical question.
Parmenides was the first who saw this question. He understood that
from a certain standpoint all realities are radically in agreement. If
every reality is considered as being, as not-nothing, all realities
fundamentally agree with one another. Of every reality one can say
at least that it "is," for otherwise it would be nothing. "Being is, and
non-being is not," Parmenides constantly repeats, and "there is no
escape from this thought." He even went so far as to claim that
there can be no distinction at all between beirigs and that being
cannot come to be. For if two beings are distinct, they are distinct
either in and through being or through something else, i.e., in and
through non-being or nothing. But in and through being it is pre-
cisely that beings agree, i.e., are not distinct; and if they differ in
and through non-being or nothing, they are not distinct, for nothing
does not give rise to any difference-what differs in nothing from
something else does not differ at all. Likewise, Parmenides thinks,
it cannot be admitted that beings come to be. For, if they came to
be, they would have to come to be either from being or from non-
being, from something or from nothing. But it is not possible that
something comes to be from something, for it would already be
something; on the other hand, something cannot come to be from
nothing, for nothing contributes nothing to something. 188
One cannot escape from these difficulties by saying that a watch
differs from an ash tray because a watch is a watch and an ash tray
is an ash tray, and that chickens produce eggs while thunderstorms
fill the air with ozone. Such "solutions" are not acceptable because
they amount to abandoning the metaphysical viewpoint, which is not
concerned with watches, ash trays, chickens, eggs, thunderstorms,
or ozone. 189 Metaphysics is concerned with being as being, with
difference as difference, with coming to be as coming to be. Two
beings cannot differ insofar as one is an ash tray and the other a
watch, for a bicycle and a wig differ also although they are not a
watch and an ash tray.
More than a century had to pass before Aristotle managed to give
a satisfactory reply to Parmenides' difficulties. The importance of
Parmenides in the history of thought lies in the fact that he discovered
the possibility of the metaphysical viewpoint. Within this meta-
physical intention the radical agreement of all beings has to be
affirmed. In metaphysical questions one asks about the meaning of
being as being, as agreeing with no matter what being, as opposed
to nothing. It is not without significance that the question, "Why
is there something?" is supplemented by "and why is there not
nothing?"
The Universality of the Metaphysical Question. As was pointed

out previously, every viewpoint in raising questions places a definite
"area of meaning," a definite "landscape" of reality in the foreground
of my field of presence. We must see, therefore, what the dimensions
and the boundaries are of my field of presence in asking questions
with a metaphysical intention.
188ef. F. ]. Thonnard, A Short History of Philosophy, ~ew York, 1955,

Nos. 14-15.
189"Im Sinne ihrer unbeschriinkten Reichweite gilt jedes Seiende gleich
vie!. Irgend ein Elefant in irgend einem Urwald in Indien ist ebenso gut seiend
\Vic irgend ein chemischer Verbrennungsvorgang auf dem Planeten Mars und
he1iebig anderes." Heidegger, ibid.
The reply is that the field of presence pertaining to the meta-

physical question cannot be a definite "landscape."19o A definite
"landscape" is "defined" because it is limited by other "landscapes."
But with respect to questions which are asked with a metaphysical
intention, a limiting landscape does not mean any real limitation. For
of this landscape also one must affirm that it is either being or non-
being. If it is being, it is not a limit of the landscape questioned by
the metaphysical query, for it belongs to this landscape. If it is
non-being, it likewise is not a limit, for nothing is not a real limit.
The field of presence of the subject asking the metaphysical ques-
tion is not limited and, therefore, is the universe. By this term
"universe" we do not mean the sum total of earth, things, plants,
animals, men, stars, planets, and suns, but the universality of all
beings as beings. It belongs to beings as beings, and not as planets,
men, or plants to pertain to this universe. If it were to belong to
a being as a planet to pertain to this universe, then stars, men,
animals, etc., would not pertain to this universe; they would not be
beings, for they are not planets. Asking about being as being, man
exists in this universe which, moreover, contains him. Every par-
ticular landscape which is cut out of reality through every particular
intention prompting our questioning is a kind of "boundary"
( U mgreifendes) of mutually agreeing particular realities (J as-
pers) .191 The universe is the all-embracing "boundary" of all beings
as agreeing with any being whatsoever; it is limited only by nothing
and, therefore, does not have a limit. 192
"Why is there something and why is there not rather nothing?"
As for the poet, so also for the philosopher everything becomes
mysterious in the light of this question, everything loses its obvious-
ness. 193 In the everydayness of technocracy man loses himself in
caring (Besorgen) for a small, particular world (Heidegger) .194
190"Wenn wir denkend ausblickend uns in die Richtung dieser Frage auf-
machen, dann verzichten wir zunachst auf jeden Aufenthalt in irgendeinem
der gelaufigen Gebiete des Seienden." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 10.
191 Jaspers, Einfiihrung in die Philosophie, p. 28-37.
192"Der Bereich dieser Frage hat seine Grenze nur am schlechthin nicht und
nie Seienden, am Nichts. Alles was nicht Nichts ist, fallt in die Frage."
Heidegger, op. cit., p. 2.
193"Im Dichten des Dichters und im Denken des Denkers wird immer soviel
Weltraum ausgespart, dass darin ein jeglich Ding, ein Baum, ein Berg, ein
Haus, ein Vogelruf die Gleichgiiltigkeit und Gewohnlichkeit ganz verliert."
M. Heidegger, op. cit., p. 20.
1945 ein und zeit, p. 189.
Man, the Metaphysical Being S9
He does not realize the metaphysical dimensions of his existence, but

restricts the universe to the limits of his immediate surroundings
(Umwelt) and despises the metaphysical question because he "cannot
do anything with it." This, however, does not dispose of the matter.
For if man "cannot do anything with metaphysics," metaphysics
"does something with man."195 One who cannot do anything with
metaphysics still has metaphysics, he still has a conception of being
as being, of the universe. For the technocrat the universe is the
system of what can be measured and calculated, and outside this
system there is nothing.
"Why is there something and why is there not rather nothing?"
This is the most fundamental question which man can ask. But what
exactly does man want to know when he raises this question? Does
it make sense to ask this question? Is it not possible for man simply
to stop at the beings which are and simply accept them as "beings
that are there"?
The reply is that such an attitude is impossible. Asking about
being as being, about the "why" of being, man asks about the ground,
the cause of being. 196 He must raise this question, for beings reveal
themselves as beings although they do not have a ground in them-
selves.
Multiplicity and Being. The encounter with beings gives me the
immediate certainty that there are many beings. A plant is not a
stone, and a dog is not an ash tray. But a plant as well as a stone,
a dog as well as an ash tray are beings. To be many, however, means
to be different. If this plant does not differ from this stone, they
could not be spoken about as two beings. If Tom, Dick, Mary, and
Harry do not differ, they would not be a plurality. But the fact
that two beings differ means that one being has something which
the other does not have. That Tom differs from Mary, therefore,
means that the being which Tom is includes also non-being, for
Tom is not the being which Mary is.
This thought constituted a great and unsurmountable difficulty
for Parmenides, the first true metaphysician of ancient Greece. How
195Heidegger, op. cit., p. 9-10.

196"Zur FragestelIung gehort: 1. die bestimmte Angabe dessen. was in
die Frage gestellt wird, befragt wird; 2. die Angabe des sen, woraufhin das
Befragte befragte wird, wonach gefragt ist. Denn es wird in alIer Eindeutigkeit
angegeben, was das Befragte ist, niimlich das Seiende. Wonach gefragt wird,
das Gefragte, is das Warum, d.h. der Grund." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 17.
60 Existential Phenornenology
is it possible that being-Tom includes not-being- Mary? Does it

mean that being includes also non-being? No, for such an assertion
revolts against reason. For Parmenides it is evident that being
cannot be "thought" otherwise than as pure being. "Being is, non-
being is not." It is impossible to "think" being as including non-being.
Parmenides is so fascinated by this evidence of his "thinking" that
he dares to draw conclusions from it which are contradicted by the
encounter with beings. Existing in the universe, the subject asking
metaphysical questions encounters many beings which come to be
or change. It is of no use to deny this evidence.
How, then, is it possible that Parmenides so obstinately denies
what is evident? The reply is that he lets himself be guided by the
evidence of his "thinking." His "thinking" does not permit any
other conclusion. Thus the question arises how the evidence of
Parmenides' "thinking" can be reconciled with the evidences con-
tained in the encounter with beings? Socrates and Plato did not
succeed in bringing about this reconciliation, and it took more than
a century before Aristotle managed to show the light. We have to
admire how Parmenides is and remains a metaphysician. He main-
tains the metaphysical viewpoint, despite the fact that his view
drives him to accept impossible consequences.
The requirements of "thinking" are inexorable. Parmenides is
right: it is not possible for me to "think" being otherwise than as
pure being, as the fullness of being. My "thinking" does not allow
me to admit that being would somehow include non-being. Equally
inexorable, however, is the evidence contained in the encounter with
the beings of the universe: there are many beings, and they come
to be or change. From this there follows for us a conclusion which
Parmenides did not see. I cannot "think" being otherwise than as
pure "to be," fulln~ss of "to be," one and immutable. Therefore,
the beings of the universe are not "to be," for no being is the fullness
of "to be," but all of them are mutable and different from one another.
Now, however, the difficulties begin in earnest. Must we say,
then, that the beings of the universe are not? Are trees, animals,
!:looks, cigars, stars, the sun and the moon not real? Of course, such
a supposition is nonsensical. These beings are; yet they are not "to
be." What does this mean? That the beings are not "to be" means
that they are not the fullness of "to be." What, then, does it mean
that these beings are? Only one reply is possible: they partake of
"to be," they have so much to do with it that they are not not-to-be.
"To be," of which I can "think" only as the fullness of "to be," is
realized only "partially" in the beings which I encounter in the uni-
verse. They participate in "to be," i.e., they have only something of
what I must "think" as fullness. The use of the term "to participate"
is very meaningful here: beings participate, take only a part, realize
something of what can be "thought" only as fullness, so that every
being is only "this" being and not "that" being. Thus these beings
are reality, but not the fullness of reality. Thus certain beings may
have something which others do not have and, therefore, differ from
them, be many. Thus beings can come to be what they are not yet,
for they realize only partially what can be "thought" only as fullness.
Beings of the universe are, but only partially; they merely have "to be."
Why is There Not Nothing'! It is here that the metaphysical

question "Why is there something and why is there not rather noth-
ing?" assumes its full meaning. Nothing, indeed, is so much more
simple than being. To see why, one should understand that being,
as "having 'to be,''' is contingent. Whence does it have its "to be"?
It did not give itself its "to be," for otherwise it would have preceded
itself, it would have been prior to itself. On the other hand, only noth-
ing precedes being, and nothing cannot contribute anything to the "to
be" of a being. Moreover, the question, "Whence does being have its
'to be'?" cannot be rejected by asserting that it is through its own
essence-in the same way as the question, "Why is it that the extended
has parts outside parts?" is rejected by pointing out that having-parts-
outside-parts is precisely the very essence of extension. Being is not
through its own essence; its essence is not "to be," for otherwise it
would be pure "to be" and, consequently, contrary to what we have
seen, it would always be. Accordingly, being, as "having 'to be,' " is
not ens a se, i.e., it does not have the ground of its "to be" in itself.
We express this by saying that it is contingent.
The wonder concerning being and the question how it is that there
is something and not rather nothing are born from the vague realiza-
tion that not a single being of the universe has within itself the ground
of its being, that not a single being is self-explanatory as being. It
is the metaphysician who explicitates the implications of this realiza-
tion. The wonder concerning being becomes an occasion for radical
questioning, so radical that every being loses its obviousness. 197 The
197"Mit unserer Frage stellen wir uns so in das Seiende, dass es seine
Selbstverstiindlich~eit
als das Seiende einbiisst." Heidegger, 0/1. cit., p. 22.
explicit realization of the contingency of beings and of the universe

unsettles being as such. 19S Many special sciences have gained solid
knowledge concerning particular "areas of meaning," particular
regions of reality, sharply defined "landscapes"; the physical sciences
and the technology which they have made possible have given man
power over the world; nevertheless, everything shakes in its founda-
tions as soon as man dares to ask why there is something and not
rather nothing. The replies of the special sciences lose their meaning
here, for they cannot even raise the question that has to be answered
because they do not dwell in the universe. The power of the tech-
nologist suddenly becomes very doubtful here. Through the meta-
physical question everything is suspended in mid-air I99-including
the metaphysician who raises the question, for he also is a contingent
being.20o
The Ground of Being. The participating being, which does not
have the ground of its "to be" in itself and yet is, must find this
ground in something other than itself, it must be-under-the-influence-
of-something-else, it must be-caused. 201 The .contingent being is,
but in such a way that it could also not-be. Being itself is open to
question, so that it can never get rid of the question. The "to be"
of the being is an also-being-able-not-to-be. This possibility is not
something which man adds to it in his thinking, but being itself
reveals itself as such to the metaphysician who questions it.202 Ac-
cordingly, being-caused likewise is not something which man adds in
19S"Das Seiende ist jetzt nicht mehr das nun einmal Vorhandene, es kommt
ins Schwanken und dies ganz abgesehen davon, ob wir das Seiende in aller
Gewissheit erkennen oder nicht, abgesehen davon, ob wir es im vollen Umkreis
erfassen oder nicht. Fortan schwankt das Seiende als so1ches, sofern wir es
in die Frage stellen." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 22.
199Heidegger, op. cit., p. 23.
2oo"Indem das Seiende innerhalb der weitensten und hartesten Ausschlags-
moglichkeit des 'Entweder Seiendes-oder Nichts' ins Schwanken gerat, verliert
das Fragen selbst jeden festen Boden. Auch unser fragendes Dasein kommt in
die Schwebe und wird gleichwohl in dies em Schweben von sich selbst gehalten."
Heidegger op. cit., p. 22.
201"Omne enim quod alicui convenit non secundum quod ipsum est, per
aliquam causam convenit ei ..." Thomas Aquinas, Summa contra Gentiles I, c.
15. "Quia ex hoc quod aliquid per participationem est ens, sequitur quod sit
causatum ab alio." Summa theol. p. I, q. 44, a. I, ad 1.
202"Dennoch vermag das Seiende nicht das Frag-wiirdige von sich ab-
zuwalzen das als das was es ist und wie es ist, auch nicht sein konnte. Diese
Moglichkeit erfahren 'wir keineswegs als etwas, was nur wir erst hinzudenken,
sondern das Seiende selbst bekundet diese Moglichkeit, bekundet sich als
das Seiende in ihr. Unser Fragen eroffnet nur den Bereich, damit das Seiende
in so1cher Fragwiirdigkeit aufbrechen kann." Heidegger, op. cit., pp. 22-23.
his thinking, but the "to be" of the being itself reveals itself as a to-be-
caused, as a to-be-under-the-influence-of-something-else. It is this
"influence," i.e., the cause of being, which the metaphysician seeks
when he tries to understand that something is not rather nothing.
The search, however, for the ground or cause of being as being
easily deviates from the right track. One could think that this search is
similar to the questions, "Why are there plant-lice in the vineyard ?" or
"Where does the mold on my books come from ?"203 Of course, when
such questions are asked, one seeks for a cause. But the viewpoint of
the question co-determines the kind of causal influence which is sup-
posed to answer the question. The causal influence which is appealed
to is an influence that is valid within a determined region of reality,
within a determined "landscape," but not outside it. If I ask, "What
makes celestial bodies move?" or "Why is it that someone deprived
of all affection cannot indefinitely get on in life?", my questions deline-
ate other regions of reality within which other types of causal influence
are valid. The metaphysician, however, cannot appeal to any of these
types of influences which apply only within a determined "landscape,"
because as a metaphysician he does not dwell in a determined "land-
scape" but in the universe itself.
One who seeks the cause of being as being within a determined
"area of meaning," within a determined "landscape," will never find
anything which really explains being as being. He is entirely on the
wrong track, because he does not even realize what exactly has to be
explained. What is sought by the metaphysician is the cause which
draws being from nothing and prevents it from falling back into
nothing, for of itself being is nothing and, while being, it can also
not-be. 204 The biologist may explain why there are plant-lice in the
vineyard, but when he does so he merely explains the presence of lice
as a victory over the poisonous substances with which the vineyard was
sprayed and not as a victory over non-being. The cause of being as
being has to explain the conquest of being as a victory over non-
being.205 The physicist should not attempt to explain being as being
204"Das vVarum gewinnt ... eine ganz andere Macht und Eindringlichkeit
des Fragens. Warum ist das Seiende der :.vfoglichkeit des Nichtseins entrissen?
Warum {alit es nicht ohne wei teres und standig dahin zuruck?" Heidegger,
ibid.
205"Ingleichen wandelt sich jetzt auch das Suchen nach dem Warum.
Es zielt nicht einfach auf die Beistellung eines auch vorhandenen Erklarungs-
grundes fiir das Vorhandene, sondern jetzt wird nach einem Grund gesucht,
der die Herrschaft des Seienden als eine Ueberwindung des Nichts begrunden
soll." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 22.
for, as physicist, he does not even know what he is supposed to

explain. When he rejects the explanation of the metaphysician, he
necessarily denies something else than what is affirmed by the meta-
physician.
It should be clear now why above we could say that nothing is
so much simpler than being. For what could be the cause of being as
being? Certainly not a being of the universe. For whatever being one
would want to indicate as the cause of being as being, it would always
be a participating being, a contingent being and, therefore, a caused-
being. Being, however, is not the cause-of-being, for it is caused-being.
Precisely under the aspects under which it would be indicated as the
cause of being-namely, as being-it is not cause but caused, because
it is participating and contingent-being. 206 Through the metaphysical
questions everything is suspended in mid-air. Nothing appears much
simpler as soon as it is understood that the universe, conceived as the
universality of all beings, does not have the ground of its "to be" in
itself. However, there is not nothing. There are beings, the universe
is. Being is being-caused, being-under-the-influence-of-something-
else; therefore, it is excluded that this "influencing reality" would not
be, for otherwise nothing would be. But something is.
Transcendent "To Be." There is no escape: caused-being is; there-
fore, also its cause is. This cause does not lie in the universe; there-
fore, it is a reality which transcends this universe. This cause is not
something which "has" its "to be," not a participating being; there-
fore, it is esse a se, Being through its own essence, pure "To Be."
The cause of being is Transcendent "To Be."
Do I still know what I am saying when I affirm Transcendent
"To Be"? Perhaps I know better what I may not say of "To Be":
it is not like a being of the universe. Nevertheless, "To Be" is, for
there is not nothing, although nothing would be much more simple.
It is certain that if the astrophysicist, geologist, biologist, or any
other representative of specialized sciences reject Transcendent "To
Be," they necessarily deny something else than what I affirm as a
metaphysician; they cannot even realize what exactly I am looking
for, because they do not dwell in the universe.
206"Diese Warum-frage sucht fur das Seiende nicht Ursachen, die von der
gleichen Art und aus der gleichen Ebene sind wie es selbst. Diese Warum-
frage bewegt sich nicht in irgendeiner Flache und Oberflache, sondern dringt
in die 'zugrunde' liegenden Bereiche und zwar bis ins Letzte, an die Grenze;
sie ist aller Oberflache und Seichtigkeit abgekehrt, der Tiefe zustrebend; als die
weiteste ist sie zugleich unter den tiefen Fragen die tiefste." Heidegger, op. cit.,
pp. 2-3.
The affirmation of Transcendent "To Be" immediately throws a

new light on the beings of the universe. These beings revealed them-
selves as participating beings, as realizing only "partially" what can
be thought only as the fullness of "to be." Now, however, it becomes
clear that to participate means more than this, for the participating
being partakes of the fullness of real "To Be" because it receives
from this "To Be" what it is. Accordingly, "To Be" "imparts" to
others their "to be," it makes them participate in "to be."
With this insight metaphysical thinking enters into its second
phase. In the first phase I question being as being, i.e., as agreeing
with everything else. Through my metaphysical viewpoint I enter the
universe, and the boundaries of my field of presence are, in prin-
ciple, pushed back to infinity. But my thinking about the universality
of being leads me beyond and above the universe to the affirmation
of pure "To Be." I understand being as being only when I see it
in its dependence on pure "To Be." In its second phase metaphysics
is thinking about being in the light of the affirmation of Transcendent
"To Be."
Yet-do we not proceed too hastily?
4. MAN, THE METAPHYSICAL BEING
Our uncertainty, arising from the question whether we did not

proceed too hastily, is understandable when one takes into considera-
tion that the proof of Transcendent "To Be" is the proof which the
Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition recognizes as a valid argument show-
ing that there is a God. Everyone who uses the term "God" means
by it an infinitely perfect Being, the first cause of all that is, and
Itself uncaused. 207 Some, however, claim that there is no such Being,
that it is merely the product of our thinking, a projection from an
"unhappy conscience," a superfluous scientific hypothesis, etc. Never-
tileless, they agree with those who affirm that there is a God con-
cerning what has to be understood by the term "God," if there is a
God. If God is, He must be an infinitely perfect Being, the first
cause of all that is, and Himself uncaused. So far as the nominal
definition is concerned, there is no difference of opinion.
The Validity of the Proof of God. In the preceding section we
expressed the idea that what is expressed by this nominal definition
is reality, that there is a God. What, then, is the meaning of the
uncertainty expressed in the closing lines?
207Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theal., p. I, q. 2, a. 3.
This uncertainty does not refer to the validity of the proof. Most
objections against the train of thought followed in it arise from
the inability to think in a truly metaphysical way. Objectors think
of data and proofs as they are known in the empirical sciences and
then consider God a superfluous scientific hypothesis or "unprov-
able." This term could mean here "unprovable in the way in which
empirical sciences prove." Usually, however, the intention is to go
further and to affirm that no other kinds of proof are possible.208
In other words, the assertion implicitly dictates a complete theory
of knowledge and a corresponding view of reality.
Such an assertion makes no impression at all on the metaphysician.
He knows that no kind of empirical scientist can show that there is
a God and that the so-called proofs proposed by physicists, biologists,
etc. can only falsify the idea of God. 209 . He knows also that those
who reject God with an appeal to the empirical sciences deny of
necessity something else than what he affirms as a metaphysician.
It is impossible to defend theism or to refute atheism by means of
the empirical sciences. As physicist or as biologist, the physicist or
the biologist does not even know what is under consideration when
there is question of the experience of being as being or of the affirma-
tion of Transcendent "To Be."
We presuppose, therefore, that the train of thought is truly meta-
physical. This train can be taken up by anyone who puts himself
in the attitude that characterizes metaphysical experience and meta-
physical thinking. Is it to be expected that God will be affirmed,
that all those who make the attitude of metaphysical thinking their
own will become convinced that there is a God? The reply is
definitely in the negative. Not to admit this would be just as naive
as accusing the opponent of bad faith or ill_will.210 The question
is much more complex, and this is the reason why in the preceding
section we asked ourselves whether we were not proceeding much
too hastily. On the other hand, it would be likewise too hasty to
208"On voit done qu'il y a deux fa<;ons radicalement distinctes de denier

l'existence aDieu . . . : l'une revenant a traiter Dieu comme un objet
empirique et a dire: 'Cet objet ne se rencontre pas dans l'experience', l'autre
se traduisant par l'affirmation que Dieu ne peut pas etre traite com me un objet
empirique et que par consequent l'existence ne peut lui convenir." Marcel,
Journal mCtaphysique, p. 33.
209Cf. R. Jolivet, Le Dieu des Philosophes et des savants, Paris, 1956, pp.
75-78.
210Cf. Marcel, Du refus Ii ['invocation, pp. 228-229.
reject the proof as a valueless old stamp that has been withdrawn
from circulation. True, in the history of thought new difficulties
have constantly been raised against the proof, and these difficulties
were not always refuted in the correct way-the struggle against Kant
may serve as an illustration-because the refutations tried to prove
too much. Nevertheless, there still are philosophers who consider
the proof valid and they really are not always among the least
intelligent. 211
However, among those who accept the proof there are many who
are not really satisfied with it. They think that to be really satis-
factory the proof would have to say much more than it does. For
them, God is much more than Transcendent "To Be," identified
as such by a metaphysical proof. Their God is "the Absolute Thou,"
(Marcel), and it is only in prayer that one realizes what this means.
Perhaps an example which has some analogy with the difficulty
under consideration may serve to clarify what they want to empha-
size. Let us assume that I have to express the reality intended by
the simple words "my mother" and that in doing this I would point
only to a few physiological processes on which my conception is based.
I would deserve being blamed for pointing out only what is least
important and for not expressing the full reality which I myself
have in mind when I speak of "my mother." About the same objec-
tion is made by some against the expression "Transcendent 'To Be.' "
The proof concludes only to what Pascal called "the God of philoso-
phers and scholars." The words "Transcendent 'To Be'" do not
even approximately indicate the reality which God is for one who
prays. Moreover, for a man who can really pray the whole proof
of "Transcendent 'To Be' " would be superfluous.
Thus we are faced with the paradoxical situation that those who
need the proof appear unable to accept it and cannot be convinced
by it, while others who accept it do not seem to need it because they
affirm much more than the proof is capable of expressing. 212 The
uncertainty mentioned in the concluding words of the preceding
section, therefore, has a reverse: did we not say far too little?
21ICf. Marcel, op. cit., p. 229.

212"On aboutit done a ce paradoxe que la preuve n'est efficace d'une fac;on
generale que Ia ou a la rigueur on pOllvait se passer d'elle; et au contraire, elle
apparait presque certainement comme un jeu verbal ou une petition de principe
a celui auque! e!le est precisement destinee et qu'il s'agit de convaincre."
Marcel, op. cit., p. 231.
Nevertheless, this situation is not as paradoxical as it appears at

first sight. I t is true, indeed, that we have said both too much and
too little. It was much too much for the non-religious man, and much
too little for the religious human being.
Orientation to God and the Proof of God. It would be a mistake
to think that the force of the metaphysical proof of God lies in its
rationally metaphysical and conceptual structure itself. Just the op-
posite is true. The rational construct which this proof is derives its
meaning from the recognition of the deepest dimension proper to
human existence-man's orientation to the Transcendent, the Infinite,
the Absolute. 213 This orientation is called "religiousness."214
When we spoke of the primitive fact of existential phenomenology,
we pointed out that the philosopher does not have the right through
a dogmatic a priori view to make it impossible for himself to conceive
no matter what reality as reality. More concretely expressed, he does
not have the right to conceive existence exclusively as openness of
subjectivity for-the-world-alone. The existence of intentionality
means openness of the subject for whatever is not the subject.
Whatever-is-not-the-subject certainly includes the world, but it is not
excluded that this openness has to be conceived much more broadly,
and that man, as intentional being, must be conceived also as destined-
for-the-other and as orientation-to-God.
At present we go a step further and observe that it is impossible
for man ever to recognize the validity of the proof of God, if he has
not previously recognized his existence in its religious dimension.
i.e., as directedness to God. Of this directedness the proof that there
is a God is only the learned expression. The proof presupposes
one's religiousness. It does not produce this disposition but, on the
contrary, is produced by it. 211i
213Cf. Jolivet, op. cit., pp. 110-114.

214Cf. Marcel, J oltrnal metaphysique, p. 98.
215 L' erreur ici serait de penser que ce qui fait la valeur des preuves de
Dieu, c'est leur appareil conceptuel et logique, alors que c'est plut6t l'exigence
d'absolu et I'elan spirituel qui les soustient. . . En n!alite, la verite de Dieu
est vecue avant d'etre eonnue: les preuves ne I'engendrent pas; c'est e1le qui
engendre les preuves, qui ne sont pour elle que des moyens de s'exprimer et
de sc jnstilier rdlexivement. lei, plus qu'ailleurs, la spontaneite rationnelle
est Ie principe moteur de toute rdlexion. Comme en toute croyance, les preuves
de Dieu redoublent I'aftirmation. Mais de Iii vient que, separees par abstraction
de l' experience vecue qu' elles impliquent, e1les paraissent froides et ternes,
inadequates infiniment iI I'ampleur de leur dcssein et qu'elles prennent facile-
ment I'allure d'un jeu coneeptuel." R. Jolivet, op. cit., p. 111.
Man, thc M ctaphysical B cing 69
In formulating the proof of God we presupposed something which

does not find expression in rational formulas, but nevertheless is es-
sentiaI216-namely, that man is already anchored in GOd. 217 The
proof expresses on the metaphysical-rational level what religious man
knows already in "blind intuition."218 An example which is some-
what analogous with this situation may help to clarify the point. Let
us assume that I am challenged to prove that my mother loves me.
At first I am inclined to doubt the possibility of such a proof. If
they insist, I will begin to describe certain signs which for me are
"proofs" of love. How can these signs be "proofs" for me? For
an old-fashioned psychiatrist these same proofs would mean that my
mother is a sadist and that I am the victim of an Oedipus complex
which has not been timely removed! All I can do is to shrug my
shoulders. What this old-fashioned psychiatrist says does not interest
me, for I know that he is incapable of seeing what I see unless he
loves my mother just as much as I do. To see something, man needs
more than eyes: a suitable attitude and viewpoint are required. Not
all realities are unqualifiedly accessible to all,219 not all realities can
be identified by everyone, for this identification does not always re-
semble the way in which insects are labeled.
As far as the proof of God is concerned, these considerations mean
that the metaphysically rational affirmation of Transcendent "To Be"
is preceded, firstly, by the experience of man's existence as directedness
to the Transcendent, the Infinite, the Absolute, and secondly, by the
acceptance of this orientation through a project or plan of life adapted
to this experience. If in man's life there is no room for experiences
which make him rise above worldly matters, if the project which he
is does not go beyond the world and his own being as to be realized
in this world, then there can be no question that he would ever be
216"N'y-a-t-il pas lieu de pn!sumer bien plutot qu'i1s mettaient dans leur
argument quelque chose d'essentiel qui n'arrivait pas a passer comph~tement
dans les formules et qu'il s'agirait pour nous d'expliciter?" Marcel, Du ,.efus
d l'invocation, pp. 229-230.
217"],apercevais enfin la possibilite d'une reflexion sur i'idee meme de preuve
de I'existence de Dieu, a propos des preuves thomistes. C'est un fait qu'elles
ne sont pas universellement convaincantes. Comment expliquer cette inef-
ficacite partielle? Elles supposent qu'on s'est preablement etabli en Dieu, et
consistent au fond a ramener au niveau de la pensee discursive un acte tout
different." Marcel, Etre et avoir, p. 141.
218Cf. Marcel, op. cit., pp. 175-176.
219Cf. Marcel, op. cit., pp. 307-308.
capable of accepting the proof of God. 220 We may refer here to what
has been said previously concerning the technocratic character of
contemporary life. To the extent that man falls victim to the mentality
in which a technocratic society lives he becomes more and more blind
to God. 221 The affirmation of God presupposes what Marcel calls
"recollection,"222 i.e., being sensitive to the deepest dimension of
human existence and returning to this dimension. The more man
is absorbed by "modern life," the more he becomes blind to God. 22 :l
Summarizing we may say, therefore, metaphysics in its second
phase, as the affirmation and consideration of Transcendent "To Be,"'
presupposes the metaphysical in man, i.e., a truly metaphysical life.
To live metaphysically, man does not need metaphysics,224 but with-
out metaphysical life there can be no question of metaphysics. Here,
however, it is necessary that the expression "the metaphysical in
man" be understood in its full meaning. It is not enough that these
words be taken to mean only, as is done by Merleau-Ponty,225 that
man is more than physis, more than a particle of nature. That man
is more than a little part of nature is required even for appreciating
the most simple intellectual act of cognition at its true value. That
man is metaphysical means that there is a dimension in man through
which he transcends finite and relative being 226 and is directed to
the Infinite, the Absolute, to Transcendent "To Be." It is from this
orientation that metaphysics lives.
A Vicious Circle? The objection could be raised that this view

contains a vicious circle, for the affirmation of Transcendent "To Be"
presupposes the recognition of man as orientation to Transcendent
"To Be." Moreover, one could say: By what right is it asserted that
220"Le 'probleme de l'etre' ne sera done qu'une traduction en un langage

inadequat d'un mystere qui ne peut etre donne qu'a un etre capable de recueil-
lement, a un etre dontla caracteristique centrale consiste peut-etre a ne pas
coincider purement et simplement avec sa vie." Marcel, op. cit., p. 171.
221Cf. Marcel, Les hommes contre l'humain, pp. 126-138.
222Etre et avoir, p. 171.
223cf. Marcel, op. cit., p. 311.
224Cf. Jolivet, L'homme metaphysique, Paris, 1958, p. 16.
225Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sense, pp. 186-187.
226"Im Griechischen heisst 'iiber etwas weg,' 'hinuber': meta. Das phi-
losophische Fragen nach dem Seienden als solchem ist meta ta physica; es
fragt iiber das Seiende hinaus, ist Metaphysik." Heidegger, Einfiihrung in die
Metaphysik, p. 13.
the orientation to the Infinite and Absolute is the deepest dimension

of human existence? Is this assertion an irrational choice, a decision
which cannot be critically justified in reflection?
As was previously pointed out, the philosopher does not have the
right to make it impossible for himself through a dogmatic a priori
view to recognize no matter what reality as reality. We added,
however, that it is his duty critically to investigate what is tenable
and what is not tenable in any assertion. The philosopher, therefore,
has to investigate what is tenable in the assertion that the deepest
essence of man lies in his orientation to the Infinite. Accordingly,
there should be no question of appealing to an irrational decision, to
a choice that cannot be justified. We may not dispense ourselves
from the obligation to present a rational justification.
This justification will consist in the reflection on the meaning of
human freedom, conceived as project and as transcendence, and on
the destination of freedom. It will be presented in the fourth chapter
of this book. The expression "rational justification," however, is
meaningless if it is not clearly indicated what is to be understood by
.the term "rational." The second chapter will investigate the meaning
of this term. Insight into the destiny of human freedom presupposes
an insight into the meaning of intersubjectivity. This will be con-
sidered in Chapter Three.
Thus we arrive at the conclusion that metaphysical thinking about
"To Be" is related to thinking about man, that metaphysics pre-
supposes an anthropology. This conclusion is true not only because
even before the proof of the reality of Transcendent "To Be" dif-
ficulties arise against the acceptance of this reality. Equally important
are the difficulties presenting themselves after the proof. Let us
clarify this point.
God and Man's Freedom. If Transcendent "To Be" is the highest
cause of all beings, what, then, is the nature of this Supreme Being?
The first remark to be made is that Transcendent "To Be" must
be such that .the beings which depend on it can at least be thought
of as possibilities. Otherwise the whole of metaphysics collapses,
for it is built on the reality of these beings. But we are faced with
the fact that one of the beings of the universe is a free being-namely,
man. How is this possible if man falls under the causal influence
of Transcendent "To Be"? Is this influence contingent? No, for
otherwise Transcendent "To Be" would not be the Supreme Cause
of all beings. Is man not free? No, again, for otherwise he would
no longer be man.
This is only one example of the many difficulties arising after
the proof of God. For not a few philosophers these difficulties be-
came a reason to reject that there is Transcendent "To Be." If
there is a God, man cannot be free and therefore cannot be man. This
is the view, e.g., of Sartre227 and Merleau-Ponty.228
The difficulty is very grave. It shows clearly that the philosopher
has not finished when he admits that God is the Supreme Cause of
all beings. As soon as God's causal influence is conceived as the
causality of one thing with respect to another thing, there is, indeed,
no room for human freedom. The philosopher, consequently, will
have to seek a category of causality in which causal influence can
go together with freedom. This category certainly cannot be found
in the order of things. It is only in the domain of intersubjectivity
that he encounters it: love makes the other be free. 229 Thus even
after the proof of God anthropology cannot be dispensed with.
Once the relative value of the metaphysical proof of God is under-
stood, there is no longer any reason to minimize or deny the value
of this proof, as is done by MarceJ.230 The proof does not show
that God is really a God..for-us, in the sense of an "absolute Thou,"
and that we are "of God" in :the full religious sense of the term.
But does this mean that God is not the Transcendent "To Be," and
that man's being-caused by God is not a mode of "being-of-God"?
The opposite is true. On the basis of the proof, it is no longer
possible to deny that God is the cause of man and that man is "0
God." Thus man has to acknowledge his radical dependence. 281
227Cf. L'existmtialisme est un humanisme, passim.

228"Le P. de Lubac discute un atheisme qui entend supprimer, dit-il,
'jusqu'au probleme qui avait fait naitre Dieu dans la conscience'. Ce prob-
Ierne est si peu ignore du philosophe qu'au contraire il Ie met au-dessus des
'solutions' qui l'etouftent." Merleau-Ponty, Bloge de la philosophic, p. 62.
229Cf. below, pp. 223 ft.
230"11 se pourrait, dirai-je pour renouer Ie fil de mon argumentation, que
Ie Dieu dont Nietzsche a annonce veridiquement la mort fut Ie dieu de la
tradition aristotelico-thomiste, Ie dieu premier moteur." Marcel, L'homme prob-
Iematique, p. 63.
231"[La creature] ne se sent plus garantie par rien qui soit en elle-meme ou
vienne d'elle-meme, ni par rien qui ait Ie caractere d'un object; toute garantie
et toute justification se placent dans la liberte absolue de Dieu. Dans l'adora-
tion, l'homme s'accepte quant a son existence injustifiable par elle-meme, ou par
ce qu'il pourrait faire pour la justifier. II s'accepte tel qu'il est, creature."
A. Brunner, La personne incarnee, Paris, 1947, p. 230.
The fact that I am unable to e:xpress the reality which is "my mother"
by pointing to the physiological processes on which my conception
was based does not mean that these processes do not belong to the
integral reality which is "my mother." It may even happen that
only physiolQgy can determine who "my mother" really is. In a
similar way it may happen also that only by means of metaphysics
can man determine who "his God" really is and which gods are
false godS. 2S2
232Cf. M. Sciacca, Le probleme de Dieu et de la Religion dans la philoso-

phie contemporaine, Paris, 1950, pp. 203-204.
CHAPTER TWO
PHENOMENOLOGY OF KNOWLEDGE
Without being explicitly conscious of it, we have made use in the

preceding pages of an insight which has not yet been justified. There
was question constantly of human knowledge as if we already knew
what knowledge is. Such a procedure may seem to be unjustifiable
for, if I ask myself what it is to know, I must admit that it is impos-
sible for me readily to answer this question. Nevertheless, this
not-knowing what knowledge really is did not cause me any special
difficulties. Inevitably, we wonder why.
The answer is not very far to seek. It is simply impossible to
assume that I do not really know what it is to know. True, I can-
not express this knowledge in words, but I do have it. I am capable,
for instance of distinguishing between my knowledge of a person and
my love of the same individual, between my seeing a piece of licorice
and my aversion for it. I know, therefore, that knowledge is some-
thing else than love or aversion. In other words, I know what knowl-
edge is, what love is, what aversion is, for otherwise I would not be
able to distinguish them. However, as soon as I have to state this
knowledge in words and express it, I begin to stammer and seem
not to know it. As St. Augustine remarked, there appear to be two
forms of knowing. In connection with his speculations about time he
says that he knows what time is, but as soon as someone asks him to
express this knowledge, it is as if he does not know it.l
1. EXPLIOTATION
Pre-Reflective Consciousness. What is it really to know what

knowing is without being able to express this knowledge? This know-
ing is the being-present to the knowing human being which I am. I
know trees, houses, men, but in this knowing it is as if I at first omit
my own knowing. When a pyschologist tries to know a fellow human
being who comes to him, this fellow man is the theme of his knowl-
edge. He will say, for instance, that this man is an introvert, emo-
tional, and intelligent. In this way he expresses the terminus en-
countered by his knowing. His own act of knowing, however, is
omitted by him, it remains expressionless, and does not become the
lConfessions, bk. 11, ch. 14.

74
Phenomenology of Knowledge 7S
theme of his knowledge. Nevertheless, he knows what it is to know,
for he is present to the knower who is no other than he himself.
The same can be said with respect to a limitless number .of .other
situations. When I count the number of cigarettes in my pack, I
express the terminus encountered by my cQunting by saying that
there are twelve. My .own act .of counting, however, I .omit, I do
nQt express it, it has not becQme the theme .of my occupatiQn. Never-
theless, I knQw what it is to count, for I am present to my .own act
.of counting.
If anyone asks me what I am dQing, I reply at .once that I am
counting. 2 At this precise moment, then, the cigarettes are nQ
longer the theme .of my act .of knowing. This theme is now my
cQunting. I am present to my .own act .of counting, but as soon as
someone asks me what I am doing, I place myself explicity in the
presence .of this counting and give expressiQn tQ it.
The difference between the two previQusly mentioned fQrms .of
"knowing" reveals itself clearly here. There is an implicit, nQn-
thematic consciousness, which cQnsists in the simple presence to my
existence. This consciQusness may be called "cQunt-cQnsciousness,"
"joy-consciousness," "IQve-cQnsciousness," etc., without being con-
sciousness of counting, of enjoying, of loving, etc. Originally,
therefore, cQnsciousness is nQt consciQusness of counting .or CQn-
sciousness of enjoyment, but cQunt-consciQusness .or joy-cQnscious-
ness. 3 Originally there is no cQnsciQusness of the self, but with the
cQnsciousness-of-sQmething self-cQnsciousness is fused tQgether.4
Accordingly, there is question here of consciousness with respect
to something withQut the explicitness indicated by the particle "Qf."5
This implicit, nQn-thematic consciQusness with respect to something,
however, can be made thematic and explicit through my explicit
return tQ this cQnsciousness. ThrQugh my cQnsciQusness I am
originally present tQ myself, but through reflection I place myself in
my presence, so that what I first omitted-my love, my enjoyment,
my knowledge-becomes the theme .of my cQnsciousness.
It is necessary to avoid a misconception here. Above we named
several modes of existing, such as love, enjoyment, and knDwledge,
with respect to which we are conscious. It would be a mistake to
2Cf. Sartre, L'etre et le neant, pp. 19-20.
3"Toute conscience positionnelle d'objet est en meme temps conscience nOll
positionnelle d'elle-meme." Sartre, ibid., p. 19.
4"C'est la conscience non-thetique de compter qui est la condition meme de
mon activite additive." Sartre, ibid., p. 20.
II Sartre, ibid.
think that these modes of existing stand alongside consciousness or

that consciousness lies outside these modes of existing. The contrary
is true. Loving, enjoying, perceiving, etc. are not what they are
without the presence of consciousness. The perception of a table is
just as immediately perception-consciousness. 6 The same applies to
all modes of conscious existence. 7 Accordingly, implicit, non-thematic
consciousness is not added as something new to existence but in-
ternally makes existence what it is.
The two above-mentioned modes of being conscious occur in
modern philosophical literature under the names "pre-reflective con-
sciousness" and "reflective consciousness."8 Consciousness is called
reflective when I pass from being-in-the-presence to placing-my self-
in-the-presence. This transition means the thematization of what was
non-thematic, the explicitation of what was implicit.
Thus it appears that our procedure was not unjustifiable when we
tacitly made use of a certain "knowledge of what knowing is." There
is a pre-reflective knowledge-consciousness which, however, because
it is pre-reflective, is not yet consciousness of knowledge. Thus we
could not yet express what knowledge is, just as we could not express
what love is, for such expressing presupposes that knowledge or love
are themes, which they are not.
Importance of Pre-Reflective Consciousness. The importance of
pre-reflective consciousness can hardly be overestimated. It should
be clear that philosophical thought begins with it and even at first is
nothing else than expressing what we may now call in the most
general way "life." Life, i.e., knowingly, actively, lovingly, emotion-
ally, etc. being-in-the-world is a conscious-being-in-the-world. Be-
cause life is conscious, it does not escape me; nevertheless, I still
have to "catch" it if I want to philosophize, for the consciousness of
my being-in-the-world is still only a "lived experience," life is still
the irreflechi (Merleau-Ponty), the unreflected dealing with things
and men. However, reflective consciousness is constantly nourished
by this irrejlechi, it is its thematization. Unless it is nourished by
the irrejlechi, philosophical thinking is suspended in a vacuum.\I
6Cf. Sartre, ibid.

7"Toute existence consciente existe comme conscience d'exister." Sartre,
ibid.
8Cf. Sartre, ibid., pp. 16-23.
DCf. "La condition de toute reflexivite est un cogito prereflexif." Sartre,
ibid., pp. 116-117.
Phenomenology of Knowledge 77
Thus philosophy may never go counter to the irrefUchi. Philos-
ophizing is a grasping for life to give expression to it. But this
grasping and expressing have value only if the philosopher expresses
that to which he is present, only if his "lived experience" supports
his reflective expression. 10
Knowledge as Explicitation. The question was raised as to what

knowledge is. A reply to this question is possible because I am
present to the knower who I myself am. There is in me a knowledge-
consciousness which is not consciousness of knowledge. The reply
to the question will consist in explicitating this knowledge-conscious-
ness into a consciousness of knowledge. Thus the reply can never be
rationalized or demonstrated, in the strict sense of the term, in the
same way as I, for instance, deduce, rationalize and demonstrate the
properties of a circle or of a sphere from the essence of these figures.u
In explicitation there is nothing to be demonstrated. All I can do is
indicate. I can only try to "catch" that to which I am present and
give expression to it.
It may seem that the result of the method of explicitation is pre-
supposed at the starting point. The process of thought gives the
impression of being a circular procedure. 12 This impression is cor-
rect. However, the philosopher does not have to offer any excuses for
it; he may not and cannot even try to avoid such a process of thought.
The circle in his thinking is not a vicious circle, for the procedure of
his thought is not that of a syllogism. 13 The so-called circular pro-
cedure of explicitation is the expression of what man himself is in his
essential structure-namely, a being which in its being-in-the-world
always aims at its "to be" itself,14 a being whose "to be" is conscious-
ness of beingYi It is from this consciousness, which he himself is, that
the philosopher has to start. There is no other starting point, for
outside the consciousness of his existence there is nothing but
concealedness with respect to both the subject pole and the object pole.
10Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, pp. II-V.

llCf Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 315.
13Cf. Heidegger, ibid., pp. 152 and 315.
14"Der 'Zirkel' im Verstehen gehort zur Struktur des Sinnes, welches
Ph an omen in der existenzialen Verfassung des Daseins. im auslegenden Ver-
stehen verwurzelt ist. Seiendes, dem es als In-der-Welt-sein urn sein Sein
se1bst geht, hat eine ontologische Zirkelstruktur." Heidegger, ibid., p. 153.
11iCf. Heidegger, IDid., p. 14.
78 Phenomenology of Knowledge
The history of thought shows clearly how easily the philosopher

in his explicitation neglects an essential moment of the irrefUchi.
However, even this assertion can never be demonstrated. If I think
that someone's explicitation omits an essential moment, I can at most
attempt to indicate to him what he has omitted by means of very
precise descriptions. Sometimes it may take a very long time before
this method produces any result. It may happen that an entire
generation of thinkers is completely blind to a certain phenomenon.
Because of all kinds of conscious or subconscious prejudices, because
their minds have become, as it were, fused with a certain system of
view's, it may happen that they are not capable of seeing a certain
phenomenon. I6 For these convictions and views mean a definite
mentality which co-determines the meaning of their field of presence.
Thus phenomena which presuppose a different mental attitude simply
escape observation.
In this way it could happen that a number of Christians who ob-
served certain clearly formulated laws to the letter called themselves
good Christians. As a result, they were not capable of seeing their
duties in the realm of social justice and social love with respect to
their fellow men, for until fairly recently no precise laws had been
formulated in these matters. To become capable of seeing these
duties, they had to be torn loose from their conviction of being good
Christians, and their legalistic mentality had to be modified.
If a discovery is ahead of its time because the general mental
attitude of thinkers is not yet prepared to see a certain phenomenon,
the lone genius has no alternative but to keep quiet about his discovery
and to work first at reshaping the mentality of his contemporaries.u
Accordingly, certain insights require a long time of preparation.
They are born in history and it may happen that they disappear again
in history. The historical growth of insight is very clearly illustrated
by the history of the definition of knowledge. Before we begin the
thematic consideration of knowledge, it will be necessary to trace
this history, because the modern views of knowledge are not-and
could not even be-unrelated to this history. Descartes' explicitations
I6"Or, il se peut qu'une periode tout entiere soit par suite de certains
partis pris inconscients, de certaines vues systematiques, impermeable a certains
phenomenes. Ce sera plus tard seulement, quand la premiere attitude aura
change pour faire place a une nouvelle, que ceux-ci po~rront s'imposer comme
objectifs." A. Brunner, La personne incarnee, Paris, 1947, p. 184.
I7Brunner, op. cit., pp. 180-184.
of knowledge laid the foundations of both English empIrICISm and

the rationalism of Spinoza, Kant, and Hegel. Existential phenome-
nology, which reacts against both of these trends, returns, therefore,
to Descartes to correct his fundamental mistake. IS
2. DESCARTES
His Starting Point. Descartes (1596-1650) lived at a time in

which scholastic thought had fallen into a sad state of un authenticity.
He was too much of a philosopher to accept this state of affairs
passively.I9 For this reason he refused to commit his thought to a
trend of thinking which could not offer him any certainty and made
it his task to search for an indubitable starting point.
Descartes' search of a starting point, however, showed immediately
a very definite orientation. He had been struck not only by the chaos
of philosophical thought but even more by the growing success of
the physical sciences. Hitherto it had never been possible for man
to seize nature and to dominate it. But according as the positive
sciences managed to separate themselves from philosophy and to
follow their own paths, their success grew steadily. Thus Descartes'
search of a solid basis for philosophy amounted to this that in his
critique of knowledge he presupposed the solidity of the knowledge
gathered by the physical sciences. After illustrating the solid founda-
tion of this conviction in his critique, he concluded that only that
kind of knowledge can make a claim to objectivity which proceeds in
the same way as the physical sciences. 2o
The path followed by Descartes in his critique is that of
methodically sustained doubt. Whatever can be doubted is pro-
visionally "placed between brackets," i.e., no judgment is made con-
cerning it. Thus, for instance, he doubts the reality of the world,
for in his dream he sees worlds which later appear to be unreal
and he does not have a criterion to establish with certainty that he
is not dreaming now. Even the reality of his own body has to be
doubted, Descartes thinks, for how often does he not dream of
having another, more beautiful and stronger body. Therefore, he
ISCf. E. Husser!, Cartesianische Meditafionen und Pariser Vortriige, heraus-

gegeben und einge1eitet von Prof. Dr. S. Strasser, (Husser/iana, Band I), Den
Haag, 1950.
19Rene Descartes, Discou.rse on Method, Part I (Dover ed. of Descartes'
philosophical works, vol. I, pp. 83 ff.).
2oCf. A. de Waelhens, Moderne JVijsbegeerfe, Louvain, 1946, pp. 105-109.
places the body "between brackets," for its reality is doubtful. For
methodic reasons the existence of God likewise has to be doubted,
for what is really evident regarding the existence of God?
N evertheless, there remains some certainty for Descartes. It is
impossible for him to doubt the reality of his own doubting, his own
thinking. Even if the reality of all things in this world and even of
my own body is doubtful, even then it is certain that I doubt and,
consequently, that I am, for if I were not, I could not doubt.21 It
is not subject to doubt that I, who think, am something. Why is this
Cogito, ergo sum not doubtful? For no other reason than that I
understand it clearly and distinctly.22
This principle became the supreme rule of Descartes' entire
philosophy. He had sought for an insight which in its indubitableness
would be able to be the starting point of philosophical thought. He
found in it his Cogito, ergo sum. This insight is indubitable for
Descartes, because he has a clear and distinct understanding of it.
Every other truth, therefore, will have to be conceivable in equally
clear and distinct ideas if it is not to be subjeCt to doubt. What
cannot be understood clearly and distinctly simply is not true. 23
What is the realm par excellence of clear and distinct ideas?
The reply to this question causes Descartes no difficulties. This realm
coincides with that of mathematics. Consequently, all knowledge must
take over the method of mathematics.
His Explicitation of Knowledge. At present, it does not interest
us at all whether or not Descartes discovered a solid basis for philo-
sophical thought in his methodic doubt. Our interest is concentrated
on the way in which he casually explicitates knowledge, for the
internal demands of Descartes' very method profoundly affect this
explicitation. To clarify this point, we will raise a few questions and
endeavor to answer them in line with Descartes' thought.
I am certain that I am because I think. Inevitably the question
arises as to what I am. In Descartes' line of thinking I cannot reply:
21Discourse 011 Method, Part IV (pp. 101 f.)
22"And having remarked that there was nothing at all in the statement 'I
think, therefore I am' which assures me of having thereby made a true asser-
tion, excepting that I see clearly that to think it is necessary to be, I came to
the conclusion that I might assume, as a general rule, that the things which
we conceive very clearly and distinctly are all true-remembering, however,
that there is some difficulty in ascertaining which are those that we distinctly
conceive." Descartes, Discourse on Method, Part IV p. (102).
23In this way Descartes lays the foundation of modern rationalism, which
accepts as real and true only what can be conceived in clear and distinct con-
cepts. Nothing else is real for the rationalist.
I am a bodily being, or I am a being-in-the-world, or I am an orien-

tation-to-God, for body, world, and God have been placed "between
brackets." Everything which is not thinking itself stands "between
brackets"; hence the reply to be given to the question is that I am
thinking.
But what do I think? I have to think something, for otherwise
I think nothing and thinking nothing means not thinking. Again,
the reply cannot be: I think my body, my world, God, unless I
mean by these words my thought-images, for whatever is not think-
ing itself is placed between brackets. Accordingly, I think my own
thought, my own knowing, I am conscious of my own consciousness.
Thus Descartes' method reveals itself heavy in consequences with
respect to the explicitation of knowledge. Knowledge is a fully
immanent process, a process which, to be what it is, does not need
anything that is not knowledge.
At once there arises the problem of the origin of knowledge.
Let us limit ourselves to knowledge of the world. If knowledge is
nothing else than knowledge of knowledge itself, i.e., not knowledge
of the world but of thought-images, of idees tableaux, it will never
be possible to say that knowledge derives its content from experience
of the world, even if the existence of this world-which was placed
between brackets-would be demonstrated. Consciousness cannot
manifest any sensitivity to reality, for such a sensitivity would openly
contradict the immanence of consciousness. The immanence of con-
sciousness affirms its self-sufficiency: consciousness is closed and
wrapped up in itself; it is what it is because of itself and therefore
does not need anything else to be what it is. Consequently, there
can be no passivity in consciousness as an essential aspect of it, for
any kind of passivity would exclude the self-sufficiency of con-
sciousness.
Since ideas, then, cannot be born from the experience of the
world, Descartes has only one possible solution-namely, that these
ideas are innate. A bountiful Creator has endowed man with clear
and distinct ideas at his very birth.
Once this point is reached, there is no end to the difficulties and
no possible solution. As soon as consciousness, knowing, thinking,
is cut loose from the world and locked up in itself, as soon as knowl-
edge is said to be nothing but knowledge of ideas, there is no longer
any possibility of affirming reality, the real existence of the world, or
to say it differently, to affirm that our knowledge of the world is
objective. The two expressions mean the same, for, as should be

clear, knowledge may be called objective if it gives expression to
what really is. An affirmation of this reality is no longer possible
in the Cartesian system, for every affirmation of no matter what
remains locked up in itself, affirms only itself. Any attempt to show
that a reality corresponds to certain concepts is doomed to failure, for
the so-called proof is always at least a process of thought which pre-
supposes the objectivity of thinking, the reality of what is thought.
Nevertheless, Descartes thought that there was an escape from
this difficulty, for he had found a criterion of truth and certainty in
clear and distinct ideas. But with respect to the material world, there
was one and only one clear and distinct idea for Descartes-that of
the quantity or extension of material things. Therefore, regarding
the material world he accepted only that which can be expressed in
terms of quantity.
This line of thought, however, does not remove the difficulty.
Who will guarantee that in reality something corresponds to these
concepts of quantity? Does something real correspond to every con-
cept of quantity? Here Descartes appeals to the veracity of God.
From his birth man has been endowed by the good Creator with
clear and distinct ideas. These ideas are the criterion of truth. Man
is convinced that his clear and distinct ideas express reality, objec-
tivity, that which really is. If this conviction is wrong, God would
deceive man, for God himself has given these ideas to man, so that
man is forced to consider as objective whatever he conceives in
clear and distinct concepts of quantity. God, however, cannot deceive
man; therefore, the world is real insofar as man has clear and distinct
quantitative concepts of it.24
All this is a clear-cut vicious circle. 25 First, everything that is
even slightly doubtful, including that there is a God, is put "between
brackets." Next, clear and distinct concepts are proclaimed the cri-
terion of truth and certainty. Finally, the real value of these ideas
24"For to begin with, that which I have just taken as a rule, that is to
say, that all the things that we very clearly and very distinctly conceive of as
true, is certain only because God is or exists, and that He is a Perfect Being-,
and that all that is in us issues from Him. From this it follows that our ideas
or notions, which to the extent of their being clear or distinct are ideas of
real things issuing from God, cannot but to that extent be true," Discourse
on Method, Part IV (p. lOS).
25Cf. Frederick Copleston, A History of PhilosopllY, vol. IV, pp. lOS ff.
is established by an appeal to God's veracity, although God has been

placed "between brackets."26
Results of Descartes' Approach. What were the results attained
by Descartes? First of all, knowledge, consciousness, was divorced
from the world, for knowledge was explicitated as knowledge of
knowledge itself. Next, Descartes in a very surreptious way reintro-
duced a kind of experience of the world, but only in an extremely
limited sense. Experience of the world was reduced to the experience
of the physical sciences, although man's ideas are not born from
this experience, but merely arise on the occasion of it. As far as
Descartes is concerned, only that experience of the world is reliable
and genuine which results in the clear and distinct ideas of quantity.
This experience is precisely the kind to which the viewpoint of the
physical sciences limits itself.
Descartes' real intention reveals itself here in an unmistakable
way. His methodic doubt, which was supposed to result in a starting
point of philosophical thought, is nothing else than a devious way to
demonstrate the solidity of the physical sciences. It is not without
great sacrifices that he arrives at his goal. Ordinary everyday experi-
ence of the world, everyday familiarity and contact with the world 27
has to be replaced by the scientific expression of experience, and this
scientific knowledge is the only kind which may be called trustworthy.
The fact that only the experience of the world proper to the
physical sciences is called reliable and true knowledge of this world
clearly betrays that Descartes had a definite, presupposed, but not
explicitly stated view of what may be called trustworthy knowledge,
for he says that the knowledge obtained through the physical sciences
is such knowledge . .In what does the reliability, the truth of this knowl-
edge consist? In the accurate mirrf'ring of a world that is by itself, i.e.,
loose from the subject. John Locke, who later explicitated Cartesian
philosophy, very emphatically affirmed this point.
Locke. According to Locke (1632-1704), only the primary qual-
ities of things are objective. By primary qualities he meant those
which the scholastics used to call "common sensibles," i.e., those
which can be perceived by more than one sense, such as extension,
form, and motion. They are to be distinguished from secondary
qualities or "proper sensibles," which are the distinct object of a
26Descartes did not postulate that there '" a God or derive his certitude of
God from faith. He attempted to formulate a proof, but in this attempt he had
to appeal to the objectivity of the principle of causality which he made use of.
The circle, therefore, remains.
27Cf. H. J. De Vleeschauwer, Rene Descartes, levensweg en wereldbschouw-
ing, Antwerpen, 1937, pp. 153-162.
particular sense, such as color of the eye or sound of the ear.

According to Locke, the secondary qualities are not objective but
merely subjective. They may be said to be objective only insofar
as a real world emits stimuli which influence the senses. Accordingly,
as for Descartes, so also for Locke, ordinary everyday experience in
which man believes spontaneously loses its value. Objective is only
the experience of extension, shape, motion, etc, i.e., the experience
of the physical sciences. Contrary to Descartes, however, Locke did
not want to have anything to do with innate ideas. For him, all
knowledge arises from experience.
What is the reason why Locke called knowledge of the primary
qualities objective and that of the secondary qualities subjective?
The answer is not far to seek. Locke had a presupposed view re-
garding the nature of knowledge, and this idea makes him despise
the secondary qualities. These qualities are objective only insofar
as an external stimulus makes them appear, but they must be called
subjective because they do not accurately mirror reality. Locke,
then, presupposes that knowledge is a mirroring of a reality outside
man-just as Descartes, who assumed that knowledge is knowledge
of idees tableaux. Only the knowledge obtained through the physical
sciences is valuable, because only the experience of these sciences
results in an accurate mirroring of the world.
3. EMPIRICISM AND IDEALISM
The influence of the Cartesian Cogito and its explicitations by

Locke can be found in some form or other in practically all philo-
sophical systems which arose after Descartes. After Descartes, every
philosopher had to make the problem of knowledge the central theme
of his thinking. The closedness of the Cogito, the pure immanence
of consciousness was constantly accepted as an indisputable starting
point. Knowledge was constantly viewed as knowledge of ideas. It
was always assumed that true knowledge was the accurate, purely
passive mirroring of an "outside" reality whose being did not depend
in any way on the knower. Thus the epistemological problem, acute
since Descartes, was concerned with the reality of that whose im-
manent cognitive images were in the knower.
This common starting point left a possibility of different trends
according as distinct aspects of Cartesianism were emphasized.
Consciousness and the world were placed side by side as two separate
realities, but according as post-Cartesian philosophers emphasized

either one or the other, it is possible to distinguish idealistic and
empiricist tendencies.
Idealism. The idealistic trend emphasizes consciousness, its
priority, spontaneity, and activity. For Descartes consciousness
was still connected with the world-although the way in which he
established this connection was not justifiable. Idealism considered
it its task to overcome this connection and to eliminate the world
entirely as a source of knowledge. It views the perception of the
world by consciousness with its consequent obscurity and confusedness
as an imperfect form of knowledge, which must be overcome and
replaced by the clarity of the self-sufficient idea. In perception con-
sciousness is in a state of estrangement from itself or, which amounts
to the same, in the world of matter clear and distinct ideas are in a
state of estrangement. Consciousness has as its task to return to
itself, to conquer its estrangement from itself in matter. Once this
return is made, consciousness is sufficient unto itself, pure for-itself-
ness, capable of perfect reflection (Hegel).
Empiricism. While idealism isolated consciousness from the world
and explicitated it as pure activity with respect to its cognitive content,
empiricism did almost the exact opposite. Idealism was struck by a
certain aspect of consciousness-namely, its spontaneity-and exag-
gerated this aspect. Empiricism likewise contains a fundamental
intuition of philosophical thinking-namely, not the spontaneity but
the "sensitivity," the passivity of consciousness. For it is indisputable
that realities impose themselves on perceiving consciousness and that
the perceiving consciousness finds reality. For this reason the em-
piricists never wanted to have anything to do with innate ideas, but
maintained that all knowledge originates from the experience of
reality.
The reality of the world, however, as well as the experience of this
reality, are explicitated in a very special way. For the empiricist,
reality is a "world-in-itself," it is brute reality, an inhuman world, in
the sense that man and his perceiving consciousness are left out of it.
The empiricist totally disregards the spontaneity, the active presence
of consciousness. He believes it possible to speak about a world with-
out man. 28 Consciousness, therefore, has to be conceived as pure
passivity, as tabula rasa, a sheet of paper on which nothing is written,
2SCf. pp. 34-39.
a sensitive photographic plate, a mirror, on which a world that is

fully in-itself imprints itself.29 Empiricism first affirms a world which
is not the term of the encounter that knowledge is and next asserts
that consciousness undergoes the influence of reality in a fully passive
sense. The world is the totality of reality,30 purely a spectacle for
consciousness, which in a "surveying glance" (Merleau-Ponty)
watches this world without any standpoint, without being in a de-
termined situation, without being itself involved in this world.
Contrary to idealism, for which all reality dissolved more and
more into thin air, empiricism emphasized the reality of the world.
Nevertheless, it did not build a bridge between consciousness and
world. As faithful followers of Descartes, the empiricists unanimously
asserted that the proper and immediate object of perceiving con-
sciousness is constituted by the impressions of perception themselves.
It could hardly be otherwise. For in empiricism knowledge is sepa-
rated and isolated from objectivity, yet at the same time it is called
objective. Therefore, knowledge must be in harmony with the reality
that is isolated from the knower. This harmony, however, demands
that the knowing subject somehow possess reality. How is it possible
to possess such a reality that is separated from the knower ?31 Surely,
reality is not entitatively, according to its physical nature, in the
knower. The reply is that in the knower there is a reflecting image,32
an impressed species, which the physical reality imprints on the
knowing subject, and that this image, as the imitation or double of
"reality-in-itself" constitutes the proper and immediate object of
knowledge. 33 Accordingly, I never know a chair, a house, or a plant,
but only a chair-impression, a house-impression a plant-impression.
Empiricism accepts dogmatically, without any foundation, that there
29Phenomenologists usually call this empiricism realism. "Le realisme tente
de rendre compte de la connaissance par une action du monde sur Ia substance
pensante." Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, p. 277.
30Cf. Merleau-Ponty, La structure du comportement, p. 218.
31"C'est d'abord Ie sensible, Ie per~u lui-meme, qu'on installe dans les fonc-
tions de chose extra-mentale, et Ie probleme est donc de comprendre comment
un double ou une imitation du reel est suscite dans Ie corps, puis dans la
pensee." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 205.
32"Puisqu'un tableau nous fait penser a ce qu'il represente, on supposera,
en se fondant sur Ie cas privilegie des appareils visuels, que les sens recoivent
des choses reelles de 'petits tableaux' qui excitent I'ame ales percevoir. Les
'simulacres' epicuriens ou les 'especes intentionnelles', 'toutes ces petites images
voltigeantes par I'air' qui apportent dans Ie corps I'aspect sensible des choses,
ne font que transporter en termes d'explication causale et d'operations reelles
la presence ideale de la chose au suj et percevant qui. nous I'avons vu, est une
evidence pour la conscience naive." Merleau-Ponty, ibid.
is, on the one hand, a world and, on the other, a Cartesian conscious-
ness which is passive yet at the same time wrapped up in itself. Thus
there is no bridge between consciousness and the world.
Empiricism and Experience. Meanwhile it is very problematic
that there are any of these perceptive impressions. When Descartes
asked himself to what extent his knowledge of the world could be
called objective, he replied that there is only one clear and distinct
idea of the material world-namely, extension. Extension was the
realm of the physical sciences; hence Descartes' reply attributed a
privileged position to the experience of the physical sciences. The
same was done by Locke, for whom only the primary qualities of
things were objective.
To defend these proclaimed impressions of perception, empiricist
psychologists let themselves be guided by their admiration for the
results of the physical sciences to treat all contents of consciousness
with the same method as the physicist uses for matter-namely, the
analysis of matter into its ultimate elements. This is what the psychol-
ogist is supposed to do likewise with respect to the contents of
consciousness. 34 Accordingly, a "house-impression," a "plant-impres-
sion," etc. have to be analyzed and resolved into their elements. 31i
These elements are sought in elementary sensation, caused by physical
stimuli with a measurable strength, which are supposed to exercise
a unilateral and physically determinating causal influence on sensi-
tivity.36 The summative interconnection of many elementary sensa-
tions, caused by physical stimuli, is thought to arise through the
mechanism of association. In this way a "house-impression" or a
(( plant-impression" is supposed to be constructed. 37
We make mention of this theory here because with the rise of
phenomenology a radically new perspective is opened on the problem
of physical stimuli as the cause of sensation and on the question of
the value to be attributed to association as the principle of composition
of elementary sensations.
Let us examine next what is left of ordinary everyday experience
by the empiricists. The reply allows no hesitation: empiricism not
S4Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenombtologie de la perception, p. 72.

3liWe mention here only phenomena of knowledge, because other "contents
of consciousness," e.g., appetitive phenomena, do not concern us here.
36The subjectivity or objectivity of these impressions does not enter into
the psychological explanation of perception.
s7Cf. J. van Dae1, Geschiedenis der empirische psycho logie, Zeist, 1929, pp.
12-20.
only destroys ordinary everyday experience, which consists in being

together with things, in communing with reality, hut also simply
substitutes for it the experience of the physical sciences. Matters
have gone so far in this respect that even the non-philosophizing
public at large has slowly but surely become convinced that the world
of the physicist and the chemist is properly the only real and objective
world. Accordingly, the knowledge supplied by the physical sciences
is true knowledge--the rest is poetry, romanticism or subjectivism.
If this view is correct, then the question arises: About which
world does the physicist speak? If this world is not the world that
is familiar to us and in which we dwell, then physical science is a
mere play of ideas. How could I ever discover what the physicist
is speaking about if it be not the world of delicious grapes and breath-
taking vistas? What is the meaning of speaking about the world if this
world is not the world in which the girls are so sweet and the boys so
manly and generous, if it is not the world in which there is a differ-
ence between a deceased and a murdered individual, in which there
is a difference between the red of an apple, the red of lips, and that
of blood? Such meanings do not occur in physical science, but to-
gether with the physicists we live in a world in which these meanings
do occur and are taken into account, so that even the physicist can
be a married man, having a good wife and handsome children, although
he is unable to express these meanings in categories of quantity.
This world is the real world in which man dwells. 38
That the knowledge presented by the physical sciences is not the
only way of knowing is clear also from the fact that otherwise no one
would be able to reflect upon the knowledge of the physical sciences.
The physicist would not be able to do it, because for him there is
only scientific experience, and the knowledge of the physical sciences
itself does not fall under this experience; the non-physicist likewise
could not do it, for he does not think in the way of the physical
sciences. Nevertheless, no one doubts the possibility of such reflection,
for de facto it is done.
Accordingly, it is important to revise the concept of experience in
a fundamental way. Experience has to be explicitated as it is inte-
grally.39 It is a question of "restoring to experience its ontological
weight."40
38Cf. A. de Waelhens, "Signification de la phenomenologie," Diogene,
1954, no. 5, pp. 59-60.
39"[La phenomenologie] s'efforce de concevoir la philosophie comme l'ex-
plicitation de l'experience humaine integrale," A. de Waelhens, ibid., p. 60.
40Cf. Marcel, Etre et Avo;r, p. 149.
4. CRITIQUE OF PHENOMENOLOGY ON THE TRADmONAL PREJUDICES

REGARDING THE NATURE OF MAN'S KNOWLEDGE
Phenomenology Does Not Disparage Science. From the preceding

reflections upon idealism and especially upon empiricism one could
perhaps be inclined to conclude that the phenomenologist has no con-
fidence in science and prefers a mysterious kind of irrationalism.
More specifically, it is sometimes claimed that the phenomenologist
considers positive sciences and especially the physical sciences value-
less. Both views, however, are erroneous.
As is generally known, like Descartes, Husserl, the father of
phenomenology, was struck by the success of the sciences and dis-
mayed by the chaos prevailing in the philosophical world. Husserl
had great confidence in the sciences and wanted to raise philosophy
to the level of a "rigorous science." His appeal "back to reality itself"
certainly does not mean that in his view the sciences do not speak
about reality. The appeal is directed to philosophy, which has turned
away from reality.41 This assertion is true in the first place for the
representatives of idealism and empiricism, but it applies also to
those scientists who, perhaps unspokenly, think that no other mode
of knowledge is possible than the one used in a certain science and
that there is no other reality than the one discovered by the science
in question.
Such a view itself is a kind of philosophy, at least implicitly. It is
called scientism. It is a view regarding reality and knowledge in
general. It should be evident that a specialist in the positive sciences
exceeds the realm of his science and his own qualifications when he
begins to speak about knowledge in general. No chemist can speak
about his own science without leaving the realm of chemistry, without
ceasing to speak as a chemist. By reflecting on the knowledge pre-
sented by the physical sciences, the physicist becomes ipso facto a
philosopher. This is what happened to Husserl also.
In practice, when specialists in the physical sciences reflect upon
their own physical knowledge they generally adhere to empiricism.42
They believe that there, before their eyes, the world of objects and
facts lies displayed and that here registering consciousness stands
as a mirror ready to receive these objects and facts as accurately as
HCf. de Waelhens, "De la phenomenologie a l'existentialisme," Le choir,

Ie monde, I'eristence. (Cahiers du College Philosophique), Grenoble-Paris,
n. d., p. 42.
42Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, pp. 66-69.
possible. They presuppose that there is a brute reality which through

the unilateral and determining influence of its stimuli imposes itself
upon a passive consciousness. They attempt to reconstruct by means
of the special constructs of the physical sciences the sense of reality,
which is immediately accessible to everyday experience, and think that
the world, without qualification, is the world of the physicist, that
truth unqualified is the truth of the physical sciences. Only in the
way of the physical sciences they believe it possible to know the world
pure and simple.
Against such a view, which is usually only implicitly present, the
phenomenologist rises in revolt. He does not distrust the sciences, but
he does distrust the philosophy which far too often is concealed behind
them. This philosophy is purely empiricist. In this way the question
which was formulated at the end of the preceding section arises again:
How does the physicist know about which world he is speaking? If
this world is not the world in which we live, the world of things
with which we work and are familiar, physics is a play of words, for
there is no other real world than the "world in which we live."44 This
world, however, ryveals more meanings than those that occur in the
physical sciences. \.Thus a the~ry of knowledge demands a return, a
reflective return to know~edge las it de facto occurs, (a return to the
knowing bf delightfully appetizing apples and breathtaking vistas, a
return to the world in which we live and with which we are familiar.
If the geographer does not speak about the landscapes in which we
spend our holidays, if the chemist does not speak about the water
which we drink when we are thirsty, then they do not speak about
anything.45 For this is )the world in which we live, and there is no
other world for man. 46/
The phenomenologist, therefore, does not distrust the sciences,
but is c()uvinced that every scientific judgment about reality ultimately
43"Nous I'avons vu: on ne peut pas reconstituer ainsi, en combinant des
significations ideales (stimuli, recepteurs, circuits associatifs) la structure de
l'experience perceptive." Merleau-Ponty, La structure du comportement, p. 235.
44"Revenir aux choses memes, c'est revenir a ce monde avant la connais-
sance dont la connaissance parle toujours, et a I'egard duquel toute determina-
tion scientifique est abstraite, signitive et dependante, comme la geographie a
I'egard du paysage OU nous avons d'abord appris ce que c'est qu'un foret, une
prairie ou une riviere." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception,
p. III.
45"La science c1assique est une perception qui oublie ses origines et se croit
achevee." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 69.
46"Tout I'univers de la science est construit sur Ie monde vecu et si no us
voulons penser la science elle-meme avec rigueur, en apprecier exactement Ie
sens et la portee, .i1 nous faut reveiller d'abord cette experience du monde dont
elle est I'expression seconde." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. III.
goes back to a familiar, integral experience of reality and that other-

wise such a judgment is simply suspended in mid-air. This familiar
intercourse with the world has to be expressed if one wants to
formulate a theory of knowledge, for this intercourse is knowledge
as it de facto occurs.
It should be clear now what, inter alia, the phenomenologist
means when he says that phenomenology is a method for establishing
a foundation or ground. As was indicated previously, no judgment
regarding reality can be original, i.e., the very first. Prior to all is
familiar intercourse, experience that is not reflected upon. This
original experience has to be uncovered. Only when this is done,
the judgment will have a ground and only then will it become clear
what value any assertion hasY
Phenomenology and the Nature of Knowledge. Knowledge is still
the object of our inquiry. We want to discover its true nature. To
attain this goal, it is necessary, however, to place "between brackets,"
i.e., to set aside, all kinds of theories about knowledge. Both
idealistic and empiricist theories are provisionally set aside 48 as well
as all the implicit assumptions regarding knowledge which are
current among specialists in the positive sciences. 49
Let us suppose, for example, that we are dealing with knowledge
of thi!. table. Anything that can be said regarding knowledge pre-
supposes knowledge as it occurs, as, e.g., familiarity with this table.
Insofar as this familiar intercourse is knowledge, it is called perception.
Of course, there is more than just perception in this familiarity; there
may be also activity with respect to it, an effective relationship, and
a tendency to it. These, however, do not concern us now, for we are
interested only in the nature of perception.
How is it possible for me ever to discover what this nature is?
Where do I stand when I attempt to describe perception? Do I have
to leave perception behind, place myself, as it were, above it, to
Hef. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 69.

48"Theorien, das sagt hier theoretische Vormeinungen jeder Art, halten wir
uns in diesen Untersuchungen streng yom Leibe." Edmund Husser!, Ideen zu
einer reinen Phiinoml'n%gie und phiinomenoiogischen Philosophie, vol. I, Den
Haag, 1950-hereafter quoted as Ideen, I-p. 62.
49"Aber ieh iibe eine im eigentliehen Sinn 'phanomenologisehe' Epoehe, das
ist: die mir bestandig als seiend vorgegebene Welt nehme ieh nicht so hin, so
wie ich es im gesamten natiirlieh-praktisehen Leben tue, direkter aber auch so
wie ich es in den positiven Wissenschaften tue: als eine im voraus seiende Welt
unci" in letzter Hinsicht nicht als einen universalen Seinsboden fur eine in
Erfahrung und Denken fortschreitende Erkenntnis." Husserl, ibid., p. 67.
judge it from without ?~O Or do I have to place myself precisely in

perception and give expression to it, and if so, how can this be done?
The reply is that I have to place myself in perception as it de facto
occurs and give expression to it. This is possible because the per-
ception-of-the-table is not concealed from me, for I am conscious of it.
Perception, as it de facto occurs, is perceiving consciousness of the
world, but at the same time equally immediately perception-con-
sciousness. 31 The perception of a table belongs to what we have
called previously the "irreftechi," of which I possess a "lived ex-
perience."52 Reflection on perception means that I place myself in the
presence of the perception to which I am present, that I "catch" it,
and give expression to it.
a. Intentionality
The first point to be made is that perceIVIng consciousness is a
being-together-with-the-reality of the table which is given to me, which
I find as reality. The return to or reflection upon perception as it
occurs shows immediately two things-namely, firstly, the being-
outside-itself-with-reality, the existence of perceiving consciousness
and, secondly, the reality of the table to which consciousness is present.
Consciousness is Never Wrapped up in Itself. Thus several as-
sumptions of idealism and empiricism are simply denied. Perceiving
consciousness is never closed, wrapped up in itself. On the contrary,
it is openness, it is always a mode of existing, a mode of placing
oneself outside oneself and with the reality which is not consciousness
itself. In perception consciousness does not find itself in a state of
alienation that has to be overcome. The sense uncovered by per-
ceiving consciousness is not estranged from the clear and distinct
idea to which consciousness is supposed to return. The sense which
perceiving consciousness intends is an irreducible and invincible
facti city which makes perfect reflection forever impossible. The
perceiving consciousness, therefore, is never perfectly with itself,
50This would mean a regress to infinity for, in order to discover what the
value is of this judgment-from-without, I would have to place myself again
outside this judgment, and so on to infinity.
fil"La n!flexion est possible parce que la conscicnce-tclle est sa nature-
est a la fois visee et conscience de la vi see. Ce n' est donc pas sortir de
I'analyse intentionnelle . . . que de la considerer e1le-meme, et reflexivement,
dans sa structure." de Waelhens, Phenomenologie et verite, Paris, 1953, pp.
30-31, note 2.
52Cf., pp. 25-33.
wrapped up in itself. It is a directedness to what consciousness itself

is not, i.e., it is intentional.
This intentionality, however, can be misunderstood. Intentionality
occurs also in the philosophy of Franz Brentano, from whom Husserl
borrowed it, and in scholastic philosophy, which influenced Brentano.
In both of them intentionality does not have the meaning intended by
Husserl and, after him, by phenomenology. Contrary to Brentano's
view, intentionality is not something pertaining to consciousness and
distinct from it. For Brentano, consciousness is first consciousness
and then only orientation-to. For scholasticism consciousness is first
separated from reality and then enters into contact with it by means
of an impressed species, a substitute form of brute reality. 53 Regard-
ing the mode of being of such forms or species, scholasticism replies
that they do not have an entitative being but only an intentional being,
i.e., their whole being consists in referring-to-reality.54 HusserI,
on the other hand, breaks with the idea of a closed consciousness and
sees orientation-to, openness-for as that which is consciousness. 55
It is impcssible to demonstrate that his view is correct. Its truth
can only be indicated. Perceiving consciousness is always a being-
with-reality which is not consciousness itself, a being-open-for and
directed-to reality. The perfect being-with-itself of consciousness is
an illusion.
Consciousness is Intercourse with Reality. Secondly, it was said
that consciousness is intercourse with reality. This assertion is im-
plied by the first. If the pure immanence of consciousness is excluded
by intentionality, if consciousness is said never to be consciousness
of consciousness itself but always of that which is not consciousness
itself, it is no longer possible to raise the question whether or not per-
ceiving consciousness seizes reality, i.e., whether what I perceive really
. 56
!S.
53Cf. John A. Peters, Metaphysics, nos. 123 ft. (to be published in this
series) .
54J. H. E. Hoogveld-F. Sassen, Inleiding tot de Wijsbegeerte, vol. I,
Utrecht, 1944, p. 22.
55"Wohl zu beachten ist dabei, dass hier nicht die Rede ist von einer
Beziehung zwischen irgendeinem psychologischen Vorkommnis-genannt Erleh-
nis-und einem anderen realen Dasein-genannt Gegenstand--oder von einer
psychophysischen und sonstwie realen Verkniipfung, die in objektiver Wirk-
lichkeit zwischen dem einen und anderen statthiitte. Vielmehr ist hier und
iiberall von rein phiinomenologischen Erlebnissen, bzw. von ihrem Wesen die
Rede, und von dem, was in ihrem Wesen 'a priori', in unbedingter Notwen-
digkeit beschlossen ist." Husserl, Ideen, I, p. 80.
56"On voit ... comment Ie probleme de l'existence du monde exterieur ne
presente a la rigueur aucun sens que1conque." Marcel, Journal metaphysique,
p.26.
This question is meaningful only if one asserts that only im-

manent cognitive images are perceived. Only in this case does the
philosopher face the task of determining which images are objective.
In other words, truth and objectivity have to be reached, as it were,
in a devious way. The philosopher has to try to determine to what
extent reality corresponds with his cognitive images, i.e., he has to
prove that the perceived world of which the knower has only cognitive
images is real. Such questions, however, cannot be solved in the situ-
ation faced by these philosophers. Some images will correspond with
reality, others perhaps not, but this makes no difference insofar as
the images are concerned. Thus in the images the knower can never
"see" whether or not they are objective, express the objective world,
and correspond with reality, for to determine this the knower has to
be present already to objectivity.
- Perceiving consciousness, however, itself is a being-with-reality,
and without the reality of the table which I perceive my perception is
not perception but dreaming or imagining. Of course, I can also
dream or imagine things. I can ask myself whether or not I am
dreaming while I think that I perceive the table. What does this
possibility imply? The fact that I am capable of asking myself whether
I am dreaming or imagining instead of perceiving means that I have
already made a distinction between dreaming or imagining and per-
ceiving. Thus I know that if I were dreaming, I would not perceive
reality. Accordingly, I cannot ask myself whether what I am perceiv-
ing is perhaps not real, for without the reality of the perceived my per-
ception is not perception. 57 In perception the real is "bodily" pres-
ent. 58 Consequently, the "scandal of philosophy" does not consist in
the fact that hitherto no one has managed to construct a valid proof
for the reality of an "external world" (Kant), but rather in the fact
that constantly new efforts are made to deliver such proof. 59
57"Car si je peux parler de 'reves' et de la 'realite,' m'interroger sur la
distinction de l'imaginaire et du reel, mettre en doute Ie 'reel', c'est que cettc
distinction est deja faite par moi avant I'analyse, c'est que j'ai une experience
du reel comme de l'imaginaire, et Ie probleme est alors non pas rechercher
comment la pensee critique peut se donner des equivalents secondaires de cette
distinction, mais d'expliciter notre savoir primordial du 'reel', de deer ire la
perception du monde comme ce que fonde pour toujours notre idee de verite'.
I! ne faut done pas se demander si nous percevons vraiment un monde, il faut
dire au contraire: Ie monde est eel a que nous percevons." Merleau-Ponty,
PhinomenoLogie de La perception, p. XI.
58"Das Raumding, das \Vir sehen, ist bei all seiner Transzendenz Wahr-
genommenes, in seiner Leibhaftigkeit bewusstseinsmassig Gegebenes. Es ist
nicht statt seiner cin Bild oder ein Zeichen gegeben, Man unterschiebe nicht
dem Wahrnehmen ein Zeichen oder Bildbewusstsein." Husserl, I dcen, I. pp.
98-99.
Phenomenology of Knowledge 9S
In the intentionality of perceiving consciousness and the (( self-

giving" of the perceived the foundation of the objectivity and of the
truth of a statement is indicated at the same time. 60 All evidence
and all truth ultimately go always back to the giving itself, the showing
itself of the perceived as it is. Of course, I can make a mistake, but
the recognition of my mistake consists precisely in observing that
my assertion does not correspond with reality. This recognition,
however, presupposes that reality reveals itself as it is. The recog-
nition of an error means the withdrawal of an assertion before the
self-givenness of reality. If perceiving consciousness is intentionality,
openness to reality, then the presence of the perceived decides the
objectivity and truth of any statement regarding what is perceived.
h. Noesis and Noema
Consciousness is Not Pure Passivity. vVhat is real? Is it the
brute, inhuman reality of empiricism? Does not the givenness of
reality suggest the pure passivity of perceiving consciousness?
Granted that perceiving consciousness is intentional, does this exclude
that knowledge is a mirroring of reality, as empiricism thinks? The
reply to these questions has been given previously in Chapter One
when we spoke about the anthropological implications of phenomen-
ology.61 The reality which I perceive is never en-soi, i.e., being-in-
itself.
The idea of intentionality implies this assertion very clearly.
Husserl's statement that all consciousness is consciousness of some-
thing could not be called a "discovery" if it merely meant that
knowledge has an object. Moreover, in this sense the statement would
still be open to idealistic and empiricist interpretations. Husserl's
conception, however, excludes idealism because the object of knowl-
edge is always something which is not knowledge itself and can never
be reduced to knowledge. The object is the invincible facticity of
the bodily given, the density of being. Empiricism likewise is over-
come by the idea of intentionality. When it is said that perceiving
consciousness is involved in and clings to the immovable and in-
vincible density of reality, this assertion implies also that reversely
the real clings to perceiving consciousness. 62 vVithout perceiving
consciousness things are nothing-for-man.
60Hu5serl, "Formaie und Transzendentaie Logik," lahrbuch fur Philosophie
und phiinomenologische Forschung," vol. X (1929), pp. 142-144.
61 Cf., pp. 25-33.
62Cf. P. Thevenaz: "Qu'est-ce que ia phenomenoiogie," Revue de Theologie
et de Philosophie (Lausanne), 1952, p. 26.
Dialectic Unity of Noesis and N oema. Accordingly, percelvmg

consciousness can never be pure passivity, for through perception I
let things be-for-me. 63 Pure passivity belongs to the photographic
plate and the mirror, in which there is no longer any question of
knowledge. Perceiving consciousness is "sensitive" to reality: I find
things; they are given to me, but only through and in my perceiving
glance. Perceiving consciousness and perceived reality constitute a
dialectic unity. The act of consciousness (noesis) which my per-
ception is cannot be cut loose from the reality of the perceived
(noema), and the noema cannot be cut loose from the noesis. Know l-
edge is, on the one hand, the wonderful mystery of man's openness
to reality and, on the other, it is the mystery of rea1ity's-being-for-man.
By means of knowledge man overcomes the determinism of
nature and of natural processes, for it is through man's consciousness
that nature and its processes are-for-man. Nevertheless, nature,
things of nature, and natural processes are reality,' they are the density,
the invincible hardness, the unconquerable materiality of being. In his
reflective return to knowledge the philosopher always strikes the
density of things, and this density can never be removed or overcome
because his knowing itself is a mode of being-in-the-world. 64 On
the other hand, however, the reality about which the philosopher
speaks in a meaningful way is not reality-without-man. Regarding
rea1ity-without-man only silence befits man. 65
In a certain sense it may be said that through knowledge man
and the world "become themselves." Man "becomes himself" because
it is precisely through knowledge that he breaks through the deter-
minism of nature. By virtue of this break-through, man is man
and not a mere thing of nature. However, he cannot accomplish this
without the aid of the things of nature, for to know is to exist, to
be-with-things. But through this being-with-things in knowledge a
6SCf. Heidegger, Vom Wesen der Wahrheit, Frankfurt a.M., 3rd ed.,
1954, pp. 14-17.
64"Mais puisque au contraire nous sommes au monde, puisque meme nos
reflexions prennent place dans Ie flux tempore! qu'elles cherchent a capter ...,
il n'y a pas de pensee qui embrasse toute notre pensee." Merleau-Ponty, Pht-
nomenologie de la perception, p. IX.
65"Cest par la connaissance . . . que l'etre brut accede au niveau de
I'existence veritable, et notre conscience d'exister est presupposee dans celle
de I'existence du monde," P. Foulquie, L'existentialisme, Paris, 1953, p. 38.
world opens up, a world reveals itself, a world-for-man begins to be.

Thus, in the words of Paul Claudel, connaitre, to know, is a kind
of co-naitre, a being born together. 66
Phenomenology. The idea of intentionality, which at first sight
seems so simple, because of its implications is a real discovery. It
creates an entirely new climate of thought67 in which the classical
antimony of idealism versus empiricism is overcome. 6S By virtue of
the implications of the idea of intentionality, phenomenology is a
philosophy of encounter.
Quite frequently these implications have been overlooked, so that
phenomenology was simply taken to mean a most accurate description.
Thus it could happen that phenomenology was sometimes considered
merely as a revival of realism. On the other hand, representatives
of classical psychology of consciousness used the term for the intro-
spective description of the various items contained in the "pigeon-
holes" of consciousness. 69 To exclude all kinds of derivative and
watered-down meanings of the term "phenomenology," we intention-
ally speak all the time of existential phenomenology.
c. Viewpoint, Profile, Unity
The idea of intentionality, applied to percelvmg consciousness,

includes more than the being-outside itself of the subject and the
being-for-the-subject of reality. Let us return to the perception of the
table to illustrate this point.
Viewpoint and Profile. It is striking that I am able to perceive
the table only from a standpoint which is determined by the attitude
of my body. Because I am now in this or that way in front of the
table, I perceive the table in a determined profile. I perceive only
one aspect of the table, and do not perceive its rear, one of its sides,
the underside of the top, etc. Through perceiving consciousness I let
the table be-for-me, reality is given to me, but reality gives itself only
66Cf. Paul Claudel, Art poetique.

67"La phenomenologie se laisse pratiquer et reconnaitre comme maniere,
ou comme style." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. II.
6sCf. Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sens, Paris, 1948, pp. 171-172.
69See, for example, the well-known textbook Leerboek der Psychologie
by L. Bigot, Ph. Kohnstamm and B. Palland (Groningen, 1950). It states
literally: "Phenomenology is introspection" (p. 16).
by means of profiles (Abschattungenpo which are correlated with

a determined standpoint of the perceiving subject.
A determined standpoint, however, refers intrinsically to other
possible standpoints, and a determined profile contains an intrinsic
reference to other possible profiles.u While I perceive the front
of the table, I realize that I can perceive also the rear or the underside
of the table if I change my standpoint. But if I do this, I no longer
perceive the front or the top of the table. What has been said here
regarding the perception of a table is true of any object of perception:
perception takes place only through an endless series of profiles,
corresponding to endless possibilities of standpoints and attitudes. 72
Nevertheless, all these profiles are profiles of the same table,
the same apple, coin, etc. Peter's back which I perceive, after I
looked in his face without seeing his back, is the back of the same Peter
whom I looked in the face. I must say, therefore, that I perceive the
unity and totality of the perceived object through an endless series
of profiles, corresponding to endlessly many possible standpoints. 73
We must emphasize in this respect that the anticipation, the pre-
grasping of other possible profiles pertaining to the object of perception
is an essential and constituent aspect of perception as perception
occurs.
Accordingly, perception simply is not perception if it does not
contain these anticipations as possibilities. Likewise, and this amounts
to the same, the object of perception simply is not a real object of
perception if a determined profile does not refer to other possible
profiles. If one profile of a man, say, his face, does not refer to another
profile, such as his back, then this man is not a real man but a phantom.
Anticipations, therefore, cannot be said to be merely incidental to
perception. On the contrary, they are essential: an object is an object
70"1n Wesensnofwendigkeit gehort zu einem 'allseitigen', kontinuierlich ein-

heitlich sich in sich selbst bestatigenden Erfahrungsbewusstsein yom selben
Ding ein vieifaltiges System von kontinuierlichen Erscheinungs-und Abschat-
tungsmannigfaltigkeiten, in denen, wenn sie aktuell gelten, alle in die vVahrnehm-
ung mit dem Charakter der leibhaften Se1bstgegenheit fallenden gegenstand-
lichen Momente sich im Bewusstsein der 1dentitat in bestimmten Kontinuitaten
darstellen bzw. abschatten." Husserl, Idem, I, p. 93.
71Husserl, E,ofahnmg ulld Urteil, Hamburg, 1948, pp. 26-27.
72Cf. Husserl, Ideen, I, pp. 100-101.
73"Gehen wir von einem Beispiel aus. 1mmerfort diesen Tisch sehend, dabei
urn ihn herumgehend, meine Stellung in Raume wie immer verandernd, habe
ich kontinuierlich das Bewusstsein vom leibhaftigen Dasein dieses einen und
selben Tisches und zwar desselben, in sich durchaus unverandert bleibenden.
Die Tischwah~nehmung ist aber eine sich bestandig verandernde, sie ist eine
Kontinuitat wechselnder Wahrnehmungen." Husserl, I dee If, I, p. 92.
of perception only because each profile refers to another profile. I am,

moreover, aware of it that every profile is the profile of one and the
same object of perception. 74
Unity and Horizon. Not everything, however, has been said if
emphasis is laid on the unity and totality of the object of perception.
It is not merely the totality of the object of perception that has to be
stressed, but also the unity of this totality with the entire field of
perception. Every object appears as a definite figure against a back-
ground; it appears against a horizon of meanings. The apple which
through an endless series of profiles I perceive as a unity and
totality appears first as a real apple against the horizon of the table,
the fruitbowl, cupboard, or book on which it lies. An apple which
does not lie on a table, in a fruitbowl, or in a dealer's crate, which
does not hang on a branch or lie in a child's hand, an apple, briefly,
which does not appear against any background simply is not a real
apple. It is. nat the object of a real perception, but pure fancy,
the product' of a dream or an hallucination. 75 The perception itself
of an apple includes as an essential and constituen.t aspect the field of
perception, the background, the horizon.
Because I direct my attention to the apple and not to the hand
of the child holding the apple, the apple appears as a salient figure,
as a meaning which is, as it were, drawn forth and cut out from a
background of meanings. The hand, the arm, the child's body, the
floor on which the child stands, the room, the house, etc. are con-
stituent elements with respect to the real apple. An apple which
does not have any horizon cannot be perceived and is not real.
Perception, therefore, is always perception of the whole thing,
as integrated into a wider field which, in its turn, also is a part of
a horizon of more remote meanings. It is the structure of these
nearby and faraway horizons of perception which constitutes the
"worldness" of the world.
The Insufficiency of Empiricism with Respect to the Object. Once
the original unity of the figure-horizon structure which is given in
perception has been understood, it is not difficult to see that the
74(f. Merleau-Ponty, La structure du comportement, pp. 200-203.
75"Quand la Gestalt-theorie no us dit qu'une figure sur un fond est la donnee
sensible la plus simple que nous puissions obtenir, ce n'est pas Ii un caractere
contingent de la perception de fait, qui nous laisserait libres, dans une analyse
ideale, d'introduire la notion d'impression. C'est la definition meme du pheno-
mene percept if, ce sans quoi un phenomene ne peut etre dit perception."
psychological "explanation" of perception by the empiricists does

not do justice to perception as it occurs in reality. The empiricists
assume that perception is a structure composed of elementary, insular,
and point-like awarenesses caused by physico-chemical stimuli. Since
the philosophical implications of this theory have been pointed out
previously, we will concentrate here on the psychological "explana-
tion."
Let us start by pointing out that the prospects of this explanation
are very dim because de facto the elementary awarenesses in question
have never been found. 76 Next, by pointing to a constellation of
stimuli, one does not account for perception as it occurs in reality
or express what is really given in perception. In perception a color
is never only color but always the color of something,77 There is a
huge difference between the wooly red of a rug, the slippery and
sticky red of blood, and the refreshing and radiant red of a healthy
youthful face. These differences are not accounted for by pointing to
physico-chemical stimuli. 7s What is given in perception is the totality
of the object, and in perception the object does not appear as an
agglomeration of stimuli, but as a given meaning. An agglomeration
of stimuli does not explain the fury or sorrow which I read on the
face of my fellow man. Fury and sorrow are perceived by me as
meanings of the perceived face. 79 Reducing the meaning to a certain
constellation of stimuli means that I can never again perceive that
a landscape or a face is happy, sad, lively, melancholic, monotonous,
or dull. sO A happy and joyful face is not defined by the physico-
chemical properties of a constellation of stimuli. Nevertheless, I am
aware of it that I have seen a happy and joyful face.
The Empiricist Insufficiency with Respect to the Subject. From
the viewpoint of the subject, likewise, there are innumerable difficulties
76Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid.
77"Une couleur n'est jamais simplement couleur, mais couleur d'un certain
objet, et Ie bleu d'un tapis ne serait pas Ie meme bleu s'il n'etait un bleu
laineux." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 361.
78The so-called "hypothesis of constancy," which states that stimuli of a
determined strength always provoke a constant "reaction" is contrary to facts
which psychologists thelill'e1ves recognize. Cf. Merleau-Ponty, PhCnomenologie
de la perception, p. 14.
79"Definissant une fois de plus ce que nous percevons par les proprietes
physiques et chimiques des stimuli qui peuvent agir sur nos appareils sensorie1s,
l'empirisme exc1ut de la perception la colere ou la douleur que je lis pourtant
sur un visage, la religion dont je lis pourtant l'essence dans une hesitation ou
dans une reticence, la cite dont j e connais pourtant la structure dans une atti-
tude de l'agent de ville ou dans Ie style d'un monument." Merleau-Ponty, ibid.,
p.32.
socr. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 31-32.
against the psychological explanation of perception by the empiricists.

The perceiving subject is reduced to an agglomeration of insular,
point-like impressions. But the psychologists realized clearly that it is
not feasible to assign a stimulus as its cause to each of these impres-
sions. When, for instance, I read a book or engage in a conversation,
I do not receive a special impression of every written or spoken letter.
I see and hear only fragments, but nevertheless I read and hear
sentences and words. My sensitive "receiving and registration ap-
paratus" does not receive any "messages" of stimuli coming from the
rear of the table and the underside of the tabletop, but nevertheless
I am aware of perceiving a table. When I perceive my attic room,
I receive stimuli only from the walls in front of me and alongside me but
not from the wall behind me; nevertheless, I am aware of it that my
room has four walls and is an attic room.
These difficulties, however, did not induce the empiricists to
abandon their theory of stimuli. They thought it possible to solve
the difficulty by means of a new theory-namely, the hypothesis that
through association or similar means the subject supplements what
he does not receive from the stimuli.
The recourse to this new hypothesis shows clearly what the
empiricists do not want: perception may not be perception of the
totality, but at all cost must be constructed and put together from
psychical elements. In other words, the psychical subject has to be
composed like a thing of nature, contents of consciousness have to be
elements and have to be treated in the same way as the physical
sciences are accustomed to treat their elements. For it is imperative
that psychology proceed in this way if it is to be called "scientific."
Meanwhile, as an "explanation" of the supplements demanded by
the theory of stimulation, association presupposes what it wants to
explain. According to the terminology of Claparecie,81 association
must be conceived as a psychical "rope" by which the point-like
impressions are connected. Because of the interconnection of the
impressions, a fragmentary stimulation from without is sufficient to
reproduce the whole, the totality of what has been perceived. In this
way it is assumed that the primacy of isolated stimuli over the per-
ception of the totality can be maintained.
As we mentioned already, the theory presupposes what it wants
to explain. Because the impressions are associated with other im-
81L'association des idees, Paris, 1913, p. 7.

pressions in many directions,82 the reproduction of a whole world

could take place in many ways. But what is the reason why precisely
this whole is reproduced? Several totalities could be formed: hence
how do the actual impressions "know" which other impressions have
to be called forth to supplement the whole? If it is claimed that
they call forth from memory these and not those supplementary
impressions without "reason" or by chance, then perception is not
explained, for an appeal to chance does not explain anything.s3
If, on the other hand, there is a reason to reproduce this and not
that totality, then a certain "knowledge" of the totality is presupposed.
But then the "explanation" by means of association becomes super-
fluous, because it presupposes the very knowledge of the totality which
it has to explain. 84
Thus elemental psychology is forced to affirm the priority of
the perceived object, for the association of elements presupposes this
priority.85 If we hold fast to perception as it occurs in reality, the
priority of the whole has to be affirmed explicitly; if one does not
hold fast to it, then this priority is implicitly affirmed because it is
presupposed.
Phenomenological Reduction. In this way we are back where
we have started-viz., it is a contradiction to replace ordinary every-
day experience by that of the physical sciences,86 it is a contradiction
to replace the world of everyday experience by a system of meanings
devised by a science. 87 Philosophical reflection demands a return to
original experience and the original world, divested of the super-
structure of theories added to it by the sciences. This return is
called ((phenomenological reduction."88
82Classical psych910gy of consciousness has made many efforts to discover
the laws governing the associations. They are of no importance to us here.
See, e.g., J. Frobes, Lehrbuch der experimentellen Psychologie, vol. II, Frei-
burg, 1917, pp. SOl-60S.
84"Au moment ou l'evocation des souvenirs est rend'ue possible, e1le devient
superfiue, puisque Ie travail qu'on en attend est deja. fait." Merleau-Ponty,
ibid., p. 27.
85"Si nous nous en tenons aux phenomenes, l'unite de la chose dans la
perception n'est pas construite par l'association, mais, condition de l'association,
elle precede les recoupements qui la verifient et la determinent, elle se precede
elle-meme." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 24.
86Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. II-V.
87Cf. Merleau-Ponty, La structure du comportement, pp. 235-236.
S8We abstract here from the many modifications which the meaning of the
term "reduction" has undergone in the history of phenomenology. The idea of
reduction owes its origin to Husserl, but even in his own works the meaning
of the term underwent as much evolution as his philosophy itself. Husserl's
Through the reduction we meet again a really living human being

instead of a subject thinking itself or a photographic plate. Through
the reduction the world shows itself again with its human face,
becomes again the world in which we live, think, love, labor, rejoice,
suffer, and die. It becomes again our home-country, in which we
dwell and long for a better fatherland. The world becomes again the
real world.
5. SARTRE'S DUALISM AND THE TRUE IMMANENCE OF KNOWLEDGE
Nmv that the fundamental principle of phenomenological thought

has been described to some extent, it is possible to show the truth
of the oft-repeated statement that Sartre, at least at certain and
even crucial moments of his philosophical thinking, does not hold
fast to existential phenomenology but defends a strange kind of
dualism.
Abstractions and Concreteness. To prevent misunderstandings,
however, it will be useful first to emphasize a terminological question.
Phenomenologists, for whom the unity of mutual implication of sub-
ject and object is the primitive fact of their philosophical thinking,
indicate as "abstractions" all products of thought which do not respect
this original unity.
The use of this terminology is deceptive, because abstractioll
has a different and very clearly defined meaning in traditional thought.
Phenomenology speaks of abstraction with respect to knowledge
which does not nourish itself on "lived experience," and therefore
is not the expres.sion of the irrefiechi, of "life." Thus abstract knowl-
edge is deformed knowledge, knowledge which is estranged from
reality. For example, a "walled-in" and isolated consciousness is
called an abstraction, because "lived experience" knows only in-
tentional consciousness. Likewise, a world which is explicitated as
brllte reality is an abstraction, for in the irrefiechi only a human
world is given.
The opposite of such abstraction is concrete thought. This term
also is misleading. In phenomenology concreteness of thinking indi-
cates respect for the irrejleclzi in explicitation. Thus I think concretely.
progressive philosophical thought forced him constantly to modify the idea of

reduction. We use the term in the meaning which it has in Husserl's later works
and which was taken over by Heidegger and the French phenomenologists. Cf.
de Waehlens, Vne philosophie de l'a111bigllite. I'Existentialisme de Maurice
Mer!call-PolIty, Louvain. 1951. np. RQ-93
about consciousness and the world when I conceive both as the unity
of reciprocal implication. Only in this way I do no violence to
"lived experience" in my explicitations and do not become entangled
in abstractions.
It is rather striking that Sartre, who is one of the most able
phenomenologists of our times, all too frequently ends up with
abstractions because he does not radically continue along the line
of the previously accepted idea of intentionality. Whenever Sartre
speaks of consciousness, he emphasizes its intentionality. Its noematic
correlate, however, he calls "en-soi," "being-in-itself." When one
reads how Sartre describes this being-in-itself, it becomes evident
why he is accused of dualism. His inconsistency is so instructive,
and the mistakes he makes in the explicitation of knowledge so
eloquently illustrate the risks every phenomenologist runs, that we
cannot omit them in silence. Moreover, the critique of Sartre's con-
ception of knowledge will give us an opportunity to delve deeper
into one of the aspects of knowledge which many contemporary
phenomenologists deny, misunderstand, or neglect. We mean the
aspect which the old philosophers called the immanence of knowledge.
a. "En-Soi" and "Pour-Soi," "Being-in-Itself" and Consciousness

"En-Soi." In Sartre two types of beings are radically opposed-
namely, en-soi, the "in-itself," and pour-soi, consciousness. "In-itself"
is the material thing. The material is what is properly being, the only
being which is justly called being. It is compact density, full of itself,
complete positivity. It is what it is, fully identical with itself. It does
not maintain any relationships with what it is not, it does not imply
any negation, it never posits itself as other than something else, and
when it disappears one can not even say that it is no longer. It cannot
be deduced from the possible or reduced to the necessary. It is not
created and does not have a ground of being; it merely is, it just
happens to be, it is " 'in the way' forever."89
The meaning of these descriptions becomes somewhat clear if we
consider that Sartre's "in itself" is not a conscious being. Relations,
89"En fait, l'etre est opaque a lui-meme precisement parce qu'il est rempli
de lui-me me. C'est ce que nous exprimons mieux en disant que l'ctre est ce
qu'il est . . . . II est pleine positivite. II ne connait donc pas l'alterite: il ne se
pose jamais comme autre qu'un autre etre; il ne peut soutenir aucun rapport
avec I'autre . . . . II est et quand il s'effondre on ne peut me me pas dire qu'il
n'est plus . . . . Incree, sans raison d'ctre, sans rapport aucun avec autre ctre,
l'etre-en-soi est de trop pour l'eternite," Sartre, L'etre et Ie neallt, pp. 33-34.
otherness, ground of being, being no longer, being deduced or reduced,

etc. presuppose consciousness. "In itself" does not have any con-
sciousness; therefore, so Sartre thinks, it does not maintain any rela-
tions, it is not other than something else, has no ground of being, etc.
Pour-S oi. While "being-in-itself" is always sufficient unto itself,
simply is what it is, pO'ur-soi or consciousness always needs "being-
in-itself" to be able to be consciousness. 9o All consciousness is always
consciousness of something which is not consciousness itself, and with-
out this something consciousness is not consciousness. Accordingly,
for Sartre, consciousness is essentially relative to "being-in-itself," it
is directedness to "being-in-itself," it is intentional.
Consciousness as Nihilation. This intentionality, however, is not
the main point so far as Sartre is concerned. For what exactly is
meant by my consciousness of something? To clarify this, Sartre
creates a new French word "neantiser/' which may be translated into
English by "to nihilate)) or "to noughten.)) When I am conscious of
something I nihilate this something. If, for instance I am conscious
of this ashtray, I nihilate the tray, i.e., I am conscious that I am not
identical with this ashtray. Thus consciousness is always conscious-
ness of "being-in-itself" and as such pure nihilation. 91
The remark could be made that this description is valid only for
the consciousness of a worldly object and that self-consciousness
surely implies identity, so that it is not purely and simply nihilation.
For do I not affirm myself when I am conscious of myself? However,
Sartre insists: consciousness is purely nihilation, it expresses only
non-identity, even when I am conscious of myself. For I am con-
scious of myself as a waiter, a just man, or the chairman of the local
baseball club. What does this consciousness mean? Nothing else than
that I am conscious of my non-identity with the just man, the waiter,
or the chairman of the baseball club, for tomorrow I may give up being
a waiter, tomorrow I may be unjust, or no longer chairman of the club.
Hence when I am conscious of myself, I nihilate my own identity.
Only "being-in-itself" is identical with itself, but not consciousness. 92
Consciousness always says distance, i.e., not-being that of which con-
90"Toute conscience, Husser! l'a montre, est conscience de quelque chose."
Sartre, ibid., p. 17.
91"Le pour-soi est un chre pour qui son etre est en question dans son
etre en tant que cet etre est essentiellement une certaine mainiere de ne pas
etre un etre qu'il pose du meme coup comme autre que lui." Sartre, ibid.,
92"I'Etre de la conscience ne coincide pas avec lui-meme dans une adequa-
tion pleniere." Sartre, ibid., p. 116.
sciousness is consciousness. The compact density of "being-in-itself"

is broken, therefore by consciousness. 93 In being-in-itself there is no
room for negativity for, by virtue of its perfect identity with itself,
it is fullness of being. 94 There can be question of negativity only when
there is question of consciousness, and consciousness is nothing else
than nihilation.
It is rather striking that Sartre explicitates only the negative
aspects of consciousness. Nothing, consequently, remains of the high
place which tradition-unjustly, says Sartre-has always ascribed to
consciousness. 95 The only being which has the right to be called being
is being-in-itself. Pour-soi or consciousness is merely a "disease of
being," and the being of consciousness is Nothingness. 96 The being
through which negativity enters into the world has to be its own
Nothingness. 97
Critique of Sartre's Nihilation. It would be interesting to in-
vestigate to what Sartre's explicitations of consciousness lead if they
were pursued further along the same lines. According to Husserl, it
is impossible to come to an agreement with one who cannot or does
not want to see. What he means is that an explicitation cannot be
a demonstration in the strict sense of the term. An explicitation does
not demonstrate but merely indicates. Sometimes, however, it seems
possible to demonstrate that a certain mode of explicitation does not
make sense. This happens when different moments of an explicita-
tion cannot be conceived in relation to one another without entering
into contradiction. But according to Sartre, the being of conscious-
ness is Nothingness. Nothingness, however, is not. Because Noth-
ingness is not, it cannot do anything. Consequently, it would not be
capable of nihilating itself. For this reason alone the identification of
consciousness with Nothingness cannot be accepted. 9s
93"Tout se passe comme si pour Iiberer l'affirmation de soi du sein de
1'etre i1 fallait une decompression d' etre." Sartre, ibid., p. 32.
94"La coincidence de l'identique est la veritable plenitude d'etre, justement
parce que dans cette coincidence il n'est laisse de place it aucune negativite."
95"Cette presence a soi, on l'a prise souvent pour une plenitude d'existence
et un prej uge fort repandu parmi les philosophes fait attribuer it la conscience
la plus haute dignite d'etre." Sartre, ibid.
96"l'Etre de la conscience, en tant que conscience, c'est d'exister a distance
de soi comme presence a soi et cette distance nulle que l'etre porte dans son
etre. c'est Ie Neant." Sartre, ibid., p. 120.
97"I'Etre par qui Ie Neant arrive dans Ie monde est un etre en qui, dans
son Etre, il est question du Neant de son Etre; l'etre par qui Ie Neant vient
au monde doit etre son propre Neant." Sartre, ibid., p. 59.
9sCf. B. Delfgaauw, "Heidegger en Sartre," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie,
vol. X (1948), p. 298.
Moreover, for the phenomenology of consciousness, Sartre's

identification is singularly sterile. Of course, he is right when he
asserts that all consciousness is consciousness of something. It is
true also that in all consciousness of something there is a negative
moment. When I am conscious of something, I am conscious, indeed,
of a certain distance from this something, I am conscious of a certain
non-identity with the something in question. I am not identical with
this ashtray, that fountain pen, that wall; I am not identical with the
just man, the waiter, or the chairman who I am. But-does this
mean that consciousness is nothing else than nihilation?
Such an assertion simply omits all positive aspects of conscious-
ness. If consciousness is nothing else than nihilation, I cannot even
assert that when I am conscious of something I affirm this something.
Nevertheless, this affirmation is the first phenomenological evidence
which presents itself: I affirm the ashtray, the fountain pen, the wall;
I affirm the waiter, the just man, the chairman who I am. I affirm the
being, the reality of all this. Do we have to do here with nihilation?
Certainly not.
On the other hand, it must be admitted that the affirmation includes
a negative moment. I affirm the being of the ashtray, but this implies
that I am conscious that this ashtray is not this pen and, likewise, that
I am not this ashtray. But how would this negation be possible, how
would I be able to say that I am not this ashtray, unless I affirm
in a more primordial way my own being and, consequently, my being-
conscious? Consciousness, therefore, is not merely nihilation, but
both affirmation and negation of being. 99
Critique of Sartre's UBeing-in-Itself." These considerations offer
us a starting-point for a critique of Sartre's conceptions of being-in-
itself. This being is the material thing, the ashtray, the pen, the
wall, etc. As was pointed out above, I am conscious that this ashtray
is not this pen. An ashtray, therefore, is something else than a
pen. This otherness, of course, can be stated only by means of con-
sciousness, for without my consciousness the ashtray and the pen are
nothing-for-me. Sartre, however, claims that being-in-itself is not
something other than something else. For being-something-other-
than presupposes consciousness, and being-in-itself does not have any
consciousness. Therefore, it is not something other than something
else.
99Cf. de Wae1hens, "Zijn en Niet-Zijn," Tijdschrift voor Philosophic, vol.
VII (1945), p. 113.
Sartre forgets here that the being of which he speaks is always

a phenomenon. Being-something-else presupposes consciousness, but
this consciousness is there. My consciousness is there and cannot be
thought away. A pen is something else than an ash tray for my
consciousness. Although being-in-itself does not have any conscious-
ness, I am not able to think of it without my consciousness. True,
relations, being-something-else, ground of being, being-no-Ionger,
being-deduced from or being-reduced-to presuppose consciousness.
But when Sartre asserts that being-in-itself does not maintain any
relations, cannot be other than something else, is without a ground
etc., he presupposes that it is possible independently of consciousness
to make a judgment regarding the terminus enc.ountered by conscious-
ness. He presupposes that it is possible to describe a field of presence
independently of the presence of consciousness. He assumes that it
is possible for him to know something while removing the act of
knowing itself.
This explicitation .of knowledge does violence to the fundamental
idea of phenomenology. C.onsci.ousness is intentional, Sartre says,
but he mentions i.t .only when he speaks of the pour-soi, of conscious-
ness. As soon as he speaks .of its noematic correlate, he withdraws
the directedness or intentionality which consciousness is, but continues
speaking. Speaking about what?
Whatever Sartre thinks he can say .of the so-called en-soi, of
being-in-itself, he says it is opposition to en-soi-pour-moi, being-in-
itself-for-me. Sartre realizes that being as it appears includes nega-
tivity, maintains relations, is other than something else, comes to be
and passes away, has a ground, and is created, etc. But then he
artificially withdraws the intentional movement which is consciousness
and thinks that he has no longer to do with en-soi-pour-lui, with
being-in-itself-for-him, but with unqualified en-soi, unqualified being-
in-itself. And he goes on to describe it in opposition to being-in-
itself-for-him as not including any negativity, not maintaining any
relations, not being other than something else, not having a gr.ound,
not created, etc.
A reproach that is sometimes addressed to the phenomenologists
is that their works constantly reveal themselves as influenced by
idealism. Their phenomenology frequently deviates from the original
sense which they themselves have discovered in their thinking, so
that they fall into a kind of idealism of meaning mixed with a clear
realism of brute reality.loo This reproach is certainly justified in

the case of Sartre. He endeavors to speak about an en-soi, being-in-
itself, and therefore is a realist. On .the other hand, he sees clearly
that it is only through the intentionality of consciousness that the
world-for-man comes to be and has meaning. 10l But what is the
value of these meanings? In his principal novel, Nausea, which
antedates Being and Nothingness, Sartre had already given a pro-
visional reply to this question. The meanings of the world are illusory,
as long as being-in-itself is not laid bare. l02 Soothing colors, delicious
odors, beautiful weather, the green sea, all are meanings which poets
and superficial human beings have cast on brute reality.l03 The
in-itself of everything is nauseating.
"The word 'absurdity' is born here under my pen."104 Being-
in-itself is absurd. This is Sartre's last word. But it is here that
Sartre the phenomenologist ceases to be a phenomenologist. Being-in-
itself is not absurd, but it is absurd to want to speak of being-in-
itself.105
Sartre's Fundamental Mistake. Sartre's description of being-in-
itself amounts to the abandonment of the most fundamental idea of
phenomenology. The result of this description must be called, there-
fore, an abstraction in the sense explained above-namely, a product
of thought which has been torn loose from "lived experience."
At the same time we are offered an opportunity to consider more
closely Sartre's description of pour-soi, consciousness, or the noetic
aspect of knowledge. How is it possible that the explicitation of the
subject results in the affirmation of Nothingness? How is it possible
that all positive aspects of consciousness are simply omitted? To
understand this, it is necessary to see the Introduction to Being and
Nothingness in connection with the atmosphere emanating from
100Cf. A. de Waelhens, "De la phenomenologie a l'existentialisme," Le

Choix, Ie monde, I'existence (Cahiers du College Philosophique) , Grenoble-
Paris, n.d., p. 62. De Waelhens uses these expressions 'to characterize the
philosophy of Heidegger. We abstract from the question whether the char-
acterization of Heidegger is correct.
101"La mondanite, la spatialite la quantite, l'ustensilite, la temporalite ne
viennent a l'etre que parce que je suis negation de l'hre." S;trtre, ibid., p. 269.
102Cf. H. Pais sac, Le Dieu de Sartre, Arthaud, 1950, pp. 46-52.
103J. P. Sartre, La nausee, Gallimard, 1938, pp. 175-176, 188.
104Ibid., p. 182.
105"La chose ne peut jamais etre separee de quelqu'un qui la pen;oive,
elle ne peut jamais etre effectivement en soi parce que ses articulations sont
celles memes de notre existence et qu'elle se pose au bout d'un regard ou au
terme d'une exploration sensorielle qui l'investit d'humanite." Merleau-Ponty,
Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 370.
Nausea. The whole Introduction to Being and Nothingness drives

the reader to a first climax reached in the last two pages of the
Introduction, where Sartre summarizes his vision on being-in-itself.
Precisely these two pages provoke the same feeling of disgust as
Sartre's principal novel Nausea. It is no accident that in Being and
Nothingness there is a recurrence of certain expressions which are
the warp and woof of Nausea. When Antoine Roquentin, the chief
personality of the novel, in the city park of Bouville comes to realize
the meaning of uncamouflaged being, he describes his experience as
follows:
If anyone had asked me what existence was, I would have
answered in good faith that it was nothing, simply an empty form
which was' added to things from without but did not change any-
thing in their nature. And then suddenly, there it was, clear as
day: existence had suddenly unveiled itself. It had lost its harmless
look of an abstract category: it was the very paste of things, this
root was kneaded into existence. Or rather the root, the park
gates, the bench, the sparse grass, all that had vanished: the
diversity of things, their individuality, were only an appearance,
a veneer. This veneer had melted, leaving soft, monstrous
masses, all in disorder-naked, in a frightful, obscene naked-
ness . . . .
All things, gently, tenderly, were letting themselves drift into
existence like those relaxed women who burst out laughing and
say: "It is good to laugh," in a wet voice; they were parading,
one in front of the other, exchanging abject secrets about their
existence. I realized that there was no half-way house between
non-existence and this flaunting abundance. If you existed, you
had to exist all the way, as far as mouldiness, bloatedness, obscenity
were concerned.... We were a heap of living creatures, irritated,
embarrassed at ourselves, we hadn't the slightest reason to be
there, none of us, each one confused, vaguely alarmed, felt ill
the way in relation to the others. In the way: it was the only re-
lationship I could establish between these trees, these gates, these
stones . . . . In the way, the chestnut tree there, opposite me, a
little to the left. In the way, the Velleda. . . .
And I-soft, weak, obscene, digesting, juggling, with dismal
thoughts-I, too, was In the way. Fortunately, I didn't feel it,
although I realized it, but I was uncomfortable because I was
afraid of feeling it (even now I am afraid-afraid that it might
catch me behind my head and lift me up like a wave). I dreamed
vaguely of killing myself to wipe out at least one of these super-
fluous lives. But even my death would have been In the way. In
the way, my corpse, my blood on these stones, between these
plants, at the back of this smiling garden. And the decomposed
flesh would have been In the way in the earth which would re-
ceive my bones, at last, cleaned, stripped, peeled, proper and clean
as teeth, it would have been In the way: I was In the way for
eternity.106
And a little later he continues:

I hated this ignoble mess. Mounting up, mounting up as high
as the sky, spilling over, filling everything with its gelatinous
slither . . . . I was not surprised, I knew that it was the World,
the naked World suddenly revealing itself, and I choked with rage
at this gross, absurd being. . . . That was what worried me: of
course there was no reason for this flowing larva to exist. But
it was impossible for it not to exist . . . . I shouted "filth! what
rotten filth!" and shook myself to get rid of this sticky filth, but
it held fast and there was so much, tons and tons of existence,
endless; I stifled at the depth of this immense weariness. 107
In the light of Nausea it is evident that the description of the

so-called en-soi, of being-in-itself, in Being and Nothingness could
not have been different-"in the way forever!" At the same time,
however, it is abundantly clear that the meaning of the subject, as
source of sense-in Sarte's case as source of nonsense-, cannot be
expIicitated otherwise than as Nothingness. In Nausea Sartre de-
scribes the subject as pure disgust with beings. This disgust or
nausea-over-beings is a mode of nihilation, a rejection and a refusal
of beings on the level of affectivity. Through this rejection and refusal
the whole attitude of Sartre with respect to being is determined.
Hence it is not surprising that on the level of scientific reflection and
explicitation he merely pays attention to the negative aspects of the
subject pole of human existence. lOS
Above we spoke of abstractions in the contemporary sense of the
term. It indicates explicitations which have lost touch with the
irrejlechi and are no longer nourished by "lived experience." In this
sense Sartre's en-soi and pour-soi, being-in-itself and consciousness,
both are abstractions. Being-in-itself is isolated from consciousness,
and the negative and positive aspects of human existence are cut loose
from one another. Moreover, being-in-itself is described as absolute
positivity and consciousness as absolute negativity. Against such
explicitations "lived experience" rises in protest. But, to quote Husserl
106Sarte, Nausea, New York, 1949, pp. 171-173.

107 Ibid., pp. 180-181.
10SR. Verneaux, Le,ons sur l'existentialisme, Paris, n.d., p. 118.
again, "it is impossible to come to an agreement with one who neither

wants nor is able to see."
h. The Immanence of Knowledge
Self-Consciousness and the W orld-for-Man. As was pointed out
previously, by means of his consciousness man breaks through the
determinism of nature; hence he himself is not reducible to a thing
of nature or his life to a causalistic process. For it is only through
man's consciousness that there are things and processes of nature
for man. 109 By virtue of the existential movement of the conscious
subject which man is, there is a world-for-man.
It was pointed out also that being-in-the-world orginates at the
same time as man's being-himself, for man is himself by being in the
world. Man's self-consciousness is never pure interiority but essen-
tially refers to that which consciousness itself is not. The self-con-
sciousness, the being-with-himself, the self-possession which character-
izes man and causes him to be called a person is correlative with
the coming to be of the world-for-man.
The coming to be of the world-for-man under all its aspects, is
constantly emphasized in existential phenomenology. However, one
gets the impression that the same amount of attention is lacking when
there is question of the noetic aspect of this coming to be.
As long as there is question of creative cultural activity in the
strict sense, the remark is usually added that this activity is "profit-
able" not only for the world but also for the subject-in-the-world.
Man realizes himself, achieves his being-a-person, answers his voca-
tion, advances toward his destiny, when through his creative cul-
tural activity he makes the world a dwelling place for man. However,
as soon as there is question of creative cultural activity in the broader
sense only, i.e., of the act of knowing, they are inclined to pass over
in silence the fact that the subject "profits" from this activity. There
is certainly no tendency at all to recognize that it is primarily the
subject which gains in perfection through knowledge. It should be
clear that knowledge may be called creative of culture, for through it
there arises a world-for-man a world having a possibility of affective
value and meaning for man. But it is also unmistakably true that
it is in the first place the subject which becomes more perfect through
this knowledge, enriches itself through it, experiences joy from it,
etc.
l09Cf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. III.
The old philosophers were not blind to this aspect of knowledge.

They called knowledge an immanent act, by which they meant that
knowledge, arising from the subject, primarily perfects the subject
itselfllO-in opposition to creative cultural activity in the strict sense,
which is also called transient activity,ul
The immanence of knowledge in the sense of the ancient philos-
ophers is not easily understood by the phenomenologists. They think
immediately of a closed consciousness and pure interiority. In this
sense one may say that there is no "interior man."1l2 The conscious
subject may even be called Nothingness-namely, the Nothingness of
pure interiority.113
On the other hand, however, it remains true that the genuine im-
manence of knowledge and the selfhood of the knowing subject cannot
be expressed in concepts such as nihilation and Nothingness,114 At-
tention is paid only to the coming to be of the world-for-man, so
that one gets the impression that the knowing subject is wholly with-
out any consistency and is fully resolved in .the affirmation of the
world. The subject is reduced to a reference point without value.
As a result, it is no longer possible to assert that the knowing subject
gains in value through knowledge, for the acceptance of this assertion
makes it necessary to recognize the proper value and meaning of the
knowing subject. It is this value and meaning which we must now
endeavor to understand.
The Subject of Knowledge. Who exactly is the subject of my
knowledge? The only reply that makes sense here is I. The subject
of knowledge is not a supra-individual Ego which manifests or par-
ticularizes itself in me, as some have thought. This conception,
however, is not as strange as may appear at first sight. Those who
defended it were struck by the fact that in principle truth-for-me is
llOC. L. de Raeymaeker, The Philosophy of Being, St. Louis, 1954, pp. 209-
211.
111 "Respondeo dicendum, quod duplex est actio. Una quae procedit ex
agente in rem exteriorem, quam transmutat . . . . Alia vero actio est, quae non
procedit in rem exteriorem, sed stat in ipso agente ut perfectio ipsus." Thomas
Aquinas, de Veritate, 8, a. 6.
112"II n'y a pas d'homme interieur, l'homme est au monde, c'est dans Ie
monde qu'il se connait." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. V.
113In this way Foulquie interprets Sartre's concept of Nothingness. Cf. P.
Foulquie and G. Deledalle, La psychologie contemporaine, Paris, 1951, p. 383.
114"Et je suis, au contraire, Ie neant ... Le connaissant n'est pas, i1 n'est
pas saisissable. II n'est rien d'autre que ce qui fait qu'il y a un etre-I<\ du connu,
une presence." Sartre, L'etre et Ie tleant, p. 225.
also truth-for-the-other. To explain this fact, they assumed that

I and You coincide in a supra-individual subject or that such a subject
operates in us. Nevertheless, this conception loses sight of one of
the most primary evidences of knowledge-namely, that it is I who
knows, while I am not the other.l1 5
On the other hand, the fact that I am not the other does not mean
that the other has nothing whatsoever to do with me when I know.
The other can be found in everyone of my cognitive acts-if only as
the one from whom I have received the language in which I embody
my knowledge and without which I am unable to know. However,
no matter what importance this other has, ultimately it is I who knows,
and no one else can take this task over from me.
'What is this subject-I? To clarify this point somewhat, we will
make use of the method proposed by Stephan Strasser-namely, the
analysis of the retroverting act. 116 A retroverting act is an act of
which I am, at least to some extent, both the origin and the ter-
minus. 117 There are many such acts. vVhen I wash myself, correct
myself, hate myself, think of myself, etc., I am at least to some extent
both the origin and the terminus of these acts. If I pay attention to
myself as the origin, I have to admit that it is always the same identical
I from which these actions spring.l1 s This I, this subject-I, is also
that in which activities that are immediately directed to the world
find their origin: it is this I which sometimes does carpentry, goes
for a walk, knows the world and fellowmen, loves and hates.l1 9 If,
on the other hand, I pay attention to myself as the terminus of the
retroverting act, I have to admit a plurality of termini. True, I con-
stantly use the term "myself" to indicate this terminus, but its
meaning changes according as I wash myself, correct myself, hate
myself or think of myself. In washing, myself refers, e.g., to my head
or my hands; in correcting, it refers to a mistake; in hating, it means
a misdeed; in thinking, it indicates my capacities. My head, my hands,
115The subjective universality of knowledge induced the Arabian philoso-

phers Aviccnna and Averroes to accept a single agent intellect voor all human
beings.
llr,Cf. Stephan Strasser, The Soul in Metaphysical and Empirical Psv-
chology, Pittsburgh, 1957, pp. 79 ff. .
117It is intentionally that Strasser says that I am at least to a certain extent
the origin and terminus of retroverting acts for it is not at all certain that I
am t}~eir sole source and their sole terminus. Cf. ibid., p. 81.
llBCL ibid., p. 83.
119 Cf. ibid., p. 83.
my mistake, my misdeed, and my capacities are all called "myself;'

but de facto are distinct realities, i.e., a plurality.120
On the other hand, they are not purely a plurality, for head, hands,
mistake, misdeed, capacities, etc. are mine, i.e., they constitute a
"multi-unity" by referring to the subject-ego,121 or to say the same
in a different way, they receive from the subject-ego a certain form-
namely, the form called "mine" or "of me."122
In this way the retroverting act reveals a composition of the sub-
ject which I am. In the subject we must distinguish the subject-ego,
which is always identical with itself, and the "multi-unity" of mutually
distinct object poles, which we have previously indicated by the
term facticity and which Dr. Strasser calls the quasi-objective ego. 123
This quasi-objective ego is called quasi-objective because the object
poles do not show the same distantness from the subject as is shown
by the objects of my world. They are almost-object, as it were object,
because they are not identical with the subject-ego, without, however,
being object. 124
When we say, as we have to do, that the subject-I is a conscious
self, there is danger of construing this as an inhuman consciousness,
characterized by pure interiority.125 This danger is overcome if we
explicitly take into account that it is only by virtue of the fusion of
self-affirmation with the affirmation of the non-ego that there can
be question of an ego-consciousness, a self-consciousness. 126 In one
and the same act I affirm both the other and myself.127 In this act
120Cf. ibid., pp. 83 f.

121Cf. ibid., pp. 85 f.
122If we may identify the subject-ego with what scholastic philosophy calls
the "soul," and the multi-unity of object poles with the "body," the thesis that
the soul is the form of the body obtains a meaning which is subject to phe-
nomenological verification.
123Ibid., pp. 95 ff.
124 French writers usually express the distinction in question in the terms
"je-sujct" and "moi-objet" or simply "je" and "moi." Cf. J olivet, Traite de
Philosophie; vol. 2, Psychologic, Lyon-Paris, 1945, pp. 584 f. J. Vialatoux in
his work L'intention philosophique, Paris, 1954, p. 33, speaks of "je-trallscen-
dental" and "moi-phhlOmenal."
125We strongly suspect that Strasser himself ultimately arrives at such a
consciousness. Cf. M. de Petter, "De ziei en het psychische," Tijdschrift v.
Philosophie, vol. XIII (1951), pp. 714-723.
126This is a classical view, formulated by St. Thomas Aquinas when, speak-
ing of the soul he says "Quod percipiendo actum suum seipsam intelligit
quandocumque ali quid intel1,igit." Summa theol., p. I, q. 93, a. 7, ad 4.
127"Im Ich-sagen spricht sich das Dasein als In-der-\Velt-sein aus." Hei-
degger, Seia und Zeit, p. 321.
there can be no question of a priority or posteriority of either affirma-

tion, for if I attempt to think one without the other, nothing remains. 128
Accordingly, the subject-I is not Nothingness. Likewise, it is
not sufficient to say with Merleau-Ponty that the subject-I is "nothing
else than a possibility of situations."129 It is a positive reality,130
from which facticity and history derive their unity and are my body,
my world, and my history. The knowing subject does not reduce it-
self to the affirmation of the object. Otherwise I would have said
everything that can be said about the subject as soon as I explicitate
it as the affirmation of the object. Evidently, this is not the case,
for in one and the same act I affirm both the object-which-I-am-not
and the subject-which-I-am.
Once the proper and positive meaning of the subject-I is under-
stood, the possibility is given that it is primarily the subject which
gains in perfection through the act of knowing. Sartre cannot accept
this possibility, because for him the subject has lost all consistency:
"The knower is not."131 The opposite, however, is true. Through
the life of knowledge I make reality my personal' possession. 132 In
every cognitive act I affirm myself as a person, every act of knowing
means a phase in the growth of my personal being. Through these
acts reality does not gain in perfection, but it is primarily I who bene-
fits. As a knowing subject I acknowledge that reality has its own
mode of being, and this recognition means primarily an enrichment
of the subject which I amP3 I am an openness for the entire order
of being and, in making this order progressively my own,134 I achieve
my being-a-person. In this sense, therefore, knowing may be called
128"Si Ie sujet est en situation ... c'est qu'il ne realise son ipseite qu'en
etant effectivement corps et en entrant par ce corps dans Ie monde." Merleau-
Ponty, PhCnomcnologie de la perception, p. 467.
129/bid., pp. 466-467.
130It is beyond the scope of the present question to describe more accurately
the very special mode of being proper to the subject-ego. But it should be clear
that it may not be described as a quasi-object and that it can never be objec-
tivized, i.e., placed as an object before a subject. The subject-ego will always
escape objectivizing thought. For this reason it is sometimes spoken of as the
"elusive" ego. Cf. C. A. van Peursen, Lichaam, Ziel, Geest, Utrecht, 1956,
pp. 128-141. For a summary of the various theories of man as a person, see
Jolivet, op. cit., pp. 594-602.
l3lCf. Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, p. 225.
l32"Cognitio fit secundum assimilationem cognoscentis ad rem cognitam."
Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. I, q. 86, a. 2, ad 4.
133Cf. Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought and Christian Faith,
p. 118.
l34"Anima est quodammodo omnia." Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. I,
q. 14, a. 1.
an immanent act, for it is an act which originates from the subject

which I am and remains in me as my perfection.
6. SENSITIVE AND SPIRITUAL KNOWING
Sensitive and Spiritual Knowing are Inseparable. Many may

have been struck by the fact that hitherto there has been no reason
to make a distinction regularly used in treatises of knowledge-
namely, the distinction between sensitive and spiritual knowing. We
do not want to insinuate that there are no reasons for making such
a distinction, but 'tan not omit mentioning that the way in which the
distinction is proposed is very often incorrect. Too often the distinc-
tion is simply posited at the beginning of the treatise as the distinction
between, on the one hand, sensitive seeing, hearing, smelling, etc. and,
on the other, spiritual consciousness or understanding, after which the
treatise goes on to a consideration of sensitive knowing, divorced
from spiritual consciousness. Thus the impression is created that the
distinct modes of knowing are not only distinct but also separable, so
that it would be possible to speak about, say, "seeing" without "under-
standing."135 "Seeing" would be found also in animals, but not
"understanding," which distinguishes man from animals.
This way of presenting matters is wrong because it contradicts
the most immediate phenomenological evidences. It is perfectly im-
possible to isolate certain facets of knowing from one another and,
therefore, it is not permissible to present them as separable. ls6 Man
does not have any purely sensitive seeing which is not impregnated
with spiritual consciousness or understanding. If, then, by "seeing"
is meant a purely sensitive activity of knowing, man does not have
any such power and, consequently, he does not have it "in common"
with animals.
On the other hand, it has to be admitted that among animals
there occurs something which more or less resembles what is called
"seeing" in man. Without a certain "shadow of knowledge" the
135This impression is created, e.g., by Charles Boyer in his Cursus phi-

losophiae, vol. 2, Paris, n. d.
136Therefore, we may not say "Manifestum est enim intellectum incipere
ubi sensus desinit." De principio individuationis (Mandonnet ed. of St. Thomas's
Opuscula, Paris 1927, vol. V, p. 194). The authenticity of this little work is
rejected by Mandonnet. However, it is rather striking that Johannes Capreolus,
the Princeps Thomistarum, quotes precisely this text to express the view of his
Master. Cf. Defensiones theologiae in IV Sen tent., dist. 10, q. 4, ad 6 (Paban-
Pegues ed., Turin, 1906, p. 212).
behavior of an animal cannot be understood. 1ST But if this seeing is

a purely sensitive form of knowing, what exactly it is escapes man
because he does not have any experience of it. lsS
If the above-mentioned distinction is not simply posited a priori,
it is difficult to find it in experience. Hence it is not surprising that
many philosophers do not want to accept it. They fall into the oppo-
site extreme, which likewise cannot be justified phenomenologically.
For it cannot escape my attention that my act of knowing a worldly
object reveals distinct facets which cannot be reduced to one another.
Sensitive and Spiritual Knowing are Not Reducible to Each Other.
Let us return to the perception of this table. I see only a determined
profile of this table, because I occupy a definite standpoint with
respect to it. I am capable also of perceiving another profile, but then
I would have to change my standpoint in space. There is a corre1a-
tiveness between the profile that actually appears and my spatial
standpoint, so that my perception of this table here is determined by
spatial conditions.
These spatial conditions are at the same time temporal conditions.
Now I perceive this profile of the table, but my perception of this
profile appearing now refers intrinsically to past perceptions of other
profiles and future perceptions of again other profiles. Perceiving
consciousness is the synthesis of the present, past, and future, i.e., of
temporality.189 Perceiving consciousness, therefore, is determined by
spatio-temporal conditions, i.e., I see here and now something else
than what I will see soon there or saw a moment ago elsewhere. If the
spatio-temporal conditions of perception are changed, the perception
itself also changes.
However, this is not all that can be said of perceiving conscious-
ness. For, while I perceive now from this standpoint in space a
determined profile of the table, I understand at the same time what a
table is and I experience that this understanding does not change
when the conditions of space and time are modified. With respect to
lSTCf. F. J. J. Buytendijk, "De schaduwen van het kennen," Tijdschri/t v.
Philosophie, vol. 1 (1939), pp. 5-28.
lasIt is rather striking that writers who divorce sense knowledge from
spiritual knowledge and attribute sense knowledge primarily to animals prove
several theses referring to animal knowledge "from the testimony of conscious-
ness." On the one hand, they feel the impossibility of placing themselves inside
animal cognition but, on the other, they forget that the "testimony of con-
sciousness" does no refer to animal cognition. See, e.g., Paul Siwek, Psychol-
ogia metaphysica, Rome, 1948, pp. 89-214.
lS9Cf. below, pp. 294 ff.
Phe1lomenology of Knowledge 119
this understanding the phases of temporality and the standpoints in

space of the perceiving subject appear to be accidental. Through
every appearing profile, from every standpoint in space, and in every
phase of temporality I unchangeably understand what a table is.
Similar remarks can be made with respect to perception itself.
Independently of the spatio-temporal conditions of perception, I
understand what perception is. The understanding of what perception
is does not change when the spatio-temporal conditions of perception
are modified.l 40 It is only because I possess an unchangeable concept
of perception that a phenomenology of perception is possible. Because
I understand what a table is, I can speak of a certain profile of the
table.
Accordingly, knowing contains at least two facets of unequal value.
On the one hand, my consciousness depends upon conditions of space
and time but, on the other hand, it does not depend upon them. These
facets, then, cannot possibly be identical or coincide perfectly, for
otherwise one would have to admit that one and the same reality would
be characterized at the same time and in the same respect by opposite
characteristics.
Thus the changeable character of the perception of this table here
contains a cognitive aspect that may be called absolute. We mean:
understanding transcends the relativity which affects perception.
What I see, the "face" of the terminus encountered in perception, what
appears to my perceiving glance, has a spatio-temporal relation to me
as the perceiving subject. The noema also of my understanding is
related to my understanding glance, but it is not affected by the re-
lation to spatio-temporal standpoints. In this sense understanding
escapes relativity and is absolute.
The distinction, then, of sensitive and spiritual knowing cannot
possibly be discounted, but at the same time it is extremely difficult
to understand the distinction correctly. On the one hand, my con-
sciousness is consciousness of something which is, of that through
which something is what it is, of the essence, nature, or quiddity of
something. HI On the other hand, however, my consciousness is con-
140This point is disregarded by J. H. van den Berg, when he blames the

old psychologies for "flattering themselves with the belief that they are devel-
oping a lasting and 'objective' knowledge of man." See his Verantwoording
or Introduction to Person en Wereld, Utrecht, 1953, p. 9.
I41"Objectum intellectus nostri, secundum praesentem vitae statum, est quid-
ditas rei materialis quem a phantasmatibus abstrahit." Thomas Aquinas,
Summa theol., p. I, q. 85, a. 8.
sciousness of the thisness, the here and now of something. 142 The fact
that these distinct aspects have different names could easily lead to
isolating them from each other. Being conscious of what something
is, is called understanding143 or also spiritual consciousness, while
with respect to the experience of "this, here and now" we speak of see-
ing, feeling, hearing, etc. Thus the two facets of consciousness are
frequently placed "alongside" each other or one "after" the other as
spiritual and sensitive knowing. In this way the impression is created
that the spirit is not present to "this, here and now," because it grasps
"only" the essence of something, and it is accidental to this essence
to be "this, here and now"; on the other hand, sensitive knowing is
presented as limited to the concrete and changing forms of the
essence. De facto, however, man's knowing is undivided: my seeing,
hearing, feeling, etc. are always permeated by spiritual consciousness
or understanding. If, then, an animal is not a being having a spiritual
life, I may not ascribe to it human hearing, seeing, etc. Likewise,
my spiritual understanding is never disconnected from sensitive know-
ing.144
7. THE CONCEPT
The distinction of the spiritual and sensitive facets of knowing

manifests itself even more clearly when attention is paid to the
termini of both. Through my act of knowing, a definite worldly
object is raised above being nothing-for-me. Through understanding,
the thing is constituted a certain quiddity-for-me, it has received a
certain intelligible meaning for me. But there is more. The "what-
ness" or essence of an object imposes itself upon me: I am unable
to give an arbitrary meaning to the world. A chair represents another
intelligible meaning than a cigar or a plant. Thus my understanding
is a dialogue between me and the thing which I understand.
This dialogue comes to a provisional stop or terminus in the
expression which I give to what I have understood. What is under-
142"Sensus est singularium, intellectus autem universalium." Thomas Aqui-

nas, Summa theal., p. I, q. 85, a. 3.
143"Nomen intellectus quamdam intimam cognitionem importat: dicitur
enim intelligere, quasi intus legere. Et hoc manifeste patet considerantibus
differentiam intellectus et sensus: nam cognitio sensitiva occupatur circa quali-
tates sensibiles exteriores; cognitio autem intellectiva penetrat usque ad
essentiam rei. Objectum enim intellectus est quod quid est." St. Thomas,
Summa theol. II-II, q. 8, a. l.
144Cf. St. Thomas, op. cit., p. I, q. 84, a. 7.
Phellomenology of Knowledge 121
stood imposes itself upon me, in and through my understanding it is

interiorized, assimilated, and fixed in an expression. This expression
-scholastic philosophy uses here the term "verbum" or "word"-
resulting from my being-understandingly-in-the-world is called "con-
cept" or "idea."145 The result of understanding this tree, this chair,
or this cigar is the concept "tree," "cigar," or "chair,"146 in which
the intelligibility which imposes itself on me lies expressed. By means
of my understanding I dwell in my world as in a system of intelligible
meanings, but insofar as I express this intelligibility in concepts and
embody it in words, I dwell in a "world of ideas."
Immutable Concepts. This point brings us very close to Plato's
view. There certainly is a world of ideas. Plato was quite right
in his idea that cognitive man is not limited to the reception of
changeable impressions of mutable things, that he is not receptive
only to the variable and movable forms of things. He realized that
man possesses immutable ideas. But it was an enigma to him how
such ideas could be acquired because, under the influence of Heraclitus'
philosophy, Plato thought that in the world there was nothing but
changeability. Thus from the encounter with this world immutable
ideas could not possibly arise. For this reason he posited a subsistent
world of ideas, contemplated by the soul in a mysterious previous
state. By accepting this contemplation of subsistent ideas-before
the soul was chained to a body-Plato could conceive at least the
possibility that the soul would actually possess immutable ideas. H7
It should be clear, however, that such a mythical explanation is
superfluous. There is a world of ideas, but this world is not sub-
sistent. The world of ideas is produced by me and my world. I
myself give expression to the world in which I dwell, to the worldly
objects which I encounter. I seize what they are and fix this in my
concepts.
Accordingly, immutable concepts are the expression of the es-
sence of reality. This expression transcends the changeable character
145Sometimes a distinction is made between concept and idea-namely,
when the term idea is reserved for concepts which guide man's agere and
facere. For instance, an artist works out an "idea." For us here the two
terms are used synonymously. Regarding other terms to indicate concepts,
see Jacques Maritain, Formal Logic, New York, 1937, p. 17, note 3.
H6"Quicumque autem intelligit, ex hoc ipso quod intelligit, procedit, aliquid
intra ipsum, quod est conceptio rei intellectae, ex ejus notitia procedens. Quam
quidem conceptionem vox significat, et dicitur verbum cordis significatum verbo
vocis." St. Thomas, ibid., p. I, q. 27, a. 1.
147Cf. F. J. Thonnard, A Short History of Philosophy, New York, 1955,
Nos. 41-43.
of the concrete and is the basis which makes it possible to speak of

absolute truth. If no value is attached to the idea of essence, difficulties
are bound to arise with respect to the absoluteness of truth.
Phenomenology and Essences. As a matter of fact, several

representatives of existential phenomenology, such as Sartre and
Merleau-Ponty, run into such difficulties. They are so fascinated by
the historicity of existence, which drags the world along in its
historicity, that they no longer notice the trans-historical aspects of
existence or at least do not sufficiently stress them in their explicita-
tions.148 As far as concerns the representatives of existentialism
before it was fertilized by Husserl's phenomenology, such as Jaspers
and Marcel, man is generally unique in a radical way, an "exception"
in every respect (Kierkegaard). Thus they leave no room for an
immutable essence common to many and, consequently, neither for
an absolute truth.149 Contemporary phenomenology has not yet
managed to overcome these difficulties. As is well-known, when
Sartre and others following the same line of thought occasionally make
truth the explicit theme of their consideration, they reject the pos-
sibility of an absolute truth. 150 The eidetic reduction, i.e., the re-
duction of the phenomenal to its eidos or essence, which Husserl had
originally emphasized most strongly, has been all too quickly pushed
into the background of philosophyYH This reduction results in what
Husserl calls "Wesenschau/' i.e., seeing the essence or essential
vision. His original intention proposed phenomenology as a method
to arrive at determining what is aimed-at, intended, in any affirmation
whatsoever (de Waehlens). What exactly do I "intend" when I
speak of extension, color, memory, etc? What is their essence 115 :2
By using imaginary variations Husserl thought it possible to under-
stand at last the essence of the "intended."
148Cf. M. Merleau-Ponty, Sens et Non-sens, Paris, 1948, pp. 190-191.

149Fr. Gregoire, "Foi chretienne et pensee contemporaine," Revue philo-
sophique de Louvain, vol. 49 (1952), p. 311. This is a review of Professor
Dondeyne's book of the same title.
150Cf. R. C. Kwant, "De geslotenheid van MerIeau-Ponty's Wijsbegeerte,"
Tijdschri/t v. Philosophie, vol. 19 (1957), pp. 250-254.
151Cf. P. Ricoeur, "Methode et taches d'une phenomenologie de la
volante," Problemes actuels de la phenomhtologie, Bruges, 1951, pp. 115-116.
152It is exclusively in this sense that we ourselves conceived phenomenology
in our book De psychologie van de verve ling, Amsterdam, n.d., pp. 51-83.
HusserI's first followers did not go beyond the eidetic reduction

and its consequent essential vision. This explains why even nowadays
it is quite frequently thought that phenomenology is really nothing
else than a revival of realism or even of Platonism (Edith Stein).
As far as contemporary existential phenomenologists are concerned,
the essential vision is done so little justice that some of them seem to
be blind to understanding the essence of reality. Thus they do not
succeed, at least not explicitly, in overcoming a new type of positivism.
Unfortunately, this is all some opponents of existential phenome-
nology know about it.153 They disregard that Sartre and Merleau-
Ponty presuppose classical "understanding" and that Sartre speaks
even explicitly about the essence of man,154 although elsewhere he
denies that there is any human nature. 155
What to think of this paradoxical situation? The conclusion
appears warranted that phenomenology does not yet sufficiently
realize its own nature, has not yet arrived at explicit awareness of
what it is doing. Phenomenologists know the idea of essence and
classical intelligere or understanding, but they have not yet taken
them into account. They still lack a doctrine about concepts and
conceptual knowledge. 156 MerIeau-Ponty is right when he says that
perception "forever grounds our idea of truth,"151 but he would have
to indicate more aspects of perception than he de facto does. His
phenomenology of perception presupposes more than he himself thinks
is contained in it. A phenomenology of perception, of emotional life,
of imagination, of volitional life, etc., presupposes, at least implicitly,
an immutable idea regarding these modes of existing. 158
153Dondeyne, "Beschouwingen bij het atheistisch existentialisme,"

Tijdschrift Vaal' Philosophie, vol. XIII (1951), pp. 3-10.
154"Nous sommes donc dans la situation inverse de celie des psychologues
puisque nous partons de cette totalite synthetique qu'est l'homme et que nous
(tablissons I'essence d'homme avant de debuter en psychologie." Sartre,
Esquisse d'une fheorie des emotions, Paris 1948. p. 9.
1fi5"Ainsi, il n'y a pas de nature humaine, puisqu'iJ n'y a pas de Dieu pour
la concevoir." Sartre, L'existentialisme est un kurnanis11le, p. 22.
lfi6Cf. Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought and Christian Faith,
pp. 102-107.
lfi7Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenoml:nologie de la perception, p. XI.
158Cf. Sartre, op. cit., p. 7.
a. The Concept ;s Abstract

Abstraction. Further reflection on the relation between my world
of ideas and the world as the terminus of encounter or the field of
presence of my existence shows that these two worlds do not wholly
agree. I cannot fail to notice that my concepts are abstract, mys-
teriously stripped of the aspect "this, here and now," pertaining to the
individual terminus encountered by my knowledge. My concept
"figure" says nothing about "this" or "that" figure, my idea "man"
says nothing of John or Peter. My concept is abstract, and my
understanding therefore is abstractive. 159
A similar situation was met when we spoke of the figure-horizon
structure of perception. When I look for the biggest apple on a
fruit tray, apples leap forward as salient figures in a field of presence
of nearby and faraway meanings composed of plums, bananas, etc.,
while one of the apples, as it were, detaches itself and makes itself
present as the biggest against an horizon of other smaller apples.
Thus the figure-horizon structure has already differentiated itself on
several levels. The same has to be said also with respect to the
biggest apple which I take. Because I look for the biggest apple,
meanings such as color, juiciness, flavor, etc., which are qualities of
the same apple, slide into the background of my field of perception,
and size alone occurs in it as a figure.
It would be possible to speak here already of abstraction, for I
have abstracted a certain meaning from the network of nearby and
faraway meanings which is my field of perception. 160 Strictly speak-
ing, however, the term "abstractive" is used as a qualifier of the act
of understanding. When I understand something, my act of under-
standing abstracts the essence from "this, here and now," from the
individual. 161 The essence is placed in the foreground as a salient
figure, while the individual marks of this figure are pushed toward
the horizon of my field of presence. Thus the terminus of under-
159Cf. Dondeyne, "L'abstraction," Revue neoscolastique de Philosophic,
1938, pp. 5-20, 339-373; L. B. Geiger, "Abstraction et separation d'apres
S. Thomas," Revue des Sciences philosophiques et theologiques," vol. 31 (1947),
pp. 3-40; G. Van Riet, "La theorie thomiste de l'abstraction," Revue philoso-
phique de Louvain, 1952, pp. 353-393.
160"Et hoc possumus videre per simile in sensu. Visus enim videt colorem
pomi sine ejus odore. Si ergo quaeratur ubi sit color, qui videtur sine odore,
manifestum est quod color, qui videtur, non est nisi in porno. Sed quod sit
sine odore perceptus, hoc accidit ei ex parte visus, in quantum in visu est
similitudo coloris, et non odoris." St. Thomas, Summa theol., p. I, q. 85, a. 2,
ad 2.
161Cf. St. Thomas, ibid., p. I, q. 85, a. 1.
standing, the concept, does not express the individual features of

what I have encountered. The concept is abstract. It retains only
an implicit reference to the individual, insofar as it connotes that its
content is of necessity realized in the individual and only in the
individual. The abstract concept is an "open" concept. 162
Accordingly, when in my understanding I express the quiddity
of the terminus of my encounter, the object pole of my understanding,
I am forced to leave behind the aspect "this, here and now" of the
terminus encountered. In my world of ideas there is only one concept,
one idea "horse," "man," "figure," etc., although in the world in
which I live I have encountered perhaps thousands of horses, men,
figures, etc.
The fact that my concepts are always abstract does not at all
mean that I do not know the individual. It would not even be pos-
sible for me to deny such knowledge without contradicting myself.
For I notice that my understanding leaves the aspect "this, here and
now" out of consideration and I would not be able to notice this if
I were not conscious of the individual, if I did not know it. When-
ever I know something, it is always primarily an individual something
which is for me, to which I am present. At the same time I must
admit that I have primarily interiorized and assimilated "this, here
and now," the individual. However, the cognitive content "this, here
and now" is nothing else than a reference to the terminus encountered
by my act of knowing. It means consciousness of "this being," "this
something," consciousness of a certain "something-for-me."163 But I
do not rest in this first, vague act of knowing. I seek a more accurate
determination, an expression of what this something is. The expres-
sion of what a thing is, is the concept which, however, is stripped of
the individuality contained in the terminus of the encounter.
Abstraction Divides. Conceptual expression, therefore, means of
necessity a kind of dismemberment, which progressively becomes even
more pronounced according as I attempt to penetrate more profoundly
into the quiddity. I may have "conceived" Peter as a man, but this
does not mean that I explicitly see what exactly is meant by being a
man. My understanding is at first only very elementary. Although
grasping the essence of something is called seizing the absolute, it
does not mean that all relativity is excluded by it. Grasping the
essence of something, understanding, is a relative grasp, because it
162G. Van Riet, art. quoted in footnote 159, p. 360.
16Sef. Van Steenberghen, Epistemology. New York, 1949, p. 129.
never gives perfect expression to the terminus of the encounter by

a single stroke. It grasps the essence but does not comprehend it;
it draws its content from the terminus encountered, but does not
exhaust this terminus. Only after a prolonged and diligent search
do I understand that Peter's being-a-man implies existence, "having-
to-be" (zu sein), transcendence, having a conscience, etc. Thus my
deeper penetration produces a greater dismemberment, and every
partial expression itself is always abstract.
I observe the same situation when I attempt to express the indi-
vidual more accurately. Although both John and Peter are "man,"
John is not Peter for, unlike Peter, John is healthy, a New Yorker,
young, intelligent, a lawyer, upright, a stamp collector, etc. Therefore,
the determination and expression of the individuality of the terminus
encountered is likewise conceptual and abstract. 164
Abstraction Unifies. Nevertheless, the abstract conceptual expres-
sion of the terminus encountered by my act of knowing does not
consist solely in a dismemberment of the original organic unity proper
to the act of knowing. By means of abstractive understanding the
field of cognitive presence is also unified in a certain sense. If I were
to stand in reality "without any concepts," reality would be for me
a chaotic mass of concrete and individual uniquenesses. If I do not
know what a mammal is, then every mammal is an enigma for me
in this respect; I am not able to see, as it were, through a certain
"region" of objects; I am not capable of com-prehending, i.e., of sum-
marizing many objects in their essential resemblance. 16 1> If I were
unable to grasp the essence of an emotion, my emotional life would
be chaotic for me. 166
Precisely because understanding is abstractive, it brings unity into
the plurality of individual objects.167 These objects no longer appear
164A. Marc, Psychologie reflexive, vol. I, Paris, 1949, pp. 166-273.

165"Etymologically, to 'comprehend' as Brunschvicg pointed out, means 'to
take simultaneously,' to establish relationships, to bring back the diversity of
data to the unity of an idea or a system of ideas." Dondeyne, Contemporary
European Thought and Christian Faith, p. 152.
166Cf. Sartre, Esquisse d'une theorie des emotions, Paris, 1948, p. 7.
167"Im Vorstellen, z.B. einer Linde, Buche, Tanne als Baum, wird das je
einzelne Angeschaute als das und das bestimmt, aus dem Hinblick auf solches,
was 'fUr viele gilt'. Diese Vielgiiltigkeit kennzeichnet zwar eine Vorstellung
als Begriff, trifft jedoch noch nicht dessen urspriingliches Wesen. Denn diese
Vielgiiltigkeit griindet ihrerseits als abgeleiteter Charakter darin, dass im
Begriff je das Eine vorgestellt ist, in dem mehrere Gegenstande iibereinkom-
men. BegrifHiches Vorstellen ist Ubereinkommenlassen von Mehreren in diesem
Einen. Die Einheit dieses Einen muss daher im begrifHichen Vorstellen
to me as unique. Because I leave behind the individual, I draw the

essence found in many into the foreground of my field of perception,
so that this field becomes organized and delineates itself as a certain
region against an horizon of distinct meanings. To make reality in-
telligible means to take away its chaotic character, to unify it and
thus to make it transparent. Every science performs this task, each
in its own way.
Undoubtedly it is not difficult to see now that the term "abstract"
does not have here the pejorative sense which many phenomenologists
attach to it. The abstract character of understanding does not mean
a corruption of knowledge. The abstract concept is not cut loose from
experience in the broadest sense. The abstractive character of under-
standing pertains to our human condition (Maritain).
A Misrepresentation. To prevent much useless discussion, it may
be useful to point out how traditional presentations of the concept
often give rise to misunderstanding because of their defective explana-
tions. It is often said that man "has" abstract concepts. This expres-
sion can be understood correctly, but also incorrectly. I do not "have"
abstract concepts in the same way as I "have" marbles or dollars.
Abstract concepts are not "things."168 My "having" a concept means
nothing else than that I am understanding, that I understand. There-
fore, I can never "have" a concept without understanding. My con-
cepts, which are the results or terms of my understanding, are not
stored and kept in my consciousness as in a locker for use on later
occasions. This way of presenting the affair draws its origin from
the psychology of consciousness, which conceived consciousness as a
kind of container and the phenomena of consciousness as little "things"
stored in this container (Herbart). If this description of conscious-
ness and its facts were correct, it would be possible for me to "have"
a concept and yet not to understand.
vorgreifend herausgesehen und allen bestimmenden Aussagen iiber das Mehrere

vorgehalten werden. Das vorgangige Heraussehen des Einen, darin Mehreres
soli iibereinkommen kiinnen, ist der Grundakt der Begriffsbildung." Heidegger,
Kant und das Problem der Metaphysik, Bonn, 1929, p. 47.
i68The objection could be raised that concepts, as they are treated in logic,
strongly resemble things. The concept is considered there as a "thing of
thought" and is viewed precisely as divorced from understanding. It is what
St. Thomas calls the "building" studied in separation from "the act of build-
ing" (Summa theol., p. I-II, q. 90, a. 1, ad 2). Of course, we do not want to
deny that this is what happens in logic. Nevertheless, we want to emphasize
that the logical study of concepts does not favor the phenomenology of under-
standing.
But the abstract concept is nothing without understanding, and

understanding is nothing without the intelligible meaning of the
noema, expressed in the concept and embodied in the word. Under-
standing, however, is not always actual in the highest degree. It is
always more or less actual and, therefore, the concept also will be
more or less actual. When my understanding has become fully non-
actual, I no longer "have" a concept. When for any reason whatso-
ever my understanding becomes actual again, I again give expression
to a certain aspect of my field of presence, I again "have" a concept,
I again understand. It is because this understanding is accompanied
by the consciousness of having understood before, that we speak here
of memory.169
h. The Concept is Not a Schematic Image
Have we not emphasized too much what above was called "spir-
itual consciousness"? Surely, spiritual consciousness or understand-
ing is not to be divorced from sensitive consciousness? Does the
final term of understanding not retain anything of sensitive con-
sciousness? I see, I feel, I hear "this, here and now," and in my
seeing, feeling, hearing, etc., I grasp the quiddity, the essence of
something, expressed in a concept, which is abstract because it leaves
the individual behind. But what is left in this way of the assertion
that sensitive and spiritual consciousness are inseparable aspects of
a single undivided cognitive attitude?
Let us repeat emphatically that sensitive and spiritual conscious-
ness can merely be distinguished but not separated. Hence the
expression of what I have made mine in the encounter with things
contains so much sensitive consciousness that many philosophers
have not even succeeded in distinguishing the two aspects of the
expression in question. 170 When I perceive a match-box on my
desk and then close my eyes, I am able to imagine this box in its
individuality. This image is a mode of expression, but an individual
one, for it is the image of this box lying here and now on my desk.
This image certainly is not the concept "match-box," because it is
not the abstract expression of the quiddity, the essence of a match-
box. In the sight of the individual box and in the individual represcn-
169The questions regarding memory are much more complex than is sug-
gested in these lines. However, we are not concerned with the psychology of
memory. What we are interested in here is the insight that concepts are not
"things" and, consequently, that they are not kept as "things" and d? not come
"to the surface" of my consciousness whenever I remember somethmg.
170Cf. A. Marc. Psych%gie reflexive, vol. I, Paris, 1949, p .167.
tation in the imagination the abstractive understanding of what a box

is, is realized. I express the essence in my concept, but the abstract
expression cannot be divorced or isolated from the individual image,171
although the two are not identical.
The Abstract Concept According to the Empiricists. Some em-
piricists, e.g., Hume, think that there is, strictly speaking, no distinc-
tion between concept and image. As all empiricists, they posit, on
the one hand, a world as being-in-itself and, on the other, a conscious-
ness without a world. This consciousness is sensitive to stimuli
coming from the world and receives them in a wholly passive way.
Each impression from without, however, is fully individual as, say,
the impression of this box or the impression of that box. Nevertheless
I use a single term for all these impressions-namely, the general
term "match box." What justifies me in doing this? We reply that
in the experience of this or that box we acquire the abstract concept
"match-box" and in our understanding we leave behind the aspect
of this or that. 172
The empiricists in question do not agree to this reply. According
to their view, what we have called an abstract concept is nothing else
than an impoverished and weakened image of individual things. In
this image all the striking features of individuality are supposed to
have simply faded away. There are several ways in which this fading
away is explained. Some, such as Galton, appeal to a kind of fusing
together of superimposed individual impressions. Through the over-
lapping of the individual impressions their overall result becomes
confused and resembles a scheme, i.e., a schematic image of number-
less individual realities. What we have called abstract concepts and
have distinguished from images are, according to these empiricists,
only vague schematized images. 173
This view is another instance of insufficient explicitation of the
irreflechi. It is the phenomenologist's duty to give expression to
knowledge as it is. Undoubtedly, it is true that in knowledge there
is something that may be called a schematizing image. 174 In very
many cases man does not even manage to go beyond a kind of
171Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. I, q. 84, a. 7.
172"Der Gegenstand einer Anschauung, der je ein Einzelnes ist, bestimmt
sich jedoch als "das und das" in einer 'allgemeinen Vorstellung', d.h. im
Begriff." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 47.
173Cf. Jolivet, Traite de Philosophie, vol. 2, Psycho logie, Lyon-Paris, 1945,
pp. 435-437.
174Cf Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. II-II, q. 173, a. 2.
17~Cf. A. D. Sertillanges, Saint Thomas d'Aquin, vol. II, Paris, 1925, p. 141.
schematizing. However, is this schematic representation the abstract

expression of an essence? Certainly not.175 Whenever man's knowl-
edge does not go beyond a schematic image we have clearly to do
with a case of non-understanding rather than understanding. An
anthropology, for example, which would be limited to arranging in
orderly fashion the schematic images of individual human beings
would not be able to go beyond trivialities. Moreover, a theory
regarding the schematizing phase of human knowledge is not possible
without a concept of schematizing. 176
We are speaking here of concept and schema, but the distinction
between these two can be seen only by those who are able to dis-
tinguish understanding and schematizing. The act of knowing a
worldly object reveals different aspects which show themselves
irreducible. The irreducibility of understanding to any form what-
soever of sensitive consciousness imposes itself also when considera-
tion is given to the termini of understanding and of sensitive
consciousness. The schematization of the individual results in an
individual representation, no matter how much this representation
is schematized, but not in the abstract conceptual expression of what
something is.177 The various aspects of the one and undivided
cognitive attitude are distinct and not identical, and the same is true
of their respective termini.
The abstract concept occurs in an insoluble unity with the vague
schematic image. Perhaps one may even say that a kind of schemati-
zation prepares for understanding. 17 8 Nevertheless, they are distinct.
The attempt of certain empiricists to minimize this distinction at
the expense of the abstract concept is phenomenologically not justi-
176The distinction between abstract concept and representation was estab-
lished by empirical psychology and emphasized especially by the School of
Wurzburg when Kiilpe and his followers Biihler, Messer, and Marbe through
the method of experimental introspection were forced to distinguish between
imaginative and non-imaginative consciousness. For a survey of the experi-
ments, see F. Roels, Handboek der Psychologie, Utrecht, 1934, pp. 73-93.
I77To clarify the distinction between concept and schematic representation,
an appeal is sometimes made to the fact that man .can perfectly understand a
figure having seventy-five angles without being capable of representing this
figure schematically in his imagination. Hence, so they conclude, concept and
schematic representation are not identical. We do not make use of this
argument because we do not think that it is valid. When we speak of the
concept, we mean the abstract expression of the essence proper to a discovered
reality. In this sense the "concept" of a figure having seventy-five angles
is not a concept. Nor is that of a simple triangle. The content of such a
"concept" is not the expression of the essence proper to a discovered reality,
but is, on the basis of perception, simply posited in an unequivocal and
indisputable fashion.
I78Cf. Marc, op. cit., p. 253.
frable. They explicitate only one aspect of consciousness-namely,

the one which we have called sensitive consciousness. For this reason
their empiricism is called sensualistic empiricism.
H umean Phenomenalism. Descartes' method to arrive at a cri-
terion for truth and certainty led logically to the isolated, walled-in and
closed, purely active consciousness and to a neglect of the importance
the worldly object has with respect to the act of knowing. Empiricism
recognizes the influence of the object which imposes itself upon
consciousness, but in its explicitation of this influence it lays emphasis
only on the sensitive aspects. For most empiricists there is no other
consciousness than sense consciousness.
Nevertheless, the influence of Descartes' method is clearly discern-
ible in many representatives of empiricism and especially in Hume.
David Hume admits the influence of the worldly thing on the knowing
subject. But, if the question is asked what do I know directly when
I know a thing, Hume replies that I know directly my subjective im-
pressions. Thus, according to Hume, I am dealing only with sensitive
facts of consciousness. He could not have replied differently without
doing violence to the Cartesian inspiration of his philosophy. If con-
sciousness and world are first separated, one simply has to appeal to
representative cognitive images, impressions, to save the value of the
world. The impressions presuppose an external stimulus, but directly
I know only the "phenomena" of things, i.e., the subjective impressions
and representations which I receive from things.170 For this reason
Hume's theory is called phenomenalism.
As soon as this point in Hume's thinking is reached, there is no
longer any possibility of avoiding scepticism. If I know only subjective
impressions, what lies behind these impressions? What is the reality
itself of which empiricism asserts that it is in-itself? Hume does not
reply to this question, but remains satisfied with scientifically demolish-
ing everything which hitherto had been held for certain. Only one
thing is certain-namely, that we know only phenomena of con-
sciousness, impressions, and images; hence it is about these and
nothing else that the sciences should speak. Thus the empiricist post-
Cartesian trend of thought ends with the same conclusions as its
opponent-idealism. ISO
170 Accordingly, the "phenomenon" of the empiricists differs radical\y from
what is indicated by the same term in phenomenology. For the phenomenologist
the phenomenon is the real being which is reality-for-man and not a subjective
impression of a world-in-itself.
180Cf. Thonnard. A Short History of Philosophy, Nos. 384bis-385.
Kant. When this stage was reached, Kant began his critique of
knowledge and his speculations regarding the possibility of science.
At first, he was profoundly influenced by the rationalism of Wolff,
but soon contact with Hume's philosophy caused a crisis in his
thought. With Hume, Kant is of the opinion that man knows directly
the subjective impressions of things and not the things themselves.
But it did not escape him that this empiricist principle was bound to
lead to radical scepticism. If the subjective impressions of things are
the object of knowledge, will it ever be possible for man to know
things themselves? Moreover, are the subjective impressions of
things not variable and individual? How would it be possible that
these impressions would generate the necessary and universal in-
sights of the sciences? Nevertheless, the sciences are a fact-one
cannot deny the success of mathematics, the results of physics and of
Newton's astronomy. Therefore, man's knowledge must contain the
condition which renders science possible; knowledge has to be ex-
plicitated in such a way that it accounts for the fact of science, for if
de facto there are sciences, it would be meaningless to describe knowl-
edge in such a way that according to the description there cannot be
any sciences. Meanwhile it is certain that Hume's description of
knowledge leaves no room for the fact that there are sciences.
Kant's proposed solution of these difficulties amounts to an em-
phasis on the separation between what we have called sensitive and
spiritual consciousness. We say emphasis, for from the very start
Kant assumed this separation by virtue of the presuppositions which
lie took over from empiricism. Man never knows the thing-in-itself,
the noumenon, the objective essence of things. Only the phenomenon,
the subjective impression which things cause in man's sensitivity, is
directly known. Accordingly, I am not able to assert that the thing-in-
itself is a substance, a cause, or caused.
Nevertheless, these concepts are predicated of the object known.
Where, then, lies their source? The subjective impressions are vari-
able and individual and, therefore, cannot explain the necessary and
universal character of the concept. Thus there remains no other
possibility than that they arise from the knowing subject itself, in-
dependently of the experience of the objects (a priori). In other
words, the concepts are thought forms of pure reason. They are not
the result of understanding the essence of things, but the subject is
necessitated to think the things according to these a priori forms. The
forms arise from the very structure of consciousness itself. In this

way scientific knowledge is possible.
Kant himself called this solution his "Copernican Revolution."
Before Copernicus, it was thought that the sun revolved around the
earth, but Copernicus reversed the proposition. Before Kant, it was
thought that things imposed themselves upon consciousness, but Kant
reversed the proposition and claimed that consciousness imposes its
a priori forms on things. Kant, then, acknowledged abstract concepts,
but fully isolated them from sensitive consciousness. 181 The reason put
forward by Kant was taken over from Hume: man's contact with
things is nothing but a contact of sensitive consciousness. 182 Such a
contact can result only in a changeable and individual image. N ever-
theless, there are necessary and abstract concepts. These concepts,
therefore, have to come from the conscious subject itself. Because of
this thesis, there is no room for abstractive understanding of reality
in Kant's explicitation of knowledge and there is a radical divorce
of sensitive and spiritual consciousness.
The Kantian antinomy between phenomenon and noumenon, be-
tw~en the subjective impression and the unknowable thing-in-itself
hidden behind it, could be radically overcome by phenomenology. For
the phenomenologist, it is certaip. that assertions can be made only
regarding the phenomenon, but the phenomenon in question is not
a subjective impression, but being itself making its appearance. When
I perceive an ash tray or a table, I perceive the tray or the table
themselves. The tray and the table are phenomena, appearing beings,
but really tray and really table.
The unity, however, of reciprocal implication of noesis and noema
shows distinct aspects. From the noetic viewpoint there is, on the
one hand, the changeable and individual expression of the terminus
encountered by the act of knowing, an ~pression which is determined
by spatio-temporal conditions, and on the other, there is the abstract
expression which transcends space-time. From the noematic view-
point the distinction between the essence and the form of the terminus
encountered imposes itself.
181"Quod autem intellectualia stricte talia attinet, in quibus usus intellectus

est realis, conceptus tales tam objectorum quam respectuum dantur per ipsam
naturam intellect us, neque ab ullo sensuum usu sunt abstracti, nec formam
ullam continent cognitionis sensitivae, qua talis." "De mundi sensibilis atque
intelligibilis forma atque principiis," Immanuel Kanis W,,.k, herausgegeben
von Ernst Cassirer, Berlin, 1912, vol. 2, p. 410.
182Kant did not realize that this "thesis" was precisely the very issue at
stake.
Antinomy of Sartre and M erleau-Ponty. In their description of

perception some phenomenologists, such as Sartre and Merleau-
Ponty, call forth a new antinomy, which again amounts to an exclusive
emphasis upon the sensitive aspect of consciousness to the detriment of
its spiritual aspect. They clearly realize that every profile of percep-
tion is the profile of a table, a chair, an apple, etc. This situation was
the reason why we spoke about the abstractive understanding of what
a table, a chair, etc. are, and why we consider this abstractive under-
standing as the ground on which it is intelligible that the many
spatio-temporally determined profiles appear as profiles of one and
the same table, chair, etc.
If, however, with Sartre one indicates nothing else in perception
than the letting appear of profiles, difficulties arise when one has to
account for the fact that these profiles appear as profiles of one and
the same table. 183 For Sartre this difficulty becomes the occasion for
speaking of the transphenomenal being of that which stands before
consciousness. This transphenomenal being is being-in-itself. 184 How-
ever, one may ask how such an affirmation can be made.
Although Merleau-Ponty is more consistent than Sartre in his
use of the idea of intentionality, he too lets himself be seduced by
the perspectivistic character of perception to make the strangest
assertions. For Merleau-Ponty it is certain that the only possible
sense which the terms being and reality can assume has to be explici-
tated as being-for-me. 185 Any assertion concerning reality presupposes
the presence of the knowing subject, and outside this presence nothing
can be said, Perception, however, shows itself to be perspectivistic,
and the perceived reveals itself in an endless series of profiles. The
perceived thing itself, the table or the stone itself is never reached. 186
Moreover, Merleau-Ponty thinks, it would be in principle impossible
ever to reach the thing itself, for I would have to be capable of
putting together all perspectives, of synthesizing present, past, and
future, of being "always" and "everywhere." But the idea of such
a synthesis of historically conditioned perspectives denies every real
183Sartre, L'etre et Ie Ilea lit, pp. 11-16.
184"L'etre trans phenomenal de ce qui est pour la conscience est lui-meme en
soi." Sartre, ibid., p. 29.
185Phellomell%gie de la perception, p. III.
186"L'ioseite n'est, bien entendu, jamais atteillte: chaque aspect de la chose
qui tombe- sous notre perception n'est encore qu'une invitation it percevoir
au del a et qu'unarret momentane dans Ie processus percept if. Si la chose
meme etait atteinte, elle serait desormais etalee devant nous et sans mystere.
Elle cesserait d'exister comme chose au moment meme ou no us croirions la
posseder." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 269-270.
perspective and, therefore, the real involvement of the subject in the

world or the being-for-me of worldly things. 1ST
The same has to be said, according to Merleau-Ponty, about
"the" world. In perception I draw a certain figure into the fore-
ground, so that it appears against a background of more or less
remote meanings. Of course, I am capable of making a more remote
meaning itself a figure, but in that case other meanings will slide
into the background. More remote meanings in the background of
my field of perception in their turn have a certain background. The
background, however, of all backgrounds, the horizon of all horizons,
i.e., the world itself, is never reached in perception. The thing and
the world are only insofar as they are "lived" by me or by other
subjects like me, for they are the concatenation of our perspectives.
However, they transcend all perspectives because the concatenation
is temporal and incomplete. ISS
The question can be raised as to what this transcendent being is.
Merleau-Ponty replies that when I say that things are transcendent,
this means that I do not possess them, I cannot fathom them; they
are transcendent to the extent that I do not know what they are
and blindly affirm their naked being.ls9 The transcendent is reality
and it is real to the extent that it is beyond our grasp.190 The world
of nature presents itself as being-in-itself beyond its being-for-me. 191
We are here in the midst of contradictions. On the one hand, it
is said that reality is always reality-for-me. On the other hand, the
term "reality" is used for that which escapes being-for-me, that of
which I do not know what it is, that whose being I affirm blindly,
1S7"Si la synthese pouvait etre effective, si mon experience ormait un

systeme clos, si la chose et Ie monde pouvaient etre definis une lois pour toutes,
si les horizons spatio-temporels pouvaient, meme idealement etre explicites et
Ie monde pense sans point de vue, c'est alors que rien n'existerait, je sur-
volerais Ie monde, et loin que tous les lieux et tous les temps devinssent a
la lois reels, ils cesseraient tous de I'etre parce que je n'en habiterais aucun
et ne serais engage nulle part. Si je suis toujours et partout, je ne suis jamais
et nulle part." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 382-383.
18S"La chose et Ie monde n'existent que vecus par moi ou par des sujets
tels que moi, puisqu'i1s sont l'enchainement de nos perspectives, mais ils trans-
cendent toutes les perspectives parce que cet enchainement est temporel et
inacheve." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 384-395.
189"Quand je dis que les choses sont transcendantes, cela signifie que je ne
les possede pas, que j e n'en ais pas Ie tour, elles sont transcendantes dans
la mesure ou j'ignore ce qu'elles sont et au fen affirme aveugh!ment l'existence
nue." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 423.
190"Ce aui fait la 'realite' de la chose est donc justement ce qui la de robe
a notre possession." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 270.
191"En effet, Ie monde naturel se donne comme existant en soi au dela
de son existence pour moL" Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 180.
that which beyond its being-for-me is in-itself. It is evident where

this contradiction finds its source. As long as there is question of
the profiles of things and of the world, as long as there is question
of the noematic correlate of sensitive consciousness, Sartre and
Merleau-Ponty emphasize the being-for-me of reality. But the thing
and the world themselves are not reached, for otherwise sensitive
consciousness would have to be able to do something that is possible
only for spiritual consciousness or understanding. Nevertheless, the
noematic correlate of understanding forces itself upon the perceiving
subject. This fact should have induced Sartre and Merleau-Ponty
to attribute a meaning of its own to understanding as distinct from
sensitive consciousness. But they fail to do this. Instead, the primi-
tive fact of phenomenology is adultera:ted, and phenomenology is
reduced to an idealism of meaning. 192
Conelusion. This much is certain for us-we possess a concept
of the thing itself in every perspectivistic grasping of the thing. To
have such a concept, it is not necessary to be capable of synthetizing
all standpoints and all profiles and to be present "everywhere and
always." To understand what something is is not the same as to
let forms appear which are determined through spatio-temporality.
Likewise, we have a concept of the world itself in every concrete
situation. To have this concept, it is not necessary to abandon or
deny our spatio-temporal situation, for in and through every concrete
situation I understand what it is to-he-situated and what the world
is in which I am situated. To understand what the world is is not
the same as surveying its nearby and more remote meanings.
Above we observed that Hume's identification of the schematic
image with the abstract concept means disregarding spiritual conscious-
ness. For this reason Hume is said to be a sensualist. Insofar as
he explicitates knowledge as a mirroring of a reality that is in-itself,
he must be called an empiricist or a realist. Sartre and Merleau-
Ponty, of course, unlike Hume, are not empiricists or realists, but
the way in which they speak about being-in-itself makes it impossible
to absolve them from every form of realistic thinking. The important
point, however, is to see that both are undoubtedly sensualists. For
fear of the false intellectualism of the idealists they disregard every
real intellectuality in the knowing subject and eliminate from their
explicitation of knowledge everything which recalls its spiritual
192Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought and Christian Faith, pp.
111-112.
aspect. After all, it does not make too much difference whether one
explicitates understanding as the schematizing of changeable and
individual impressions or as the temporal and incomplete concatena-
tion of our perspectives.
c. The Concept is Universal

The abstractness of the concept leads immediately to a second
property-namely, universality. The concept is universal, i.e., it is
applicable to many, predicable of many subjects. l9S In forming a
concept, I bring unity into the chaotic multiplicity of unique beings,
I seize upon that in which many agree, I leave out of consideration
that which makes each terminus of encounter unique and thus, as it
were, separate a certain region of realities. In the concept, then, the
fact of pertaining to a certain region is expressed, so that the concept
can be predicated of every object which belongs to this region, John,
Peter, and Mary, for example, pertain to a determined region of
realities because they are human beings and, therefore, the concept
"man" can be predicated of them. l \}4
Thus the concept shows very peculiar characteristics-namely,
abstractness and universality-which I do not encounter in the real
world. They are exclusively proper to my world of ideas, which I
gradually build up in my encounter with reality. These characteristics
are a result of my human condition, of the fact that my understanding
is abstractive. It is not possible for me to give expression to the
essence of the terminus encountered by my act of knowing without
leaving behind the individual, variable, and accidental form of this
terminus. The concept, the expression of the essence of something,
therefore, will of necessity possess certain qualities which are ex-
clusively qualities of the expression itself. They do not belong to the
content of the concept, they do not say what the terminus encountered
by my understanding is and, consequently, I am unable to express
the essence of this terminus in such a way that the result of the ex-
pression is not abstract and universal. If, then, I ask what kind of
being these qualities possess, I can give no other reply than that they
are "modes" in which reality is understood by me.
Nevertheless, I understand also these "modes" themselves. I
know what being-abstract is and what being-universal is. I have,
thereor~, a concept "abstract" and a concept "universal," which are
193By "subject" here is meant the subject of the judgment.

194Cf. Heidegger, Kant und das Problem der Metaphysik, p. 47.
predicated of the concept. The concepts "abstract" and "universal"

are very appropriately called "second concepts" (secundae intentiones
in scholastic philosophy), because they are concepts of our concepts.
In understanding I grasp reality and express it in a concept and,
reflecting on the concept, I give expression to the qualities of the
concept in my "second concepts."195
A concept may be more or less universal, i.e., predicable of a
greater or smaller number of subjects. The concept "figure" is pre-
dicable of more subjects than the concept "triangle," for "figure" can
be predicated of all triangles and, in addition, of all figures which are
not triangles. The greater or smaller universality of the concept is
called its extension. It is determined by the number of subjects of
which the concept can be predicated. In opposition to the extension
we speak of the content of the concept or its comprehension. The
comprehension is determined by the sum total of characteristics con-
stituting the essence expressed by the concept. According as the
comprehension of a concept is richer and wider, the extension of this
concept will be smaller. Thus, for instance, the concept "triangle"
expresses more than the concept "figure," so that "triangle" is
predicable of a smaller number of subjects. 196
8. THE JUDGMENT
What am I doing when I attempt to explicitate the first, vague,

content of knowledge which my encounter with things produces? I
face, for instance, an object and say "this is heavy" or I meet a man
and say "he is intelligent." Through the encounter a thing or a man
becomes reality for me, but at the same time there results from this
encounter a certain, provisionally very vague content of knowledge,
which I indicate by the pronouns "this" or "he."197 In order to over-
come this vagueness in my knowing, I begin to explicitate and say,
for instance, "he is intelligent." However, I realize that others may
think differently. In such a case I observe that someone else "judges"
differently. I, too, therefore, pronounced a judgment. I gave expres-
195Cf. Charles Boyer, Cursus philosophiae, vol. I, pp. 6566.
196Cf. Jacques Maritain, Formal Logic, pp. 36-45.
197We analyze knowledge which man has, without being able to indicate
exactly how this knowledge arose. When in the above-mentioned example it
is said that "he is intelligent," the concept "intelligent" is presupposed. How
did it arise? Perhaps I will never be able to trace its origin. Genetic psy-
chology would have to investigate the empirical laws governing the origin of
ideas but, as the work of the Swiss psychologist Piaget shows, this is very
difficult. Nevertheless, I cannot deny that I have concepts.
sion to the terminus encountered by my act of knowing and this

expression is called to judge. 19s In the judgment a concept, e.g., "in-
telligent" is united with a certain content of knowledge, e.g., "he."199
This union is permissible because, in the attempt to overcome the
vagueness with which the terminus of encounter is given to me, I see
that this vague content of knowledge implies what is expressed by the
concept "intelligent."
Accordingly, I see that the comprehension of a concept which in
the judgment I predicate of the subject belongs to the comprehension
of the subject. For this reason the two may be united, and this union
is effected in the judgment. If, on the other hand, I would notice
that what the concept "intelligent" says is not contained in the com-
prehension of the subject, I would not unite the two contents of
knowledge and pronounce a negative judgment: "he is not intelli-
gent."
The concept, then, which in the judgment is said of a certain
content of knowledge is a further determination or, which amounts
to the same, the explicitating expression of the terminus encountered
by the act of knowing. 20o In traditional terminology such a concept
is called a "predicate," and the content of knowledge with which the
predicate is united as its further determination is called a ''subject.''201
Since to judge is known also as to predicate, it is clear why modem
thought is quite correct in using the qualifier "pre-predicative" for the
encounter with, the being present to the object of knowledge. Pre-
predicative knowing, therefore, is a knowing which has not yet
entered the stadium in which the encounter which knowing is, is ex-
pressed in judgments. The vagueness with which the terminus of
encounter is originally given has not yet been explicitated. This ex-
plicitation demands explicit consideration, a placing-oneself-in-the-
19S"Chaque concept se presente comme une affirmation en germe, une

possibilite de jugement et tout jugement est un mode de concevoir Ie reel,
une maniere humaine de se dire a soi commes les choses sont." Dondeyne,
"L'abstraction . . ." Revue neoscolastique de philosophie, 1938, p. 340.
199This is the classical definition. "Alia operatio intellectus est secundum
quam componit et dividit, affirmando et negando." Thomas Aquinas, De
veritate, q. 14, a. I.
200"Concept et jugement sont comme I'explicitation d'une saisie intuitive
qui leur sert de point d'appui, mais qui, a son tour, se maintient et s'acheve, a
l'interieur de I'epanouissement conceptuel." Dondeyne, ibid., pp. 340-341.
2010riginally every concept is a predicate. Of course, a universal concept
may function as the subject of a judgment, but precisely because it is universal,
it was originally predicated of an individual subject, of which it was the
expression.
presence-of, a returning-to, reflection. For this reason prepredicative

knowing may be called also prereflective knowing. 202
Above we explained that the extension and comprehension of the
concept are distinct. The judgment was seen to be the affirmation or
negation that the comprehension of the predicate pertains to the com-
prehension of the subject. The judgment, however, may be considered
also from the viewpoint of the predicate's extension. Let us take the
judgment: "John is virtuous." The extension of the concept "vir-
tuous" is determined by the number of subjects of which the concept
can be predicated. When in a judgment "virtuous" is predicated of
John, this means that John belongs to the whole of subjects which
determines the extension of the predicate. Thus the judgment is also
the expression of the fact that the subject belongs to the extension of
the predicate. In the case of a negative judgment the subject is said
to be outside the extension of the predicate.
The Necessity of Many Judgments. The judgment does not merely
express the comprehension of the subject by means of a predicate or
merely that the subject pertains to the extension of the predicate.
Further reflection reveals more. When I make the judgments, "Peter
is mortal," "Peter is intelligent," "Peter is tall," etc., I show that I need
many judgments to express the encounter which is my act of know-
ing. It is not possible for me to seize the terminus encountered by my
act of knowing all at once and in its totality and to express it in a
single grasp. It is necessary for me to express and determine it
progressively, for the encounter with the individual at first does not
offer me more cognitive content than a reference to the terminus of
the encounter: "this, here and now" or "Peter," etc. But what is
"this" or "that"? I endeavor to clarify the vagueness of the encounter
to explicitate, express, and determine it. This means, however, that
many judgments are needed to overcome the vagueness of my en-
counter, and the encounter itself degenerates into a dismemberment
of expression. One could think perhaps that the terminus encountered
by my act of knowing is expressed in its totality when I say, e.g.,
"Peter is Peter." De facto, however, I do not express anything in this
way, I do not give any further determination, but remain in the
initial vagueness of the encounter. In such a statement I affirm the
same of the same, so that there is a so-called "tautology."
2n~"La condition de toute reflexivite est un cogito prereflexif." Sartre,

L'etre et Ie neallt, pp. 116-117.
The Verbal Copula "Is." The judgment is not only a dismember-

ment of the encounter which is knowledge. Through the judgment I
also reduce what I understand of the object pole of my act of knowing
to the identity of the terminus of the encounter. This point should
be evident when I reflect on the meaning of the verbal copula "is."
Let us say that my judgment is: "this 'is' heavy," "this 'is' shaped,"
"this 'is' red," "this 'is' fragile," etc. At first my encounter with the
object of my knowledge did not contain more than the "being-of-
something-for-me." Through my knowing "something is for me." I
can express this in a judgment by saying: "this is be-ing" or "this is
something." However, the predicates "be-ing" and "something," which
in the judgment are affirmed of the subject, of the cognitive content
of "this," in the terminus encountered by my knowing are fully
identical with the terminus itself of the encounter. The same applies
also to the further determinations of being, of the "something" which
"this" is. "This" is "being-heavy," "being-shaped," etc. The "being-
heavy" or "being-shaped" in question is fully identical with "this."
This identity is expressed by the verbal copula "is." Likewise, when
I judge: "John is a man, a lawyer, stubborn, a stamp-collector," etc.,
I express what John "is." John is not distinct from the man, the
lawyer, the stamp-collector, etc. which he is. The verbal copula, then,
which I use in the jUdgment expresses that what my judgments predi-
cate of the terminus of the encounter in an endless dismemberment,
is present in this term. The judgment, therefore, not only expresses
the subject's comprehension in a concept, but also places the subject
under the predicate's extension and, in addition, declares that the
subject and the predicate are identical in the terminus of the encounter.
Accordingly, the verbal copula "is" which is used in every
judgment, never indicates the quantitative equality which mathematics
expresses by the sign =. This assertion does not mean that the
mathematical statement, line A = line B, is not a judgment. Math-
ematical statements, too, are judgments, but their mode of formulation
is misleading. The statement, line A = line B, is not intended to
mean that line A is identical with line B, for there is question of
two lines. Every judgment, however, states an identity. For this
reason a kind of "translation" is necessary to reveal the declaration
of identity contained in mathematical statements. One would have
to say that line A "is" just as long as line B. In this way it becomes
clear that the "line-just-as-Iong-as-line-B" is identical with line A.
142 Existential P hcnomenology
9. PHENOMENOLOGY OF TRUTH
Introduction. In the preceding pages the term "truth" was used

occasionally, but it is perhaps .only now that we have sufficient data
to attempt a more systematic consideration of truth. A judgment
is said to be true or false. By this is meant that it agrees or does not
agree with reality.203 The judgment "Peter is stubborn" is true if
Peter really is stubborn, and false if he is not really stubborn. The
question, however, is: what is meant by agreeing with reality?
FoQr the reader who has followed us thus far it should be super-
fluous to point out that "reality" does not have the objectivistic
meaning which empiricism wants to assign to this term. The reality
about which I speak is not "brute reality," not the thing-in-itself,
without me. Therefore, there can be no question of making truth
the agreement of the judgment with brute reality. Such a truth can
never be affirmed. It would mean the affirmation of the agreement
of the thing-as-known~to-me (judgment) with the thing-as-not-
known-to-me (brute reality). To affirm such an agreement is im-
possible, for it presupposes a comparison which cannot be made. 204
This situation should not give rise to any concern. It means
merely that the world about which I make judgments is a human
world and that the truth which I state is a human truth. 205 The
truth regarding things results from the encounter with the things,
and it is impossible for me to speak of things while at the same time
I place myself outside the encounter with these things or think this
encounter away. Brute reality cannot be affirmed by me, for the
affirmation itself signifies the very relation which I would have to
negate to be able to speak of brute reality. Thus, even when there
is question of defining truth, it is imperative that tile idea of inten-
tionality be followed through. The classical definition of truth as
the conformity of the judgment with the thing could be misunderstood
if the "thing" were conceived as the thing-in-itself.
The truth of the judgment is called "predicative truth." This
truth is the agreement of a predicate with the terminus encountered by
knowledge. It ex:presses the truth of things in predicates. Full
emphasis must be placed here on the term "expresses." The question
which arises immediately is: What is the foundation of this ex-
203S cholastic philosophy defines truth as the conformity of the intellect
with reality. Cf. Thomas Aquinas, De anima, a. 3, ad 1.
204Cf. Reidegger, Sein unci Zeit, pp. 214-219.
205Cf. A. de Waelhens, Phenomenologie et Verite, Paris, 1953, pp. 165-166.
pressing? The reply to this question is contained in our preceding

considerations. If the truth of the judgment is the truth of expression,
then the foundation of this truth is, noetically considered, the unveiling
of the meaning of things and, noematically considered, is the un-
concealedness of the unveiled things themselves. 206
a. Existence as "Logos," as "Natural Light," as "Agent Intellect"

Existence and Truth. Phenomenology does not deny the classical
definition of truth. However, it puts full emphasis on a more funda-
mental sense of truth. The "place" of truth is not primarily in the
judgment, the statement (Aussage),207 the sentence (Satz),208 but
in man's existence, insofar as being-man is to exist consciously.209
The agreement of the judgment with reality presupposes that reality
has already been taken out of concealedness. This requires a certain
"light," the light of conscious existence. On the proper level of his
being-human man is a light for himself and at the same time immedi-
ately a light on the other-than-himself.210 This light is a lumen natur-
ale,211 a. "natural light," a light which constitutes the very nature of man
on the proper level of his being-man. 212 The being of man is a
"being-unveiled" and a "being-unveiling," because the being of man
is a being-conscious. To indicate the light which man is for himself
and for the other-than-himself, the old Greek philosophers used the
term logoS.213 The logos takes being out of concealedness. 214
To understand the classical definition and to avoid falling into
an objectivistic, empiricist realism, it is, therefore, necessary to see
pp. 49 if.
207Cl Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 214.
208Cf. Heidegger, Vom Wesen der Wahrheit, Frankfurt, 1954, pp. 6-9.
209"Sofern das Dassein seine Erschlossenheit ist, als erschlossenes
erschliesst und entdeckt, ist es wesenhaft 'wahr'." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit,
p. 221.
210"Erschlossenheit . . . betriift gleichurspriinglich die Welt, das In-Sein
und das Selbst." Heidegger, ibid., p. 220.
212"Das Dasein ist seine Erschlossenheit." Heidegger, ibid., p. 133.
213"Das Wahrsein des logos als apophansis ist das aletheuein in der Weise
des apophainesthai: Seiendes-aus der Verborgenheit herausnemend-in seiner
Unverborgenheit (Entdecktheit) sehen lassen. Die aletheia, die von Aristote1es
nach den oben angefiihrten Stellen mit pragma, phainomena gleichgesetzt wird,
bedeutet die 'Sachen selbst', das was sich zeigt, das Seiende im Wie seiner
Entdecktheit." Heidegger, ibid., p. 219.
214"Also Gehiirt zum logos die Unverborgenheit, a-letheia." Heidegger,
ibid., p. 219.
that the truth of the judgment presupposes both truth as the uncon-
cealedness of things and the truth of human existence as the unveiling
of things.215 The truth of the judgment presupposes the being-in-
truth of man. 21G With the appropriate modification, the same applies
to the untruth or falsity of a judgment. The untruth of the judgment
presupposes that existence has been uprooted. 217 By this expression
we mean that man is no longer rooted in truth as unconcealedness but
in mere appearance. Reality is not wholly concealed; it is to some
extent unveiled, but at the same time it is deformed. 218 The untrue
judgment is the explicitation of being-in-mere-appearance.
Agent Intellect. Scholastic philosophy was not wholly ignorant
of the importance of the subject as logos, as natural light, with respect
to the constitution of reality, in the only sense in which this term can
be used. It is shown by the emphasis which was given to the poieticos
nous, the agent intellect, in the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition.
How Aristotle conceived the agent intellect is not likely to be
exactly determined by anyone. 219 However, the texts of Aristotle and
Thomas Aquinas are sufficiently clear to allow us definitely to exclude
the view that knowledge would be a purely passive mirroring of brute
reality.
According to Thomas Aquinas, the intellect is in potency with
respect to things to be understood. The intellect is receptivity with
respect to reality. It lets itself be governed by reality and to this
extent is passive. Thus from the things to be understood a certain
movement, a certain influence, has to issue to bring the intellect to
actual understanding.
However, what is not cannot move, cannot influence. But of the
intelligible as intelligible it cannot be said that it is if attention is paid
only to the intellect insofar as this intellect is in potency and therefore
passive. The intelligible is not something that is in nature; it does not
lie in brute reality as an intelligible in readiness for mirroring; things
215"Primar 'wahr', d.h. entdeckend ist das Dasein. Wahrheit im zweiten
Sinne besagt nicht entdeckendsein (Entdeckung), sondern endecktsein (Ent-
decktheit)." Heidegger, ibid., p. 220.
216"Dasein ist 'in der Wahrheit'." Heidegger, ibid., p. 221.
217"Das Sein zum Seienden ist nicht ausgeliischt, aber entwurzelt." Heideg-
ger, ibid., p. 222.
218"Das Seiende ist nicht viillig verborgen, sondern gerade entdeckt, aber
zugleich verstellt; es zeigt sich-aber im Modus des Scheins." Heidegger,
ibid., p. 222.
219Cf. J. J. M. v. d. Berg, Aristoteles' verhandeling over de Ziel, Utrecht-
Nijmegen, 1953, pp. 173-178.
are not intelligible-in-act. 22o If the intelligible is to be able to move, to

influence, it has to be as intelligible. It has to be constituted in its in-
telligibility. But it cannot be constituted as such by the intellect insofar
as the intellect is passive. Therefore, the intellect cannot be merely
a potential intellect, but has to be also an agent intellect, an intellect
which acts or works, and whose "work" consists in this that it con-
stitutes the intelligible in its intelligibility by means of the light which
it itself is. 221
A phenomenologist would say: outside the active presence of con-
sciousness things are nothing-for-man. Through consciousness things
have to be raised from their concealedness, from their being-nothing-
for-man. This raising is not done by consciousness insofar as it is
passive. Consciousness, however, is also active, for it constitutes being
as being-for-man, it makes being be for man what it is. 222 It is
only as unconcealedness that reality can be the norm of knowledge. 223
Historicity of Truth. A final remark imposes itself in connection
with the present matter. Once it is seen that the truth of the judg-
ment presupposes the unconcealedness of reality, it is immediately
evident that the birth of truth is an historical event, i.e., that the
unveiling of reality is an event which takes place in a determined
220Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. 1, q. 79, a. 3.

221"Respondeo dicendum, quod necesse est ponere intellectum agentem.
Ad cujus evidentiam considerandum est, quod cum intellectus possibilis sit
in potentia ad intelligibilia, necesse est quod intelligibilia moveant intellectum
possibilem. Quod autem non est, non potest aliquid movere. Intelligibile
autem per intellectum possibilem non est aliquid in rerum natura existens, in
quantum intelligibile est; intelligit enim intellectus possibilis noster aliquid
quasi unum in multis et de multis. Tale autem non invenitur in rerum natura
subsistens, ut Aristoteles probat in VII Metaphys. Oportet igitur, si intellectus
possibilis debet moveri ab intelligibili, quod hujusmodi intelligibile per intel-
lectum fiat. Et cum non possit esse id quod est, in potentia ad aliquid factum
ips ius, oportet ponere praeter intellectum possibilem agentem, qui faciat in-
te1ligibilia in actu, quae moveant intellectum possibilem." Thomas Aquinas,
D~ anima, a. 4.
222D. M. De Petter, "De oorsprong van de zijnskennis volgens de H.
Thomas van Aquino," Tijdschri/t voor Philosophie, vol. XVII (1955), pp.
199-254.
223We do not claim that the scholastic theory of the agent intellect fully
agrees with the constitution theory of phenomenology. N eo-scholasticism has
reduced the role of the spontaneity of consciousness to being an abstractive
power. The intellect is supposed to be active only insofar as through its illumi-
nation it strips the phantasm, which results from sense knowledge, of indivi-
dual sensible matter. The above-mentioned text of Thomas Aquinas readily
leads to such an interpretation. Cf. G. Van Riet, "La theorie thomiste de
I'abstraction," Revue philosophique de Louvain, 1952, pp. 363-366.
phase of history. The history of truth began with the appearance of

man. 224 For man knows only human truth and, therefore, there was
no truth before man was 225 for, before man was, nothing was un-
concealed for man.
The objection could be raised that before man made his appear-
ance, there was truth-for-God. But what does this mean? Certainly
not that the unconcealedness of reality-for-God coincides with the
unconcealedness of reality-for-man. And even if it be admitted that
man could to some extent enter into the reality-for-God, it would not
be possible for him to do so before the appearance of man for whom
God and the reality-for-God would be unconcealed. 226 A clear under-
standing of this point is necessary in order not to misunderstand the
historicity of truth.
b. Obiectivity and Objectivism, Subjectivity and Subiectivism, Rela-

tivity and Relativism
Objectivity and Objectivism. Truth as unconcealedness is called
also objectivity. This statement is objected to only by the defenders
of objectivistic theories of knowledge. For an objectivist the objec-
tivity of phenomenology is not sufficiently "objective."227 He would
224"Das Dasein ist als konstituiert durch Erschlossenheit wesenhaft in der
Wahrheit. Die Erschlossenheit ist eine wesenhafte Seinsart des Daseins.
Wahrheit 'gibt es' nur, sofem und solange Dasein ist. Seiendes ist nur dann
entdeckt und nur solange erschlossen, als iiberhaupt Dasein ist." Heidegger,
225Cf. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, pp. 226-227.
2.26"Nous dirons qu'il est absolument certain qu'il ne faut pas chercher une
autre sorte d'etre que l'etre-pour-moi, par Ie fait meme qu'il ne peut y en
avoir d'autre: un etre ou une sorte d'etre qui ne serait pas pour-moi, serait,
par definition, radicalement exterieur et etranger a toute apprehension et a
toute connaissance. De ce point de vue, Dieu, s'il est, est necessairement pour-
moi: il entre de quelque fa.;on dans Ie champ de mon experience et, a ce titre,
il en prend necessaitement la forme." R. Jolivet, "Le probleme de l'absolu dans
la philosophie de M. Merleau-Ponty," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie, vol. XIX
(1957), p. 59. .
227Nevertheless, there is "more" objectivity for the phenomenologist than
for the objectivist. The phenomenologist calls also the delicious taste of an
apple and the green of grass aspects of objectivity. Grass is objectively green,
and the apple is objectively delicious. This view removes the very basis of the
controversy between perceptionists and interpretationists. The controversy in
question is concerned with the objectivity, the reality of qualities of things
which are known through \he senses. How is it possible, it was said, that
qualities, such as green, red, delicious, etc., are objective when it is certain that
they are caused by stimuli to which the senses react "subj ectively"? These
stimuli were supposed to have a "constant value," but the "reactions" to them
appeared not to be constant but "subjective." For this reason the question
was asked whether or not what we call "red," "green", "delicious," etc., as
such, is present in things and outside sensation. It is not surprising that this
question received so many diverse answers. But this diversity becomes appar-
allow us to speak of objectivity only if the subject is eliminated from

the encounter which is knowledge. However, this elimination would
destroy the encounter and, consequently, also knowledge itself.
When the phenomenologist calls the unconcealedness of realitv
objectivity, he refers to the things themselves. As subjectivity-in-the-
world, man unveils reality, he lets things be for himself. But he lets
them be what they themselves are. 228 In perception things give them-
selves, so that it is meaningless to ask whether that which I perceive
is objective or not. Of course, it is possible that I dwell in mere
appearance, I can dream, imagine, or hallucinate all kinds of meanings;
driven by fear, anxiety, desires, and wishes, I can deform reality.
However, what does this mean? The fact that I am aware of this
possibility, shows that even now I know that in such a situation I
do not dwell in objectivity. I have already distinguished perception
from dreaming, imagining, hallucinating, fearing, or desiring; I have
already distinguished objectivity from mere appearance. For this
reason I cannot ask whether or not what I perceive is objective.
Objective is that which I see. 229
Evidently, the terms "objective" and "see" should be understood
here in a very broad sense. By "seeing" we mean all possible modes
ent when one realizes that the question itself is meaningless. It is not possible
to ask whether something which in sensation has a certain meaning possesses
this same meaning also outside sensation. For the phenomenologist these mean-
ings are real and objective. They are real replies of the object to the subject
whose sensitivity means a determined question addressed to the object. Through
sensitivity subject and object enter into a dialogue, and in this dialogue objec-
tive meanings reveal themselves. Those who hold that "through the senses
the qualities of bodies are perceived which exist in themselves and outside
sensation" (Boyer, op. cit., vol. 2, p. 21) like to call themselves defenders of
realism. It should be evident, however, that such a "realism" cannot be taken
seriously. Cf. Remy C. Kwant, "Transcendeert Merleau-Ponty het realisme?"
Tijdschrift v. Philosophie, vol. XVI (1954) pp. 236-264.
228"Das Aussagen ist ein Sein zum seienden Ding selbst. Und was wird
durch die Wahrnehmung ausgewiesen? Nichts anderes als dass es das Seiende
se\bst ist, das in der Aussage gemeint war .... Das gemeinte Seiende selbst zeigt
sich so, wie es an ihm selbst ist, d.h. dass es in Selbigkeit so ist, als wie seiend
es in der Aussage aufgezeigt, entdeckt wi rd." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 218.
229"I1 ne faut donc pas se demander si nous percevons vraiment un monde,
it faut dire au contraire: Ie monde est cela que nous percevons. Plus
generalement, it ne faut pas se demander si nos evidences sont bien des
verites, ou si, par un vice de notre esprit, ce qui est evident pour nous ne
sera it pas iIIusoire a I'egard de quelque verite en soi: car si nous parlons
d'illusion, c'est que nous avons reconnu des illusions, et nous n'avons pu Ie
faire qu'au nom de quelque perception qui, dans Ie meme moment, s'attestat
:omme vraie, de sorte que Ie doute, ou la crainte de se tromper affirme en
neme temps notre pouvoir de devoiler I'erreur et ne saurait donc nous
ieraciner de la verite. Nous sommes dans la verite et I'evidence est
'experience de la verite." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomen%gie de la perception,
I. XI.
of placing anything whatsoever directly in one's presence. "Objec-

tive" is the noematic correlate of this seeing. Man sees green grass,
a delicious apple, H 2 0, the "you-for-whom-I-care," the necessity of
love, etc. For this reason all these things are objective.
All this was already implied in our critique of empiricist and
idealistic views about human knowledge and was thus spoken about
to some extent. What has to be added here is mainly a reply against
objections that are sometimes addressed to phenomenology. This
reply can be very brief.
Subjectivism and Relativism of Phenomenology. The reproach
addressed to the phenomenologist is that in his explicitation of man's
knowledge all truth becomes subjective and relative. The phenome-
nologist would be willing to admit that all truth is, indeed, relative
and subjective if his opponents did not tacitly mean that phenomenol-
ogy adheres to a subjectivistic and relativistic view of truth. It is
against this unspoken accusation that he protests. He does not admit
that in his explicitation of knowledge truth is surrendered to the
arbitrary decision of the subject. For the subject, as the natural light,
unveils the object, lets the object be what the object itself is, and is
bound by the object. Thus all subjectivism, relativism, and arbitrari-
ness is excluded. 230
Under this proviso it has to be admitted, indeed, that all truth
is subjective. For truth is unconcealedness or objectivity for a subject.
This objectivity is the only one about which man can speak in a mean-
ingful way, the only one of which it can be asserted in the full sense
of the term that it is. This objectivity is "more" objective than the
so-called object spoken of by empiricist realism. 231 The same has to
be said about the relativity of truth. All truth is relative, i.e., in being
related to a subject it is absolute. 2s2
These assertions are simple consequences of the idea of intention-
ality. The objections we have considered above arise from the denial
230"Alle Wahrheit ist gemass deren wesenhafter daseinsmassiger Seinsart

relativ auf das Sein des Daseins. Bedeutet diese Relativitat soviel wie: aile
Wahrheit ist 'subjectiv'? Wenn man 'subjectiv' interpretiert als 'in das Belieben
des Subje"kts gestellt', dann gewiss nicht. Denn das E;ntdecken entzieht seinem
eigensten Sinne nach das Aussagen dem 'subjectiven' Belieben nnd bringt das
entdeckende Dasein vor das Seiende selbst." Heidegger, ibid., p. 227.
231"Wenn das'Subjekt' ontologisch als existierendes Dasein begriffen
wird, dessen Sein in der Zeitlichkeit griindet, dann muss gesagt werden: Welt
ist 'subjektiv'. Diese 'subjektive' Welt aber ist dann als zeitlich-transzendente
'objektiver' als jedes miigliche 'Objekt'." Heidegger, ibid., p. 366.
232Cf. Heidegger, Sein und zeit, pp. 226-227.
of this idea, a denial which Husserl called the "natural viewpoint"

(naturliche Einstellung).233 This viewpoint separates the subject
and object of knowledge and wraps the subject up in itself. The sub-
ject is supposed to be in possession of cognitive images, i.e., to know
primarily and directly its own states of consciousness. It is, then,
left to the critique of knowledge to determine which images are objec-
tive, i.e., accurately mirror objectivistic reality--objectivistic, because
it is in principle separate from the subject. 234 As we have noted
previously, this conception disregards the true nature of the act of
knowing and its noematic correlate. 235
c. Reason and Science

Speaking about existence as natural light, we explicitated what
everyone means in calling man a rational being. The insight that
man is a light unto himself and unto the other-than-himself was ex-
pressed by the old philosophers in the classical definition of man as a
rational animal.
It certainly is not saying too much when one maintains that it is
difficult to defend this definition in an existential phenomenology. Is
existentialism not characterized precisely by its struggle against
reason? What other meaning can be given to the struggle for man's
essence, as it can be relived in the works of the precursors of exis-
tential phenomenology, such as Pascal, Kierkegaard, Newman, Scheler,
Blondel, than that it is a giant effort to escape from the clutches of
rational, scientific, and objective knowledge of man in the hope of
thus arriving at an "existential" experience of "concrete" reality?
Irrationalism. The phrases are well-known. They are used
at every opportunity, generally without too much competence. As
a result, slowly the view gained ground that the philosophers of
existence favored a mysterious kind of irrationalism, against which
serious philosophers, for whom philosophy is the "science of the
sciences" were bound to arise in protest.
N ow that the smoke of the first battles has cleared, and the light
itself in which existential phenomenology thinks has been reflected
233 I deen, I, p. 63.
234E. Husserl, Cartesianische Meditationen und Pariser Vortrage, (Husser-
liana, I), pp. 115-116.
235"Si je disais avec Ie sensualisme qu'i1 n'y a Ia que des 'etats de
conscience' et si je cherchais it distinguer mes perceptions de mes reves par
des 'criteres', je manquerais Ie phenomene du monde." Merleau-Ponty, Phenom-
enologie de la perception, p. XI.
upon and explicitated, it is perhaps possible to arrive at a clearer

view of the situation. Existential phenomenology now appears to
have no objections against reason, but only against certain conceptions
of reason which in its view overestimated or underestimated reason's
real capacities.
It is not our intention to dwell extensively on the various ways
in which this overestimation or underestimation took place in his-
tory.236 \\'e want to investigate only to what extent existential
phenomenological thinking can accept the qualification "irrational" and
more especially we wiII endeavor to understand what is meant by
so-calIed "broadened reason."
Existential phenomenology would have to accept the qualifier
"'irrational" for its mode of thinking if this term did not have any
other meaning than the one attached to it since the time of Descartes.
\Ve wiII abstract provisionalIy from the idealistic interpretation of
reason after Descartes, to concentrate on the scientism whose founda-
tions were laid by Descartes. His methodic doubt was a sly manoeuver
calculated to reserve exclusive rights to the qualifications rational,
ob jective, and scientific for the positive sciences of nature, as soon as
the reality of the world would be re-established by Cartesian thought.
Only the clear and distinct ideas of quantity are objective, says
Descartes, and therefore the reason, the light which shows objectivity
unqualified has to be described as mathematical and physical reason. 237
Of course, when this view gained currency, it was inevitable that
the term "irrationalism" would be used as soon as it was realized that
other modes of knowing also were possible. Such modes have to be
calIed irrational, because rational is exclusively reserved for mathe-
matical and physical thinking. Thus one can understand why Pascal
claimed that in the realm of metaphysics and morality reason can
only lead into error. 238 This assertion does not mean that, for Pascal,
man is not capable of saying anything about God and about human
actions in accordance with God's laws. Certainly, Pascal admits, man
is capable of it, hut he does not do it by means of his reason but by
means of his heart. The heart has reasons which "reason" does not
know. 239
2:j,;0. IJunrleync, CUlltcmporar}' European Thought alld Christian Faith,
pp. 07-107.
237Cf. Dondeyne, ibid., p. 68.
2:l~Cf.]. Laporte, Le coeur ct la raison selon Pascal, Paris, 1950.
23!J"Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point." Pascal, Pensees,
cd. Brunschwicg, Paris, 1942, no. 277.
Phenom(!nology of Knowledge 151
If the attention paid to the so-called irrational aspects of knowledge

implied already a certain broadening of epistemological views, it did
not take away from the fact that so-called irrational knowing was
considered less "objective" and especially less "scientific." In this
way again a concession was made to the Cartesian a priori principle
that reason should, be taken to mean only mathematical and physical
reason. Objectivity is the correlate of reason, and this objectivity
was guaranteed by science, by the critical structure of reason's achieve-
ments. Accordingly, less objective and less scientific meant less
reason.
Narrowed and Broadened Reason. The phenomenologist cannot
accept this view. Reason is the place where objective sense appears
and the power to let it appear; objective is what I see, in the broadest
sense of this term; objective reason is human existence as constituting
things-for-man in any field of presence, even if this field cannot be
expressed in terms of categories. Reason has to be understood
existentially, i.e., it has to be seen as the light of existence itself, and
this light unveils much more objectivity than scientism would have
us believe. Scientism adheres to a narrowed view of reason, and it
is against this narrowness that existential philosophers join battle.
They realize that reason sees far more than scientism considers visible,
they consider "concrete" reality much richer than scientism would
have us believe. This wealth is no less objective than the objectivity
revealed by mathematical reason. It is without justification that the
knowledge of reason in the existential sense-so-called irrational
knowledge-is judged to be less "objective" and, therefore, it is better
not to speak of irrational knowledge but of the rational knowledge
of reason in a broadened sense. 240
Why is reason, as conceived by Descartes and scientism, a nar-
rowed reason? As was already suggested, the answer is: because it
considers a single determined viewpoint of the knowing subject-the
mathematico-physical viewpoint-as the only possible viewpoint.
Repeatedly we have emphasized that the attitude or standpoint of
the subject in reality co-determines which face reality will reveal.
The knowing subject is a determined question addressed to reality,
and the reply is a determined objective aspect of reality. Man's
existence contains innumerable standpoints as possible modes of
240"Hegel inaugure la tentative pour explorer l'irrationnel et l'integrer a

une raison elargie." Merleau-Ponty, Se1IS et non-sens, p. 125.
"aiming" at reality. These standpoints mean as many possible ques-

tions of the subject and as many possible replies of reality. Man,
as natural light, is the awareness of the meaning of reality and the
asker of questions about it, but on different levels of intentionality.
It is absolutely necessary, however, to realize that a determined ob-
jective meaning of reality is perceptible only from a determined
standpoint and not outside it. It may be useful to illustrate the
matter by means of a few more or less arbitrarily chosen examples.
Let us begin with the example of Chapter One and repeat the
various meanings which water may have. For me water is what I
drink from time to time and use for washing, for the fireman it is
an extinguisher, for the bather a cooling wave, for the chemist H 2 0;
for the fisherman it has another meaning than for the unfortunate
skater who in the winter falls through the ice and slides underneath
its surface. Likewise, human nakedness has various meanings ac-
cording as a subject finds himself in a medical, an artistic, an athletic,
or a sexual situation. The meaning a brush has for the artist cannot
be found in the world of the druggist. The meaning God has for a
Christian must not be sought among the meanings revealed by em-
pirical scientists, nor should the meaning of sound be sought among
colors. One with strongly artistic talents sees the big city slums
full of picturesque corners and views. But a heart filled with social
feelings is needed to appreciate in an objective way the true nature
of the sufferings endured by the slum-dwellers. One who is bereft
of any feeling of beauty sees Michelangelo's Pietil merely as an ex-
pensive piece of marble. Those who do not like apples never perceive
a deliciously tasting apple, and one who limits his viewpoint to that
of the biologist never discovers what a lovely child is.
In this brief enumeration it is easy to recognize the result of the
phenomenological reduction-namely, the existing subject and the
corresponding world in which this subject lives. 241 The subject
stands in reality in numberless, more or less actual modes, which in
everyday life remain unspoken. This world is not one so-called
objective world-we should really say objectivistic-but an enor-
mously complex network of nearby and remote meanings. Every
standpoint of the subject as natural light means the determination
of a restricted landscape and an invitation to penetrate more pro-
foundly into this landscape by means of a scientific, critical reflection.
241Cf. above, pp. 90 and 102.

S cientism. In the realm of the sciences this insight into the

meaning of the attitude of the subject has extraordinarily important
consequences. In principle, there are as many sciences as there are
attitudes, standpoints, or specific questions of the subject. This truth
was not noted as once at the beginning of man's quest of knowledge.
For Aristotle, philosophy meant an encyclopedia of all sciences con-
taining both philosophical and non-philosophical questions. Although
with the rise of modern empirical sciences philosophy was left to its
sad fate, the ideal of the new sciences did not differ much from that
of Aristotle. For a long time hope persisted that ultimately it would
be possible to "mirror" the whole of reality in a single giant system
constitute by the combined sdences.242 Each science was supposed
to contribute its building block. With incredible optimism it was
assumed that all these blocks would fit neatly together and thus
constitute a consistent whole, a perfect mosaic. 243 It was, moreover,
deemed proper to demand that all sciences adopt the methods of the
physical sciences.
Needless to say, this is pure scientism. It is the dictatorship of
the physical sciences, the absolutizing of one determined standpoint,
one determined question. Thus it is understandable that modern
thinkers rose in protest against "scientific" knowledge and that they
attacked so-called "reason" and "objectivity." There is not just one
reason, one objectivity, one science. 244
Insofar as scientism contains implicity bad philosophy, it has been
destmyed by phenomenology. Phenomenology realized that every
science means the critically reflective investigation of a determined
question raised by subjectivity as natural light. 245 The sciences
themselves likewise arrived at the same conclusion. 248 When a new
science is born, a determined question is explidty asked of reality,
and this asking is possible because this question is previously present
in an implicit way. As an original interest, a mode of being, of man
it is contained in his existence as natural light. Through this mode
242F. J. J. Buytendijk, "Vernieuwing in de wetenschap," Annalen van het

Thijmgenootschap, vol. 42 (1954), pp. 230-247.
248R. C. Kwant and J. H. G. van den Berk, "Het gesprek van de physicus
met de wereld," Annalen van het Thijmgenootschap, vol. 43 (1955), pp. 1-4.
244"The ... deliverance we have attained from seventeenth century thinking,
which had been reduced to a dogmatically accepted schema, means that for
modern consciousness there is not just one absolutely real knowable world,
but many worlds which are no less-and no more-real than the world created
by the physicist." Buytendijk, op. cit., p. 236.
245"Wissenschaften sind Seinsweisen des Daseins." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 13.
248Buytendijk, op. cit., pp. 237-247.
of being a certain landscape of reality is already somewhat de1ine-

ated. 247 However, this delineation is not immediately so sharp that
the landscape in question stands out clearly against its surroundings:
the explicitation of a determined question, a determined mode of
human existence as natural light, at first is not such that the question
clearly distinguishes itself from other questions to which other sciences
reply.24s As long, for instance, as one thinks that the earth is the
center of the universe because Christ became man on earth, one
confuses the attitude or intention of the astronomer with that of the
theologian. As long as one tries to explain puberty through the
maturation of the sex glands, one confuses the intention of psychology
with that of physiology. The fact that distinct landscapes interlock
and constitute a Gestalt makes it understandable that a confusedly
formulated question may still receive some kind of answer. \Vhen
a psychologist thinks that he has to adopt the ideal and methods of
the physical sciences in psychology, he is still able to say something
about, say, a smile. He will describe it as a "kind of contraction of
the nostrils and corners of the mouth, accompanied by eye twin-
klings."249 No doubt, this description says something, but what it
says is not what makes the psychologists interested in the smile. It
expresses more what a smile is for a physicist, but a psychologist
would be expected to speak differently about it. 250
No science, therefore, manages to find its own true character
without seeing its fundamental principles undergoing one or more
crises. 251 The resulting revision of these principles means a more
precise explicitation of the original interest, the original attitude in
asking questions, the standpoint of the science in question. At the
same time a determined region of reality, a determined area of being,
is more accurately defined. It is in "lived experience" by means of
the "understanding of being" (S einsverstiilldniss) which man him-
self is that man vaguely realizes what "really" interests him when
247"Die Ausarbeitung des Gebietes in seinen Grundstrukturen ist in gewisser
Weise schon geleistet durch die vorwissenschaftliche Erfahrung und Auslegung
des Seinsbezirkes, in dem das Sachgebiet selbst begrenzt wi rd." Heidegger,
op. cit., p. 9.
24s"Wissenschaftliche Forschung vollzieht die Hebung und erste Fixierung
der Sachgebiete naiv und roh." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 9. .
249Cf. L. Bigot, Ph. Kohnstamm, B. Palland, Leerboek der Psychologle,
Groningen, 1950, p. 394.
25GB. Kouwer and ]. Linschoten, l1Iieidillg tot de Ps}'choiagic, Assen, 1956,
pp. 13-20. ," . .
251"Die eigentliche 'Bewegung der Wlssenschaften spleit slCh ab 111 der
mehr oder minder radikalen und ihr selbst durchsichtigen Revision der Grund-
begriffe." Heidegger, ap. cit., p. 9.
he raises, e.g., physical or psychological questions. As long as he
does not let this fundamental interest fully dominate the correspond-
ing science, he will be dissatisfied with his own science, because it
does not let him advance and is not fruitful.
Love as "Standpoint" of the Knowing Subject. The idea that
thought must be fruitful to guarantee its truth could lead our con-
siderations immediately to the question of the criterion of truth. How-
ever, before we take up this problem, we must first make a few addi-
tional remarks in connection with the theory that the attitude of the
knowing subject is very important. These remarks concern love,
viewed as the "standpoint" of the knowing subject.
Love, as a standpoint of the knowing subject, is not so much of
importance when there is question of knowing things as when man
tries to understand his fellow-man. True, even with respect to things,
the terms "to love" and "to like" are often used and, when the terms
apply in this context, an unmistakably selective influence must be
attributed to "love" as a standpoint. Nevertheless, it should be evident
that there is question here only of love in a less strict sense. Used in
its proper sense, the term always refers to intersubjectivity and indi-
cates a specific attitude of a subject toward a sUbject. 252
The understanding of man, of what goes on in him, of the meaning
of his behavior in various situations, has always been the fundamental
aim of anyone who in any situation wanted to proceed "psycho-
logically." The different schools of scientific psychology may, and
even should, be viewed as attempts to pursue ordinary "lived" psychol-
ogy in a more rigorous fashion. 253 This purpose justifies whatever
is undertaken in psychology provided that the undertaking is viewed
as a participation in, and a contribution to a task whose accomplish-
ment can never be fully satisfactory. However, more is involved
than this impossibility of ever being fully satisfied with the attain-
ments of scientific psychology.
As was pointed out by Buytendijk, even under the most favorable
conditions, scientific psychology will not be able to proceed beyond
understanding the facti city of the man whom it attempts to know. 254
252Cf. pp. 214 fl.

21i3The above-mentioned book of Kouwer and Lindschoten has done good
work in determining the value of the various schools or psychology.
21i4Buytendijk, "De waarde van de roman voor de psychologische kennis
en de psychologische vorming," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie vol. XI (1949),
pp. 351-360.
As soon as there is question of a human being in distress, of the aid

one would like to give him or of the advice one would like to offer,
scientific psychology falls short of what is needed. 255 Or, to express
it more accurately, in such conditions the psychologist "feels" his
insufficiency, because the strictly personal in his fellow man-which is
what is at issue here--never does find expression in scientific
psychology .
Perhaps one would be inclined to conclude immediately that. con-
sequently, it will be meaningless even to attempt to obtain such knowl-
edge. Such a conclusion, however, would be premature, for de facto
man cannot dispense with this knowledge, or rather, he will always
act as if he did possess knowledge of what is strictly personal.
Love and Knowledge of the Strictly Personal. Buytendijk thinks
that this kind of knowledge is really attainable. "This knowledge of
man," he says, "can never be acquired unless it be of someone for
whom we care. This definition of the correct attitude and relationship
to the person whom we want to know is considered correct and wholly
uncontested outside the realm of science. It is Binswanger who has
convincingly shown that even in psychology knowledge of a human
being is possible only by means of what he calls the objectivity of
love-which is nothing else than what in daily life is called 'heart-to-
heart' knowledge."256 It is striking that Buytendijk uses here the
term "attitude." If we may understand this term as expressing
Husserl's Einstellung,256a. we find ourselves immediately in well-
known territory. At the same time it should be apparent why scien-
tific psychology has to fall short.
By means of certain psycho-diagnostic models, of typological and
characteriological schemata, the scientific psychologist asks the man
whom he wants to know a definite question, to which only a definite
reply can be expected. His concepts and schemata indicate a certain
attitude, to which corresponds a certain profile of the person who the
other human being is. Although this profile is a real profile, it is only
one aspect of him. Moreover, psychological "determinations" such as
introvert, extrovert, frustrated, neurotic, sentimental, etc., always
express only the "determination" of a person, i.e., his facticity. What
this facticity means for this person the psychologist will understand
only if he has at least some insight into the person himself as the
255Cf. Buytendijk, op. cit., p. 353.
256Buytendijk, op. cit., p. 355.
256aWe have consistently rendered this term by "attitude." Tr.
source of meaning, into his subjectivity and freedom. This knowledge

is possible only as a knowing from "heart-to-heart." Such a knowl-
edge "means that we not only know a man's qualities, his character,
and his ethical structure, but have also met him in the freedom of his
decisions."257
To understand a human being is more than to express his facticity.
For man is the unity-in-opposition of subjectivity and facticity.258
Although scientific psychology may go very far in its determination
of this facticity, an insight into the subjectivity of a human being
presupposes love.
As was mentioned above, the insufficiency of scientific psychology
is "felt" especially when there is question of a human being in distress,
of the aid one would like to give him, or of the advice one would like
to offer. 259 The reason is that effective aid or sound advice to a person
presupposes not only an understanding of his facticity but also an
insight into, and an appeal to his potentialities as his potentialities.
The scientifically trained psychologist also knows that facticity is
never purely facti city, i.e., that the unity-in-opposition of sUbjectivity
and facticity leaves the subject a certain latitude-namely, the latitude
of what he is capable of becoming (Seinkiinnen). For man is es-
sentially a project. 260 However, to be able to help and offer advice,
it is not sufficient that one knows "in general" about this latitude.
It is not even enough to know that this facticity "in general" permits
the development of this or that possibility. The crucial point is to
establish whether or not this possibility really is the possibility of this
human being. This means that I have to know the individual through
whom a general possibility is a real possibility-namely, as his pos-
sibility. But "to know the essence and orientation of a concrete human
being is possible only by participating in the self-project of his
being."261 Such a participation is called love.
It goes without saying that we must call this knowledge rational
and the reality which it discloses objective. Knowledge in "the ob-
jectivity of love"262 does not imply a special and mysterious cognitive
power alongside mathematical and physical reason, but it is reason
25SFor a more extensive treatment, see pp. 15 if., 113 f.
259D. J. van Lennep, Gewogen-bekeken-ontmoet in het psychologisch onder-
zoek, 's-Gravenhage, 1949.
260Cf. pp. 275 ff.
262Cf. L. Binswanger, Grundformen und Erkenntnis menschlichen Daseins,
Zurich, 1953.
itself in its native capacity which is able to have this knowledge. This
reason, however, has to be conceived more broadly than it was under-
stood by Descartes and scientism.
10. THE CRITERION OF TRUTH
Previously we have defined the truth of the judgment as the

agreement of the judgment with the objective meaning of the terminus
encountered in the act of knowing. This definition expresses formal
truth, truth in facto esse, i.e., conformity with the terminus of en-
counter which is explicit, expressed as such, and laid down in pre-
dicates. But the foundation of this formal truth is the unveiling of
the truth of things, the revelation of objective meaning, or truth in
fieri. This revelation takes place in the dialogue of the subject with
the object, in the history of existence.
The emphasis has to fall upon the objectivity of things, upon their
real meaning, i.e., a meaning which is not imagined, dreamed, or
hallucinated, but seen-the term seen being understood here in the
broadest sense as any mode whatsoever of the subject's presence to
anything. This emphasis gives rise to the question of what exactly
is the criterion by means of which I can distinguish truth from un-
truth. Can I not be mistaken? Is it not possible for me to imagine
things? Am I not subject to prejudices? Daily experience shows
me that I contradict others and that others contradict what I say.
Where, then, can we find a criterion to distinguish between the il-
lusion of one and the blindness of the other ?263 When can I be
certain that a given meaning is objective?
Scepticism. The sceptics have a ready reply-never. Sometimes it
becomes very difficult for the philosopher to resist this seductive
answer. Evidently, giving in to this temptation would mean the
immediate end of all philosophy. Its demise would not be deplorable
if philosophy is meaningless, for what is without meaning has no
reason not to disappear from the scene. More important, however,
is that scepticism which makes philosophical thought impossible is
itself a philosophy, albeit a bad one. If the sceptic is taken seriously,
we must assume that he is convinced that his statement: "I am never
certain whether or not a statement is objective" explicitates an ob-
jective meaning of his existence. But it is precisely the possibility of
such an explicitation which the sceptic wants to deny. Accordingly,
while he makes philosophy impossible, he is a philosopher and he pre-
263A. Brunner, La Persolllzc illcarnee, Paris, 1947, p. 181.
supposes a theory regarding knowledge and objectivity. On the

other hand, he wants to deny objectivity and the possibility to dis-
close objectivity. Thus his very denial is surreptitiously based upon
the affirmation of what he wanted to deny, and it is precisely through
this implicit affirmation that his denial is possible. In other words,
scepticism is an internal contradiction.264
The possibility of objective knowledge, therefore, is a primordial
evidence which, as soon as it is denied, is affirmed again in the negation
itself. A genuine sceptic, in virtue of his own principles, "may"
not think, speak, or act. In other words, there are no true sceptics. 265
Within the general fundamental outlook of scepticism there is
room for many forms of this doubting theory. All kinds of condi-
tions may give rise to the appearance of this fundamental attitude in
this or that particular form. There are intelligent and unintelligent
forms of scepticism. However it would be beyond the scope of this
work to survey these forms. The important point is to see how
scepticism, despite its internal contradiction, can be intelligent. Al-
though it may sound strange, Hume's radical scepticism, which led
him to wreck scientifically everything which before him was con-
,., sidered certain, is an intelligent kind of scepticism.
~ ~ Hume. David Hume inherited one of the most important proper-
ties of the Cartesian legacy-namely, the divorce of consciousness
from reality. This divorce meant that consciousness was locked up
in itself and that reality was posited as being in-itself. Hume rejected
innate ideas; instead, he claimed that ideas are impressed by reality
upon man's consciousness and that they constitute the direct object
of knowledge.
This situation should immediately have led to the most radical
type of scepticism. However, prior to Hume such a radical conclusion
was not reached, because it was thought possihle to safeguard reality
by means of the principle of causality. There must be reality in-
264"Aller echte Skeptizismus, welcher Art und Richtung er auch ist, zeigt
sich durch den prinzipiellen Widersinn an, dass er in seinen Argumentationen
implizite, als Bedingungen der Miiglichkeit ihrer Geltung, eben das voraus-
setzt, was er in seinen Thesen leugnet. . . . Wer auch nur sagt: Ich bezweifle
die Erkenntnisbedeutung der Reflexion, behauptet einen Wiedersinn. Denn
iiber sein Zweifeln aussagend, reflektiert er, und diese Aussage als giiltig
hinstellen setzt voraus, dass die Reflexion den bezweifelten Erkenntniswert
wirklich und zweifellos (sc. fiir die vorliegenden Faile) habe, dass sie die
gegenstandliche Beziehung nicht andere, dass das unflektierte Erlebnis im
Ubergang in die Reflexiol1 sein Wesen nicht einbusse." Husserl, Ideen, I,
pp. 189-190.
265Cf. J. Peters, Metaphysics, no. 13.
dependently of consciousness, for reality causes man's subjective

cognitive images. Hume was clever enough to see through this
fallacy. If man knows nothing else than subjective images, then the
principle of causality itself is nothing but a subjective content of
cognition without any real value. About reality man knows nothing;~
therefore, the philosopher is bound to be a sceptic. /
What, however, is the reality whose knowledge the philosopher,
according to Hume, has to forswear? It is brute reality, the world-in-
itself, das Ding an sich. We have to admit, of course, that such a
world is unknowable. In this respect, therefore, Hume's scepticism
is an intelligent scepticism.
Usually, the consciousness of the sceptic is a conscience malheu-
reuse, i.e., an unhappy consciousness. It is "with sorrow" that the
sceptic sees himself forced to being a sceptic. But what is implied
by this "sorrow"? It indicates that the sceptic still holds fast to the
ideal of objective truth. The phenomenologist rejects both scepticism
and the "sorrow" of the sceptic, because the sceptic's ideal of truth
is a contradiction.
On the other hand, it is a matter of fact that some phenomenologists
are not without reason accused of relativism and, consequently,
ultimately also of scepticism. Sartre and his followers reject the
possibility of definite, perfect, absolute truth. This rejection cannot
be interpreted otherwise than as an adherence to relativism, even
though this relativism reveals itself as being of a very special type.
One could point out at once that the three terms "definite," "perfect,"
and "absolute," which they apply in one breath to truth, should call
for some distinctions if they are to be at least somewhat intelligible.266
But these distinctions are conspicuously absent in Sartre and not
sufficiently stated by Merleau-Ponty.267 Without going into questions
of exegesis, we will attempt to consider here thematically the main
point of this question of absolute truth.
Historicity of Truth. The reason why absolute truth is rejected
is found in the historicity of existence. The existing subject which
man is, is history and in this history the world is carried along,
because the world is fastened to man's subjectivity. Heidegger has

pp. 54-66.
267Many years ago Merleau-Ponty promised a book about the origin of
truth, but it has never been published. Cf. Sens et non-sens, p. 188, note.
made this thought the center of existential-phenomenological think-

ing.26S Man is history on innumerable levels of intentionality, and not
the least of these is the level of knowledge, conceived as the unveiling
of reality. If, then, one admits that truth can be definite, perfect, and
absolute, this admission implies that the history which is knowledge
is brought to its completion. But such a completion would mean the
denial of man's being. Truth, "therefore," is radically historical-
because of the historicity of knowledge, it can always be denied. 269
Certain distinctions impose themselves here, for the foregoing
unqualified formulation blocks any escape from relativism. Moreover,
the unqualified statement that no truth is definite, perfect, and
absolute is a contradiction, for this statement itself has no meaning
unless the speaker presupposes that his statement contains definite,
perfect and absolute truth. 270
As was mentioned, all truth is historical in the sense that truth as
unveiledness presupposes the historical event of its unveiling. When
a new subject appears in the world, a new history of truth begins, for
the history which every subject is, is at the same time the history of
his discovery of reality. No truth, therefore, is definite, perfect, and
absolute, but we must admit that every definite, perfect, absolute truth
intrinsically makes the further unveiling of reality possible, provokes
it and demands it. No truth is so definite, perfect, absolute that it
26S"Die These von der Geschichlichkeit des Daseins sagt nicht, das weltlose
Subjekt sei geschichtlich, sondern das Seiende, das als In-der-We1t-seins existiert.
Geschehen der Geschichte ist Geschehen des In-der-Welt-seins. Geschichtlichkeit
des Daseins ist wesenhaft Geschichtlichkeit von Welt, die auf dem Grunde der
ekstatisch-horizontalen Zeitlichkeit zu deren Zeitigung gehort. Sofern Dasein
faktisch existiert, begegnet auch schon innerwe1tliches Entdecktes. Mit der
Existenz des geschichtlichen In-der-Welt-seins ist Zuhandenes und Vorhandenes
je schon in die Geschichte der Welt einbezogen." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit,
p.388.
269"Tout arret dans Ie mouvement de la conscience, toute fixation de I'objet,
toute apparition d'un 'que1que chose' ou d'une idee suppose un sujet qui cesse de
s'interroger au moins sous ce rapport-Ia. Voila pourquoi, comme Descartes Ie
dlsait, it est a la fois vrai que certaines idees se presentent a moi avec une evi-
dence irresistible en fait, et que se fait ne vaut jamais comme droit, ne supprime
pas la possibilite de douter des que nous ne sommes plus en presence de I'idee. Ce
n'est pas un hasard si I'evidence meme peut etre revoquee en d'oute, c'est que la
certitude est doute, etant la reprise d'une tradition de pensee qui ne peut se
condenser en 'verite' evidente sans que je renonce a I'expliciter." Merleau-
27o"Mais, a ce niveau et sous une forme aussi generale, qui ne voit que
deja cette argumentation depossede ce1ui qui I'avance? Car cette constatation
de I'absolu de la pensee et de la valeur devient elle-meme, dans Ie propre con-
texte de M. Merleau-Ponty, une 'verite' definitive et indispensable, bloquant
sans recours tout progres de la pensee. N ous sommes devant un autre absolu."
Jolivet, "Le probleme de I'absolu dans la philosophie de M. Merleau-Ponty,"
Tijdschrift voor Philosophie, vol. XIX (1957), p. 62.
makes all further questions impossible, makes the subject possess the
object in perfectly transparent clarity, and drives away all obscurity,
so that there remains nothing else to be unveiled. There is no truth
which has no longer any future,271 for every truth opens up new
gaps.272 There is no truth which may be defined as a situationless
self-penetration of thought,273 for such a definition would mean the
denial of the intentionality and of the historicity of man as a knowing
being. 274
One has only to look at the empirical sciences to become con-
vinced that there is no definite, perfect, absolute truth in the above-
described sense of the term. The sciences derive their impetus pre-
cisely from the realization that every scientific truth reveals new
gaps. Science would be finished as soon as the man of science were
to think that his truth has reached its completion. 271i
Historicity of Truth in a Different Sense. The example of the

sciences may be useful to show that another sense has to be attached
to the historicity of truth. Truth is historical, firstly, as an event;
secondly, as a never completed event; and thirdly, insofar as the event
which is the unveiling of truth is possible only in a certain phase of
the personal history of the knowing subject and in a certain phase of
the collective history of mankind-in-search-of-truth, in which every
personal history is contained. A certain phase of the personal and
collective history of knowledge has the value of a definite standpoint
in asking questions-and from this standpoint it is possible to see, while
outside it this seeing is impossible. For instance, one who has only
recently.started to think in a personal way does not see the proper
nature of society, authority, love, right, marriage, family, etc. One
who has barely assimilated the first principles of physics does not
:l7lCf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, pp. 452-453.

1272"11 sait seulement qu'il n'y a pas de savoir absolu et que c'est par
cette lacune que nous s~mmes ouverts a la verite." Merleau-Ponty, Eloge
de la Philosophie, Paris, 1953, p. 55.
273"La possession effective de l'idee vraie ne nous donne donc aucun
droit d'affirmer un lien intelligible de pensee adequate et de productivite
absolue, elle fonde seulement une 'teleologie' de la conscience qui, avec ce
premier instrument, en forgera de plus parfaits, avec ceux-ci de plus parfaits,
et ainsi sans fin." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 453.
274C. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. VIII-IX.
271i"La conscience metaphysique et morale meurt au contact de l'absolu."
Merleau-Ponty, Sens et N on-sens, p. 191.
yet possess the intellectual attitude which is required even for raising
meaningful questions about nuclear physics. These examples are
drawn from the personal history of the knowing subject, but the
same applies to the collective history of knowing mankind in general
or of a particular human society.
Absolute Truth. For the above-mentioned three aspects under
which truth is historical there is simply no room within intellectualistic
idealism. This point should be kept in mind when one tries to account
for the fact that some phenomenologists reject absolute truth. What
they have uppermost in their minds is the "absolute knowledge" of
idealism. :rhe true Cogito is not, as Merleau-Ponty expresses it,
"thought communing with the thought of thought."276 However,
does this mean that every form of absoluteness must be denied to
truth? Can every truth be rejected with an appeal to the history which
knowledge is as the unveiling of reality?
An affirmative reply would mean that today's truth would be
tomorrow's untruth-the most vulgar form of relativism. Such a
relativism would be self-destructive, for even of this relativism it
would have to be affirmed that it would be tomorrow's untruth. 277
Although there are phenomenologists who insinuate this type of
relativism, it does not prevent them from rejecting certain views of
their opponents in a definite and absolute fashion. Undoubtedly, this
phenomenon is a genuine tour de force. For only on the basis of a
definite possession of truth is it possible to reject an error definitely
and absolutely.27s
There are also definite, perfect, and absolute truths, and we may
even say that every truth, no matter how insignificant it appears, is
definite, perfect, and absolute in the sense that no subject can ever
deny it in any phase of my history and in any phase of the collective
history of mankind. 279 If it is true that today I suffer from a tooth-
ache, then this truth has reached its completion, i.e., it definitely and
276Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 344.

277Certain expressions of Merleau-Ponty cannot be interpreted in any
other way than that of vulgar relativism.
27S"Nous ne savons qu'i1 y a erreur que parce que nous avons des verites,
au nom desquelles nous corrigeons les erreurs et les connaissons comme
erreurs." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 341.
279Cf. Dondeyne, Foi chretienne et pensee contemporaine, p. 36.
absolutely cannot be rejected because this truth is true. 280 A denial

of this assertion would imply the tacit assumption of what is denied.
In this context, then, "absolute" means transhistorical and, in
principle, intersubjective. The transhistoricity of truth used to be
expressed by scholastic philosophers as cognitio sub specie eternitatis,
knowledge under the aspect of eternity. Truth is eternal. However,
this expression should not be understood as if it meant that truth,
once it is disclosed, is in-itself. For a meaning is objective only by
being objective for a subject. Likewise, the acceptance of eternal
truths does not mean that there will be eternally subjects, human
beings, for whom objective meanings will be objective. According
to Heidegger, it is fantastic to claim that there are eternal truths, as
long as it is not proven that there will eternally be human beings. 281
This view misunderstands the intention of those who admit eternal
truths. The statement that truth is eternal means this: whoever in
any phase whatsoever of history wants to make an assertion regarding
a certain truth will have to recognize this truth as truth. A denial of
this statement would imply the tacit assumption of what is denied.
Intersubjectivity of Truth. The absolute character of truth as

transhistoricity immediately calls for its intersubjectivity. This inter-
subjectivity, however, would be misunderstood if with Merleau-Ponty
one were to conceive it as the actWll agreement of knowing subjects. 282
In principle, intersubjective truth means that, if something is true,
it is in principle true for every subject. I cannot be convinced of a
truth and at the same time admit that someone else is ~ight if he denies
my truth. In principle, objectivity cannot be rejected by any subject
who makes a statement regarding this objectivity. Accordingly, the
inter-subjectivity of truth is not merely the experience of certain
280The fact that a text of Merleau-Ponty can' be quoted in favor of this

view shows how little consistency there is in the truth theory of this author:
"Je pense, et telle ou telle pensee m'apparait vraie; ie sais bien qu'elle n'est
pas vrais sans condition et que I'explicitation totale serait une tache infinie;
mais cela n'empeche pas qu'au moment ou ie pense, ie pense quelque chose,
et que toute autre verite, au nom de laquelle ie voudrais devaluer celle-ci, si
elle peut pour moi s'appeler verite, doit s'accorder avec la pensee 'vraie' dont
j'ai I'experience." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 455-456.
281"Dass es 'ewige Wahrheiten' gibt, wird erst dann zureichend bewiesen
sein, wenn der Nachweis gelungen ist, dass in aile Ewigkeit Dasein war
und sein wi rd. Solange dieser Beweis aussteht, bleibt der Satz eine phan-
tastische Behauptung, die dadurch nicht an Rechtmiissigkeit gewinnt, dass sie
von den Philosophen gemeinhin 'geglaubt' wird." Scin und Zeit, p. 227.
282Cf. Sens et non-sens, pp. 189-191.
actual agreements. 283 The absoluteness of truth, conceived as its

inter-subjectivity, is not merely the actual result of our verifications. 284
Nevertheless, Merleau-Ponty maintains that truth is only the result
of our verifications and attempts to fortify his view by pointing out
that, even if there were an absolute truth, it would be wholly useless.
Even if there were such a truth, all I have are my thoughts and all
you have are your thoughts. 285 What else, then, can be the meaning
of intersubjective truth than that we fortunately are in actual agree-
ment?286
Once more the same reply imposes itself: the negation of the
absolute implies its affirmation. "All I have are my thoughts," says
Merleau-Ponty. Of course, we agree, but the fact that Merleau-
Ponty holds this statement to be true makes it impossible for him to
accept that others would be right if they deny this, his truth. There-
fore, Merleau-Ponty must imply that his truth is our truth-in other
words, that truth, in principle, is intersubjective-and if he does not
imply this, then his statement is meaningless.
Evidence as Criterion of Truth. De facto, however, truth is not
intersubjective, for "ordinary" people as well as philosophers con-
tradict one another. We may name here "ordinary" people and
philosophers in one breath, for what else do philosophers do than
explicitate and express in concepts what "ordinary" people practice?
Philosophers give expression to life. People practice charity and
justice or do not practice them, they perform their task in the world
or do not perform it, they raise a family or do not raise one, they
love and adore God or do not love and adore Him. In all this they
are guided by a kind of "thinking" about what reality is and ought
to be, but they contradict one another. Their "thinking" is taken
up by the philosophers, who pursue it ex professo, and they too
283"L'accord avec moi-meme et avec autrui reste aussi difficile a obtenir,
et j'ai beau croire qu'en droit il est toujours realisable, je n'ai d'autres raisons
d'affirmer ce principe que l'experience de certaines concordances, si bien
qu'enfin rna croyance a l'absolu, dans ce qu'elle a de solide, n'est rien que
mon experience d'un accord avec moi-meme et avec autrui." Merleau-Ponty,
Sens et non-sens, p. 19.
284Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 191.
285"Qu'il y ait ou non une pensee absolue, et dans chaque probleme
pratique, une evaluation absolue, je ne dispose pour juger que d'opinions
miennes, qui restent capables d'erreur, si severement que je les discute."
Merleau-Poney, ibid., p. 189.
286The desire of a "new classicism," a "verite par deld les prises de
position divergentes," manifested by Merleau-Ponty (p. 126 of Sens et non-
sens) must be understood likewise as a desire of a de facto agreement (ibid.,
p. 190).
contradict one another. However, both "ordinary" people and

philosophers know that there should not be any contradiction, that
truth should be recognized universally, and that error should be
rejected universally. The fact that there is no such universal agree-
ment is experienced as a defect of our being-human. Truth is one for
all of us.
Nevertheless, we contradict one another. We cannot accept that
we both speak the truth when we contradict each other, for other-
wise thinking would be entirely meaningless. There is no escape,
therefore, from raising the question about a criterion of truth, or
rather from raising this question again. For previously287 we have
already indicated that if perceiving consciousness is intentionality,
openness for reality, then the presence of the perceived decides about
the objectivity and truth of every statement regarding the perceived.
Of course, it is possible for me to dream, imagine, hallucinate, fear,
or desire all kinds of meanings, and in such cases I err. But the
recognition of my error implies that a statement is withdrawn be-
cause of the self-givenness, the bodily presence of what I see.
This idea is traditionally expressed by saying that the criterion
of truth is evidence. Evidence is nothing else than the experience of
truth,288 as original "givenness" ;289 it is the seeing, in the broadest
sense of the term, of what is given itself,290 and with this seeing
certitude is fused. 291 Nevertheless, because I can think that I see,
although I am actually dreaming, imagining, or hallucinating, the
question about a criterion of truth has to be pursued further. How
can one distinguish between the illusion of one and the blindness of
another?
Fruitfulness as Evidence. Let us start with a simple example.
We have here a certain instrument-a pen--of which John affirms
that it is a screwdriver, while Peter thinks that it is a pen. John
says that Peter is merely dreaming or imagining things, while Peter
claims that John must be blind. What criterion can be used to
determine who is right? In daily life one would say: let John try
287Cf. above, pp. 146 ff.
288"Evidenz ist . . . nicht anderes a!s das 'Er!ebnis' der Wahrheit."
Husser!, Logische Untersuchungen", I, Prolegomena Bur reinen Logik, Halle
a. d. 5 . 1928, p. 190.
289"Das evidente Urteil aber ist ein Bewusstsein originarer Gegebenheit."
Husser!, ibid.
290"Man nennt die Evidenz ein Sehen, Einsehen, Erfassen des se!bst gege-
benen ('wahren') Sachverhalts." Husserl, ibid.
to fasten the screws of his garden gate with the instrument in ques-
tion, and he will see that it is not what he claims it to be. The
philosopher expresses the same thought when he says that the
criterion of truth is the fruitfulness of the dialogue with reality
which existence is. To exist is a dialogue of subjectivity with what
is not subjectivity. In this dialogue the reality of things reveals
itself-if only insofar as at a certain moment the dialogue becomes
utterly impossible because reality is overloaded with meanings which
are merely imagined or fancied. A consequence of this overloading
is that reality no longer gives any reply, offers resistance, or is de-
stroyed, for the dialogue which is human existence continues as if
these imagined or fancied meanings are reality-witness the wrecked
pen which was supposed to be a screwdriver. If I use the pen as a
pen, the result of my action will be what I write: the continuation
of my dialogue is fruitful, which is not the case if I attempt to
write with a screwdriver.
Scientific Use of this Criterion. The sciences make use of the

same criterion. The physicist will question reality with a certain a
priori idea, an hypothesis. He "thinks" that reality will be this or
that, but he does not accept it as true and certain before reality itself
reveals itself as this or that. The physicist provokes replies from
reality, and before reality itself answers his question, he does not
speak of scientific truth. If, however, his hypothesis is wrong, his
dialogue with reality will come to a stop,292 reality gives no reply,
offers resistance, or is destroyed. The physicist sees that he was
imagining things and that his dialogue with reality was unfruitful.
The same criterion applies to the cultural sciences with this dif-
ference, however, that in them the questioning of reality is much
more difficult than in the physical sciences because very often no
recourse is possible to experiments. It is only with the greatest
difficulty that truth can be discovered in the cultural sciences. Often
entire generations of thinkers have to pass before it becomes clear
that a certain view is valueless. It is then said to be no longer "ten-
able," which means that it "contradicts" the object. In other words,
the dialogue with the object has come to a stop, and new views are
required to re-open it. As an example we may refer to orthodox
Freudianism. Psychoanalysis has shown that there are other
292R. C. Kwant and J. H. G. van den Berk, "Het gesprek van de physicus
met de wereld, " Annalen van hel Thijmgenootschap, vol. 53 (1955), pp. 13-15.
dimensions to man than those of sex. Frequently when the psychiatrist

held fast to the narrow conceptual framework of Freud, it became
apparent that a fruitful dialogue between the psychiatrist and the
patient was impossible. 293
Science and Daily Life. It may not be amiss to return from the
realm of the sciences to that of daily life. For what the cultural
sciences endeavor to express, the ordinary man is supposed to know
and possess as truth in his daily life. The cultural sciences attenmpt,
as it \vere, to catch and lay down in general principles man's dealings
with himself, with his fellow men, with society, and with God. These
dealings take place in daily life and presuppose objective insights.
The more complicated the situation is, the more difficult it will be to
disclose the objective meaning of reality. It is inevitable for man to
make mistakes and to err in religious, social, and political life, in
gubernatorial functions, in education, teaching, verdicts of law, the
care of souls, etc. Frequently the dialogue with reality has to go
very far before man realizes his error and comes to the conclusion
that he lives in a world of make-believe. Often he does not even see
that long ago he reached an impasse. Sometimes an entire life or
education, an entire culture has to be a failure before man will rec-
ognize the truth about himself, about his fellow men, and about God.
How often does it not happen that a man realizes only at the end of
his life that his wife is really his wife--I mean, realizes what it really
means that his wife is his wife.
Although man is convinced that he often errs, he has to act. Con-
sequently, he will always be "making a mess of it," and he will
experience that others do the same. He is not even capable of not
taking any action and not having any opinion, for having no opinion
itself is having an opinion about reality, and not taking any action
itself is a kind of taking action. To express it metaphorically, man's
hands are always stained. There is in everyone's personal history
and in the collective history of mankind a kind of material sinfulness
of which superficial minds have no inkling. But this sinfulness in-
spires the philosopher to the greatest prudence and restraint in his
action, and teaches him to be modest and unassuming in forming his
VJews. The fruitfulness of his dialogue with reality imposes upon
him the condition that he be ready to self-sacrifice. As Gabriel Marcel
~93J. :t\uttin, Psychoanalyse ell spiritualistische opvatting van de mens,

Utrecht, 1952, pp. 90-138.
puts it: "I believe that there lies an inexhaustible concreteness in the
center of reality or of man's destiny and that progress in the knowl-
edge of this concreteness is not made by stages and by passing knowl-
edge on to one another as is done in any of the specialized sciences.
This inexhaustible concreteness can be penetrated by anyone of us
only through what is most untouched and most virginal in his being.
The difficulties are, indeed, enormous. For, as experience shows,
the virginal forces, which alone are capable of attaining to being,
become at once contaminated and covered with dirt, and it is only
by means of a long and difficult cleansing process, or rather, through
a purification, a painful asceticism, that we manage to restore these
forces to their purity."294 The most important point in this matter,
however, was made by Thomas Aquinas. He was so much impressed
by the obscurity of human reason that he considered divine revelation
necessary with respect to man's search of truth about God. For if
man in this search had to rely on natural reason, the truth would be
discovered only by a few, and this only after a long time and mixed
with many errors. 295 So far as life is concerned, there is no one who
takes his guidance only from the cultural sciences or from philosophy.
11. REASONING AND LOGIC
Man's thinking moves naturally from prepredicative to predicative

knowledge. This natural movement, however, does not stop with
the judgment or predication. For I am able to combine two judgments
in such a way that the combination gives rise to an insight which
neither of the two, taken separately, expresses or contains. To give
an example, to the judgment, "material objects are subject to wear,"
I can add the second judgment, "an animal organism is material."
In that case there occurs in my thinking a natural movement leading
to the expression of a third judgment: "Therefore, an animal organism
is subject to wear." There is a definite connection between the first
two judgments, as well as between their subjects and predicates, so
that I am able in a perfectly natural way to join the subject of the
second judgment with the predicate of the first. The technical term
for performing this operation is "to conclude."
294Du refus Ii l'invocation, pp. 91-92.
295"Ad ea etiam quae de Deo ratione humana investigari possunt, neces-
sarium fuit hominem instrui reve1atione divina; quia veritas de Deo per ra-
tionem investigata, a paucis, et per longum tempus, et cum admixtione multorum
errorum homini proveniret." Summa theol., p. I, q. 1, a. 1. Cf. Summa contra
Gentiles, lib. I, c. 4.
In the case of other judgments a similar connection appears to be

lacking, so that the natural movement to a conclusion is not actualized.
The combination of "John is intelligent" with "man is mortal" does
not offer any possibility to draw a conclusion. One who would con-
clude from it that John is mortal proceeds in a way which everyone
calls "illogical," even though it would be readily admitted that the
"conclusion" is true. Apparently there are laws which a reasoning
process must obey. These laws are formulated by traditional logic.
Logic was fathered by Aristotle,296 and has reached us practically
without modifications through Boethius and the scholastic tradition.
Classical logic may be defined as the theory of reasoning~ provided
this expression be not misunderstood. Logic does not speak about
the way man actually reasons. How man actually reasons is con-
sidered by psychology, but logic merely determines how reasoning
ought to be performed if the purpose of reasoning is to be attained. 297
For this reason it is better to define logic as the theory of correct
reasoning.2 9 8
Natural and Scientific Logic, Formal and Material Logic. As we
pointed out, man possesses a spontaneous and natural type of logic.
He realizes intuitively that his thinking is subject to laws if it is to
lead him to any results. As the above-mentioned example shows,
even if the conclusion itself is true, the way in which it was reached
may be wrong. In that case the conclusion is not true by virtue of
the reasoning process but in spite of it. It does not follow from the
premises and, therefore, is not really a conclusion. Classical scientific
logic has "caught" man's spontaneous or natural logic; it has formu-
lated in clear and precise laws what is required for the correctness
296This traditional view is no longer as certain as has always been sup-

posed. The doubt applies especially to the so-called "categories," which prob-
ably are of neo-Platonic origin.
297This is also the reason why so-called "affective logic" does not pertain
to logic. The proponents of affective logic, among whom we may count Goblot
and Ribot, point out that man reasons according to his preferences, aversions,
sympathy, antipathy, etc.-in brief, according to his affectivity. For this rea-
son, they claim, an affective logic has to be added to the rational system of
classical logic. Of course, we do not want to deny that de facto reasoning is
usually performed according to affectivity. However, as long as logic is con-
cerned with the "correct" form of reasoning, the study of man's de facto rea-
soning according to his affectivity belongs to psychology. Logic is a normative
science: it does not say how something de facto is but how it should be. Cf.
R. Jolivet, Tt'aite de philosophie, vol. I, pp. 40-43.
298"Ars directiva ipsius actus rationis, per quam scilicet homo in ipso actu
ration is ordinate et faciliter et sine errore procedat." Thomas Aquinas, Com-
ment in Aristotelis libros Posteriorum Analyticorum, lib. I, lect. 1.
of a reasoning process and it has justified these laws scientifically.

This logic is called "formal logic," because it imposes a certain
"form" upon the materials (concept, judgments) used in reasoning
which guarantees the correctness of the process. Insofar as logic is
concerned with the value of the materials to be arranged in orderly
fashion, i.e., with the truth and certainty of the judgments and with
connected issues, such as that of scepticism, it is spoken of as "mate-
rial logic."299 The history of logic, however, does not always show
this distinction, for often questions of formal logic and of material
logic are treated indiscriminately according to the order in which
they occurred in Aristotle's logical works, as edited by Andronicus
of Rhodes. He called these works organon, instrument, because they
constitute a tool no science can dispense with.
The division into formal and material logic roughly coincides.
with that into minor and major logic. Minor logic used to consider
the subject matter of formal logic in a simple way, while special
questions received a more extensive treatment in major logic. Espe-
cially under the influence of Kant, however, major logic gradually lim-
ited itself to the validity of man's knowledge, and the other questions
were assigned a place in minor 10gic.300 Nowadays many authors
proceed rather arbitrarily in assigning the various topics to either
material (major) or formal (minor) logic. 301 All this, however,
IS of small importance.
Deduction. At first, the reasoning process of which logic speaks

was practically identified with deduction. In deductive reasoning
one proceeds from a more general assertion to a less general or
particular assertion contained in the more general one. I can say,
for instance:
the spiritual is immortal; man's soul IS spiritual;
therefore, man's soul is immortal;
In doing this, I deduce a less general assertion from the more

general statement that the spiritual is immortal. In daily life we
make a constant use of deduction. Every time we use the terms
299Aristotle's Analytica Priora may be called "formal logic," for this work
deals with the principles of correct reasoning. In his Analytica Posteriora he
deals especially with what falls under material logic.
300Cf. I. J. M. van den Berg, Logica, vol. I, Nijmegen, 1946. pp. 38-45.
301Jacques Maritain makes an effort to keep the various questions clearly
distinct. Cf. his Formal Logic, pp. 8-11.
"because" or "for," we deduce a less general truth from a more

general one. When a boy calls a girl "silly," because she is afraid of
mice, he implicitly makes a deduction from the more general propo-
sition: "Whoever is afraid of mice is silly."
Induction. In daily life we make use also of another form of

reasoning. The certainty that an object will fall unless it is sup-
ported, that a match will burn when it strikes a phosphoreted surface,
that potatoes will not grow on wooden floors, etc. is not derived from
a more general proposition. This certitude is not acquired deductively
but inductively. In inductive reasoning one proceeds from indi-
vidual cases to a general law. When a physicist observes that copper
samples A, B, C, D, E, ... conduct electricity, he finally concludes
that "copper" conducts electricity. The importance of this new type
of reasoning was emphasized especially by Francis Bacon in his
Novum Organon. John Stuart Mill later formulated the special
rules governing it.
"Lived" Logic . . Classical logic never knew exactly what to do

with induction. It could not be fitted anywhere within its frame-work
without being out of place. This fact was a first indication that "the
logical element" in man's existence had been conceived too narrowly.
Scientific logic has as its function to "catch," as it were, "the logical
element" in human existence, i.e., "lived" logic, and to explicitate it
in scientific reflection. The fact that no suitable place could be as-
signed to induction revealed that "the logical element" had been
wrongly identified with the inner coherence of deductive thought, for
the irreflechi of inductive thinking also has its inner coherence.
In the course of the last few decades it has become apparent that
"lived logic" must be conceived even more broadly. A reflection
upon the use of the terms "logical" and "illogical" makes this clear.
If these terms are reserved for deductive and inductive thinking, then
they may not be applied to, e.g., a phenomenological description.
However, if a phenomenologist claims to place himself on the stand-
point of intentionality, he thinks illogically when he lapses into the
"natural viewpoint."302 Nevertheless, he cannot be accused of
having sinned against any of the laws of induction or deduction. On
the other hand, his thinking is "illogical." Moreover, a phenomeno-
logical description must have an inner coherence, and this coherence
302Cf. Chapter Two, p. 149.

can perhaps be expressed in laws, although these laws would be wholly

different from those of deduction. De facto every good phenomenol-
ogist follows certain laws. Even though he may not be explicitly
aware of these laws, he gropes for the correct form, the required
interconnection, the "logical" structure of his description.
More or less the same may be said about a work of art. A novel
can be composed in a "logical" or "illogical" fashion. Likewise, a
painting or a musical composition. Perhaps man will never succeed
in explicitating the laws of this "lived" logic, but there are such laws,
hidden in the irrefUchi. Even the ways in which a humorist tells hi!>
joke, a prosecuting attorney weaves his web around the accused, and
a teacher catches a lying schoolboy are "logical" or "illogica1." Like-
wise, there is an inner coherence in a political system, in love, justice,
and Christianity, in an economic order, and even in the psychical
abnormalities by which, e.g., schizophrenic behavior is distinguished
from other pathological behaviors.
Logic and Philosophy. The use of the term, therefore, indicates
that "the logical element" in human existence has a much wider
extension than the inner coherence which classical logic explicitates
in its formulation and justification of the deductive laws. Classical
scientific logic managed to "catch" only one aspect of "lived logic."
But many other aspects are contained in "lived experience." Un-
doubtedly, it is not very likely that anyone will ever attempt to formu-
late the laws governing the telling of jokes, and we do not see any
reason for bewailing this lacuna. But the lack of explicit knowledge
regarding the logical laws of phenomenological description makes
itself painfully felt. Nothing can be expected of classical logic in this
matter, for it is concerned only with "correct" deduction. One may
even raise the question whether classical logic is of any use for the
present-day currents of philosophical thought. Phenomenologists are
not interested in it-they do not need classical logic, because they
do not proceed "deductively." They would need another type of logic.
For beginners in philosophy classical logic is not as indispensable
as has often been thought. 303 Philosophy is born of wonder about
reality, and this wonderment contains the invitation to seize reality
and make it one's own. In the first stage of this appropriation of reality
there can be no question of reasoning in the sense of deduction.
Consequently, I do not need to know how deductions should be made.
303ef. Van den Berg, In het voorportaal der wetmschappen, 1952, p. 4.

It is not even impossible that a prolonged study of logic at the

beginning of philosophical thinking could render authentic philosophiz-
ing extremely difficult. To make its subject matter somewhat intel-
ligible, classical logic has recourse to a multitude of examples. These
examples, however, are borrowed from philosophy. But, as philo-
sophical insights, they are not yet "mine" when I begin to philosophize.
I have not yet appropriated these insights and made them my personal
views; there has not yet been any question of a personal grasp of
reality. In this situation the use of such examples favors unauthentic
philosophy and even pure verbalism. Philosophy becomes a playing
with words, which is not even interesting. Let us clarify the matter
by means of an example.
How often does not classical logic say that man is a rational
animal? This statement is presented, e.g., as an example of a perfect
definition. But-what do I know about man? Max Scheler struggled
his entire life in an attempt to understand at least something of man.
Thus such an "example" from logic cannot be more for me than mere
words which I learn by rote. But these words can cause me trouble
for a long time to come. When I reach philosophical anthropology,
it becomes almost impossible for me to convince myself that I do not
really know what man is, for I have become thoroughly accustomed
to manipulating man's perfect definition. Traditional logic strongly
favors unauthentic philosophy and thus makes it almost impossible to
arrive at personal thought. Personal thinking knows the temptation
to despair and not only the obstacle course of "logical disputes."
For certain readers these reflections may be a cause of annoyance,
especially if from the very beginning of their philosophical training
they were introduced to a system. For others, however, these
thoughts may mean a deliverance and an exhortation to say farewell
to "learning" philosophy and to proceed to authentic thinking.
CHAPTER THREE
PHENOMENOLOGY OF INTERSUBJECTIVITY
Introduction. Is the man who I am unique? Am I an isolated

being? Am I "first" man and do I "subsequently" concern or not
concern myself with others? These and other similar questions have
not yet been raised, although on several occasions our investigations
could have been led in this direction. The man who I am disclosed
himself as a conscious-being-in-the-world, as a being which cannot be
isolated or divorced from the world without losing his human
identity. But in the world in which I dwell I encounter human
beings; wherever I go, I come across them; they look at me, gesture
to me, and address me. Their looks, words, and gestures make me
stop. I am the project of my world, and through my projects I make
the world a cultural world. As soon, however, as I encounter the
ether in my world, I realize that this other may not be sacrificed
to my project, that he is not a worldly thing which receives its
meaning. from my history as the creator of culture. What is my
relationship to the others?
I t was for the sake of not interrupting the systematic plan of our
investigations that we did not yet make use of the occasions which
arose for speaking about the relationship of my existence to other
existences. In the description of authentic philosophical thinking it
became apparent that this thinking implies a personal question and a
personal answer. The question which I as a philosopher raise must
be my question, and the reply to it has to be given by me and for
me. If philosophy is not to degenerate into mere "talk"-Gerede
(Heidegger), parole parlCe (Merleau-Ponty)-truth will have to be
truth-for-me. However, what is truth-for-me is at the same time of
necessity also truth for all, I because truth is truth. If it is true that
General Patton found the bridge over the Rhine near Remagen
undamaged, then this truth is not only truth for me who affirm it,
but also for all actual and possible subjects who make or will make a
statement regarding this event. It is impossible for me at the same
time to admit that someone who denies my truth is right and to be
lef. Sartre, L'existentialisme est un humanismc, pp. 26-27.

175
convinced that I speak the truth. Anyone who does not admit this
no longer accepts any truth. Whoever speaks of truth means truth
for all. The denial of this primordial evidence implies the denial of
truth itself and, in addition, makes chaos the principle of man's
action. 2 Thus it is not truth that should be blamed for the chaos in
human activies, but untruth. We abstract here from ill-will and bad
faith, but even without them chaos in human society becomes a fact
when truth is no longer recognized universally true. In principle,
truth is truth for all, but de facto it is not truth for all.
Authentic philosophical thinking, therefore, seems to imply a
vocation and to impose upon the philosopher a task which contains
more than the duty of philosophical thought. The philosopher, as
such, will endeavor to explicitate and express the truth about human
life but, because he knows that his truth about life is truth for all, he
feels himself called to make his fellow man personally see the truth.
But the task and vocation of the philosopher will not be understood
if the philosopher views himself as an isolated individual. 3 What sense
would it make for truth to be truth for all if the philosopher locks
himself up in an ivory tower? What would be the sense of saying
that in principle truth is destined for all if the philosopher does not
destine himself for all?4 However, we must ask, on what ground can
he destine himself for the others? What does man have to do with
his fellow man?
1. To EXIST IS TO CO-EXIST
The concrete thinking of existential phenomenology deserves our

gratitude for having restored man to his place in the world and
having described this world as a human world. Man and the world
are not isolated in existential phenomenology but constitute a unity
of reciprocal implication. This view cannot be "demonstrated" in
2Cf. Dondeyne, "L'abstraction," Revue N eoscolastique de Philosophie, 1938,
pp. 345-346.
3"Wir sind dessen auch schon dem allgemeinsten nach inne geworden, dass
menschliches Philosophieren und seine Ergebnisse im gesamtmenschlichen
Dasein nichts weniger als die blosse Bedeutung privater oder sonstwie
beschrankter Kulturzwecke hat. Wir sind also-wie kiinnten wir davon
absehen-in unserem Philosophieren Funktonare der Menschheit." Husserl,
Die Krisis der Europaischen Wissenschaften und die transzendentale Phiinom-
enologie (Husserlinana, vol. VI,) Haag, 1954.
4"Si la verite peut se definir comme Ie bien de l'intelligence, c'est un
devoi. strict pour celui qui la possede de la communiquer. Aussi est-ce la
charite qui exige imperieusement la transmission du vrai." Jean Lacroix,
Personne et amour, p. 130.
Phenomenology of Intersubjectivity 177
the strict sense of the term. It is a fundamental insight and there-

fore, can only be "pointed out" by the phenomenologist. Moreover,
he can make it dear that his conception offers a solution for the
impasse to which philosophy has been led by all kinds of subjectivism
and objectivism. His thought reveals itself fruitful and, as we have
seen, this is a criterion of truth.
vVith respect to the meaning of fellow human beings, proofs and
demonstrations are likewise impossible. Thus it should not be a
cause of surprise to see that different phenomenologists offer such
a variety of descriptions of interhuman relationships. What one
"sees," the other qualifies as pure fancy or illusion. One stops where
the other thinks that nothing. of importance has yet been stated.
For instance, "to love each other is to hate the same enemy" accord-
ing to Sartre. 5 But Marcel thinks that this hatred has nothing to do
with love, that love is something entirely different, something which
Sartre does not see. Must we say that Sartre is blind or that Marcel
is deluded?
The particular complexity of the system of meanings which is
the world serves as a warning not to over-simplify matters in our
attempt to describe interhuman relations. It is quite possible that
these relationships of man to his fellow man will show many different
dimensions.
My World as Our World. Does man have anything to do with
those living beings which he calls men? The reply cannot be given
at once, but gradually develops when I attempt to think the man I
am without the others. I am a being-in-the-world, but the wordly
meanings of my world constantly refer to other human beings. 6 The
letter which I write refers to its addressee; the pen I use refers to
the supplier who has to make his living from his sales. A boat at
anchor refers to travellers; the mountains and forests which I admire
refer to the architect for whom they mean stone and wood, i.e., con-
struction materials. The system of close and distant meanings which
owes its origin in part also to my existence is permeated, therefore,
with actual and possible meanings of which I am not the origin. My
world refers to origins of meanings which are not my existence.
Nevertheless, these meanings are not "nothing-for-me." They are
5Cf. Le diable et Ie bon Dieu.

6"Die untersuchung nimmt die Orientierung am In-der-Welt-sein, durch
weJche Grundverfassung des Daseins jeder Modus seines Seins mitbestimmt
wird." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 117.
meanings also for me, albeit in another senSe than for other existences.
My world, therefore, apparently is not exclusively my world, and
your world is not only yours, but the world of existence is our world
(die Welt des Daseins ist Mitwelt 7 ).
Man and world, however, constitute a unity of reciprocal implica-
tion. Therefore, that the world-for-other-existences has meaning also
for me means that my existence is a co-existence with other existences.
My presence in the world is a co-presence; my encounter with the
world is our encounter; my world is our world.
A priori speaking, it is not certain that this co-presence indicates

an essential structural aspect of being-man. Man is essentially in-the-
world; his being-in-the-world is an existentiale, an essential struc-
tural aspect of being-man. It is impossible, therefore, to conceive
man without the world. When the bond between man and world is
broken, man is no longer. This break is inevitable--death-and after
it at any rate it is no longer possible to speak of being-man. Whatever
I may be after death, I will not be a man. Accordingly, I am not
first a man and then enter or do not enter into the world. Being-in-
the-world is not added to my being-man because there just happens
to be a world. My being-man is a being-in-the-world. 8 To think
away the world means to think away man.
Is Co-Existence an Essential Aspect of Being-Man? Obviously,

in this phase of our investigation it is not permissible to appeal to
arguments which are without any immediate relationship to the rea-
son why above existence was described as co-existence. Existence,
we said, is co-existence because my world reveals itself as our world
(M itwelt). But could this not simply be the consequence of the
fact that there happen to be other men? If the answer would be in
the affirmative, the affirmation of existence as co-existence would
not imply much more than establishing a fact-much as one estab-
lishes that a man has two arms and two ears. Man cannot be
thought as man without the world, but he can be conceived without
two ears. Would perhaps the same have to be said about man's co-
existence? Heidegger neglects to investigate this possibility thor-
oughly and considers co-existence as an existentiale, as an essential
structural aspect of existence. 9 Sartre attacks Heidegger on this point

P Izenomenology of Inter subjectivity 179
and refuses to agree with him. He reproaches him for simply passing
from an empirical observation to the affirmation of an essential struc-
tural aspect. lO Binswanger leaves Heidegger's description for what it
iSll and remarks that one cannot find in Heidegger what is most
proper to being-human-namely, "the loving togetherness of Me and
YoU."12
Of course, it would be possible to point with Binswanger to sit-
uations showing that man has more dealings with his fellow man than
were indicated above. Later we shall analyze these situations. At
present, however, we are concerned with the question whether or
not the fact that my world must be called our world is more than a
fact, whether or not this co-existence is an essential structural aspect
of human existence. When Heidegger replies in the affirmative to
this question, he surreptitiously appeals to arguments which presup-
pose a co-existence in a much more profound sense. He puts forward
reasons which are not derived from the fact that my world is our
world, although it is precisely on this ground that existence is called
co-existence. Heidegger points out that precisely the deficient modes
of co-existence reveal existence as co-existence. For instance, he says,
the experience of being-alone is possible only on the ground of a more
original being-together. I can "miss" another only if my being is a
being-together. 13 The possibility of being-alone, the fact that I can
"miss" another, reveal a more original togetherness.
Of course, the point is hardly debatable. However, the together-
ness whi~h I "miss" when I feel "alone" contains more than the co-
9" 'Mit' und 'Auch' sind existenzial und nicht kategorial zu verstehen"
(ap. cit., p. 118). "Das Mitsein ist ein existenziales Konstituens des In-der-
W.elt-seins. Das Mitdasein erweisst sich als eigene Seinsart von innerwelt1ich
begegnendem Seinenden. Sofern das Dasein uberhaupt ist, hat es die Seinsart
des Miteinanderseins. Dieses kann nicht als summatives Resultat des vorkom-
mens mehrerer "Subjekte" begriffen werden." ap. cit., p. 125.
lO"Pourquoi devient-elle Ie fondement unique de notre etre, pourquoi est-elle
Ie type fondamental de notre rapport avec les autres, pourquoi Heidegger s'est-
il cru autorise a passer de cette constatation empirique et ontique de I'etre-avec
a la position de la coexistence comme structure ontologique de non etre-dans-Ie
monde?" Sartre, L' etre et Ie ncant, p. 304.
llL. Binswanger, Grundfarmen und Erkenntnis menschlichen Daseins,
Zurich, 1953, p. 267.
12"Das W ersein des Daseins im Sinne des 'Ich und Du' oder der dualen
Wirheit linden wir jedoch nirgends." Heidegger, ap. cit., p. 65.
13"Auch das Alleinsein des Daseins ist Mitsein in der Welt. Fehlen kann
der Andere nur in einem und fUr einen Mitsein. Das Alleinsein ist ein delizienter
Modus des Mitseins, seine Moglichkeit ist der Beweis fur dieses." Heidegger,
op. cit., p. 120.
existence to which Heidegger concludes on the ground of the fact that

my world is our world. Even when I am alone and miss the other,
the ship refers to the traveller, and the book to the supplier. My
existence, then, is still co-existence, yet I feel "alone." Being-alone,
therefore, is not a deficient mode of this co-existence. When I am
alone and miss the other, there reveals itself the possibility and the
necessity of a mode of co-existing which has a richer content than the
being-together in the world spoken of above. Accordingly, the defi-
cient modes of this more profound mode of co-existing do not "prove"
that being-together in the world is an essential structural aspect of
human existence. But they show that several dimensions must be
distinguished in co-existence.
2. THE BODY AS INTERMEDIARY
The Other's Accessibility to Me. Whether or not our being-

together in the world has to be called an existentiale, it certainly is
evident that the meaning of the world for the other is accessible
to me. This implies that the other himself is accessible to me. The
letter which I write may be for me a material question of pen, paper,
and communication, but for the other it may be the biggest fear and
nightmare of his life. His fear and nightmare, however, are meanings
also for me, they are accessible to me. Perhaps I have already taken
these meanings into account when I wrote the letter. This would
mean that I take the other into account and, therefore, that he is not
concealed from me but accessible to me.
In daily life this situation is accepted as quite normal. Everyone
admits that the patient is accessible to the doctor, the customer to
the salesman, the student to the teacher. The thief is not concealed
from the policeman who surprises him in the act, and a naughty boy
is not concealed from his mother when she catches him.
The philosopher has to respect this unconcealedness and accessi-
bility. He does not have the right to explicitate co-existence in such
a way that it is reduced to nothing or that its reality can no longer
be conceived as reality. His function merely is to express this co-
existence. He has to proceed in the same way in this explicitation
as he does in explicitating the perception of a worldly thing, where
his function is to describe this perception. Let us say that I perceive
a "deliciously fragrant" apple. When it becomes apparent that the
idea of the physical causality exercised by means of stimuli does not
give us an insight into this perception,14 i.e., that this idea does not
allow us to conceive the possibility of perceiving a "deliciously fra-
grant" apple, then the philosopher will have to drop the idea of
physical causality as the "explanation" of perception as it occurs and
will have to retain his perception. 15 In daily life this procedure is
considered quite normal. There was a time, however, when scientific
circles judged it very abnormal to assume that I really smell delicious
apples and really see green grass. They preferred to start from
physico-chemical stimuli or from physiologically described organs and
thus no longer attained to perception. 16 Existential phenomenology,
however, is sensitive for what in daily life is accepted as quite normal.
It officially forces doors open, or rather, it points to open doors and
invites man to enter through them. l7 '
a. Reasoning by Analogy and "Einfiihlung"

The Cartesian Heritage. The unconcealedness and accessibility
of my fellow man are such an "open door." Philosophers, however,
have had great trouble re-discovering this door from the time when
Descartes had told them that this door was closed. True, Descartes
did not say so explicitly in so many words. Nevertheless, led by his
own method, he proceeded to think about man in such a way that
one could no longer see any possibility of a real relationship between
subject and subject. Descartes' method locked consciousness up in
itself: consciousness, for him, was consciousness of consciousness.
Consciousness was isolated, walled-in, and existed without the body.ls
On the other hand, however, man is also corporeal. For Descartes
"body" simply means "extension." The body, therefore, is fully
subjected to the laws of extension, functions as a machine, and is
l4"La theorie de la sensation, qui compose tout savoir de qualites deter-

minees, no us construit des objets nettoyes de to ute equivoque, purs, absolus,
qui sont plutot riMal de la connaissance que ses themes effectifs, eIle ne
s'adapte qu'iJ. la superstructure tardive de la conscience." Merleau-Ponty,
Phenomenologie de la perception, pp. 18-19.
15J. H. V. d. Berg and J. Linschoten, Persoon en wereld, Utrecht, 1953,
pp. 251-253.
16A. de WaeIhens, "La phenomenologie du corps," Revue philosophique de
Louvain, 1950, pp. 374-382.
17e. H. C. Riimke, Psychiatrie, vol. I, Amsterdam, 1954, p. 148.
18"Et quamvis fortasse . . . habeam corpus, quod mihi valde arcte con-
junctum est, sum tantum res cogitans, non extensa, et ex alia parte distinctam
ideam corporis, quatenus cst tantum res extensa, non cogitans, certum est
me a corpore meo revera esse distinctum, et absque iIIo posse exi~tere."
Medita1iones de Prima Philosophia (Bibliothi?que des Tcxtes Philosophzques),
Paris, 1946, p. 76.
studied in mechanics. On the other hand, it did not escape Descartes

that there are relations between consciousness and the body. Although
they are two isolated substances, consciousness is not related to the
body merely as the helmsman is to a ship.19 Consciousness somehow
is unified and even merged with the body. These assertions, however,
came too l~t'e to solve the problems created by the Cartesian divorce
of body and soul or consciousness. Descartes thought that he could
solve them by locating consciousness (the soul) in the pineal gland
and asserting that from this gland the body is "guided" and that in
it consciousness is "sensitive" to the influence of the body. But the
artificiality of this hypothesis ultimately did not even satisfy Descartes
himself and he had to admit that he could not solve the problem. If
one keeps in mind that Descartes first isolated consciousness and the
body from each other and placed them alongside each other as com-
plete substances, the confession of his inability to conceive conscious-
ness and body as a unit should not come as a surprise.
Attempts to Overcome the Cartesian Divorce of Consciousness

and Body. Descartes' explicitations of the relationship between con-
sciousness and body became the reason why subsequent philosophers
were unable to see any longer the possibility of direct contact of the
conscious self with another conscious being. For consciousness was
conceived as fully closed upon itself, locked up and concealed in the
body-machine. The other's consciousness, likewise, was supposed to
be so locked up and concealed in his body. In that case, of course, a
direct .contact of my consciousness with the consciousness of the other
would not be conceivable. 20 My consciousness would be isolated from
my body, my body would be isolated from that of the other, and
finally his consciousness would be isolated from his body. Conse-
quently, I would not be able to see that someone else is sad or joyful, I
would not be able to hear that he is furious or frightened to death, etc.
19"Docet autem natura, per istos sensus doloris, famis, sitis, etc. me non
tantum adesse mea corpori ut nauta est navigio, sed iIIi arctissime esse con-
junctum et quasi permixtum, adeo ut unum quid cum iIIo componam." Medita-
tiones, pp. 78-79.
2o"Si les ames sont separt!es par leurs corps, e1les sont distinctes comme
cet encrier est distinct de ce livre, c'est-a-dire qu'on ne peut concevoir aucune
presence immediate de I'une a l'autre." Sartre L'etre et Ie neant, p. 277.
21"L'ame d'autrui est donc separee de la mienne par toute la distance qui
separe tout d'abord mon arne de mon corps, puis mon corps du corps d'autrui,
cnfin Ie corps d'autrui de son arne." Sartre, ibid.
However, there is no one who accepts that he really cannot do

such things. Anyone can do it. Of course, the philosophers were not
unaware of this and, therefore, they tried to re-create this possibility,
despite Descartes' explicitations.
The Argument from Analogy. The usual ~rgument ran as follows.
Despite the fact that my consciousness is pure interiority, this interi-
ority reveals itself externally by expressing itself through the body.
Fury and joy are internal states of consciousness to which mimicry
and pantomimic movements give expression. These coarse move-
ments of expression, however, are not the only ones, for more refined
expressive symptoms also reveal something of the interiority of con-
sciousness. Inspired as they were by physics, psychologists soon felt
themselves on familiar ground here, for blood pressure, frequency of
heart-beat, depth and frequency of breathing, glandular secretions,
electric conductivity, etc. appeared subject to exact measurementsP
By means of appropriate instruments the psychologists hoped to equal
the exactness proper to the measurements of physics. 23
They were convinced that by means of the other's bodily move-
ments of expression it would be possible to penetrate into the interi-
ority of his consciousness. An essential condition for this was that
the bodily movements of expression be interpreted in the light of
introspection. This interpretation was supposed to include the follow-
ing argument from analogy: just as in anger or in joy I give a bodily
expression in a definite way to the interiority of my conscious:1ess,
and the way in which I do this differs according to the presence of
different contents of consciousness, so also will the other give expres-
sion to the presence of certain contents of consciousness by means of
lIlimicry and pantomimic motions and through more refined symp-
toms. Thus perception, they thought, would tell me, first, that the
other is a subject as I am a subject, and second, that the same takes
place in his subjectivity as in mine when I observe in him also the
same motions and symptoms by which I express my interiority.24
After being accepted for many years, it has now become evident
that such an argument does not explain my contact with, and the
presence of the other as the other. The actual occurrence of contact
with the other is not conceived as a possibility in such an argument
22Cf. F. Roels, Handboek der psychologie, vol. I, Utrecht-Nijmegen, 1934,

pp. 66-67.
23Cf. G. Dumas. La vie affective, Paris, 1948.
if one first asserts that consciousness is locked up in itself and hidden

away in a body or, which amounts to the same, if the body is first
described as a part of nature, as a thing among other things.
We abstract here from the fact that no such argument from
analogy occurs de facto in our experience. \Vhen I hear someone
screaming with pain, he is directly and in person present to me,
without there being the slightest trace of an argument from analogy.
Thus it seems rather optimistic to think that one can base certainty
of the other's presence as the other on such an argument.
The biggest difficulty, however, lies in the fact that the above-
described argument from analogy presupposes the presence of the
other in person, the direct contact of my consciousness with that of
the other. Why do I not admit that the other's body is a machine,
but consider it the expression of the other's subjectivity? Why do I
not accept that the smile on the other's countenance is solely and
purely a complex of muscular contractions, the effect of a nervous
reaction which is mechanically determined by a physical stimulus
(Watson)? I reject this possibility, because I assume that the other
is a subject and not a machine. Only in this supposition can I call
certain bodily movements and symptoms expressive movements.
Without such a supposition they are, in the Cartesian way of think-
ing, purely mechanical motions. The purpose of the argument,
however, was to justify the statement that the other is a subject.
For this purpose an appeal was made to his expressive movements,
but his motions may be called an expression only when one has recog-
nized the other's subjectivity.
All these remarks aim at the first part of the argument from
analogy-namely, the certainty about the presence of the other as the
other, as a subject. Reasoning from analogy explains nothing in
this matter. Thus the second part of the argument is likewise con-
demned-namely, the conclusion that the same internal experiences
are present in the other as in me. This conclusion is based on the
fact that I perceive certain determined phenomena of expression
in him which are the same as those through which I give expression
to determined experiences. Such a "conclusion," however, is not
acceptable. Though it may be true that I give expression to a deter-
mined interiority of consciousness in a determined fashion, never-
theless, if I cannot directly see the subjectivity of the other, then the
beings which I see walking and laughing in the streets may still be
understood as machines. At most one could say that probably they

are not machines. 25
The Einfiihlung Theory. Accordingly, the psychologists' argu-
ment from analogy presupposes the presence of the other as the other
precisely when this presupposition has to be justified. Nevertheless,
I am certain that the other in person is present to me. Hence it is
not surprising that other theories have been put forward to justify
this certainty. We may name the Einfiihlung or empathy theories of
Dilthey, Simmel and Scheler. However, they also presuppose what
they have to justify-namely, the unconcealedness of the other as the
other. Although they offer a possibility to describe more perfectly
the means which we possess of placing ourselves in the presence of
the other, they do not offer any explanation of the fact that the other
appears to us as the other. 26 The unconcealedness of the other is
constantly presupposed. 27
Encounter with the Other as the Other. The unconcealedness of
the other as the other is an "open door" through which finally the
phenomenologist enters. It is not all necessary to appeal to reasoning
from analogy or to theories of Einfiihlung in order to explain the
presence of the other as the other, for the encounter with the other
directly and immediately distinguishes itself from the encounter with
a mere thing. In this encounter the other reveals himself directly as
the other, as not-a-thing, as a conscious-being-in-the-world.28 It is
the other in person whom I see shaking with fear or whom I hear
sighing under the burden of his cares. I feel his cordiality in his hand-
shake, in his soft-spoken voice, in the benevolence of his looks. Those
too who hate me or are indifferent toward me, who find my company
boring, who fear, despise, or mistrust me, those who want to console,
tempt, blame, persuade, or amuse me are in person present to me.
The look of such a one, his gesture, his words, his attitude, etc. are
always his look, gesture, words, or attitude. He is in person directly
and immediately present to me.
The presence of a thing, on the other hand, manifests itself quite
differently. The way in which a rolling rock approaches me differs
25"On reconnaitra volontiers que ces procedes peuvent seulement nous
donner d'autrui une connaissance probable: il reste toujours possible qu'autrui
ne soit qu'un corps. Si les animaux sont des machines, pourquoi l'homme que
je vois passer dans la rue n'en serait-il pas une?" Sartre, op. cit., p. 278.
27Cf. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, pp. 124-125.
from that of an angry policeman. My desk does not groan under my

elbows, my pen does not give me a hurt look when I use it wrongly,
I do not blame an apple for falling on my head, and I do not expect to
be congratulated on my birthday by my dog.
Accordingly, I have to accept the unconcealedness, the direct
presence of the other as the other, as an original fact. Any "proof"
is wholly superfluous, because this presence is immediately evident,
and any attempt to make this presence-acceptable appears to pre-
suppose that the other is present to me.
h. "My" Body ;s Not "a" Body

The preceding considerations, however, do not remove all diffi-
culties. The other may be present to me through his look, his gesture,
his attitude, his speech, etc., but his look, gesture, attitude, etc. are
bodily realities. Is it not true, then, that it is only the body of the
other which is present to me and comes into contact with me?
Again Cartesian Dualism. When the question is raised in this way,
all the consequences of Cartesian dualism threaten to return. "Only
the body" and not the conscious other, says the question. This pre-
supposes that it is possible to speak about "the body alone." Such a
presupposition appears to be of a Cartesian origin. Descartes had
divorced consciousness and body from each other and described the
body as a machine. Only from this Cartesian viewpoint is it possible
to speak of "the body alone." Such a view, however, is an explicita-
tion that does not take into consideration the mode in which my body
is given to me-namely, as "mine." The consequences of such a faulty
standpoint are funest for, if I no longer think of my body as "mine,"
I no longer conceive my "self" as being corporeally-in-the-world.
In his explicitation of the meaning of the human body Descartes
omits precisely the most important aspect-namely, that the body
is a human body. The body is properly human only in the indivisible
unity which man is, just as an organ is an organ only in the totality
of the organism.29 The body is my body only in its participation in
the conscious self. According to Descartes' description the body is
always only "a" body, i.e., a body pertaining to the immense group
of bodies.so My body, however, is mine through its mysterious refer-

30Cf. Sartre, ibid.
ence to me, to the conscious self with which it has fused. My body
has even grown so much into one with me that in some cases I do
not hesitate to speak of "me" when I mean my body. I say, for
instance, that I wash myself, move myself, watch myself. This
"myself" means my body.
Physiology and My Body. My body, therefore, is not the body

described by physiology or drawn by anatomy.3l The body which
occurs in anatomy, biology, and physiology is merely "a" body. These
sciences describe the body as a thing in the world. Their descriptions
are based upon the observations of men of science, but they do not
explicitate my perception of my body as mine. 32 My hand reveals
itself as mine when I try to grasp an object; my feet manifest them-
selves as mine when I carefully place them on the steps of a steep
staircase; my eyes disclose themselves as mine when I let my gaze
travel over the world. My hands with which I grasp do not belong
to the system of seizable things, such as my pen, my shoes, and my
pack of cigarettes. My feet do not belong to the world that can be
walked upon, and my eyes do not pertain to the visible world. They
reveal themselves as meanings which lie on the side of the subject
which I am. These meanings cannot be found in a text book of
anatomy or physiology, because "I" do not occur in such books. 33
My Body is Not a Mere InstrwmeJlt. For the same reason my

body is not an instrument, as a hammer and a microscope are instru-
ments. Instruments are extensions of my body but, if I consider my
body as an instrument, of which body is my body an extension? My
body cannot be an instrument, for it is my body, for it is fused with
the conscious self which I am. 3
3l"En ce qui concerne Ie corps, et meme Ie corps d'autrui, il nous {aut

apprendre a Ie distinguer du corps objectif tel que Ie decrivent les livres de
physiologie." Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 403.
32"Mon corps tel qu'i1 est pour moi, ne m'apparait pas au milieu du monde."
Sartre, op. cit., p. 365.
33"Nous avons reappris a sentir notrecorps, no us avons retrouve sous
Ie savoir objectif et distant du corps cet autre savoir que nous en avons
parce qu'i1 est toujours avec nous et que nous sommes corps." Merleau-Ponty,
op. cit., p. 239.
34"Si je pense mon corps common instrument, j'attribue par la, disons a
I'ame dont iI serait I'outil, les virtualites meme dont iI assurerait I'actualisation;
cette arne, je la convertis en corps, et par consequent Ie probli~me se pense
a a
nouveau pour elle." Marcel, Du refus [,invocation, p. 29.
My Body is Not the Object of "Having." It is not possible to

apply to my body what, according to Marcel, can be said of the object
of "having." I "have" a car, a pen, a book. In this "having" the
object of the "having" reveals itself as an exteriority. There is a dis-
tance between me and what I "have." What I "have" is to a certain
extent independent of me.3~ I can dispose of it or give it away with-
out ceasing to be what I am-a man. 36 The same cannot be asserted
of my body, at least not without so many restrictions that "having" is
deprived of its strict sense. My body is not so far removed from my
conscious self as is the ashtray on my desk. Likewise, my body is not
something external to me like my car. I cannot dispose of my body
or give it away as I dispose of money or give away my golf clubs.
All this stems from the fact that my body is not "a" body but my
body, not in the same way as my golf clubs are mine, but in such a
way that my body embodies me.
My Body is Not Isolated from Me. Accordingly, there can never
be question of the body "alone" if this term is supposed to indicate an
isolated body, a body which would stand apart from the conscious self
but nevertheless be my body. The conscious self "informs" the body,
i.e., it permeates the body with the forma} the form-giving actuality of
the self,37 through which the body is "mine." Reversely, I have to
admit that my body is the embodiment of the conscious self, and that
this self is an embodied self.3s
It is true, of course, that the glance, the gesture, the attitude,
speech, etc. of the other are bodily realities. However, the other's
body is "his" body and, therefore, the glance, gesture, attitude, and
speech are also "his" glance, gesture, attitude, and speech. The con-
tact, then, with "his" body is not a contact with "only a body," with
"a" body, for "a" body is not "his" body.s9 Accordingly, I encounter
the other as the other, as a subject, when he looks at me with love,
35This independence does not mean that in "having" there is question of

a thing-in-itself. For there is always question of my "having" and its object,
which reveals itself to me as independent of me to a certain extent.
36Cf. Marcel, Journal metaphysique, p. 30l.
37Not all members of my body and their functions participate equally in
the formative actuality of the self. There are different levels of this "informa-
tion," but they do not concern us here. Cf. Stephen Strasser, The Soul in
Metaphysical and Empirical Psychology, Pittsburgh, 1957, pp. 123-126.
38We mention the embodiment of the self here only insofar as it is
required to understand the meaning of immediate presence to the other as
the other.
s9Cf. Marcel, Journal metaphysique, pp. 325-329.
hatred, or indifference, when he throws me a gesture, when he

assumes a threatening attitude, when he addresses me in speech, for
his body is the embodiment of his subjectivity.
The Oth'er's Body as Intermediary in His Encounter. We have

previously pointed out that the meaning of the world-for-the-other is
accessible to me-the world is our world. This world's accessibility
implies the accessibility and unconcealedness of the other for me. I
experience the fact of this unconcealedness in the encounter with the
other. I myself am in the world, and in my world I encounter the
other. In this encounter the other reveals himself directly as the other,
I distinguish him immediately from worldly things,40 I discern in him
a source of sense and meaning, another existence, because his body
is the embodiment of his subjectivity.
In a certain sense, therefore, I may say that the other's body
functions as an intermediary in my encounter with the other. For it
is through his body that the other occurs in my world and, because
I am in the world, the other must occur in my world if I am to meet
him.
There is still another sense in which the other's body acts as inter-
mediary in the encounter with my fellow man. His body not only
makes direct contact possible, but also makes me participate in his
world and makes it possible for me to enter into his world. Marcel's
explicitations of "having" excellently serve to clarify this statement.
I do not "have" my body in the same way as I have a car. Neverthe-
less, in a certain sense we may say that I do "have" my body-
namely, insofar as the subject which I am "is" not my body. Although
the conscious self and my body imply each other, although the con-
scious self has insolubly fused with my body, nevertheless I "am"
not my hands, my face, my seeing, my hearing. There is a certain
non-identity, a certain distance, between me and my body. In a
sense, I can dispose of my body and give it away. In the supposition
that I "am" my body, I am a thing and wholly immersed in a world
of mere things. But then the conscious self is reduced to nothing and,
consequently, also my body as "mine," as well as the world as
40Heidegger uses different terms to indicate the distinction of man's

relationships to the wordly thing and to the other. To the wordly thing I
am related in an attitude of Besorgen. My relation to the other is called
Fiirsorge. "Das Seiende zu dem sich das Dasein als Mitsein verhalt, hat aber
nicht die Seinsart des zuhand'enen Zeugs, es ist selbst Dasein. Dieser Seiende
wird nicht besorgt, sondern steht in der Fiirsorge." Sein und Zeit, p. 121.
"mine."41 Accordingly, I neither "am" my body nor "have" it. 42

My body is precisely mid-way between these two extremes. It con-
stitutes the transition from the conscious self to the worldly object.
It is the mysterious reality which grafts me on things, secures my
being-in-the-world, involves me in the world, and gives me a stand-
point in the world.
Entering the Other's World Through His Body. The direct con-
tact with the other involves me also in his world through his body.
When I am seated alongside the driver in a car, I enter through his
body and its extension-the car-into the meanings which for him
are possessed by the road, the countryside, the hills, narrow passes,
bridges, etc. If I become nervous because of the great speed, the
driver enters into the meaning which the narrow bridge we are cross-
ing has for me. When I watch a carpenter at work, I am through his
bodily being involved in his world, and the meanings which saw,
hammer, and nails have for him reveal themselves to me. I place
myself in the meaning which my garden and trees have for the urchins
whom I see crawling in through the hedge. The words my friend
uses in describing distant countries which I have never visited trans-
fer me into his world. Through his words I enter into his world,
and his world becomes meaningful to me-his world becomes my
world, our world.
The Body as Intermediary of the Other's Concealedness. Although
the body is intermediary between me and the other, between the other
and me, between his world and me, and between my world and him,
not everything is said when this mediacy has been expressed. The
other as the other is unconcealed from me, but nevertheless he is
not totally transparent to me. The other never appears to me in
perfectly lucid clarity. This should not be surprising, for not even I
41"Cette identite supposee est un non-sens; elle ne peut etre affirme qu'a
la faveur d'un acte implicite d'annulation du je et se change alors en une affir-
mation materialiste: mon corps, c'est moi, mon corps existe seu!. Mais cette
affirmation est absurde; Ie propre de mon corps ~st de ne pas exister seul,
de ne pouvoir exister seu!. Nous reugerions-nous alors dans l'idee d'un monde
des corps? Mais qu'est-ce qui lui confere l'unite? qu'est-ce qui Ie pense comme
monde? et d'autre part, que devient dans ce monde purement obj ectif Ie prin-
cipe d'intimite (man corps) autour duquel se constituait l'orbite existentielle?"
Marcel, Du refus Ii l'invocation, p. 30.
42"Etre incarne, c'est s'apparaitre comme corps, comme ce corps-ci, sans
pouvoir s'identifier a lui, sans pouvoir non plus s'en distinguer-identification
et distinction etant des operations correlatives l'une de l'autre, mais qui ne
peuvent s'exercer que dans la sphere des objets." Marcel, op. cit., p. 31.
myself am transparent to myself. This "not even" indicates a kind

of disappointment, a disappointment with the reality which I myself
am. This disappointment befalls the phenomenologist when he ex-
periences that Descartes' clear and distinct ideas are artificial con-
structs which do not occur but are mere abstractions. Who am I
and what am I? I am present to myself, unooncealed from myself, I
do not escape from myself. But I am also absent, concealed, and
escaping from myself. The other also is concealed from me. Who
are you and what are you?
The body not only is an intermediary in the encounter with the
other, but at the same time also means a possibility for the other to
hide from me, to withdraw from me. I too am able to conceal
myself. Man is capable of simulation with respect to his fellow man,
he can feign, dissemble, and lie. The body again is the intermediary.
Nevertheless, it is precisely in this mode of self-concealment that
man's unconcealedness before man is affirmed. Self-concealment is
possible only on the basis of unconcealedness.
We Exist Together. Descartes' Cogito, then, means the negation
of a phenomenological evidence which imposes itself irresistibly.u
I am not consciousness of my consciousness, locked up in myself,
isolated from my body, from the world, and from the other. Through
my body I am in the world, which appears to be our world and,
therefore, my existing is an existing-to-gether, a co-existence. The
philosophy.of "I think" has to be replaced by that of "we exist."
It goes without saying that this "we" shows many forms and
contains a multitude of possibilities which still have to be investi-
gated. Nevertheless one point should be clear: the encounter with
the other reveals the other to me as "not a thing," but as existence,
as a source of sense and meaning. Because the other is not a thing,
he is my companion 44 and, therefore, I can speak of "we." A thing
does not accompany me.
It is important to emphasize this point, because we could easily
become victims of our own terminology. To indicate the reciprocal
implication of man and the world, we have made use of the terms
"encounter" and "presence." When there is question of the other
as the other, these same terms are used again. However, they have
'SCf. E. Mounier, Introduction aux existentialismes, Paris, 1947, p. 100.
44"Dieses Seiende ist weder vorhanden noch zuhanden, sondern ist so, wie
aas freigebende Dasein selbst-es ist auch und mit da." Heidegger op. cit.,
p.118.
now a wholly different meaning, for the other reveals himself pre-
cisely as a meaning that differs from the thing. It is to stress this
difference of meaning that we use the terms companion and to ac-
company. The encounter with the other, his presence, reveals the
other to me as "like-me-in-the-world"-a meaning which I never
perceive in the encounter with things. Because the other is "like-me-
in-the-world," he is my "companion-in-the-world."45
The same remarks apply to the term "dialogue." I am a dialogue
with the world, because what I am is unthinkable without the world,
and because my world is not without me. A dialogue cannot be
conceived without both participants. However, the way in which the
other takes part in the dialogue when I encounter him differs radically
from that in which a worldly thing replies to my questions. The other
answers me as another self; he replies to me as I myself reply to his
questioning, which is something no thing can do.
Finally, we must draw attention to a certain one-sidedness of
our explicitation and compensate for it. Too much emphasis has
been given to "I," to "like-me," to "my" companion. Vlhy is the
other "my" companion? Am I not "his" companion? Who are the
others? Are they perhaps the rest of mankind, from which I set
myself apart? By what right would I "first" affirm myself and "next"
the others as the mass above which I raise myself? Evidently, the
others are precisely those from whom I do not set myself apart, but
among whom I "also" am.46 We exist together.
The Manifold Forms of "We." Probably many years will have to
pass before positive sociology and social psychology will manage to
indicate in a fairly satisfactory way the many forms which this "we"
can assume. This should not surprise us if we keep in mind that man
can act toward his fellow man in numerous different ways. "We"
means a relationship of the "I" to another "I," a "You," and it should
be evident that this relationship differs constantly, for instance, when
there is question of working together, taking a drink together, travel-
45According as we penetrate more profoundly into the possibilities of
interhuman relationships, the term "companion' will show a shift of meaning,
as is also the case with the terms "encounter" and presence." For the way in
which the other accompanies me can be very diverse. For instance, the other
with whom I go through life may love, neglect, or hate me. He is my com-
panion, but this term can have many meanings.
46"Die Anderen besagt nicht soviel wie der ganze Rest der "Obrigen ausser
mir aus dem sich das ach heraushebt, die Anderen sind vielmehr die, von
den en man selbst sich zumeist nicht unterscheidet, unter denen man auch
ist." Heidegger, ibid.
ling together, having an accident together, etc. The "we" experienced

in a trade-union differs from that in a military barrack or in a
monastery; the "we" of a hospital ward is not the same as that of a
boys' camp, a hockey club, a lecture hall audience, or a movie theatre.
Examples can be multiplied almost endlessly, so that it will really be
very difficult to bring some order in this diversity of forms.47
The same situation occurs here with respect to this "we" as we
previously met regarding the meanings of my world. My world is
an extraordinarily complex system of nearby and remote meanings
which are correlated with my more actual or less actual standpoints.
Every effort to absQlutize a certain standpoint, tQ consider it as the
.only or even the only possible standpoint, makes a real concept .of
my wQrld impossible. Yet the tendency to absolutize a certain view-
point and a certain meaning, f.or instance, that .of physics and chem-
istry, is difficult to contrQl. This tendency is an impoverishment .of
man's being and a constant threat of total blindness for everything
which cannot be classified under certain categories, such as those
of the physical sciences.
Different Levels of Co-Existence. The realization that absolutiz-
ing leads to impQverishment and blindness exhQrts us to be very
prudent when there is questiQn of recQgnizing the multifQrmity .of
co-existence. It is necessary to see that this multifQrmity can occur
.on different levels. Thus, for instance, .one may speak .of human
relati.ons in the family, the sch.o.ol, the fact.ory, the .office, in YQuth
organizations, in the armed forces, in medical services, in pastoral
care. These relati.ons could be described, and one could try to dis-
cover the rules governing the fundamental forms .of human inter-
relati.onships, as is d.one, for example, by J.osef Pieper. 49 That is
the task .of the sociologist. It is P.ossible als.o, .on the other hand, t.o
.observe, as is d.one by Rutten, that in the many changes which have
occurred in human relationships we "have suffered a loss in true
humanity,"50 that ,ve have been deprived of "intimate values which
make man rich in a definitely human sense."S1 In that case .one is
no longer concerned with the actual s.ociological forms .of c.o-existence,
but with the conditions on which human relatiQnships deserve to be
47Cf., e.g., M. Nedoncelle, Vers une philosophie de ['amotlr, Paris, 1946,
pp. 125-138.
48Cf. F. J. Th. Rutten, },lenselijke verhoudingen, Bussum, 1955.
49Cf. Josef Pieper, Grundformen socialer Spielregeln, Frankfurt a. M., n. d.
sOCf. Rutten, op. cit., p. 11.
5ICf. Rutten, op. cit., p. 46.
called human in the full sense of the term. For these relationships
can also be inhuman.
Thus it appears that the multiformity of co-existence lies on
different levels. We are aware of it that, regardless of the socio-
logical form of co-existence, 52 we always' come closer to or retreat
from an ideal of co-existence which at the same time is an ideal of
authentically being human. If in a labor organization, in a factory,
all employees are perfectly attuned to one another, so that the purpose
of their organization-the product-is perfectly realized, one could
perhaps speak of a perfect form of co-existence from the sociological
point of view. Nevertheless, it remains possible and even is very
probable that these sociologically perfect human relationships are
inhuman. 53
Sociological and Anthropological forms of Co-Existence. Thus
there is good reason for making a distinction between sociological
forms of co-existence and those forms which from now on we shall
call anthropological. In any sociological form it is possible for man
to be authentically man, less man, or inhuman. This thought sup-
poses, of course, that man is not as an ash tray or a cabbage is, but
that man's being is a "having-to-be" (zu sein, Heidegger; avoi,. d
etre, Sartre) .54
] ust as sociologists search for the basic forms of co-existence from
a definite standpoint, so also anthropologists, although their aim is
different. In the present chapter we will limit ourselves to these
fundamental anthropological forms. We will name them here with-
out making an attempt to justify the classification. They are hatred,
indifference, love, and justice.
It is not possible to speak in a true-to-life way about love or justice
in general unless one realizes that, to use ethical terminology, they are
not concerned with commandments, at least not if "commandments"
are understood as laws without a foundation in man but imposed upon
him from without. Once they are understood in this way, it is no
longer possible to make it clear that man ought to love and to be just,
52\Ve do not want to argue here whether or not the term "sociological"
is correct. Our intention should be sufficiently clear.
53\Ve abstract here from the fact that, where the relationships are inhuman,
it is usually impossible to speak of a perfect labor organization and a perfect
realization of its purpose. This is the reason why even people who want merely
to safeguard economic interests are concerned with the human character of
their labor organization.
54\Ve cannot discuss this point here. It will be considered in the last chapter.
in the sense in which people always desire to understand this "ought"

-namely, as a demand of our being, as something required by being-
man, as an internal "ought" in opposition to an extrinsically imposed
command. Love and justice are modes of being-man, insofar as
being-man is characterized by zu sein, by avoir a etre, by "having-to-
be." Hatred and indifference likewise are modes of being-man, but
in the sense that they are modes in which man ought not to realize
himself.
This classification is not a division into four disparate modes.
Hatred, indifference, love, and justice do not lie outside one another
like marbles, wigs, courts of law, and cloud banks. Here also one
should keep in mind that they are modes of being-man, or rather,
modes in which one and the same concrete man can and does realize
himself. It could even be said that all four are always real in this
concrete man, but that the emphasis falls on one of them.
3. PHENOMENOLOGY OF HATRED
For the phenomenology of hatred we base ourselves fully on

Sartre's explicitations of the "stare." At first, this procedure may
seem to be unjustifiable, for a stare is not per se a hateful stare. How-
ever, although it is true that the qualifier "hateful" does not per se
belong to "stare," de facto Sartre's description does not apply to stare
in general but only to the hateful stare. The following pages will make
this point clear.
The Other is One who Stares at Me. Like every phenomenologist,
Sartre considers it wholly superfluous to prove that the other as the
other is, because this is immediately evident and every proof would
presuppose what it wants to establish. 55 This general thesis, how-
ever, gets a wholly unexpected result when Sartre investigates in
which situation the other as the other, as other than myself, as sub-
jectivity, becomes accessible to me. The other is revealed to me in
his stare. 56 The subject which the other is always reveals himself as
"he who stares at me,"1i7 and never in any other way. This expres-
sion, of course, could still have all kinds of meanings but, as was
pointed out, de facto Sartre describes the stare in a very special way.
55Cf. Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, pp. 278-279.
U
56 Et dans l'epreuve du regard, en m'eprouvant comme objectivite non
reveiee, j'eprouve directement et avec mon etre l'insaississabie subjectivite
d'autrui." Sartre, op. cit., p. 329.
The stare which reveals to me the other's subjectivity is always his

hateful stare and never anything else. The other does not occur in
Sartre except as the one who stares hatefully at me. Let us investi-
gate this point somewhat more closely.
Catching the other's stare does not consist in percelvmg one
quality among many pertaining to his eye .or to an object which
functions as an eye. It is intentionally that Sartre speaks of an
object which "functions" as an eye, because a stare reveals itself
not only in the convergence of two pupils on me, but also in the
snapping of twigs-e.g., during an assault at night-, in the sound
of steps foll.owed by silence, in the half-opened shutter, or in the
slight movement of a curtain. 58 All these objects "function" as eyes.
But catching the stare of someone who looks at me is not the per-
ception of his eye or .of certain qualities of his eye. Of course, the
eyes are there, but I cease to perceive them thematically; they are
neutralized, they do not count, and remain unexpressed. Eyes which
stare at me do not impress me explicitly as beautiful or ugly. The
other's stare masks his eye and seems to precede his eyes. Accord-
ingly, it is not possible for me to pay attention to someone's stare
without having the perception of his eyes fall into the background. 59
To catch someone's stare, then, is not to perceive an object-in-the-
world, but rather to become aware of being stared-at. The other's
stare which is watching me proceeds from his eyes and throws me
back upon myself. 60 When I am assaulted and suddenly hear the
breaking of twigs behind me, I am thrown back upon myself, upon
my vulnerability, and I understand immediately that I have been
seen, that I am being stared-at. 6l
The Meaning of Being Stared-at. Sartre's example clearly illus-
trates the exclusive meaning t~e stare has for him, a meaning to
58Cf. Sartre, ibid.

59Accordingly, I am able to perceive and express thematically the qualities
of the other's eye, but this is possible only insofar as the experience of his
stare withdraws into the background. In other words, insofar as I perceive
that someone's eyes are beautiful or blue, I am not influenced by his stare.
Presently we will see that this means: I do not experience my own "being-
looked-at." "J e dirais volontiers ici: nous ne pouvons percevoir Ie monde et
saisir en meme temps un regard fixe sur nous; i1 faut que ce soit l'un ou
l'autre." Sartre, op. cit., p. 316.
6o"Saisir un regard n'est pas apprehender un objet-regard dans Ie monde
(a moins que ce regard ne soit pas dirige sur nous), c' est prendre conscien~e
d'etre regarde. Le regard que manifestent les yeux, de quelque nature qu'!ls
soient, est pur renvoi a moi-meme." Sartre, ibid.
6lCf. Sartre, op. cit., pp. 315-316.
which he clings tenaciously. Let us suppose, says Sartre, that driven

by jealousy I press my ear against the door of someone's room or
peep through the key-hole to catch him in a compromising, situation.
In doing this, I am fully present to the "object" to which I listen
or at which I am looking and to the door or the key-hole, which
have the meaning of being an instrument for, or obstacle to my
deeds. My own existence, the acts through which I am with the
objects, escape me. 62 Suddenly I hear footsteps in the corridor-
someone is looking at me. At the same moment I realize that I am
being looked-at, i.e., I experience my being-an-object-for-the-other.
The subjectivity of the other reveals itself in this being-looked-at,
but to the detriment of my own subjectivity. For when I am stared
at by the other, I am ashamed. But shame is always shame of myself.
I am ashamed of my freedom, insofar as my freedom escapes me to
become an object given to the eyes of the other. Shame is the
realization that I am the object which the other looks at and judges. 63
Under the other's stare I am what I am-an object, a thing, an
en-soi. As subjectivity, I am always what I am not, and I am not
what I am; as subjectivity, I am in the mode of avoir a etre, or more
simply expressed, I am a self-realizing freedom and the free project
of my world. 64 Under the other's stare, however, my subjectivity is
lost; my freedom goes numb and freezes under his glance; I no
longer transcend my facticity. Shame reveals to me my being-for-
the-other, and I am being-for-the-other. The other has only to stare
at me and I am at once what I am. 61i
When the other sees me sitting, I am seated for him, just as this
inkwell stands on the table; for the other I am bent over the key-hole
62"Je suis pure conscience des choses et les choses ... m'offrent leur poten-
tialite comme replique de rna conscience non-thetique (de) mes possibilites
propres." Sartre, ofr. cit., p. 317. More simply expressed, there is a thematic
consciousness of the objects, which fuses with the non-thematic consciousness
of my own acts ("conscience de quelque chose" and "conscience (de) soi";
ibid., pp. 19-20). My own acts, therefore, are irre/lechi. Cf. above, pp. 30-31.
"l1s sont nullement connus, mais je les suis." The assertion that these acts
are not "known" becomes somewhat intelligible if one takes Sartre's view of
knowledge into consideration. For Sartre, "to know" always means the thema-
tic affirmation of an object. "Connaitre, c'est-a-dire poser comme objet."
Qp. cit., p. 329.
6S"Or, la honte est honte de soi, elle est reconnaissance de ce que je suis
bien cet objet qu'autrui regarde et juge". Sartre, ofr. cit., p. 319.
64Sartre uses all these expressions to indicate that I am not a "thing," an
"object." A thing is what it is.
65"11 suffit qu'autrui me regarde pour que je sois ce que je suis." Qp. cit.,
p.32.
just as this tree is bent by the wind; for the other I am indiscrete
just as a table is round or a cabbage is rotten. My being-for-the-other
is always a being-robbed of my subjectivity as transcendence. 66 In a
single sentence Sartre fully generalizes this thought. If there is even a
single other man, no matter who or where, no matter what relations
he has to me, the mere fact that his subjectivity arises before me makes
me have an external side, a "nature,"67 makes me be an object 68 _-
"my original fall is the existence of the other."69
The preceding paragraphs merely express the broad outline of
Sartre's vision of the stare: the other's stare annihilates me as a sub-
ject to make me an object. This idea has to be explored somewhat
more in detail.
The Other's Stare Makes Me Lose My Selfness. As subject, I am

the source of the system of meanings which the world is for me.
When unsuspectingly I peep through the keyhole, the walls, the door,
the keyhole, the semi-darkness of the corridor derive their meaning as
obstacles or instruments from my subjectivity. In a certain sense they
are organized by me and stand as functions of my project. But as soon
as the other's subjectivity arises before me, the whole situation
changes. My subjectivity is lost, i.e., I am no longer the source of the
meaning of my world. My world become organized in a wholly dif-
ferent way, and shows me a different face, one that is outside my grasp
and correlated with the other's subjectivity.70 Under the other's stare
I am robbed of my selfness and, therefore, also of the world which I
organize..71 For his subjectivity I am a thing-in-the-midst-of-things. 72
His glance strikes me, so that for him I am what I am; at the same
time he seizes also my world, just as he seizes me, so that I am "bent
88"Aussi ai-je crepouille, pour l'autre, rna transcendance." Op. cit., p. 32l.
67Sartre always identifies, but incorrectly, "nature" with "thing" and
"being." Cf. L'existentialisme est un humanisme, pp. 17-23.
6s"S'il y a un Autre, quel qu'il soit, ou qu'il soit, quels que soient ses
rapports avec moi, sans meme qu'il agisse autrement sur moi que par Ie pur
surgissement de son etre, j'ai un dehors, j'ai une nature." L'etre et Ie neant,
p. 321.
69Cf. ibid.
7o"Mais avec Ie regard d'autrui, une organisation neuve des complexes
vient se surimprimer sur la premiere." Ibid.
7l"Mais, du coup, l'alienation de moi qu'est l'etre-regarde implique l'aliena-
tion du monde que j'organise." Op. cit., pp. 321-322.
72"Car Ie regard d'autrui embrasse mon etre et correlativement les murs,
la porte, la serrure; toutes ces choses ustensiles, au milieu desquelles je suis,
tournent vers l'autre une face qui m'echappe par principe." Op. cit., p. 319.
over the keyhole."73 What I am under the other's stare, I am in-the-

midst-of-the-world. 74
As a subject, I am characterized by my potentialities as mine. A
thing does not have any potentialities which it could call its own. But
under the other's glance my potentialities are annihilated as mine.
The Other's Stare Kills My Potentialities. The other's glance
means the death of my subjectivity with respect to what I can be. I
could perhaps hide from his stare in a dark corner of the corridor. But
the other transcends, dominates, and prevents this possibility by his
own capacity to dissipate the darkness with his flashlight. I am present
to my own capabilities, I seize them, but as absent ;75 I seize them in
my fear insofar as the other keeps his eye on me, has foreseen them,
and already eliminated them. 76 Under the other's stare I seize my
own potentialities as absent: my possibility to hide becomes his possi-
bility to detect and identify me. Every action which I take against the
other can become, under his stare, an instrument of which he makes
use against me. All my potentialities lie petrified under his stare as
objects in his world. 77 Under his look I "no longer dominate the situ-
ation." As an instrument of possibilities which are not my poten-
tialities and deny my transcendence, I am "in danger."78
As we have previously pointed out, Sartre generalizes very easily.
First, if there is anyone, no matter who or where, then the very fact
that his subjectivity arises before me makes me an object. Now he
adds that I am in danger and that this danger is not an incidental and
unfortunate circumstance but the permanent structure of my being-
for-the-other.79
As appearing before the glance of the other, I have to consider
myself a slave. I am a slave insofar as I am dependent upon a free-
dom which is not mine. 80 And at the same time I am delivered up to
73"Si je suis vu comme assis, je dois etre vu comme 'assis-sur-une-chaise',

si je suis saisi comme courbe, c'est comme 'courbe-sur-Ie-trou-de-Ia-serrure',
etc." ap. cit., p. 321. .
74"Et ce que je suis . . . je Ie suis au milieu du monde." ap. cit., p. 322.
75"Elle est la, cette possibilite, je la saisis, mais comme absente." Ibid.
76"Cette tendance a m'enfuir, qui me domine et m'entraine et que je suis,
je la lis dans ce regard guetteur et dans cet autre regard: I'arme braquee sur
moi. L'autre me I'apprend, en tant qu'il I'a Prl!VU et qu'i1 y a deja pare." Ibid.
77 Cf. op. cit., pp. 321-323.
78Cf. op. cit., p. 326.
79"Je suis en danger. Et ce danger n'est pas un accident, mais la structure
permanente de mon etre-pour-autrui." Ibid.
8oCf. ibid.
the other's evaluation without being able to exercise any influence

upon it. Under the other's stare I am what I am.
Accordingly, under the other's glance my being-for-the-other is
revealed to me in sentiments of shame (the feeling that I am what I
am), of fear (the feeling of danger in reference to the other's free-
dom), and of slavery (the feeling of estrangement from all my poten-
tialities).81 The other's stare is the death of my subjectivity.
Sartre's Stare is Only a Hateful Stare. From the foregoing con-
siderations we may conclude that the glance spoken of by Sartre is a
very special one, whose meaning Sartre does not hesitate to generalize
and abolutize without any sign of restraint or reserve. Sartre's glance
is the hatelul stare, the stare which does not accept me as a subject,
which does not allow that I as subjectivity project my own world, but
throws me away as a thing among the things of the world by murder-
ing my potentialities. We do not mean to say that Sartre's explicita-
tions do not express reality. Undoubtedly, they express something-
namely, the hateful stare, and this stare is reality. It would be far
from us to deny this reality or to disclaim the ingeniousness of Sartre's
description.
At the same time, however, we have not the slightest intention of
admitting that Sartre's explicitations describe the glance in general,
i.e., that man can look at his fellow man only in a hateful way.82
The example chosen by Sartre as his starting point forces him to
follow his chosen way to the bitter end, especially because he does
not add any other examples which would somewhat enlarge the field
of his investigation. Sartre, then, does not speak of the glance in
general, but of a very special way in which man can look at his fellow
man. But, apart from this glance, there is also a benevolent, gracious,
merciful, and forgiving glance, an understanding, exhorting, en-
couraging, in brief, a loving glance. 83 Sartre leads us astray not by
what he says, but by what he does not say and by surreptitiously
suggesting that there is nothing else than what he expresses for US. 84
81Cf. ibid.
82Cf. E. Mounier, Introduction aux existentialismes, p. 99.
83Cf. A. J. Arntz, "Het aanvaarden der lichamelijkheid," Lichamelijkheid,
Utrecht-Brussel, 1951, p. 146.
84Later Sartre will state explicitly what he merely insinuates in his phenom-
enology of the stare--namely, that love is impossible: "i! est, par essence,
une duperie." Op. cit., p. 445.
The Meaning of Being Stared-at According to Sartre. However,

we have not yet reached the end of our trouble. On the occasion of
a self-made objection Sartre attempts to penetrate even more into
the meaning of the glance. What is the value of the certainty that
I am being stared-at? I experience this certainty on the occasion of
the appearance of certain objects in the world-the other's eyes, the
snapping of twigs, etc. But I can be mistaken. In an assault at
night the snapping of twigs may be caused by the wind. What, then,
does my certainty of being stared-at mean in such a case, for there
is no one who looks at me? My shame, my experience of being-an-
object-for-the-other, would be false shame, for it would be shame
for no one. 85
This difficulty became for Sartre the occasion to emphasize once
more the purely incidental relationship between the eye and the stare.
Being-stared-at does not depend upon the object which manifests
the stare. The experience of being looked-at is not at all identical
with the perception of an object. On the contrary, the perception of
an object makes it impossible to experience at the same time the
stare, i.e., to experience being looked-at. I experience the other's
glance only when his eyes no longer playa role but are "destroyed."86
Thus to-be-stared-at by the other is not necessarily conditioned by
his body;87 it is only on the occasion of certain objects that I expe-
rience being-stared-at. That I am being looked-at is certain; that
the other's glance is conditioned by this or that object is always
merely probable and at any rate not more than an occasional bond. 88
Example. Sartre's original example again serves to illustrate this
view. When I stand bent over the keyhole, I may be mistaken in
thinking that I hear steps. But I do not err in my certainty of
being-stared-at. The other's glance is so real that I abandon my
plan or, if I hold on to it, I can hear my heart beat in my throat and
sharpen my ears for the slightest sound, the faintest creaking of the
stairs. I am not mistaken in the experience of the other's stare. The
85Cf. op. cit., p. 335.

80 U Le regard, nous l'avons montre, apparait sur fond de destruction de
I'objet qui Ie manifeste." Ibid.
87"Si done I'etre-regarde, degage dans toute sa purete, n'est pas lie au
corps d'autrui plus que rna conscience d'etre conscience, dans la pure realisation
du cogito, n'est liee a mon propre corps." Op. cit., p. 336. This is a very
d'ebatable thesis. It amounts to positing the Cartesian C ogito, the isolation
of the pour-soi.
88Cf. op. cit., p. 336.
other is everywhere, below me, above me, in the neighboring rooms,

in a dark corner of the corridor. It is only the other's facticity, his
being-there, the concrete and historical event which we express by
saying "someone is in the room," that is doubtful, but not his
presence. 89
Moreover, well-understood, someone's absence reveals precisely
his more original presence. For instance, I approach Peter's room
and notice that he is absent. I would not even think of saying that
the Sultan of Morocco is absent. Accordingly, Peter's absence does
not mean that there are no determined relationships of Peter to a
determined place, as is the case with the Sultan of Morocco. On the
contrary, it is precisely about Peter in relation to a determined place
that I speak when I mention that he is absent. This place, however,
is determined not by Peter's location or by his relationships to a
determined space, but by the presence of other human beings. For
instance, I can say that Peter is absent from the picnic, but he is
absent for his girl-friend Theresa; his absence is a concrete mode of
being with respect to Theresa; to be absent is a certain mode of
being present. 90
The distance separating Peter and Theresa has nothing to do with
it. In London, India, America, on a lonely island, everywhere, Peter
is present to Theresa who remained in Paris, for the situation of a
man is not determined by a place, his latitude, or his longitude. How-
ever, not only are Peter, Rene, and Lucas present or absent to me,
but I am also situated as a European with respect to Asiatics and
Negroes, as an old man with respect to youth, as a judge with respect
to delinquents, as a bourgeois with respect to laborers, etc. 91 Man,
therefore, is present or absent for all,92 on the basis of an original
and fundamental presence. 93
My Certainty of the Other's Presence. In this way it becomes
clear that I am justified in my certainty about the other's presence.
89Cf. op. cit., pp. 336-337.
90"~tre absent, pour Pierre par rapport a Therese, c'est une fa,.on particu-
liere de lui etre present." Op. cit., p. 338.
91All examples added by Sartre to his starting point merely serve to
illustrate this starting point, viz., the being looked-at of one who peeps
through the keyhole. Even the picnic adds no new dimension to presence.
"Et cette presence originelle ne peut avoir de sens que comme etre-regarde
ou comme etre-regard'ant, c'est-a-dire selon que autrui est pour moi objet
ou moi-meme objet-pour-autrui." Op. cit., p. 339.
92Cf. op. cit., pp. 338-340.
93"Ainsi les concepts empiriques d'absence et de presence sont-ils deux
specifications d'une presence fondamentale." Op. cit., p. 338.
I may be mistaken with respect to the object which reveals to me the

other's stare, my being-looked-at, but not with respect to the presence
of this stare. The arrival of certain objects in my world is merely
the occasion on which I experience myself cast down into the arena,
under the stare of the other.94 It would be incorrect to speak here of
stares in the plural, for the plural pertains only to the objects, which
presuppose my world-projecting stare. It is, likewise, not correct to
synthetize human presence and to conceive it as the presence of a
single infinite subject, an omnipresent God. 95 I experience only the
pre-numerical presence of the other. When I lecture in the classroom
or deliver an address in an auditorium under the stare of the audi-
ence, the presence of the other remains undifferentiated. I never ex-
perience a single synthetized stare and, consequently, likewise never a
single synthetized, infinite stare of God,96 but likewise never many,
distinct stares. But as soon as I want to check whether my audience
has understood me, I look at them and suddenly see "heads" and
"eyes" appear. The pre-numerical presence of the other is dissolved
and reduced to a plurality of objects. At the same time, however, the
other's stare, the experience of being looked-at, has disappeared. D7
How to Regain My Subjectivity. From these descriptions it is
apparent that there is only one way for me to regain my subjectivity
which has to become frozen under the other's stare. I am an object
for the subject which the other is, but never an object for an object.
Therefore, to deliver myself of my being-an-object, I will rise and
attempt to reduce the other to an object through my stare.98 For
as soon as the other appears to me as an object, his SUbjectivity
degenerates into a "property" of the object whose appearance was
the occasion on which I became his victim. His subjectivity becomes
U"L'epreuve de rna condition d'homme, objet pour tous tes aut res hommes
vivants, jete dans l'arene sous des millions de regards et m'echappant a moi-
meme des millions de fois, je la realise concretement a l'occasion du surgisse-
ment d'un objet dans mon univers." Op. cit., p. 340.
95Cf. Op. cit., p. 341.
96What Sartre wants to pass off here as the concept of God evidently has
nothing to do with the true concept of God. It reminds us of the "evil eye,"
so common in myths and folk tales, rather than of the God of Revelation. The
effort made by Sartre to show that the concept does not express reality im-
presses the reader as a humiliating reflection on his intel\igence. But the true
concept of God is not affected by his remarks.
97Cf. Op. cit., pp. 340-342.
9S"L'objectivation d'autrui . . . est une defense de mon etre qui me libere
precisement de mon etre pour autrui, en conferant a autrui un etre pour moi."
Op. cit., p. 327.
a property of, e.g., his eyes, just as being blue or ugly are prop-
erties of those eyes. The other now "has" his subjectivity just as a
box "has" an inside. "And in this way I recover myself.99
jVo I ntersubjectivity. In this way all concrete human relation-
ships are in principle determined. Either the other rejects me and
reduces me to a thing-in-his-world or I control his subjectivity by
making it an object-for-me. There are no other possibilities. There-
fore, intersubjectivity is meaningless if this term is intended to
express a relation of a subj ect to a subj ect. Nevertheless, man will
never cease to tend to intersubjectivity. Love, masochism, desire,
hatred, and sadism are all attempts to attain to the intersubjectivity
of which man dreams. loo But all these attempts are in vain. IOl
Human relationships are fully exhausted by the twofold possibility
of either transcending the other or letting myself be transcended
by him. The essence of human interrelationships is not being-
together (M itsein, Heidegger), but conflict.lo2
The greater complexity of relationships among men does not
change anything in this fundamental situation. Thus the "us"-
experience also stands as a function of being-looked-at, but the one
who looks at "us" now is a third person. Let us say that I am
fighting with the other. A third looks at us. I experience that for
him I am an object, that I occur as a thing in a world which is not
mine. I discover also that the other with whom I am fighting
undergoes the same estrangement from his subjectivity. The other
also is an object in the world of the third. However, his being-
object does not simply run parallel with mine; I experience that
we occur as equivalent and solidary meanings in the world of the
third; a third holds "us" in his power. loa In the absence of a third,
I fight the other, but under the stare of a third we are fighting. We
are ashamed, because a third stares at "us."
Certain situations reveal the "us" -obj ect very clearly. For in-
stance, the class-consciousness and the solidarity of the laborers
against their oppressors is nothing else than the experience of being
stared-at by a third-viz., the ruling class. Likewise, the solidarity
99Cf. Op. cit., p. 349.
looCL Op. cit., pp. 428-503.
lOl"Vainement souhaiterait-on un nous humain dans lequel la totalite inter-
subjective prendrait conscience d'elle-meme comme subjectivite unifiee." Op.
cit., p. 501.
1I)2"L'essence des rapports entre consciences n'est pas Ie Mitsein, c'est Ie
conflit." Op. cit., p. 502.
l03Cf. Op. cit., p. 490.
of the Jews under the pressure of anti-semitism, and that of citizens

under the stare of the occupying forces. lo4 If the term "love" has
any meaning at all, it could be used for this mode of being solidary.
To love one another means to hate the same enemy.105
The "us" -experience, then, does not imply more than has been
explained above and is only a more complex modality of being-
stared-at. Accordingly, there is only one possibility of liberation-
the oppressed class will rise and through its stare reduce the oppress-
ing class to "them"-objects. lo6
Death. As Malraux has said previously, "every consciousness is
the death of the other." Sartre takes these words seriously in a very
lugubrious way when he investigates the meaning of death. As seen
from the pour-soi, from my transcendence, my self-realizing sub-
jectivity, death is absurd. For death brutally cuts short my trans-
cendence; we die "into the bargain. lo7 My potentiality freezes to
the compact density of the "in-itself." Death cannot give any meaning
to life but, on the contrary, deprives life of all meaning. lOS
From the viewpoint of being-for-itself no sense can be found in
death, but it is meaningful from the stand-point of my being-for-the-
other. The experience of my-being-for-the-other reveals to me myself
as stared-at, as an object, a thing-in-his-world. Through his stare my
transcendence is transcended. His stare means the death of my po-
tentiality. Thus my death is the definite triumph of the other over
me. 109 As long as I live, I am capable of transcending his transcend-
ence through my stare. But this possibility of self-defense is taken
away from me through death. In death I am definitely a prey of the
other's stare. I am what I am-a thing, just as the other has always
judged me. \Vhoever wants to understand the meaning of his future
104Cf. op. cit., pp. 491-494.
l05Cf. Le diable et Ie bon Dielt.
1061t does not escape Sartre that there is also a we-subject. The goals
and instruments common to us reveal this we-subject to us. "We" make use
of the highways and the gas pump; "we" oppress the laborers; "we" anni-
hilate our oppressors. There is question here of a certain solidarity of subj ects.
However, for Sartre this "we" does not have any ontological meaning. It
is a purely psychological, purely subjective experience of a singular conscious-
ness. It does not include a similar experience of the other. In other words,
it is the fleeting symbol of an absolute solidarity between subjects which can-
not be realized, because "les subj ectivites demeurent hors d'atteinte et radicale-
ment sepan'!es." L'etre et Ie neant, p. 498.
107"N ous mourons toujours par-dessus Ie marche." Op. cit., p. 633.
108"Ainsi la mort n'est jamais ce qui donne son sens a la vie: c'est au con-
traire ce qui Dte par principe toute signification." Op. cit., p. 624.
109Cf. op. cit., pp. 624-625, 629.
death will have to see himself as the future prey of the other.110 As
long as I live, the other will try to murder my subjectivity; only when
I have died does he definitely triumph over me.
Critique. When the reader of Being and Nothingness finally man-
ages to raise himself and to escape from the lure of Sartre's genius,
he will have only a single verdict: a splendid analysis of a degenerate
society. But he will refuse to accept that even in the degeneration of
the twentieth century there is nothing else than hatred which cannot
bear the other's subjectivity, his simple self-realization-in-the-world,
and which cannot find rest before it has reduced the other definitely
to the compact density of the "in-itself." As we mentioned before,
the forms of "we" are innumerable. In Sartre all anthropological
forms of co-existence are reduced to a single fundamental pattern:
the conflict between the hateful stare and the hated being-stared-at.
For a genuine co-existence, for intersubjectivity in the sense of being-
subjects-together, there is no room in Sartre. We have only one
reply: "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt
of in your philosophy."
4. PHENOMENOLOGY OF INDIFFERENCE
Introduction. When it is said that in the hateful stare I "see"

nothing else in the other than a thing, an object, this expression
should not be misunderstood. I do "see" the "other," I am aware of
his subjectivity, I encounter the other "in person." Sartre is one of
the first philosophers to affirm this point against a Cartesian tradition
that has not yet been fully overcome. Nevertheless, very little of this
awareness seems to remain when Sartre finishes his analysis of the
stare. What Sartre says about the stare, however, is merely the ex-
plicitation of man's reply to the other's subjectivity. Being-stared-at
has to be understood as a way of being-treated by the other. By means
of my stare I reduce the other to an object, and through his stare the
other murders my subjectivity .. Accordingly, what Sartre says about
the stare does not really apply to my consciollsness of the other's sub-
jectivity or to the other's consciollsness of my subjectivity, but only
to my or his reply to this consciousness. For Sartre, this reply can-
not be anything else than hatred.
To hate means not to accept the subjectivity of my fellow man,
110t to be able to bear that the other realizes himself in a personal
llO"Etre mort, c'cst etre en proie aux vivants. Ce1a signifie done que celui
qui tente de saisir Ie sens de sa mort future doit se decouvrir comme proie
future des <.lutres." Op. cit., p. 628.
way and makes his personal history. To hate means to refuse to

dwell "together" in "our" world and "together" to make "our" history.
It is an attempt to make the other's subjectivity dissolve in my project
of the world and to integrate it in the system of meanings planned by
me for myself. But this is slavery and murder. Whoever hates his
brother is a murderer, for he destroys the subjectivity which makes
the other a human being.
On several occasions we have pointed out that relationships among
men show more differentiation than is insinuated by Sartre. Apart
from hatred, there is also love, which is the exact opposite of hatred.
Of course, it is possible that a phenomenologist-or any philosopher
-simply does not see the reality of love. The cause of this lies
usually in considerations of an epistemological nature. In an em-
empiristic or. scientistic conception of knowledge, as is, e.g., assumed by
rigid behaviorism, there simply is no room for love because the
reality of love cannot be conceived and expressed in terms of quantity.
Of course, we may not address to Sartre the reproach that he adheres
to such an epistemological prejudice. Nevertheless, he does not see
any other possibility in human relationships than that of the hateful
stare. Sartre is simply blind to the reality of love.
Before presenting the phenomenological description of love, it
will be useful to realize that the schema love-hatred is too narrow to
do justice to the complexity of human relations. Love is exactly the
opposite of what Sartre says about the hateful stare. But between
these two there is a mode of being-related to fellow men which occurs
perhaps most frequently in human society. It is called "indifference."
We will consider it in the following pages.
a. The "We" of Indifference

I am indifferent with respect to most people. I encounter them
in my world and recognize their subjectivity at once. I address them
as "you" because I realize that I am dealing with another self, a
being who is "like-me" in the world, who "accompanies" me in the
world, and with whom I am "together" in the world. "We" exist.
The terms "to encounter," "to accompany," "you," "together,"
and "we" may have all kinds of meanings. I11 In general they imply
l11"Il est clair au surplus qu'il existe dans Ie domains de la rencontre toute
une gamme qui va de I'insignifiant au plus hautement significatif; plus je
m'approche de la limite inferieure, c'est-a-dire d'une insignificance radicale,
plus la rencontre peut etre traitee comme entrecroisement objectif; humainement
parlant elle n'est d'ailleurs qu'un coudoiement." Marcel, Le mysfere de l'etre,
vol. I, p. 153.
the recognition that the man whom I find in my world is distinct

from the thing in my world.112 For instance, I never turn to a thing
"in the second person," I never call a thing "you." I am aware of it
that I will never be able to obtain a personal reply from a thing and,
therefore, I do not address a thing as I address a person, a "yoU."Il3
Likewise, it is meaningless to say that things "accompany" me or that
I am "together" with things.
As used for interhuman relationships, these terms can pass through
a long series of meanings according as the relationships of man to
man acquire more content, become more profound, and assume a
more genuinely human character.u4
As we pointed out above, the "we" which the phenomenologist
encounters most often is the "we" of indifference, the empty, unfeeling,
dull "we" of a society which constantly loses more of its human
character. Let us give an example. What is the meaning of the man
behind the ticket window of a railroad station for most travellers?
One becomes aware of it in watching how most passengers indicate
what they want. They snap: "New York, one way" and put a few
dollars on the revolving disk. A few seconds later, the same disk
shows a ticket and some change. What meaning has the man behind
the window? He means the function which he performs, and all
human beings whom he encounters in this function are identified by
him with the qualifier "traveller."
How many "human beings" did the man at the ticket window
"encounter" before he finished his eight-hour day? One could say:
''756,'' but also: "just two"-the two who addressed him deliberately
with: "May I have a ticket to New York, one way?" For the term
"encounter" can have a variety of meanings. The first reply illustrates
the "we" of indifference. There is a "we" -consciousness contained in
it, which is not the case if I take my ticket from an automatic dis-
penser. However, what is the meaning of the "you" that is contained
in this "we"? It expresses no more than a certain quality-that of
112The term "encounter" is an exception, because it is used also for the

unity of mutual implication of man and the world. For a good understanding
of the correctness of this use, see Buytendijk, Phenomenoiogie de fa rencontre,
Paris, 1952, pp. 16-22. What applies to the term "encounter" is valid also for
"presence," which we have used as equivalent with "existence." However, the
term "presence" is often reserved for "personal presence."
113"Je ne m'adresse a la deuxieme personne qu'a ce qui est regarde par mo;
comme susceptible de me repondre, de quelque fa!;on que ce soit-meme si cette
reponse est un "silence intelligent." Marcel, J ournai metaphysique, p. 138.
114Cf. Marcel, op. cit., p. 169.
ticket clerk-while I am nothing else than a "traveller" for the man

behind the window. In such a "we" the "encounter" means purely and
simply the confrontation of a certain quality or function of the "I"
with a quality or function of the "you." It is the functions which
bring us into contact, and the contact is limited to the meeting of the
functions. In such circumstances the other does not concern me, and
it is of no interest to tne who is at the window. Whoever is there
simply is a ticket clerk, and as far as I am concerned he is identified
with this quality. It would leave me cold if someone else were put
behind the window, just as the identity of the traveller saying: "New
York, one way" does not interest the man behind the window. The
"we" of this contact is the "we" of indifference.
h. The "He"
The Indifferent ((You" is ((He." It makes sense to reserve the
term "he" for this "yoU."11G For explicitating the experience of the
"he" discloses exactly the same content as the analysis of the indiffer-
ent "you." The experience of the "he there in the class room," "he
there on the operating table," "he there behind his desk," etc. can be
adequately expressed in a series of predicates, expressing the sum
total of qualities which an objective judgment attributes to "him."
For "he" is sick, "he" is a bookkeeper, "he" is sensuous, authoritarian,
learned, a publisher, smart-looking, prudent, a spendthrift, a Jew, a
Jesuit, etc. The experience of the "he" is as the experience of a com-
pletely filled-out form,116 a source of information,117 a file card which
is its own archivistPS
If, however, I investigate how I experience myself when I see
nothing else in the other than a series of qualities, a sum total of
predicates, I discover that for myself I am likewise such a series of
predicates. For he is a "teacher," and I am a "student"; he is a
"physician," and I am "sick" ; he is a "spendthrift," and I am a "poor
devil" ; he is "authoritarian," and I am his "victim" ; he is a "farmer,"
~nd I am a "technician" ; he is a "Jesuit," and I am an "Augustinian."
In other words, "he" is a file card, and "I" also am a file card. We
are filled-out forms.
llGCf. Marcel, op. cit., p. 171.

116Marcel, Du re/us d l'invocation, p. 49.
117 Marce1, Journal metaphysique, p. 174.
l1sMarcel, Du re/us d l'invocation, p. 71.
When we become clearly aware of this situation, a spontaneous

protest arises in us: are "we" not much more than these qualities and
predicates? But what, then, are "we," what can "we" be, what
should "we" be?
It is not difficult to recognize in the preceding description the "we"
of bureaucracy, of administration, of the technocratic world. It is
the "we" of indifference, in which nobody is somebody because nobody
is anybody's concern. Nevertheless, to "see" nothing else in the other
than a "he" means a way in which I treat the other, a mode in which
I encounter him. This way of treating the other is a reality, just as
'Sartre's hateful stare is a reality. But, we must ask, is it the only
possible reality? Evidently, not.
"He" as "Absent" from Me. This is perhaps the right place to
one of Heidegger's arguments for being-together,119 Heidegger points
out that the experience of "being-alone" indicates a more original
togetherness, so that being-alone is a deficient mode of being-
together. 120 While this is true, we may add that the same is ex-
perienced very clearly in the "we" of indifference, at least when
one does not systematically close oneself to this experience. In the
"he" I experience the other as "absent," as "far" from me. This is
not a question of mathematical distance, for it could very well happen
that the other is mathematically speaking, close to me, while he is
"far" from me,121 What is at stake here is a certain fullness of being-
man, and it is with respect to this fullness that I experience the other
as "far" from me and myself as "alone." It may happen that I walk
with the other, speak with him, and even work with him day after
day,122 yet he remains "far" from me. 123 Corresponding to this
situation is the experience of my "being-alone." It is as if I am
identified with the qualities which I have in the eyes of the other.
The thesis of Christian ethics, "Judge not lest thou be judged,"
apparently is capable of being philsophically interpreted. 124 As soon
as I judge the other, i.e., reduce him to qualities which I express in
objective predicates, as soon as I classify him as pertaining to this or
that category, I myself also am judged. I do not have to wait till the
119See above, p. 179.

120Sein und Zeit, p. 120.
121Cf. Marcel, Le mystere de /'etre, Vol. I, p. 221.
122It is this "we" which Sartre describes as a purely subjective experience
of a singular consciousness. Cf. L'etre et Ie neant, pp. 495-504.
123Cf. Marcel, Du refus a I'invocation, p. 48.
124Cf. Marcel, Journal metaphysique, p. 65.
Phenomenology of intersubjectivity 211
end of time, for this judgment is executed immediately: I experience

myself as identified with my qualities, as bearer of predicates, as
classified and filed under a category. I experience myself as "alone."
And in this way I am also "condemned."
An Objection. The objection could be raised that It IS prepos-
terous to call simply functional encounters, such as that between the
ticket clerk and the traveler, indifference. Obviously, the term
"indifference" has a pejorative sense and refers to a human rela-
tionship which ought to be different. But who would seriously claim
that the encounter between, say, the ticket clerk and the traveller,
ought to be more than the confrontation of qualities? To express
it more directly, should affectivity have any role in such an encounter?
Josef Pieper speaks of this difficulty when he pleads for the
recognition of the proper meaning pertaining to society and to social
relationships in opposition to community and community bonds. 1211
He calls the social element a speciaf category, having its own char-
acteristics and "rules of play" based upon the man's individuality,
through which man is "sharply defined and separated from every
other individual,"126 through which he is an "I," finds the purpose
of his activities in himself, works for his own sake, and seeks his
own advanrage. 127 Like a community, society would be a model
form an an ideal of social bonds. 128 Those who do not see this could
at most reproach society for not being a community.129 But even
this reproach would be unjustified, thinks Pieper.
The area covered by Pieper's views is broader than that touched
by the objection that it is perhaps preposterous to call simple func-
tional relationships "indifference." We shall, therefore, restrict
ourselves to the objection in question, especially because a general
evaluation of Pieper's views is not possible without anticipating
questions which have to be considered extensively-namely, love and
its relation to justice. We will subsequently describe justice as
willingness to execute the minimum demands of love while, according
125Cf. Pieper, Grundformen sozialer Spieiregein, Frankfurt a. M., n. d.,

pp. 39-65.
126]. Pieper, op. cit., p. 44.
127]. Pieper, op. cit., pp. 44-45.
128J. Pieper, op. cit., pp. 57-58 and 64-65.
129]. Pieper, op. cit., p. 52.
to Pieper, justice is the foundation of social life, in which everyone

ought to take care of his own interest, albeit with due respect for
the equal rights of the other to do the same. 130
Thus it should be evident that, unlike Pieper, we cannot see
society as a model and ideal of social relations for what he calls
the "community" in which love is the fundamental law governing
the interrelations. Social relations, in Pieper's sense, may be called
an ideal only if they are compared to barbarism ruled by the law of
the strongest. 13l They are not an ideal alongside, and on an equal
basis with community relations. 132 What Pieper calls an ideal is
for others, e.g., Couwenberg, merely a de facto situation which
constitutes the social problem par excellence of our time. lS3 We
think that Couwenberg is right.
Reply to the Objection. Our reply to the objection may be brief.

We do not call functional relations "indifference," because they are
functional,. but because and to the extent that they are purely func-
tional. In purely functional relations there is no affectivity at all.
Accordingly, we do not claim that every functional encounter ought
to be permeated with the highest degree of love,134 but we do main-
tain that every functional encounter ought to participate in a general
affection for man by virtue of which the encounter ceases at once to
be purely functional. The point is not that there should be an explicit
act of love, but a loving disposition. This disposition is practically
undefinable, but in the relationship of man to man it is either experi-
enced as beneficial or felt as a painful lack. If it is lacking, the en-
counter is correctly termed indifference. Something is missing in it
that ought to be present. Man experiences himself as "alone" and
the other as "far-away."
l30J. Pieper, op. cit., p. 52.

l3lIt is rather surprising that Pieper himself accepts this. "Such a struggle
of interests before the court of law perhaps may not present a lofty spectacle
to the proponent of society-but nevertheless even the proponent will not be
able to deny the large and encouraging difference between a civil lawsuit and
the law of the strongest." Gp. cit., p. 52.
l32"Par I'amour seul nous instituons des rapports veritablement humains,
nous nous unissons en nous rendant trans parents les uns pour les autres.
L'amour est l'unique societe humaine parce qu'il est communion." Jean Lacroix,
Pusonnc et amour, Paris, 1955, p. 14.
133Cf. S. \V. Couwenberg, De vereenzaming van de lIIoderne mens,
's-Gravenhage, n.d. pp. 11-34.
1 HThe reason for this lies in the fact that love is "situated."
Am I not more than the sum total of my qualities ?135 Am I not

more than the object of an "objective" judgment ?136 \Vhat is the
meaning of my "loneliness" when the other is "far-away"? The fact
that I "miss" the other, that I am capable of "missing" him, indicates
a more original vocation in me, a vocation to community.
c. Encounter
If nothing else was possible than the "we" of indifference, the
term "encounter" could not have the genuinely human meaning that
is attributed to it. 137 In the genuinely human sense "encounter" is
filled with an affection of which there is no trace in the "we" of in-
difference. Used in this genuinely human sense, the term indicates a
kind of participation in the personal existence of the other for whom
I care. This is precisely what is missing in the "we" of indifference.
If there were only the "we" of indifference, the encounter with human
beings would not have much more meaning than the meeting of
certain qualities. But there are cases in which it is apparent that
more than such a meeting is experienced.
Let us assume that I travel by Metro, the subway of Paris. The
car is full to overflowing and with every sudden shift of motion I
"bump" into my fellow travellers. Noone takes any offence-we are
for one another "travellers in a full Metro." In Saint-Michel the train
stops. Since another train has just left this station, only one man is
waiting. He opens the door and "bumps" into me who am standing
close to the entrance. Does he "bump" into me? Perhaps, yes, but
it is also possible that something entirely different happens between
the two of US. 13S It may happen that a "feeling" grows between us,
if only because I make an effort somehow to make room for him, or
130"Je suis toujours a tout moment plus que l'ensemble de predicats que
serait susceptible de mettre en lumiere une enquete faite par moi-meme-
ou par tout autre-sur moi-meme." Marcel, Journal metaphysique, p. 196.
lS6"Certes je puis me decrire-mais outre qu'it n'est point aise de com-
prendre comment cette description est metaphysiquement possible, ne faut-it
pas dire que rna realite la plus profonde deborde infiniment cette description?"
Marcel, op. cit., p. 215.
lS7"Rencontrer quelqu'un, ce n'est pas seulement Ie croiser, c'est etre au
moins un instant aupres de lui, avec lui; c'est dirai-je d'un mot dont je
devrai user plus d'une fois, une co-presence." Marcel, Du refus d l'invocation,
p.20.
lss"Mais iI suffit parfois d'une rencontre de regards, ou d'une parole,
ou d'un service echange, pour que deux etres sachent immediatement qu'it
y a entre eux une sorte de communaute metaphysique et qu'a travers la media-
tion des qualites its decouvrent deja une solidarite de leurs essences person-
nelles. M. Nedoncelle, La reciproc.iti des consciences, Paris, 1942, p. 17.
because of the friendly smile on his face, or because of the tone in

which he says: "I am sorry," when he gingerly steps on my toes.
What is it that there is between this man and me, this reality between
us, which we both feel when we leave the train together and go our
own ways? "Nothing at all," would be the reply of the materialist.
But this answer is not right. True, it is "almost nothing," but during
the short trip it exercised a kind of surreptitious reciprocal causality
so effectively that, if I should happen to meet the same man the next
day in the Louvre, I would feel inclined to address him: "Hey! Are
you here too ?"139
What took place between this man and me? Did I "bump" into
him just as I would bump into the doors of the subway car when
they suddenly close? In an affirmative reply my encounter with the
man becomes wholly unintelligible. I want to use again the term
"encounter," but now this word indicates a reality, a "we" which has
a much more profound meaning, a meaning that is full of genuine
humanity and affection. It is not the "we" of indifference which
became real, for this man concerned me, I did not want him to let
this train pass without finding a place in it in spite of all difficulties.
I too concerned him, as appeared from the tone of his apology when
he could not avoid stepping on my toes.
The most remarkable point of our situation, however, was that
the objective qualities which could be predicated of both of us re-
mained fully in the background of our encounter. Only now I
become aware of it that this man was rather fat and that there was
something wrong with his left eye. But I did not reduce him to the
predicates "fat" and "cross-eyed." If I had done that, what now has
become a reality between us would not have taken place. And I
would certainly not have addressed him the next day when we met
in the Louvre, but would simply have made the mental remark to
myself: "There is that cross-eyed fatso again."
5. PHENOMENOLOGY OF LOVE
The example which was analyzed above could serve as the start-
ing point for the formation of a correct concept of the true character
of love. Spontaneously we are convinced that in the suggested situa-
tion a first beginning of what may be called "true love" is reality. Of
course, there are other situations which could qualify just as well
139These thoughts paraphrase an idea of Marcel in Le myslere de ['eire, vol.
T, p. 153.
as "loving encounters." We may speak of such an encounter when a

boy leads a blind man across the road, when a total stranger goes out
of his way to show me the road, when a soldier deprives himself of
something to give comfort to the prisoner whom he leads away.
Loving also in the encounter-let us suppose so at least--of the
young man who realizes that he is called to go through life together
with "this" gir1. But, we must ask, what is the proper character of
the loving encounter and what are the conditions in which it develops
into love?
a. Love as Active Leaning

The loving encounter always presupposes the appeal of the other
to my subjectivity. A call goes out from him, embodied in a word,
a gesture, a glance, a request. His word, gesture, glance, or request
mean an invitation to me whose true meaning is difficult to express
in words. No matter, however, in what form the appeal of the other
is embodied, it always implies an invitation to transcend myself, to
break away from my preoccupation with myself and my fascinated
interest in myself.
Self-Centeredness. The compulsive way in which I am centered
upon myself and mine makes it clear why I have such difficulty in
understanding the true appeal of the other to me. For, to see a
certain reality, I need more than eyes. To understand the meaning
of the other's appeal to me I need a certain attitude, and this attitude
implies that I have broken away to some extent from my pre-occupa-
tion with myself. Ho One who is full of pride or cupidity sees nothing.
For the appeal of the other has nothing violent about it, it is not
brutal, not bent on conquest, it does not jolt me, and deliberately
leaves open the possibility or" refusal. It does not present itself as a
demand, for it is too humble to demand anything. For this reason
it is possible that I will not understand this appeal. If I am fully
occupied with myself, if I am absorbed in my occupations, obsessed
by my thoughts and desires. I will not understand the other's appeal.
If I am fully absorbed in myself, I know a priori that I am excused,
no matter what the request may be, even though I may not explicitly
realize that I have this conviction. HI Excused from everything, I
am insensible to every appeal.
HOCf. Marcel, Etre et avoir, pp. 152-153.

HICf. Marcel, op. cit., pp. 101-lO2; 105-106.
In daily life I am accustomed to playing a role. I am a physician,

a middle class citizen, a teacher, a priest, an intellectual, or a laborer.
As a judge I face the delinquent, as a teacher the student, as a physi-
cian the sick, as a priest the sinner. But who are they-those delin-
quents, students, sick, and sinners? They are those who address an
appeal to me. Yet I will not understand their appeal if I identify
myself with the role I have to play. Such an identification would
mean a pre-occupation with myself which closes me to any appeal of
the other to me.
What the Other's Appeal is Not. Is it possible to make the appeal

in question more clearly explicit? Perhaps it will be easier to begin
by indicating how the appeal should not be understood. It may not
be conceived as the other's attractiveness because of any of his cor-
poreal or spiritual qualities. Such attractive qualities could perhaps
invite me and draw me to a "being-with-the-other"-but can we
speak of love here? Would love be impossible if the other's qualities
are not attractive? Would love have to cease when the other's
qualities cease to be attractive? At most, qualities may give rise to
a kind of enamoredness, in which the desire to be "with" the other
is inherent-but is love not rather the firm will to be "for" the other?
As long as only the other's qualities speak either positively or nega-
tively to me, my reply will only be a reply to a "he" or a "she". If,
however, one really loves, he is aware of it that the qualities or merits
of the other are of little importance; they fall into the background to
make roOl;l1 for what the other is over and above a certain facticity,
over and above an inventory file card. 142 .
Likewise, the other's appeal to me may not be understood as being
identical with any explicit request. A request could be explicitated as
the expression and presentation of a de facto situation for which provi-
sions have to be made. But this is not the other's appeal, as may be
evident from the fact that, even when I satisfy the other's request
materially, he may still go away "dissatisfied." He departs "dissatis-
fied," because he realizes that my heart was not in it when I did or
gave what he wanted, that I spoke to him or received him only in a
casual way, that he disturbed me, that "he was too much bother for
me," that I was absent-minded and distracted. 143 I satisfied his re-
142"C'est en vain que l'amant denombre les caracteres, les merites de l'etre
aime; il est certain a priori que cet inventaire ne lui rendra pas son amour
transparent pour lui-meme." Marcel, Journal mlitaphysique, p. 226.
quest and, nevertheless, he is "dissatisfied." Why? Because his appeal

to me is more than his explicitly formulated request. The other does
not merely make a request, he "is" also an appeal.
"Be With Me." Accordingly, understanding the other's appeal to
me ties in not with his facticity but rather with what the other is over
and above his facticity-namely, a subjectivity. His subjectivity itself
is the appeal that is addressed to me. It is a plea that I participate in
his subjectivity. Marcel endeavors to express this plea in words: "Be
with me."144 It is the call of the other to go out beyond the confines
of myself, to support, strengthen and, as it were, increase his subjec-
tivity by participating in it.
Break with Self-Centeredness. If the other's call, "Be with me,"

is to be understood by me, it is necessary that I shall have already
somewhat broken away from and conquered my fascination with my-
self. On the other hand, however, it is precisely the appeal of the
other which makes it possible for me to liberate myself from myself.
The other's appeal reveals to me an entirely new, perhaps wholly un-
suspected dimension of my existence. Who am I? Am I not more
than the sum total of my objective qualities ?1411 Am I not more than
a file card full of predicates? Am I not more than the role I play?
Certainly, my being-human is richer. I am not identical with my
facticity, I am a subjectivity, called to give again and again meaning
to my facticity in free self-realization. I am not a thing-in-the-world,
but I am. a project-in-the-world, called to realize myself in the world
and to make the world a human world.
The awareness of this calling, however, is merely a provisional
insight. For the encounter with the other, his appeal to me, reveals
an entirely new dimension of my subjectivity. I am called to realize
myself in the world, but for you. The encounter with you reveals to
me my destiny as destiny-for-you. Through you I understand the
meaninglessness of my egoism and self-centeredness, which would
H3G. Marcel, "Positions et approches concretes du mystere ontologique,"

Le monde casse, Paris, 1933, p.293.
144"Pour que cette unite soit, it faut d'abord, semble-t-il, qu'iJ y ait appel,
invocation, un "sois avec moi" plus ou moins c1airement enonce. II faut que cet
appel soit entendu, sans necessairement que Ie sujet sache qu'it l'entend, et c'est
sur la base de ce co-esse mysterieux que la vision pourra s'edifier." Marcel,
1 ournal metaphysique, p. 169.
14 II ef. Marcel, op. cit., pp. 215-216.
fatally tempt me to lock myself up in myself and in my world. Yield-

ing to this temptation would mean that I would miss my destiny.
Affection as Reply to the Other's Appeal. The other's appeal
and my awareness of my destiny require that I reply. I realize,
however, that the reply must be adapted to the call, "Be with me."
A piece of information, a crust of bread, or a bit of money are not
the answer that is requested of me. On the contrary, I am aware
that they may be means to buy off the proper answer which lowe
the other. "Be with me" is his request. It is a call upon my being,
an appeal to be together. "Be satisfied if I give you what I have,"
I could reply. But such a reply would be the meaning possessed by
tending the other a crust of bread or a coin. It would mean that I
lock myself up again in myself, in my world, and hope that the other
will never again disturb me. I remain alone, and the other stays
"far away."
When the other's appeal does not originate from his facticity,
the proper answer to his appeal is not primarily connected with any
determined facticity. It is for this reason that the true meaning
of my being-destined-for-the-other is so difficulty to define. The
appeal is not an explicit request, and the reply is not the material
satisfaction of a desire. Sometimes even the refusal to satisfy a
certain request may be the only way of really loving the other. The
reply to the other's appeal is a reply to his subjectivity. As an em-
bodied subject, the other is a source of meaning and of new meaning,
and he gives unceasingly in his freedom meaning and new meaning
to his facticity. As a subject, as another I, as a "selfhood," he
freely goes through the world, he makes his history, he goes to meet
his destiny. His appeal to me means an invitation to will his sub-
jectivity, to offer him the possibility to exist, to consent to his free-
dom, to accept, support and share in it. My affirmative reply to his
appeal is known as "affection."146
Implications of My Reply to His Appeal. As it is used in the
preceding context, there is little danger that the term "affection"
will be misunderstood. In the ordinary usage of language, however,
from which it has been borrowed, there is a certain ambiguity. It
very often means a kind of sentimental indulgence which has nothing
HaUL'amour est une volonte de promotion. Le moi qui aime veut avant tout
I'existence du toi; il veut en outre Ie developpement autonome de ce toi."
M. NedoncelIe, Vers une Philosophie de l'amour, Paris, 1946, p. 11.
to do with love. The truth of this assertion should be immediately

evident from the preceding considerations and from the nature of
indulgence. Indulgence means a kind of openness to and compliance
with the arbitrariness that can be implied in the other's explicit or
implicit desires. But it is not at all certain that my openness to this
arbitrariness really means an active participation in the other's sub-
jectivity. Love wants the other's subjectivity, his free self-realization,
but this implies that love refuse, precisely because it is love, what-
ever could impede or destroy the other's possibility of self-realization.
This thought has still another implication. The loving leaning
to the other does not only refuse to show itself open to the other's
arbitrariness, but also contains always, in the background, at least
an implicit awareness of the destiny proper to the other's subjec-
tivity. As a source of meaning and direction, the other's subjectivity
means a searching for, and partial finding of his way in the world,
and to the extent that he finds his way, he realizes himself, i.e.,
goes forward toward his destiny. The other's subjectivity is not
an isolated Cogito, separated from his body and from his world.
The other exists; he is bodily in the world; as an embodie~_I-in-the
world he accomplishes his being-human. I am called to love him
as such and not as anything else.
This call implies that I will his bodily being and that I will his
world for him. Otherwise my love would be an illusion. The man
who loves his fellow man cares for his body, is concerned with what
he needs for his material life, builds hospitals, constructs roads,
harnesses rivers and seas, establishes traffic rules, builds schools and
prisons-all to make it possible for the other to attain to self-reali-
zation in the world. Bodily being and the world are the acticity
which for the other constitutes the starting point from which he
sets forth to freely realize his possibilities and those of his world.
It is in the world that he gives meaning and direction to his existence,
that he goes forward to his destiny. But what is this destiny? It is
not possible that I have no opinion about it. Even the conviction that
the other has no destiny is a mode of thinking about his destiny.
Love and Happiness. This destiny may be called in a most general
way "happiness." We abstract here from what exactly happiness
is and from that in which it consists. Perhaps it is absolute free-
dom, perhaps material possessions, perhaps knowledge, virtue, or
the possession of God. Whatever opinion I hold regarding happi-
ness, it should be evident that my idea of it will exercise influence
on, and give an orientation to my affection for the other. Through

my affection I will his subjectivity, but this subjectivity is a searching
for his way in the world onward to his destiny. My affection, there-
fore, will open certain worldly roads to him, but also close others--
namely, those which would not bring him closer to his destiny.lu
There are, for instance, subjects who long for the day when they
will be able to make the entire world one huge concentration camp.
Others would like to poison youth or kill off the incurably sick
and the insane. Effective love of our fellow man owes it to itself
to oppose such desires wherever it is possible.
This duty incombent on love is the reason why true love, i.e., love
which is effective and takes action and which is not conceived as a
sentimental feeling, is so often misunderstood. Conceived as a senti-
mental feeling, as being fascinated by the other's qualities, love will
show itself as an illusion, as being nothing of true love. But if love
is effectively ready to open certain worldly roads to happiness and to
close others, it is often interpreted as an attempt to dominate the
other, as a means to overcome him and hold him in subjection. H8
Of course, it cannot be denied that sometimes a man will tend to
control his fellow man in this fashion. I can try to control the other
completely, but it would mean that I reduce him to a thing and
destroy his subjectivity, the project of the world which he is. In such
a case there can be no question of love.149 The effectiveness of love,
however, has nothing to do with domineering or tyrannizing the
other.150 In this connection it may be pointed out that love is modest
and reserved, i.e., has an immense respect for the other's subjectivity.
This respect is so essential that its absence would destroy 10ve.151
147This is expressed in the classical definition of love as "to will good for
someone else."
14SC. G. Madinier. Conscience et amour, Paris, 1947, p.24.
1491t happens sometimes that parents attempt to control their children com-
pletely to make them play the "role" which they themselves have chosen for
them. For instance, quite a few boys and girls have to remember all the time
that they are the "parson's son," the "bank-director '5 daughter," or "better-class
children."
150"Aimer, c'est s'interesser a ce que I'autre est a la premiere personne et
dans son pour-soi, c'est s'efforcer de Ie constituer dans son intimite, c'est Ie
vouloir comme liberte et principe d'initiative. C'est pourquoi l'objection d'into-
lerance et de tyrannie, si frequemment faite a la charite, ne peut s'adresser qu'a
une charite mal entendue et mal pratiquee. Qui aime vraiment veut l'autre en
tant que sujet et s'efforce de Ie constituer comme tel." Madinier, op. cit., p. 127.
151 Heidegger also speaks about respect for the other's subj ectivity and free-
dom. Being authentically human, as conceived by Heidegger, lets the other be
what he is. However, it does not include participation in the other's subjectivity,
but rather the abstention from this participation because the other is destined
for death anyhow. Cf. Seil~ und Zeit, p. 264.
Disinterestedness of Love. Is love, then, concerned only with the

other? It would be going too far to reply in the affirmative, for in
love I am concerned also with myself. However, this could easily be
misunderstood. \Ve are still speaking here of love as an active leaning
to the other, and not about the legitimate desire to be loved by the
other. Insofar as my own subjectivity is an appeal to the other's
being, a call to participate in my subjectivity, love is concerned with
myself. This, however, is not the point. What is to be considered here
is that even in love as the active leaning to the other I am to a certain
extent concerned with myself. But, the point is, in what sense?
Since love wants the other's freedom,. it is in a way defenseless.
It places a limitless trust in the other and thus delivers itself to him.
This trust implies an appeal 'Of the lover to the beloved. The trust
which love shows, the defenselessness which it displays, themselves
are a call upon the love of the beloved: Love is not wholly concerned
only with the other.
Once more, it is easier to state what this appeal of love to the
beloved is not than to explicitate its meaning immediately in a positive
way. The appeal of love to the beloved is not the will to draw in
some way advantage from the affection for the other. It is impossible
for the lover to aim at his own promotion or career and at the same
time to keep his love pure. A sick person who would discover that
the nurse caring for him in such a "loving" way does so exclusively
in order to become head-nurse as soon as possible or to receive an
eternal reward in heaven does not think that he is really loved.
Likewise, the appeal of love to the beloved does not mean that the
lover wants to compel, dominate, or possess the other. Love wants
the other's freedom. It does not suffice for love that the other de facto
takes a certain way through the world, not even if this way is a
good and safe way from the viewpoint of the destiny of human free-
dom. What love wants is that the other himself chose this safe way
and avoid that dangerous path.152
Self-Realization and Love. Sincerely being at the other's disposal,
therefore, implies that I renounce the temptation to promote myself in
loving the other and the possibility of dominating the other. However,
love contains still another aspect of self-denial, which is more difficult
to seize. In love I destine myself for the other, but I vaguely realize
that I also go forward to my own destiny. Even if I have never heard
152"Aimer, c'est vouloir I'autre comme sujet." Madinier, op. cit., p. 95.
of any doctrine regarding man's destiny, I experience that in love I

am on the road to the achievement of my manhood. Man's being is
paradoxical in more than one way. As we pointed out previously, man
is a subject, a being who exists for himself, a presence to himself, a
self-controlling being. Man is an I, a selfhood. But he is a selfhood
only in being fused with the non-I. Man is the paradox of immanence
and transcendence (Dondeyne). This paradoxical aspect of man is
put even in sharper relief by love. Love is the ready availability of
my subjectivity, its belonging to the subject which the other is. But
in giving and surrendering myself, it is revealed to me what my self-
hood really is. )'Iy real self is the available self. Is, then, the appeal
of love to the other perhaps the request to offer me the possibility of
achieving my own manhood?
\Ve are touching here the eternal question whether or not a fully
disinterested love is possible. Is it possible for man to will something
without willing it for his own sake? This question is especially im-
portant with respect to love, because at the least love wants the other's
benefit.
Weare of the opinion that it is impossible for man to love his
fellow man in such a way that his love will not de facto be for the
benefit of the lover himself. It is not possible for man to forego the
fact that love, as active leaning to the other, is equally immedi-
ately the achievement of his own being, conceived as zu sein. This,
however, does not mean that the achievement of one's own man-
hood is what love aims at, that this achievement is the motive why
man loves. The opposite is true. In love man goes forward to his
destiny, he finds the fulfilment of his manhood, on condition that this
fulfilment be not the motive of his love. If the other were to thank me
for my affection, and I would wave these thanks aside by saying that
what I was interested in was the achievement of my own manhood,
the other would immediately conclude that he was not really loved.
For, ultimately, I would have been aiming at my own "career."
Love as the Appeal to the Other's Freedom. The appeal of love

to the beloved can be correctly understood only when one sees that
willing the subjectivity, the freedom, of the other cannot be fruitful
unless the other ratifies this will through his consent. Love does not
want to compel; it cannot even compel without ceasing to be love.
For this reason love is in a sense helplessly surrendered to the other.
Love wants the other's freedom and, therefore, becomes fruitful only
through the free consent of the other. But the lover cannot will that
his love be not understood, not accepted, and without fruit. Hence it
appeals to the beloved, and this appeal we may explicitate as the re-
quest: "Accept that I be at your disposal." Even when love is obliged
to close certain roads through the world for the beloved, it cannot
want otherwise than that the beloved himself avoid these roads. It is
not sufficient for love to make it materially impossible for the other to
enter certain roads. This insufficiency is contained in its refusal to
compel the beloved. The appeal of love to the beloved, then, means
the request that the beloved himself see that this road and not that one
will lead his subjectivity to its destiny. The request, "Accept that I
be at your disposal," means, "See for yourself and realize your own
happiness in freedom." The only fruit which love may hope for is that
the other exist. 153
b. The Creativity of Love

The "You." All the lines which gradually become visible in the
explicitation of love converge on one point-the "you." It is always
the "you" which is at stake in love and, when the "you" is not the
point at issue, love loses its authenticity or is even fully destroyed.
Thus love becomes possible only when I am sensitive to the other's
subjectivity and no longer consider the other as the sum total of
qualities, not even of very noble and perfect qualities. Thus what love
wants is the other's subjectivity, and not my own promotion, career,
or perfection, and still less my domination of the other. All this may
be pithily expressed by saying that the motive of my love is "you."
I love you, because you are you, because you are who you are. I love
you, because you are lovable, but you are lovable because you are you.
The Meaning of You in Love. This "you" does not have the
neutral meaning of "another self," of a "subjectivity like my subjec-
1530ne may ask whether love implies Pet se reciprocity. Insofar as my love
is fruitful only through the other's "yes," the question has to be answered in
the affirmative. If I love the other, I cannot will that he does not accept my
ready availability. In this sense, then, it is true that in love "not everything
turns around the other." "Liebe, in der sich 'alles nur um Dich dreht', is eben-
sowenig sich-selbst mehrend und zehrt sich ebenso an ihrem eigenen Feuer auf,
wie Lieben in der sich 'alles um Mich dreht'." L. Binswanger, Grundformen
14nd Erkenntnis menschlichen Daseins, Zurich, 1953, p. 121. That "not every-
thing turns around the other," however, really means for Binswanger that love
is not love unless I am loved with the same intense love with which I myself
love. It seems to us that this thesis, which Binswanger presupposes from the
very first page of his book, is very debatable.
tivity," which is disclosed to me in each and every encounter with a

human being. A fortiori it is not the hateful subjectivity of the other
who, as Sartre thinks, wants to murder me. Finally, it is not the
"you" of indifference, for which above we have reserved the term
"he."
The "you" of which there is question here is a "you-for-whom-I-
care." This expression, however, says almost nothing unless the
reality it represents is vividly in my mind. 11i4 The meaning of this
"you" is given to me in experience, taken in the broad sense, it is
accessible to me as presence on condition that I love the other. HIi
Accordingly, there is no possibility at all that this "you" would ever
be discovered by experience, in the sense of the physical sciences,
just as it is likewise impossible that one would be able to account by
means of scientific experience for the difference between a dead man
and a murdered man. As far as the experience of the physical
sciences is concerned, only that is real which can be expressed in terms
of quantity. With respect to the "you," nothing can be understood
in terms of quantity-just as in the case of a murdered man as
murdered. To express it in phenomenological language, the viewpoint
of the subject co-constitutes the objective meaning which reveals
itself present in experience. Knowledge is the encounter of a subject
with an object, a dialogue in which both take part and in which the
questioned reality is oriented in its replies by the questions of the
questioning subject. .
The experience of the physical sciences, because of its own par-
ticular attitude, reveals to me nothing of the "you-for-whom-I-
care."156 Likewise, the reality of this you is not disclosed by an
objectivistic psychology which holds fast to the enumeration of psy-
chical qualities or the description of the other's character, tempera-
ment, aptitude, inclinations, deviations, etc. An objectivistic psychol-
ogy discovers the other's subjectivity as "a filled-out questionaire,"
as a "he."151 Of course, we do not want to claim that love is capable
154"Diese Wahrheit kann nicht in Satzen von objektiver Giiltigkeit ausges-
prochen, ausgesagt, mitgeteilt und 'gezeigf, sondern nur 'gelebt' werden."
Binswanger op. cit., p. 11.
H5Cf. Marcel, Le mystere de l'etre, pp. 11-13.
156"Das aber heisst, dass das Seinkiinnen in der Wahrheit rein gegen-
standlicher Erkenntnis und das Seinkiinnen in der Wahrheit der Liebe, mit
andern Worten dass theoretisch-wissenschaftliche Wahrheit und \Vahrheit
des Herzens rein als solche 'inkommensurabel' sind." Binswanger, op. cit.,
p. 110.
151"Le jugement porte essentiellement sur un 'lui', sur quelque chose qui
est cense etre 'categorisable' en dehors de toute reponse". Marcel, Journal
metaphysique, p. 162.
only of a subjectivistic judgment of the other and, therefore, unable

to observe that the other is stupid, rude, and immature. The very
opposite is true. Love, however, refuses to reduce the other to a
series of predicates, and it is precisely love which makes the lover
clear-sighted for what the other is over and above his qualities. lIls
The statement that the "you" of love is a "you-for-whom-I-care"
merely establishes a fact. However, after all the preceding considera-
tions it may be possible to realize to a certain extent the implications
of this fact and at the same time perhaps to find a way to penetrate
more profoundly into the true nature of love, considered as the
active leaning to the other. 159 Most of the emphasis will have to fall
upon the "active" character of the leaning. We would like to conceive
this "active" character as creativity.
Making the Other Be. As was pointed out previously, the truth
of every judgment is founded on a more prof.ound truth-namely,
the aletheia, the unconcealedness of reality for the knowing subject. 16o
This unconcealedness, however, presupposes the unveiling activity
of the subject, by virtue of which reality is reality in the full sense
of the term, viz., appearing reality. Knowledge, therefore, always
is an encounter in which the subject "lets" reality be, respects and
accepts its character as reality. This "letting-be" of reality by
knowledge is not purely active but also passive, for it implies respect
for, and acceptance of what reality is. Only when reality is respected
and accepted, will knowledge be objective. Objective knowledge lets
reality be-for-man, makes reality itself appear. The spontaneity or
activity of the knowing subject, accordingly, is very limited pre-
cisely because of the sensitivi,ty or passivity implied by knowing.
Knowledge of reality cannot be called creativity.
The active aspect, implied by the existing subject which is not
purely knowing but acting, distinguishes itself clearly from the
active aspect found in knowledge. To do carpentry work is more
than being sensitive and open to reality. The same applies to artistic
labor. It is meaningful to call such activity of the subject "creative,"
I58"L'amour porte sur ce qui est au del a de I'essence, j'ai dit deja que
I'amour est I'acte par lequel une pensee se fait libre en pensant une liberte.
L'amour en ce sens va au dela de tout jugement possible, car Ie jugement
ne peut porter que sur I'essence." Marcel, ibid., p. 64.
I59The reader may have noticed that, to prevent misunderstanding, we
have intentionally and systematically excluded the phenomenological data of
reciprocal love from our analysis.
I60Cf. above, pp. 143 f.
although this term is used here in a less strict sense. In carpentry

work and in artistic labor I do not merely "let" reality be, but I
also "make" it be. I create a new meaning. By way of analogy
with this "making-be" we would like to call the loving encounter,
as active leaning to the other, "creative," although the creativity
of love differs from that of the above-described actions. In and
through love I "make" the other be.
Encounter and Making the Other Be. If one realizes that not
only the loving encounter, but any encounter with the other "makes"
the other be, a first step will have been made toward the understand-
ing of the preceding view of love. The loving encounter is only a
special way of "making" the other be. Every encounter does the
same, but in a way which is determined by the nature of the
encounter in question. Examples should make this evident. They
show that I "make" the other be and that he "makes" me be. This
reciprocity offers no difficulty, because every encounter is reciprocal.
Let us take as a first example an encounter between two school-
boys which ends in a fight. At first, John and Pete are quite friendly.
They romp a bit and try to surpass each other in little tricks. John's
every little trick calls for a counter-trick from Pete, which John
in his turn tries to parry. At a given moment one of John's blows is
unexpectedly hard. Pete thinks that it was intentional and protests.
John vigorously defends himself against this accusation, but Pete
feels insulted by his tone and assumes a threatening pose. John thinks
that he is already under attack. The first brutal blow falls and,
before either of them realizes what the situation is, the friendly
encounter has degenerated into a fight.
On several occasions we have called the encounter a dialogue,
in the broadest sense of the term. Two partners participate in a
dialogue, two conscious beings contribute their part. But at the end
of the dialogue it is no longer possible to determine what came from
one and what from the other.161 John and Peter are first "rompers,"
then "quarrelers," and finally "fighters." But they are these things
"through" each other. They "make" each other be, as romping, as
quarreling, and as fighting.
I am Not "Alone" in My Mode of Being. As the preceding ex-
ample suggests, man rarely if ever realizes that he makes the other be
161Cf. Kwant, "Het begrip 'ontmoeting' in de phaenomenologische Wiisbe-

geerte," Gawein, vol. IV (1955), pp. 9-20.
and that the other makes him be. Nevertheless, it is simply impossible
to think of a mode of being or of behavior in which I am fully "alone,"
in which the other and the encounter with the other do not count.
If I want to think of myself as a reality, I will have to include the
other, for he has contributed and still contributes to the reality which
I am. I have to think of my own reality as come forth from the other,
as nourished and educated by the other, as speaking the language of
the other. And if I do not do this, I think of myself as a phantom,
a demi-god, or the hero of a fanciful tale, but not as reality. I am
a New Yorker through New Yorkers, an American through Ameri-
cans, a philosopher through philosophers, a Christian through
Christians, a smoker through smokers, etc. A mother is really a
mother through her child, a sick person is genuinely sick only when
he has visitors/ 62 a German is a real German only when he is with
other Germans, an outcast is a real outcast only when the others hate
him. An asocial family is completely asocial only when society aban-
dons or excludes it, a cute little button-nose is a cute little button-
nose only when others notice it/63 a baldhead is a real baldhead only
when he is called so by others, a Jew is really a Jew only when there
are anti-Semites, and a youth is a real youth only through a girP64
An Objection. We realize that these examples should be formu-
lated with considerably more differentiation, for otherwise they are
open to all kinds of objections. However, to avoid making this sec-
tion too long, we have to risk this simplification. On the other hand,
objections to the examples could easily show that they are misunder-
stood. It could easily happen that they miss the point. For instance,
one could say that a Jew is a Jew even when there are no anti-Semites,
that a sick man is sick even when he is not visited, and that a baldhead
is a baldhead even if he is not called by that name.
The objector, however, would be mistaken. He presupposes that
being a Jew is purely a biological matter, that a sick man is sick
just as a cabbage is spoiled, and that a baldhead is bald just as a
billiard ball is smooth. This assumption does not take into considera-
tion the human aspect of being a Jew, being ill, or being bald. A
baldhead is not bald just as a billiard ball is smooth, because a bald-
I62Cf. J. H. van den Berg, Psychologie van het ziekbed, Nijkerk, 1954,
p. 14.
I6SCf. F. J. J. Buytendijk, Ontmoeting de,. sex-en, Utrecht-Antwerpen,
1952, p. 7.
IG4Cf. E. de Greeff, Notre Dcstinee et nos Instincts, Paris, 1945. pp. 157-158.
head as a subject is related to his bald pate, has awareness of it, takes
a standpoint with respect to it, and can make use of it. The being of
man is a human being, because of his relatedness to being,165 which
is an understanding of being. 166 Man is the being who in his being
is concerned with this being itself.167 Applied to the example, this
means that the reality of a bald head is distinct from the smoothness
of a billiard ball because the baldhead is a subjectivity who gives
meaning to the facticity in question. But the sense he gives to it
depends to a large extent upon the way the others treat him. A bald-
head is really a baldhead only when the others call him so.
When we disregard the inaccuracies in the formulation of the
examples, the essential elements will reveal themselves at once. In
the encounter I am the bearer of a being-for-the-other, which is at the
same time a being-through-the-other. Once again, Sartre's analysis of
the hateful stare could serve as a splendid illustration, because it shows
how the violence of hatred can be wholly destructive of the other's
subjectivity. However, our present aim is to penetrate more pro-
foundly into the creative force of love, to discover the specific nature
of love's power to make-the-other-be.
Accordingly, we ascribe a kind of "influence" to love. Let us point
out at once that we are not thinking here of influence in a causalistic
sense. There can be no question of reducing the active reality of love
to the efficacy of a unilateral, determining "cause" in the scientific
sense of the term. The reason is that such a set of concepts would
not make it possible for us to realize what love is in its genuine form.
Such concepts do not express the reality of love as it is accessible in
"lived experience" to reflecting consciousness. There is more in love
than the concepts of physical causality are capable of expressing. This
should be evident at once if the essential aspects of love are called to
mind. Appeal, destiny, being-at-the-other's disposal, self-denial, and
acceptance indicate a reality which includes consciousness, reciprocity,
and freedom. They are precisely the denial of a unilateral, determin-
ing, causalistic influence and therefore cannot be "explained" by it.

166Cf. Heidegger, op. cit., p. 14.
167"Das Dasein ist ein Seiendes, das nicht nur unter anderern Seienden
vorkornrnt. Es ist vielrnehr dadurch ontisch ausgezeichnet, dasz es dies em
Seienden in seinern Sein urn dieses Sein selbst geht. Zu dieser Seinsverfassung
des Daseins gehiirt aber dann, dasz es in seinern Sein zu diesern Sein ein
Seinsverhiiltnis hat." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 12.
Analysis of Being-Loved. Perhaps there is no better way to arrive

at some understanding of love's creativity than the phenomenological
analysis of being-loved. What is the meaning of love, understood as
the active leaning of the other toward me? What does the other
"make" me be when he loves me?
As was pointed out, every encounter with the other "makes" me
be. Love, however, "makes" me be in a way which no other encounter
realizes. Through the encounter with New Yorkers I am a New
Yorker, through the encounter with smokers I am a smoker, through
that with philosophers I am a philosopher, etc. These modes of en-
counter result in a certain facti city or determination, which in the
course of the encounter, as it were, adheres to me and makes me
"determinable." A kind of sedimentation takes place through which
ultimately all kinds of predicates expressing my factual being can be
predicated of me. Social psychology investigates this matter. How-
ever, I am not identical with my facti city ; I am a subjectivity, and
for this subjectivity my factual being is the starting point for the
realization of possibilities which are contained in my facticity. I am
freedom. Now it is the loving encounter, love as the other's active
leaning which makes me free, "makes" my subjectivity be/ 68 and
enables me to realize myself.
Of course, we do not mean that without the other's love I would
not be a subjectivity. But being a subjectivity can have all kinds of
meanings. It may point to the fact that I am not a thing, even when
my freedom is strangled or crushed by any force whatsoever. It
may indicate also a lived fullness of manhood, by which every obstacle
is changed into a value, and man affirms himself as the king of creation.
The term "subjectivity" can cover an entire gamut of meanings, and
this should be kept in mind if we are to understand the creativity of
love.
The other's loving leaning toward me "makes" my subjectivity be,
insofar as the other by means of his affection participates mysteriously
in my subjectivity, aids and favors it, so that I no longer plan my
manhood and go forward to my destiny "alone" but "together" with
the other. The other's love gives me to myself if this being-myself is
understood as a kind of fullness of being. 169 The reality of this
168"Est-cea dire que la volonte de promotion soit une volonte de crea-
tion? Peut-etre. En principe, l'amant aspire a engendrer integralement l'etre
de l'aime." N edoncelle op. cit., p. 15.
169"Vvho cannot say to his friend or beloved: 'You have given yourself to
me, I have received my soul from your hands.''' Gustave Thibon.
creativity is uncontrovertably experienced by anyone who receives

genuine love. But it reveals itself most strikingly in the pedagogical
situation if this situation is as it ought to be. 170 By means of the
educator's love the educated child or adult is, as it were, raised above
himself; through the "power" of the educator's love obstacles lose
their invincibility and the educated child or adult becomes "master
of the situation," capable of self-realization on a level which he would
never have reached if he had been left "alone."I71
Creativity of Love. The awareness of no longer being "alone" is
perhaps the most eloquent witness of love's creativity. Love creates
a "we," a "together" which is experienced as wholly different from
the "we" of any other encounter whatsoever. The "we" of love can
be expressed only-if it can be expressed at all-in terms of "full-
ness," "fulfillment," and "happiness." The other's love "makes" me
be authentically human, "makes" me be happy.
My world, likewise, is "re-created" by the other's love,172 for this
world is a correlate of my self-realizing subjectivity. Through his
love the other participates in my subjectivity and, therefore, also in
my' world. By means of his affection he wants me to have my world,
so that the world shows itself to me in its mildest way and becomes
accessible to me without offering resistance.l1 3 Through the other's
love my world becomes my H eim.at, my country; through it I feel at
home in my world, and love it.l74 Children whose parents are un-
feeling psychopaths are destined to come in touch only with the
harshest meanings of the world. For them the world is pure resist-
ance, and from their earliest youth inspires them to protest and
hostility.175 Without love the world is hell for man. 176
At the same time it becomes crystal clear that the creative influ-
ence of love may not be conceived in a causalistic way. For the
creative affection of the lover remains without results until the be-
I70"Le 'nous' devient fecond et createur; de nouveaux 'toi' sont suscites,
et l'enfantement se prolonge dans l'education qui est par excellence oeuvre
d'amour, puisqu'elle consiste non pas a far;onner une nature, comme en un
dressage, mais a susciter un sujet existant par soi, sentant et pensant a la
premiere personne". Madinier, op. cit., p. 133.
I71This idea is the starting point of Carl Rogers' "client centered therapy."
Cf. J. Nuttin, Psychoanalyse en spiritualistische opvatting van de mens, Utrecht-
Antwerpen, 1952, pp. 111-127.
172Max Picard, Die unerschutferliche Ehe, Erlenbach-Ziirich, 1942, pp.
13-25.
I73"Nil homini amicum sine homine amico." St. Augustine.
174"Seit ich in Deiner Liebe ein Ruhen und Bleiben habe, ist mir die Welt
so klar und so lieb." Goethe.
I75S ee Bunuel's film "Los 0Ividados."
176"Pas besoin de gril, l'enfer c'est les Autres." Sartre.
j)/zcl1olllenu/ugy of Intersubjecti'vity 231
loved accepts this affection. The "yes" of the beloved ratifies the
affection and makes it fruitful. Whoever loves the other, wants his
subjectivity, his freedom, his transcendence. Therefore, he cannot will
but that the other freely consent to the love offered to him, for this
love is precisely the willing of the beloved's freedom. Once again,
the pedagogical situation is particularly illustrative of this point. The
educator is fully aware of the fact that his love is not understood if
the one who is being educated simply does what he tells him because
the educator is in a controlling position. His love is fruitful only when
the other "chooses" in favor of his education. Accordingly, the
"influence" of love is not "causal," but it is a mysterious exchange
from subject to subject.
There is only one word to express what love is-grace. l71
I can only say "yes" to it. Or, is perhaps even something of this
"yes" also given to me?
Love's Clear-Sightedness. In concluding this section, let us return
briefly to its starting point-namely, the clear-sightedness of love.
The "you-for-whom-I-care," as present to me, is accessible to me, on
condition that I love the other. Neither the physical sciences nor posi-
tivistic psychology or sociology are capable of "observing" this "you."
Only love "sees," and what I see is no longer disputable. The indis-
putably real character of this "you" is at least to some extent intel-
ligible now that we have become aware of love's creativity. For
through love I "create" that which I see. I "make" the other "be"
what I see. Therefore, there is no possibility that one who does not
love will see what I see. At the same time I remain indifferent to
his denial of what I see, for I know that he is denying something else
than what I see. Hence I will not even try to prove that I am not
mistaken, for, as Husserl says, "it is impossible to come to an under-
standing with one who does not want or is unable to see."
6. PHENOMENOLOGY OF LAw177a
Introduction: Rights and Law. A consideration of love calls al-

most of necessity for its confrontation with rights and law.l7 8 The
177"J e demeure convaincu que c'est seulement par rapport a la grace que la
liberte humaine peut etre deinie en profondeur." Marcel, L'homme problCmatique,
Paris, 1955, p. 71.
177aln this section the one Dutch term "recht" has been translated by
"justice," "right," "law," or combinations of these words according as required
by the context. Tr.
178Cf., e.g., the controversy between Renouvier en Secretan. Madinier,
op. cit., pp. 25-51.
fact that such a confrontation often is to the advantage of love may

appear unbearable to those who are justifiably proud of the results
attained by man's efforts to formulate a tightly closed system of rights
and duties. They see in law the means par excellence to make the
world a human world and to secure the life of the individual.
Nevertheless, the philosophy of law does not receive any light
from such an admiration for the system of rules of law formulated
by man in the course of his history. Only in the supposition that right
and law are identical, would there be any ground for complacency.
This supposition was generally accepted by jurists in the nineteenth
century and continues to make its consequences felt even in our time,
especially in practice. 179 It manifests itself also in the customary
designation of the subject-matter treated here as "philosophy of law."
There would be no room for a philosophy of law if right and law
were identical. Whatever a philosophy of law is meant to do, at least
it wants to gather knowledge about what is just and unjust. If, how-
ever, just and unjust are identical with what the laws prescribe or
forbid, it would be impossible to see how a philosophy of law could
add anything to what has already been established by the particular
sciences of law. 180
In reality, however, the above-mentioned presupposition is false,
for right is not identical with law. 181 The laws of the past, present,
and future are the work of human beings who untiringly endeavor to
express and formulate what has to be done or not done in concrete
situations in order that there be justice. These men, then, have at
least implicitly a certain awareness of what justice is and what is
according to justice and, therefore, right. Laws are made; they are
not discovered just as a mountain is discovered somewhere. But, as
everyone knows who is acquainted with legal systems, there is always
injustice in laws. We mean not that among the rules of law there
are some which go against other rules, but that there are rules which
179Cf. R. Kranenburg, Podtiet recht en rechtsbewustzijn, Groningen 1938,
p.2.
180Cf. Kranenburg, op. cit., p. 1-2.
181It seems difficult to understand this. W. Ondin writes in his Inleiding to
Carlos Gits, Recht, Persoon en Gemeenschap, Louvain, 1949, "Justice, i.e., objec-
tive rights, are undoubtedly a whole of norms which are positively imposed for
the purpose of attaining a social goal-the common good-in order to organize
the collaboration of individuals in a necessary social organization. Practically
all treatises of the philosophy of law agree on this definitio_n." Ondin, however,
is very much mistaken. For the jurist, justice may be a "whole of norms."
The philosopher of law, however, is aware of it that this whole of norms may
be in agreement or disagreement with justice. Therefore, the philosopher can-
not agree to this definition.
are unjust because they go against justice. It is necessary constantly

to revise the laws to make them correspond more and more with rights
and justice. 182 Finally, it may and does happen that a man misuses
the system of laws to commit the greatest injustice in the most efficient
way without punishment. Therefore, it is entirely out of the question
that the system of laws would be identical with justice.
Philosophy oj Law and Sciences of Law. Thus it should be ap-
parent that even for one who has mastered the various sciences of
law there still remain all kinds of questions which will never receive
an answer from these sciences. There is, first of all, the question
as to what exactly "right" is. If laws merely indicate, formulate,
and define certain definite concrete rights, the question as to what
"right" is imposes itself immediately. A second, related question
inquires into the value of the normative character proper to justice.
Every jurist is convinced that laws ought to be observed. But why?
Because there is a law which prescribes it? Such an answer would
merely postpone the question, for why must this law be observed?
Justice itself is normative, but this point is not considered by the
particular sciences of law. Finally, the work of revising the system
of laws which goes on constantly to bring the system more and more
into harmony with justice requires knowledge which none of the
special sciences of law supplies. 183 The lawmaker will have to keep
justice in mind if he wants to make just laws.
These and other similar questions are raised and answered, as
far as possible, by the philosophy of law. In considering them, it may
be useful to refer once more to the source of philosophical knowl-
edge. This source is the being of man, characterized by understand-
ing of being. The philosopher conceptualizes the juridical aspect of
man's being, just as he conceptualizes its aspects of knowledge, love,
etc.
Everyone really knows what justice is,184 as should be clear from
the fact that in many cases men know unmistakably that this or that
is an injustice. For instance, I am convinced that a master does an
injustice to his servant if he withholds his wages. Everyone knows
that it is unjust if a particular social class is excluded from the
182Cf. Madinier, op. cit., pp. 54-55.

183Cf. Kranenburg, op. cit., p. 3.
184"An attempt to determine exactly what the essence of 'right' is, presup-
poses a gen~ral idea of 'right' as a phenomenon occurring in human society and
not in the stratosphere or in certain geological strata." R. F. Beeriing, Kratos.
Studies over Macht, Antwerpen-Amsterdam, 1956, p.170.
possibility of self-realization. No matter what the laws say, such a

thing is unjust. IS5 In other words, my experience of my being as
a self-together-with-other-selves-in-the-world contains a requirement
of justice; co-existence includes consciousness of justice. Here also
it is the task of phenomenology to conceptualize "lived experience."186
The important point is to remain faithful to experience, to eXlJress
experience accurately, for otherwise I will fall into "abstractions"
which would make the character proper to the juridical aspect of co-
existence unrecognizable and elicit a protest irom "lived experi-
ence."187
a. Unsatisfactory Theories
There are innumerable theories about the origin of rights. How-
ever, if less radical differences are left aside, most theories can be
reduced to two main trends-namely, the objectivistic, empiricist, or
positivistic trend and the subjectivistic, aprioristic, and intellectualistic
trend. We have met these trends before. They agree insofar as they
divorce the subject which man is from the world and the world from
man. Objectivism places most stress on the world; for it, "reality"
as a domain that is independent of man is the place \vhere meaning is
found. Subjectivism, on the other hand, emphasizes the spontaneity
of the subject; for it, the place where meaning is lies in an isolated
and locked-up-in-itself consciousness. Let us examine the bearing of
these views on the philosophy of law.
Obj,ectivistic Theorv. The objectivistic, positivistic, or empmClst
trend s~~ks the origin ~f rights in the de facto relationships occurring
in the world. Laws are supposed to be an explicit mirroring of these
relations. The right resides in a world-in-itself, and the conscious-
ness facing this world, even the consciousness of right, is fully pas-
sive. 190 ConsCiOl1S;leSS mirrors what happens regularly, and this
I85Cf. Henri Bergson, Lcs deux SOIl1'ces de la Morale et de la Religiun,
Paris, 1942, p. 76.
IS6C. Kwant, "De bestaanswijze van het recht," Alge1lleen N ederlallds
Tijdschrift voor wijsbegeerte en Psychologie, vol. 48 (1956), p. 130.
187Thus it could conceivably happen that the philosopher will summarize his
reflections in the definition "right is might." The only possible reply is that this
is not true. "Lived experience" knows better.
IssCf. G. E. Langemeyer, Inleiding tot de studie von de Wijsbegeerte des
Rechts, Zwolle, 1956.
189Cf. H. G. Rambonnet, "Opvattingen van Nederlandse juristen over Recht
en Rechtswetenschap," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie vol. IX (1947), pp. 327-351.
190The views also of the so-called "Historical School," chiefly represented
by Puchta and von Savigny, must be considered to be objectivistic and empiri-
regularity indicates also what ought to be done in justice. 191 Our

conviction that injustice ought to be punished is simply "explained"
by the fact that we are accustomed to perceive the de facto punish-
ment of deviations from the above-mentioned regularity.
The views which are defended by the objectivistic trend of the
philosophy of law make one essential element of "right" very clear-
namely, "right," or rather the juridical aspect of existence, whose con-
crete demands are formulated by laws, implies an involvement of sub-
jectivity in the facticity of relationships.192 There can be no question
of making an isolated consciousness self-sufficient as consciousness of
"right." The consciousness of "right" needs involvement in actual
situations to be what it is. However, objectivism exaggerates this
aspect of !'right." For the objectivist, consciousness of "right" is a
consciousness which has been filled with impressions regarding the
actual relationships between human beings. Thus working at the
establishment of laws means to codify the mirroring of actual rela-
tionships in consciousness. Rather frequently this is the viewpoint
taken by those who actually hold power in a human society. The
thesis that might is right implies an objectivistic theory of right. 193
The principal difficulty against objectivism consists in its ina-
bility to explain the normative character of "right."194 I "ought" to
behave according to justice, but whence comes this obligation? I do
cistic. This school pays attention only to the origin of rights and justice among
primitive groups. Such groups are constituted by a kind of biological-affective
fusion of their members, driven by quasi-instinctive, almost unconscious, almost
animal forces and impulses of a gregarious character. A kind of order and
equilibrium "grows almost spontaneously" from these forces and impulses, and
the members of the group hold fast to this order because it is a vital necessity.
Thus right and justice are, as it were, the sediment of forces resulting from
tribal spirit (Volksgeist). However, we should not speak of rights and justice
here, for such primitive groups are not societies of persons in the full sense of
the term. These groups and people still live on an almost-animal level. Cf. Gits,.
op. cit., pp. 355-375.
191"A regulari!y establishes itself in man's behavior toward his fellow men,
i.e., society assumes a certain form, a fixed order. Here lies the origin of the
matter from which the legal order is built, for man becomes aware of this
regularity. From the particular actions which he perceives man forms the rule
which is immanent in them. The consciousness of this rule is called 'ethical
conviction.' Thus justice is born." H. J. Hamaker, "Dogmatische en em-
pirische rechtsbeschouwing," V erspreide Geschriften, collected by Molengraaff
and Star Busmann, vol. 7 (Algemene Rechtsgeleerdheid), Haarlem, 1913, pp.
15-16. See also "Het recht en de maatschappij," ibid., pp. 19-133.
192Cf. C. Gits, Recht, Persoon en Gemeenschap, Louvain, 1948, pp. 267-274.
198"This is the standpoint to which those are inclined who more or less favor
the factual character of justice and right rather than its normative character."
Beeriing, op. cit., pp. 173-174.
194Cf. Gits, op. cit., pp. 274-275.
not account for it by pointing to a mental mirroring of actual rela-

tionships. What is de facto is not per se what ought to be. Under
the influence of all kinds of factors actual relationships are not rarely
unjust-what ought not to be. Juridical existence contains more than
can be explained by the objectivist. De facto relationships in a so-
called "world-in-itself" lie, if we may express ourselves in this way,
on the side of reality where "I" am not to be found. How, then,
could such relationships explain that "I" ought to be just? Does not
this "ought" refer rather to "me" as to the source whence right
springs? Is there not in man something like a "sense of justice," an
"idea of justice"?
Subjectivistic Theory. The concluding sentence of the preceding

paragraph points to the fundamental inspiration of the subjectivistic,
aprioristic, and intellectualistic trend in the philosophy of law. 190
This trend thinks that justice or "right" draws its origin from an
idea, instinct, or feeling, dwelling in the interiority of an isolated
consciousness that is closed upon itself. This idea or feeling pre-
scribes what is just for man, and through it man knows that he is
bound." Accordingly, to justify its views, the philosophy of law
refers to psychology,196 defined as the theory of contents of con-
sciousness considered in themselves.
It is not difficult for the subjectivistic trend to justify the norma-
tive character of "right". Some of the "contents" with which our
consciousness is filled simply possess in an unmistakable way the
normative character by which we know that we are obliged to act
in this or that way.l97 On the other hand, however, we never know
whether and to what extent normative ideas or feelings grasp the
reality which justice endeavors to transform into a legal order. How
could there ever be question of creating such an order if the norma-
tive consciousness of justice were insensible to the de facto relation-
ships given in experience? For instance, how could consciousness
195Cf. J. H. E. J. Hoogveld, Hoofdlijnen z'an de AIgcmene Rechtsfilosofie

naar Peripateties-Thomistiese beginselen, Nijmegen-Utrecht, 1934, pp. 4-5.
196C. H. Krabbe, Het Rechtsge:::ag, 's-Gravenhage, 1917, p. 28.
l!l7"My starting-point, on the other hand, ... is that of the affections which
fill our consciousness. Some of them have a normative character, i.e., they
manifest themselves to us as an obligatory duty to judge, think, and act in
accord with the orientation expres,cd in such an awareness. The consciousness
of justice and right, therefore, is a psychological fact,-albeit of a special char-
acter-as are esthetic feeling, moral consciousness, truth consciousness and reli-
gious feeling." Krabbe, op. cit., p. 21.
express the right to emigration if the experience of Western Europe's

overpopulation had not preceded?
Philosophy of Law and Anthropology. Thus we see that neither
objectivism nor subjectivism are capable of explaining the origin of
justice and rights. Both objectivism and subjectivism, however, are
transcended and harmonized by phenomenology, which at the same
time retains whatever true insights either of them contains. 198
As soon as it is recognized that the questions raised by the philos-
ophy of law are of an entirely different nature than those of the
sciences of law, i.e., that the question what justice or "right" is
cannot be answered by a system of laws, it becomes evident that the
reply has to be sought where man himself is, for it is man who has
rights and duties. As a matter of fact, the objectivistic and sub-
jectivistic philosophies of law themselves tried to find justice and
"right" where they thought that man could be found. The failure of
these philosophies must be blamed mainly on the insufficiency of the
anthropologies which constituted their foundation. Objectivism con-
siders man as a fragment of nature in the midst of other things of
nature. 199 If, then, justice or "right" has anything to do with man,
it will have to be found in a world-in-itself. For subjectivism, on
the other hand, man is one or other form of pure interiority; therefore,
"right" also, as a state of this interiority, will have to be found in
this interiority.
Noone who is aware of the general orientation of this book will
be surprised to see that we do not spend much time in refuting
objectivism or subjectivism in the philosophy of law. Once the
fundamental insights of phenomenology are accepted, one seeks the
source of right no longer in an objectivistic world or in a pure in-
teriority of consciousness, but in existence. 2oo The place where the
source of "right" must be sought is man, but man conceived as
198Cf. Remy C. Kwant, op. cit., pp. 132-134.

199"It is evident that in this view the very exceptional position which, accord-
ing to the opposite opinion, belongs to man in nature is abolished . . . . Man is
a part of matter which, although it has its own peculiar structure and is en-
dowed with powerful action, is not distinct from any other matter with respect
to the character of its action .... In its eternal motion matter has assumed also
the form of human beings." Hamaker, op. cit., p. 121.
~ooFor this reason we may be much briefer here than C. Bronkhorst ill his
article "Recht en Wereld," Tijdschrijt voor Philosophie, vol. XVII (1955),
pp. 591-622. Bronkhorst pleads for an existential view of law. Unfortunately,
he makes no effort to explicitate what is meant by "always being-concretely-in-
the-world as being-in-the-order-of-justice" (p. 611).
existing, or better still, as co-existing, as an embodied subjectivity

together with other embodied subjectivities in a common world.
b. The Source of Rights

Let us begin by pointing out that the term "right" can have
several meanings, so that we have to determine more accurately in
what sense it is used here. I may say, "John has a right to this loaf
of bread" or "John has the right to study law." The term "right"
indicates here that he is entitled to possess something or to do some-
thing. In this case we speak of subjective right. This subjective
right, however, calls for another meaning of the same term which is
directly related to subjective right-namely, objective right. I may
say, for instance, that I deprive John of his "right" if I take away
his loaf of bread or make it impossible for him to study law. The
bread and the study themselves are called "rights" insofar as they
are objects to which John's right refers. Hence they are called
'objective rights."201 That to which John is entitled is called "John's
rights" or "his."
Intersubjectivity and Right. With respect to John, there can be
question of "his" only insofar as the object in question is not "mine."
That John can call something "his" means the exclusion of the
other, the limitation of the other's power. If there were only a single
human being in the whole world, he would not have any right. With
respect to nature man has no rights; for instance, no one will speak
of injustice if John's bread is spoiled by a humid climate. Likewise,
so far as animals are concerned, we do not speak of justice and in-
justice; when, e.g., an animal devours a man, the animal cannot be
said to go beyond its rights. Right, then, implies a relationship of
a subject to a subject, intersubjectivity, one or other form of "we."
But "we" are in-the-world and, therefore, the place where right is,
is co-existence, the being of man as a self together with other selves
in the world.
Justice. When I give or leave to John what is "his," I am called
"just."202 Justice is the willingness to accept my exclusion from what
John is entitled to and from everything to which his title refers,
regardless of the form which my acceptance may take. Justice is not
201Cf. W. J. A. J. Duynstee Over recht eK rechtvaardigheid, 's-Hertogen-
bosch 1956, p. 1.
202Cf. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. II-III, q. 57, a.l.
some kind of feeling or idea in the interiority of my consciousness,

but it is a mode of co-existence, a mode of accompanying the other
in the world, in such a way that I respect the rights of the other.203
It should be evident that justice does not merely indicate a
de facto form of co-existence. For the other can demand that I
respect his rights. He can claim his rights. With his right to make
this demand is connected that I "ought" to be just, i.e., that I have
the "duty" to respect the other's rights. This "ought" and "duty,"
then, are situated on an ethical level: I am considered to be "good"
when I am just, and "bad" when I am unjust. For this reason
justice is a virtue, and injustice a vice.
Moreover, when what is just has been laid down in a law, right
can be enforced. In a society which rises at least somewhat above
barbarism man's right are secured to a certain extent through the
penalties which uphold the laws.
\Ve are now in possession of the reasons why many have '1 high
esteem for rights and justice. They may be annoyed to see that in
contemporary thought a much greater value is quite often attributed
to love. Usually, however, this annoyance results from a misunder-
standing of love. They call love a sentimental feeling which is power-
less to create a human world. 204 This "love" they oppose to right
and justice which have recreated the world and made it a place
where man can live. Unfortunately for them, however, their view
of love is incorrect. Moreover, they probably have never even asked
themselves whence right and justice originate. The static aspect of
justice has made them lose sight of its historical source. 205
Justice Does Not Create an Ideal Human Situation. It IS not
difficult to see that justice does not create relationships which may be
called "ideally human." This assertion flows from our explicitations
of love, as seen in reference to what can be achieved by justice.
Justice is concerned with my being as a self together with other selves
in the world. The world is "our" world. Evidently, however, it is
not possible for each and everyone of us to possess the things of our
world fully at the same time. A field cannot be both fully mine and
203',] ustitia, perpetua et constans voluntas est, ius ,ummum unicuique tri-
bucns." Thomas Aquinas, op. cit., p. II-II, q. 58, a. I.
2fJ4Cf. Madinier, op. cit., pp. 24-25.
2fJ5"Trop sou vent, I'aspect statique de la justice a fait oublier son origine et
sa nature; dans Ie present du constat, on croit decouvrir les lineaments d'un
fCmtenu eternel, comme si toutes les determinati()!1s de la nature humaine
etaicnt deja pleinement revelees." Nedoncelle, op. cit., p. 87.
fully of someone else. Of course, we can agree to work it together,

but in that case the field is neither fully mine nor fully the other's.
In such an arrangement there is a great danger of disagreement.
We, therefore, decide to divide the field in a just way, taking each
exactly one half of the land, just as we were each supposed to get
one half of the harvest when we were working together.
What have we achieved through our justice? We have managed
to prevent disharmony. But we have remained strangers for each
other, we go parallel ways through life,206 we are and remain for
each other "he's" and "owners." Justice, then, excludes brute bar-
barism, war, and altercations. It is a first step on the road to the
humanization of our relationships. But if we take into consideration
that man is called to destine himself for the other, to be readily avail-
able for the other, to belong to the other, then it becomes evident
that justice does not and cannot realize the ideal of manhood. 207
Moreover, our rights may have been laid down in a law. But it
may happen that for some reason the other needs more than one
half of the harvest to lead a fully human life. If I were to demand
that we adhere to the law, it could mean that my insistence on my
right would destroy the other's subjectivity. There are people who
are exclusively "law-abiding" in the sense suggested abo'Ve. If
society consisted only of such people, it would be an inhuman hell. 208
Perhaps we are now in possession of sufficient data to indicate
co-existence as the source of right and justice. In doing so, it is
important to justify the "ought" by which I am bound, and to in-
vestigate what it means that the other can call a certain object or a
certain power his "right." It will not be necessary to distinguish
subjective and objective rights, for both meanings are correlated;
they constitute a dialectic unity and evoke each other, so that one
is not what it is without the other.
Man's Fundamental "Ought." As we have pointed out before,
right is not to be identified with law or the regulation of rights.
For laws may be "not right" or unjust. Justice, therefore, determines
206"La justice en elIet n'est pas l'ideal moral; eIle implique un effort d'union
et d'ordre, mais ene consacre !'alterite des individus au lieu de les unir." J, La-
croix, Personne et amour. Paris, 1955, p. 28.
207"La force nous oppose et Ie droit nous laisse encore exterieur et comme
etrangers les uns aux aut res ; par I'amour seul nous instituons des rapports
veritablement humains, nous nous unissons en nous rendant transparents les uns
pour les autres. L'amour est l'unique societe humaine parce qu'il est com-
munion." Lacroix, op. cit., p. 14.
208Cf. J. Delesalle, Liberti et Valeur, Louvain, pp. 177-182.
what is right. Moreover, I "ought" to be just. It may be possible,

then, to discover the origin of "right" and of the "duty" corresponding
to "right" by means of an understanding of justice.
The "ought" of justice is implied in a much more general "ought."
It is merely an aspect of the "ought" which characterizes my entire
existence. For man's being must be described as a zu sein,209 an
avoir a etre. 210 This idea has been expressed several times already
without becoming the theme of our investigation. Because it will be
treated ex professo in the last chapter, we will limit ourselves here
again to what is needed immediately-namely, what is required for
an understanding of the "ought" of justice.
Man, as we have seen, is not just as a thing is. A child is not
small just as a daisy is small; a teenager is not confused just as there
is confusion in the box containing his erector-set; a girl is not hunch-
backed just as a willow-tree is gnarled; a man is not chaste just as a
lily is white, and he is not sick just as a cabbage is spoiled. What
distinguishes man from a thing is that man as a subject is always
related to what he is. Man's being is a relationship to being (Seins-
verhiiltnis),211 i.e., he is concerned with his being. A thing simply
is what it is without being concerned with its being, without any relati-
tionship to its facticity.
Consequently, a thing "cannot do anything with its facticity."
The opposite, however, is true of man. Man as existence is an em-
bodied-subjectivity-in-the-world, but the subject which man is, is
not fixed in the facticity of his body and of his world. Every de facto
mode of existing includes elbow-room for a capacity of being. Man is
not merely de facto small, confused, hunchbacked, chaste, sick, etc.
On the proper level of his manhood his facticity always leaves some
possibilities open. We may even say that his facticity is no real
facticity unless there is "elbow-room" for potential being. 212 As the
unity of facticity and potentiality, man is called a "project."213
210Cf. Sartre, L' etre et Ie neant, p. 33.
211'"Das Dasein ist ein Seiendes, das nicht nur unter anderem Seienden
vorkommt. Es ist vielmehr dadurch ontisch ausgezeichnet, dasz es diesem
Seienden in seinem Sein urn dieses Sein se1bst geht. Zu dieser Seinsverfassung
des Daseins gehiirt aber dann, dasz es in seinem Sein zu diesem Sein ein
Seinsverhiiltnis hat." Heidegger, ap. cit., p. 12.
212"Das Seiende, dem es in seinem Sein urn dieses selbst geht, verhiilt sich zu
seinem Sein als seiner eigensten Miiglichkeit. Dasein ist je seine Miiglichkeit
und es 'hat' sie nicht nur noch eigenschaftlich als ein vorhandenes." Heidegger,
op. cif .. p. 42.
213"Der Entwurfcharakter des Verstehens konstituiert das In-der-Welt-
sein hinsichtlich der Erschlossenheit seines Da als Da eines Seinkiinnens.
242 Existential Plzenol/lClIO!ogy
The term "project" evokes the idea of incompleteness. This in-

completeness, however, which is attributed to man does not yet
express what we mean when we call man's being a zu-sein. The term
zusein indicates a certain aspect of the relationship between man's
subjectivity and facticity. Although this relationship is very com-
plex,214 it contains at least a kind of affective distance, a kind of
saying "No" to any kind of facticity. It is not possible for man to
give his complete consent to any facticity whatsoever. 215 Man's
consent to the facticity of his existence is never given without a
certain reserve. For this reason any plenitude of manhood is ex-
perienced at the same time as permeated with emptiness, any fulness
and satisfaction as stained with hollowness and dissatisfaction. As a
project, man is the unity-in-opposition of facticity and potentiality;
consequently, he is unfinished. Insofar as no de facto situation is
capable of satisfying him, his existence is characterized by a funda-
mental restlessness, he is, as it were, driven constantly to extend
himself beyond his facticity toward the fulfilment of this or that
mode of potential being. This restlessness means that man's being
is a having-to-be, that it is characterized by a fundamental and
general "ought."
The "Ought" of Justice. This fundamental "ought," however, is
not yet the "ought" which is proper to justice. Of justice it is true
that it is what it "ought" to be, contrary to injustice which is what it
"ought not" to be. I ought to be just, but I am capable of being
unjust. I do not per se do what I ought to do in justice, but I do
per Sf what belongs to the fundamental and general "ought" con-
stituting my manhood as zu sein. I cannot withdraw fr0111 my Zit seil1
as I can withdraw from the obligations of justice. I am a project.
but I am also and just as primordially the executioll of this project.
All this may sounds perhaps a little strange. I\" evertheless. it ht'-
comes transparently clear \vhen I attempt to think of the man I a111
as a refusal to execute the project which I am. Let us assume that I
refuse to execute the project-of-myself-and-of-my-world which I am.
refuse to realize myseJi and to create my world. My attitude no\\" is
one \rhich \\"C may style that of the "quietist, the "do-nothing."
Der Entwurf ist die existenziale Scinsverfassung des Spie1raums des fakti-c1wll
Seinkonnens. Und als gc\Yorfcnes ist das Dasein in die Seinsart des Elle-
werfens geworfen." Heideggcr, op. cit., p. 145.
214See below, pp. 269 ff.
215"I1 manque a son assentiment qtlelCltle chose de massif et de charnel."
Merleau-Ponty, E10ge de la philosophic, Paris, 1953, p. 81.
However, even the "quietist" realizes himself and creates a world.

Despite the fact that he wants to withdraw from the world, or rather,
precisely because he withdraws from it, he constructs a world, but a
very special kind of world. Whoever allegedly withdraws from the
world builds a world in which his fellow men are illiterate, in which
most children die before the age of one, in which floods make regularly
hundreds of thousands of victims, in which contagious diseases and
famine make the land inhabitable, etc. I can "refuse" to realize myself,
but this refusal means that I realize myself as an ignoramus, a lazy-
bones, an egoist. The "quietist," then, necessarily realizes himself and
necessarily creates a world. Of necessity man realizes his "having-
to-be," the fundamental and general "ought" of his existence, but it
may happen that he does it in a way it "ought not" to be done.
Why is the "quietist's" way of self-realization not what it "ought"
to be in the pregnant sense of the term? The meaning of his world
shows the reason in the simplest way. This world "ought" not to
be, because it is inhuman, i.e., not worthy of man. In this world no
man can continue to live, all subjectivity is choked to death, no freedom
can blossom. The "quietist" builds a world, but he does not take
the subjectivity of his fellow men into account. The "ought-not"
character of his world points to a special mode of "ought" pertaining
to his existence. That his world is not what it "ought" to be means
that he has not fulfilled the most fundamental requirement, the most
basic "ought" of his self-realizing essence-namely, the requirement
to will, support, and promote the subjectivity of his fellow man.
Justice and Love. We have met this requirement before. It is the

demand to love. In the encounter with the other as subjectivity I ex-
perience this subjectivity as an appeal to my being. This appeal
reveals to me my own being as destination for the other. I am authen-
tically human only by means of my ready availability for the other.
This availability, as my reply to the other's appeal, is not a sub-
jective feeling, but the firm will to support his subjectivity and to open
his world to his freedom, so that it will be possible for him to be at
home in his world and freely to go forward to his destiny. My "having-
to-be," therefore, contains a very special kind of "ought"-I have to be
for the other. If I refuse to do so, I build a world which "ought-not"
to be, and am what everyone calls a "bad man."
These considerations bring us close to the concept of justice and
the origin of rights. To realize how close, we have only to see that
no one would think of claiming rights with respect to me if I were

perfectly at his disposal. \Vhen love is perfect, there can be no thought
of rights, for whoever loves perfectly is willing to sacrifice his life
for his beloved. One whose love is perfect is always a step ahead of
all rights. It will never be possible to demand something of one who
is willing to offer his life for his fellow man, for he has already given
or done what is contained in the demand, he has already given or
done more than could be demanded of him. In a community of per-
fect love there could be no rights and no justice.
Justice as the 1lJinitllltin Demand of Love. Man, however, knows
that there are no such communities. No matter how perfect a com-
munity may be, there is always something in it that pertains to the
aspect of manhood by which "man is a wolf for his fellow man."216
It is not necessary to describe this aspect of manhood in detail, for
we experience and practice it every day.217 ?-dan is not only "ready
availability" (Marcel) but also "stare" (Sartre). Our experience of
co-existence contains, on the one hand, the awareness that man is
destined for his fellow man, called to will his subjectivity, and on
the other, the knowledge that man is a wolf for his fellow man, in-
clined to destroy his subjectivity. It is to control this situation that
man has "invented" rights. Because a community of perfect love is
Utopian, the society which manhood calls for and demands must be
a society of justice, precisely because of the imperfection of its love.
Experiencing himself as destined for the other and realizing that
it is a loveless act to destroy the other's subjectivity, man sees him-
self obliged at least to respect the other's subjectivity. Experiencing
himself as destined-for-the-other as well as a wolf-for-the-other, man
sees that the minimum demanded by love consists in not allowing the
wolf in him to devour the other. What love prescribes as the mini-
mum "ought" is formulated as the other's most fundamental right,
so that in fulfilling this minimum I am just. 218 We have now formu-
lated the most fundamental right of my fellow man-his right to
216"Homo homini lupus" (Hobbes).

217Madinier uses here the term "biological opposition," which is perhaps
less fortunate, for one can hardly consider as biological the opposition between
human beings because of cupidity, envy, distrust, or hatred. \\That Madinier
means is "the exclusive character of individuals." Cf. op. cif., p. 123.
218"Justice . . . has as its object the minimum of objective elements and
relations which are needed to make love possible and to safeguard it." L.
Janssens, "Naastenliefde en rechtvaardigheid," Kit/filar/even, vol. XIX (1952),
p. 12.
life. This right is the most fundamental right of my fellow man,

because my destination-for-the-other demands at least that I do not
murder him.
The Minimum Demand of Love is Constantly Modified. Numer-

ous examples could be adduced to show that the minimum demanded
by love changes all the time. To understand such examples, it is
necessary to be deeply convinced that truth, conceived as the un-
veiling of reality, is an historical event. This necessity applies even
to understanding the meaning of the other's subjectivity as appeal
and of my own subjectivity as destiny. Becoming aware of this
meaning is an event in the history of my knowledge, an actual event
which, however, has a future. Any actual acts of seeing opens the
road to future acts. Once I understand that love demands of me at
least not to murder the other, my understanding opens to me the
possibility of seeing that the other has a right also to a piece of our
world, to livelihood, to work, to facilities for self-development, etc.
For love wills the other's subjectivity and selfhood, and this subjectiv-
ity is not what it is without the body and without the world in which
it is involved. No one, therefore, can really want the other's sub-
jectivity without wanting for him his body and his world. But one
who does not even see how uncharitable it is to bar the other from
institutions for medical care will certainly not see that the other has
a right to an intellectual development proportioned to his capacities
and to old age security. Love becomes constantly better able to see
and, therefore, the minimum demanded by love is constantly modi-
fied. 219
Confirmation. It may not be amiss to emphasize that we are not

speaking here of right and justice in the full sense of the term.
Jurists especially will be distinctly aware of this. All we have spoken
about is the origin of right and justice. Right finds its source in the
219"One has only to survey our modern constitutional rights: the right
of man to his life, to the integrity of his body, to his honor and reputation:
the various public freedoms: freedom of movement, freedom of thought and
of religion, freedom of education, freedom of union and meeting, freedom
of the press and of correspondence; the rights of possession: the acquisition
of property by occupation or work; contracts: the obligations arising from
freely entered contracts, the possibility of disposing of one's property in
life and death; the rights of labor: the right to work, the right to a living
wage; political rights: the equality of all citizens before the law, the right
to a legally conducted trial or process of recovery, the abolition of privileges,
the right of everyone to participate in government and to hold public office."
Gits, op. cit., pp. 367-368.
minimum performances demanded by love. Before we will endeavor

to explicitate the full meaning of right and justice, we would like to
indicate a few confirmations of our theory as delineated above.
A first confirmation may be found in the history of rights. What,
for instance, today is affirmed as a right of the laborer was formerly
only given to them through the love of the best of men. What for-
merly was considered an act of charity is viewed today as a duty
of justice. 220
A second confirmation may be seen in the fact that it is impos-
sible to make love juridically obligatory. This impossibility is ob-
vious, because an obligation of justice cannot prescribe as a minimum
duty a mode of "having to be" which in its very essence transcends
every minimum.
Finally, traditional moral philosophy confirms our view when it
judges the obligations of justice greater than those of charity or
love. The greater obligation of justice is immediately evident when
one realizes that justice prescribes only minimum performances.
To the minimum man is most stringently obliged. 221
c. Laws and Legal Imtitutions
A Juristic Objection Against Justice as the Minimum of Love.

Jurists especially will object to the theory which considers rights
and justice as the minimum of love. They have the impression that
the philosopher is not concerned with what they call rights and
justice, and think that he does not view justice as a special cate-
gory, a proper realm, a specific reality which constitutes their field
of labor. They are convinced that the philosopher cannot even see
this special category, because he is a philosopher and not a jurist.
Especially this conviction of the jurists is meaningful. It lies
on the same level as the objections of, e.g., chemists against the
yiews of the philosophers of nature. What these philosophers say
about matter as matter is frequently indigestible as far as the chemist
is concerned. He has the impression that the philosophers of nature
are not interested in the stuff the chemists are working with, that
220Cf. Janssens, 'op. cit .. p. 15.

221"At once it is evident that the duties of justice are most urgent and
have to be fulfilled first. This does not mean that justice excels love or
can be separated from it, but that justice is concerned with the strictly neces-
sary minimum of the duties of love." Janssens, /lp. cit., p. 12.
they do not even see the reality of this stuff, and are incapable of
seeing it, because they are not chemists.
The difficulties of both the jurists and the chemists against the
philosopher are based on a misunderstanding, which the philosopher
has to remove. His reply is a retort. He claims that the chemist is
not entitled to stating what matter is and that the jurist has no
right to say what right is because, as specialists in particular sciences,
they do not know the answer. The questions raised by the philosopher
and the noemata or objects corresponding to these questions are
distinct from the questions and objects aimed at by the specialists in
particular sciences. For all questioning takes place with a determined
intention, from a determined viewpoint, in such a way that the
aspect of reality which is in question is co-dependent on the intention
of the question, on the standpoint of the questioner.
For instance, the chemist asks for empirically verifiable laws
governing material reactions, and about these laws the philosopher
says nothing. The philosopher of nature asks about the essence of
the material thing insofar as this thing agrees with every other
material thing. This essence is something about which the chemist,
as chemist, can say nothing. He presupposes and has, albeit only
implicitly, some knowledge of the philosophy of nature, and in
virtue of this knowledge he can work as a chemist without confusing
his job with that of, e.g., the psychologist. However, as a chemist,
he does not explicitate this philosophical knowledge of nature. If
he attempts to do it anyhow, he goes beyond the framework of his
own questions and becomes a philosopher. What he produces as
such is not infrequently bad philosophy.
An analogous answer has to be given to jurists when they reproach
the philosopher of law for not speaking about that which they
,tudy and work with. This is true, of course, but it is exactly as it
should be. Jurists speak about particular laws and institutions of law,
which for them seem to live a kind of separate and isolated life, and
with which they work as if these laws and institutions were kinds of
substances. They presuppose and possess, albeit only implicitly, some
knowledge of the philosophy of law, just as the chemist presupposes
and possesses some knowledge of the philosophy of nature. However,
they do not explicitate this knowledge and, if they try to do it any-
how, they abandon the proper framework of their questions and be-
come philosophers. A jurist deals with rules of right and legal
institutions. He is not concerned with man's existence as creative of
rights, at least not when he limits himself to questions which are

proper to a jurist.
Nevertheless, it will be possible to grant the jurist something
more then we have done till the present. We do not mean that the
philosopher will give in and begin to speak about right and justice
as about rules of right and legal institutions. All we intend to do is
to show the jurist that justice as the minimum of love calls of neces-
sity for rules of rights or laws and legal institutions if it is to be
justice in the strict sense, i.e., enforceable right.
Justice Requires Authority. It is not sufficient that the minimum

of love be simply stated and formulated. This minimum means a
first step in the humanization of society, the first success in the taming
of the wolf, the first victory over barbarism, on condition that man
take measures to consolidate this first victory. There can be no ques-
tion of real progress in humanization unless men place an authority
at the head of their society and provide this authority with the neces-
sary power to give concrete shape to the ever-changing minimum
demands of humanity in a system of laws and legal institutions and,
if necessary, to impose this system by force. The reason is that the
envisioned ideal of humanity cannot be realized without running into
a multitude of obstacles,222 which we have indicated in general by
the term "the wolf in man."
There can be no justice, in the full sense of the term, no enforce-
able right, unless there be an authority. As soon as in a society certain
minimum demands of humanity make their appearance, the society
will indicate some persons from among its members whose task it will
be to see to it that these demands be realized and that what has been
realized be safeguarded. These persons derive their power from the
Zft sein which characterizes man as co-existence. As bearers of au-
thority they represe~t this Zft sein and only insofar as they represent
it are they bearers of authority.223
Authority Demands Power. The realization of this zu sein de-

mands that the authority can dispose of power. 224 No legal order
is possible without authority, but this authority is not real unless it
222Cf. Gits, op. cit., pp. 337-338.

223Cf. Gits, op. cit., p. 332.
2.24"It is very difficult to explicitate the meaning of power, especially
in its relatioltship to rights and justice." Cf., e.g., Beerling op. cit., pp. 167-250.
Phenomcnology of Intersuujcclivity 249
has power. 225 The time in which we live makes us painfully aware
of this truth. There is no jus gentium, because there is no supra-
national authority and no supra-national power. Here also lies the
mistake of radical pacifists and anti-militarists.!!26 They want a just
peace, but without armies, they want right without might. Such an
idea is Utopian and anthropologically a mistake. At present, the situ-
ation is even such that these anti-militarists are able to defend their
error only because others fulfill their military duty.
Right without power is not possible. However, it would be an
exaggeration to identify the two. Nevertheless, such an identification
does not always arise from contempt for true humanity and it does
not necessarily mean that true rights are cynically trampled upon.
"Ideologies of power often go hand in hand with pessimistic anthro-
pologies. This pessimism may be a matter of principle, but it may
also be the result of certain political experiences. In this case it
must be considered the expression of a disappointed and disenchanted
idealism. It praises power not for power's sake, but as the only
and the last means against chaos (MacchiaveIli, Hobbes) ."227
Laws as Embodiment of the Minimum of Love. Rules governing
rights, i.e., laws, belong to the embodiment of the minimum demands
of love in a legal order.228 These laws are proclaimed by the author-
ity. They derive their normative character from the zu sein vvhich
characterizes existence as co-existence. 229 Justice cannot do without
these laws. 23o Without laws there would be no orientation in the
2~5"Tout droit exprime un certain rapport de forces. Un droit que ne
soutient aucune force peut faire illusion un moment: il ne tarde pas a s'ecrouler
et la rc!alite remplace bientot l'apparence. Aussi ne suffit-il pas de dire que
Ie droit sans la force est inefficace: i1 faut affirmer qu'iJ n'existe pas." Lacroix,
op. cit., p. 15.
226Cf. Lacroix, op. cif., p. 14.
~27Beerling, op. cit., p. 177.
228"Mais la justice est issue de la charite, et si elle constitue un ensemble
de regles, ce sont des regles que la charite a, pour ainsi dire, deposees."
Madinier, op. cit., p. 128.
229Regarding the obligatory character of the norms there exists rather
strange views, which usually flow from the idea that norms are rules-which-
are-there. For instance, Duynstee writes: "The action of the norm, then,
is necessarily addressed to reason, and to reason alone. Its proper effect is
to illuminate reason, to make it recognize a determined action as good. It
is essentially an ordering of reason. Through this i111umination, in which
a certain action is made known to man as a necessary good, the obligation
arises for him to act in accord with it." Op. cit., p .5. Thus the "effect"
produced by the "action" of the norm is the obligation. This is an upside-
down view of the whole matter.
~soCf. Gits, op. cit., pp. 337-344.
innumerably many actions which take place within a society. If the

orientation in which the actions ought to be performed is not to be
against the minimum of humanization reached in a given society, the
direction to be taken must be indicated by directives, i.e., laws. For
man is also a wolf for his fellow man and, therefore, many actions
are done which go against this orientation. For this reason laws
are often negative: they simply prohibit many actions. 231
Laws with their sanctions guarantee a certain stability to the
level of humanization which has been reached in a certain society.
From the legal system of a society one can deduce how far the
society in question has advanced on the road to humanization. The
existing laws fix, as it were, a certain level of humanization. The
stability of the laws is the expression of the firm will the society in
question has not to fall below a definite leve1. 232 The laws are a
barrier which deprives the wolf in man of his chances.233 The fact
that strictly speaking there is no j~s gentium, no international law,
is very significant. It indicates that the nations have not yet arrived
at that minimum of love in virtue of which one nation wills-and
still less favors-the collective subjectivity, the selfhood of the other.
On the international level the relations of nations are still fully
inhuman.
The Legal Order as a Special Category. Above we have described
justice as the willingness to give the minimum of love. This minimum
is called "right," understood as the moral power of a subject to
realize his own selfhood and his own world. As soon as one under-
stands that justice and right need a legal order to be effective in a
society, it will be easy to see why right is frequently, although
unju.stIy, identified with the legal system, and why justice is expli-
citated as the willingne.ss to adopt oneself to this system. 234
Jurists especially succumb to this temptation, because they are
ex professo occupied with the legal order. As jurists, they busy
themselves with the legal system, as it is embodied and anchored in
231C. Gits, op. cit., p. 340.
232"Le moraliste . . . peut la detinir comme une volonte de ne pas
retrograder dans Ie chemin parcouru par I'oeuvre ancestrale de I'amour."
Nedoncelle, op. cit., p. 87.
233"La justice est l'ensemble des regles que la charite a inventees pour
s'assurer et s'etablir parmi les hommes d'une fa~on durable. Ces regles
sont un cran d'arret et un parapet; e1les representent un certain etat d'unite
et d'harmonie audessous duquel une societe n'accepte pas de descendre."
234C. Gits, op. cit., p. 339.
the facticity of society. They see to it that "justice takes its course,"
and that the legal system "functions." For the jurist or lawyer the
legal order functions as a kind of "process" which in a sense, like
every process, works "blindly." Justice, therefore, is represented as
blindfolded. Those who live in a given society "undergo," as it were,
the facti city of the legal order. They try as much as possible to prevent
any deviation from this order, because they know that otherwise they
will almost "automatically" set the order against themselves. The
legal order "reacts" immediately. Once a legal system has been set
up, it begins somehow to lead a life of its own. We say "of its own,"
because it can be considered apart from its origin as a facticity, and
this facticity exercises a certain pressure on the members of the
society, so that it has a normative "action."
It is of the greatest importance that the members of a society
undergo this "action," this "pressure." To undergo the facticity of
the legal order means to participate in the results which the struggle
with the inhumanity of the wolf in man has produced. These results
are laid down and rendered secure in a "functioning" legal order.
Because of the "pressure" exercised by this order, it "produces"
humanization in an almost "process-like" way, even if some or many
members of the society do not personally apply themselves to becom-
ing humanized. This consequence is important, for it means a first
victory over barbarism. On the other hand, it is true that the "we"
produced by the legal order is not the "we" of love. For within the
legal oNSer appeal becomes a demand, ready availability a duty,
reciprocity of love the equality of rights, and creative spontaneity a
'process." Jurists, therefore, are right when they state that justice is
a special category and that right is not the same as love. But what
they mean by justice and right is the legal order together with the
intersubjectivity "produced" by this order.
The Legal Order Can Become a Danger to Authentic Human
Life. The philosopher will immediately admit that this justice and
right are not love. But he denies that this justice is justice unquali-
fied. He denies also that it will be possible to find out what justice is
by looking only at what is handled by jurists and lawyers-namely,
the legal order. And finally, he points out that the legal order would
be a danger for society if it were to be exclusively in the hands of
jurists who are nothing but jurists.
We have indicated above how it is possible that a jurist be nothing
but a jurist. He manipulates the legal order, which can be considered
as the facticity of society, and this society can be considered separately

from its origin as well as separately from its destiny. The legal order,
however, should not be considered exclusively as separated from its
origin and destiny.235 If the origin and destiny of the legal order are
no longer seen at all, if man stares himself blind looking at its facticity
and its quasi-processlike functioning, petrifaction and formalism will
enter the order.236 Stability, which hitherto was the strength of the
system, now becomes its weakness, because the order lacks the spon-
taneity and creativity of authentic subjectivity, of authentically human
life. Insofar as the system is stable, it stagnates in a certain minimum
whose embodiment it is. Authentically human life, however, which is
the life of love, cannot be satisfied with any minimum. Precisely
because of its stability, the legal order can impede the progress of
social life. 237 If jurists are nothing but jurists and, therefore, do not
see the origin and destiny of the legal system, they may still be able
"to settle a number of old debts,"238 but they cannot contribute to the
ever-i1lcreasing humanization of man's relationships. Jurists who are
nothing but jurists are just as dangerous for man as are biologists who
are only biologists but nevertheless endeavor to speak about man on
the proper level of his manhood. As viewed from the ideal of human-
ity, a petrified and formalistic legal system is only a waste product of
love. :!39 Justice and rights have to be seen not only juridically but
2:J5"Trop souvent, l'aspect statique de la justice a fait oublier son originc
et sa nature." N edoncelle, op. cit., p. 87.
236Les concepts juridiques sont des constructions humaines, toujours pcr~
fectibles, pour no us approcher toujours davantage de l'idee eternelle de charit~."
Lacroix, oin cit., p. 29.
237Madinier calls the "we" of justice "social room." (p. 112). On the other
hand, he affirms that "true social life" is constituted by love (p. 68). One may
ask whether it docs not pertain primarily to love to constitute "social room."
Madinier will not be able to reply in the affirmative because he defines "social
room" as "the organization of the exteriority of human persons" (p. 122). Th~
mutual exteriority of persons, their otherness, distance, independence, which
together are "social room" (p. 36), are constituted by justice (p. 63). "Just,"
then, would be "socia1." It does not seem possible to reconcile with this asser~
tion the thesis that love constitutes "true social life." This thesis would require
that "charitable" and "social" be identified. Cf. ;. van Boxte!, Ii crstcl del"
lipide il~ de sociale wijsbcgecrtc, Nijmegen-Utrecht, 1953. :\Iadinier's vic'\
has consequences in his conception of the relationship between love and j u;tice.
Love would need justice. because it pertains to justice "to constitute the other
as the other. (p. 122). Whoever is not "himself," distinct from the other, can-
not give "himself" (p. 129). Although this thought is undoubtedly true, olle
does not need Madinier's difficult and debatable train of thought to arrive at
this insight.
238"La justice est une charite aux yeux bandes, une memoire opinatrement
active qui ne cree rien mais regIe de vicux comptes avec une precision sLverc.
~edoncelle, op. cit., p. 87.
239"When justiCE and rights are described from the viewpoint of the moral
ideal, they necessarily amount to a rather poor sediment of a much broader
also anthropologically. The legal order should not be controlled

entirely by people who are merely jurists, but has to be entrusted to
those who are authentically human among both jurists and non-
jurists. The authentic human being will not simply repeat the facticity
of the legal order but, starting from this facticity, he will act to project
it toward a future of greater humanization. 240
d. Natural Right and History

The Meaning of Natural Right. In speaking about justice and
right, we do not mean the legal order or, even more restrictedly,
the system of laws which man's efforts have produced in the history
of justice. We are referring to the right which is traditionally called
"natural right." This right should be understood as the moral powers
(subjective right), together with everything to which these powers
refer (objective right), as they are given together with the uncon-
cealedness of the essence of co-existence, conceived as zu sein. It is
intentionally that we speak here of the essence of co-existence rather
than of its nature, because nature is often misunderstood. On hearing
"nature," many think, albeit incorrectly, of a "thing-like" kind of
being, which, moreover, they conceive as a being-in-itself, a being-
apart-from-man. According to this line of thinking, natural right and
the corresponding duties would have to be conceived after the fashion
of mountains and valleys in a hitherto undiscovered land. Since,
however, it is evident that man is not a thing of nature, and since
the affirmation of being-in-itself does not contain anything intelligible,
some people think that natural rights have to be rejected entirely.
This rejection contains more than one misunderstanding of what
must be understood by natural right.241. "Natural" should not be
understood as referring to "nature" in the sense of "thing." "Nature"
here simply means "essence," i.e., that through which something is
what it is.242 vVith respect to man, then, "nature" means that through
and richer moral life. If, however, they are viewed from the bottom layer
of common life, they appear to us as a first manifestation of a new life
which makes its appearance in the group." Gits, op. cit., p. 357.
240"11 n'y a pas une dignite humaine objectivement concevable. Le progres
de la justice consiste precisement a inventer une dignite humaine toujours
plus haute et plus riche. Le progres ne consiste pas a s'approcher de plus
en plus pres d'un ideal de dignite humaine con(;u avant que ce progres ait
eu lieu. II y a de I'invention en morale." Madinier, op. cit., pp. 57-58.
241Cf. Kwant, op. cit., pp. 136-137.
242Thus Heidegger can say that the being of man is not Vorhandensein
(being like a thing of nature) but Dasein, because "the essence of Dasein
lies in its Existence." Sein lind Zeit, p. 42.
254 Existential Phenonlenology
which man is man and not, e.g., a paper-knife. 243 Man is not a
paper-knife because of his human nature. The natural right, there-
fore, is the right which is given together with the unconcealedness
of the essence of my being as a se1f-together-with-other-se1ves-in-the-
world, the right which is given together with the essence of co-exist-
ence.
The "Givenness" of Natural Law. The term "given" demands
a further explicitation. It would be contradictory to conceive this
"givenness" as the reflex mirroring of being-in-itself in my con-
sciousness. Sometimes defenders of natural right play straight
into the hands of their opponents, because, to say the least, their
formulations of natural right are inept. Defending the objectivity
of natural right, they often lapse into an objectivism which makes
them an easy prey for their subjectivistic opponents. It is mean-
ingless to claim that natural right "exists, independently of man,
and independently also of knowledge of man."244 If this assertion
were true, natural right would be a being-in-itse1f, which is not
intelligible. As we pointed out before, natural rights and natural
duties do not lie in co-existence like mountains and valleys in a
hitherto undiscovered land. All "givenness" presupposes the uncon-
cealedness of the given and, therefore, the presence of unveiling
consciousness. Thus natural right presupposes the unconcealedness
of what co-existence is. Natural right presupposes that the essence
of the 1-You-relationship is not concealed from man, that man
sees what the "I" and the "You" essentially are. Man has to "see"
that the "You" is an appeal and that the "I" is destination-for-the-
other. This is the objective nature, the real essence of the I-You-
relationship. Moreover, the reality of natural right demands that
man sees certain deeds as being against the essence of the 1-You-
relationship, for right is the minimum of love. Objective natural
right, then, is "given" as objective for a conscious subject. Without
a conscious subject for whom the right is objectively given, it is
impossible to affirm or deny anything regarding natural right.
Strictly speaking, one may even say that without man there is no
243For Sartre it is certain that the being of man is reduced to that of a

paper-knife if one speaks of a human Iwture. Cf. L'existentialisme est un
humanisme, pp. 17-24. This, however, does not prevent him from speaking
of the '.'na.ture" of the "!or-itself".: "Le pour-soi, par nature, est l'etre qui ne
peut cOlnclder avec son etre en-sOl." L' etre et Ie nfoant, p. 502.
244Cf. Duynstee, Over recht en rechtvaardigheid, p. 32.
natural right, for the only meaning which the term "to be" can have
is to-be-for-man. Accordingly, to say that there is no natural right
means to say that without man there is no natural right for man-
an assertion which is self-evident.
The Subject of Objective Natural Law. This thought leads
spontaneously to the question of who the subject is for whom
natural right is an objective reality. The fact that what is now-
adays affirmed to be a right, e.g., of laborers, was formerly given to
them through the charity of the best makes it possible to reply to
this question. "The" subject for whom natural right is an objective
reality is at first the best among the members of a society and,
next, all those who are capable of seeing what the best see.245 This
assertion follows from the insight that knowledge is not mirroring
brute reality, but knowingly establishing reality-for-man. If knowl-
edge is conceived as nothing else than the passively being-acted-upon
of the cognitive power, it will never be possible to explain how
some persons endowed with an excellent intellect simply do not see
certain realities. To "see" I need more than "eyes." This applies
also to the establishment of natural right. Only .the best see it,
because they are capable of taking the standpoint needed for this
vision. A minimum demand of love is not visible without love.
One who is fully immured in hatred, avarice, or pride does not see
the most elementary demands of love. 246 So far as such a one is
concerned, life in a legal order, or more broadly, the whole moral
life is not much more than being under the pressure of a certain
facticity of society. Such a life moves as yet only barely, or almost
no longer, on the level of what is proper to humanity.
On the other hand, there are human beings who, so to speak,
personally represent the very best of mankind. They are the geniuses,
the heroes, and the saints. Mankind cannot do without them, because
through their virtue and their clearsightedness it becomes possible
for the others to see. 247 For this reason we said that natural right
is objective for the best of society and for those who, in imitation of
the best, are capable of seeing what they see.
Since the best are convinced that what they see is objective, is
true, i.e., that they see the real essence of co-existence, understood as
2411Cf. Bergson, Les deux sources de la Morale et de la Religion, Paris, 1942,
pp. 29-30.
246Dietrich von Hildebrand, Sittliche Grundhaltutlgen, Mainz, 1933, pp. 7-20.
247H. Bergson, op. cit., pp. 85-86.
zu ::ein, they are convinced also that what they see is in principle
valid for all. Truth is per se truth for all: every subject who expresses
a truth includes in the subject which he is all actual and possible
subjects and affirms the truth in their name-truth is in principle
intersubjective and transhistorica1. 248 The best of society, however,
see also that the objectivity of natural right is not de facto recog-
nized by all. They experience that their fellow men do not even
realize what is at stake when they express what they see as objective
demands of humanity. Nevertheless, as "functionaries of mankind"
(H usserl), they do not acquiesce in this situation. Their task is
primarily educational. 249 All those who love without self-interest are
aware of the minimum demanded by love, i.e., of what is just. This
awareness, however, is not enough to effectively humanize society.25o
Right has to become law to be fully right, and this requires a struggle
against opposing views.
Justice, therefore, is not simply a matter of applying an immutable
code, but demands that the legal order be constantly under revisioll.
There are two reasons why work on the legal order can never cease.
Historical Evolution Modifies the Legal Order. First of all, the
relative equilibrium attained by a society at a given moment of its
history can never last very long. As soon as rights and duties have
been weighed and formulated in laws, something new occurs which
necessitates new measures to prevent society from losing the relative
humanization of interrelationships. For instance, it may happen that
after much trouble and labor a code has been set up to safeguard the
workers in a certain industry. The code presupposes, e.g., that elec-
tricity is used as the source of energy. But when a satisfactory code
has finally been introduced, it may happen that these industries dis-
card the use of electricity and switch to atomic energy. At once at
least part of the accepted code is antiquated and needs to be replaced
by new rules. 251 Every historical situation differs from all others and,
therefore, demands its own regulations. The right of man to safety
24SSee above, pp. 160 ff.
249"Aussi compte-t-il seulement sur un long effort de l'humanite et sur
une lente education pour former les hommes et les rendre toujours plus raison-
nables. En attendant il importe de se premunir contre les retours offensifs de
I'egoisme vital." Lacroix, op. cit., p. 13 .
230"The question which arises at once is, how will the community react
to their message? This reaction is just as important as the intuition of the
few. The reaction plays a role in the experience of justice as the opposite
pole of the initiative of the few." Gits, op. cit., pp. 335-336.
251C. Gits, op. cit., pp. 326-327.
requires different measures according as society's means of transpor-

tation consist of donkeys, bicycles, motorcars, or jetplanes.
The new regulations cannot be deductively derived from the con-
cept of love. 252 They presuppose, on the one hand, inspiration from
love of mankind and, on the other, a very realistic insight into the
real character of the new situations. Both of these are necessary.
Without awareness of the zu sein which characterizes co-existence, no
steps will be taken to prevent the destruction of the subjectivity of
fellow men. But this awareness alone is not sufficient. What is needed
also is the ability to determine whether or not this or that concrete
situation means the destruction of the other's subjectivity. For this
determination a realistic insight into the true nature of the situation
cannot be dispensed with.
Whether or not, for instance, a certain method of psychological
examination disregards the other's subjectivity can be determined
primarily not by a reflection on co-existence as zu sein, but by investi-
gating what exactly takes place in such a psychological examination.
Whether or not there is a natural right to emigration is not deter-
mined by reasoning about the essence of love, but by investigating
what it really means for subjectivity to dwell in an over-populated
country. Such investigations must always take their inspiration from
love, but it is not sufficient that love be the first rule within a society.
Even if a society is ruled by love, it may happen that the situations
are inhuman, because of the fact that perhaps the objective meaning
of the actual reality is not sufficiently taken into account.253 In the
encounter of love's ideal with the facticity of society love assumes a
body and is incarnated inter alia in the body of a legal order. By
means of this body love is truly real and not an illusion. 254 But the
body changes and even has to change.
Nevertheless, there is a viewpoint from which natural right is
immutable-namely, the immutability which natural right derives
252"Aussi, les valeurs morales particulieres ne peuvent etre deduites d'une
fin qui serait la moralite parfaite. Le systeme de droits et de devoirs, qu'elles
forment, refiete plut6t l'eIaboration que la reconnaissance de la dignite humaine
a rer;u a un monent determine de l'histoire." A. Wylleman, "L'elaboration des
valeurs morales," Revue philosophique de Louvain, vol. 48 (1950), p. 245.
253"La justice ainsi n'est ni un ideal purement spirituel ni un strict fait
sociologique, mais la morale en tant que s'appliquant a la realite sociale et
preparant l'avenement de I'amour." Lacroix, op. cit., p. 29.
254"Le grand danger de I'heure, surtout pour les chretiens, est celui d'une
sorte de surnaturalisme dlfsincarne qui est pret a sacrifier la force, qui meconnait
Ie role du droit et s'imagine resoudre tous les problemes par des temoignages
d'amour." Lacroix, op. cit., pp. 29-30.
from the invariability proper to the primordial demand of justice. 2GG

If man has a natural right to recognition of his subjectivity, this right
necessarily implies that his subjectivity may never and nowhere be
destroyed whether by a violent attack on his life, a process of indus-
trial production, a psychological examination, a political system, an
economic order, or schoollaws. 256 However, this immutability does
not exclude a change of the legal order. On the contrary, the im-
mutable primordial demand of justice is effective only if the legal
order adapts itself to the historical situation. An unyielding legal
order could mean a violation of man's subjectivity.
Love's Dynamism Modifies the Legal Order. The second reason
why the legal order has to be constantly revised lies in the fact that
love knows no limits. Even if we suppose that the relative equilibrium
is not disturbed by radically new conditions, e.g., new methods of
production, the legal order will not lose its mobility.2G7 For the best
elements of a society are always dissatisfied with what has been
achieved and look forward to the possibility of more satisfactory, more
human regulations. 2G8 This mutability of the legal order, then, finds
its source in the inventiveness, the dynamism of love possessed by
the best. 2GB Precisely because love knows no limits, it is obvious
that the legal order will never be "finished." Every phase in the
history of justice sounds the arrival of a new phase; every new per-
fection, given to society by the development of the legal order, enables
the best elements of a society and, after them, the society itself to
see a new demand of love as objective. 260 Once more, then, it is
apparent that justice does not humanize the relationships among men
by the application of an immutable code.
What man's destiny for the other contains becomes accessible and
manifest only in the history of man's real love of man. 261 If, for
255"La seule reponse a cette question est de montrer que ce contenu est
fidele it l'exigence morale initiale, qu'il realise dans Ie present et pour l'avenir
une reconnaissance de la dignite de l'homme." A. Wylleman, op. cit., p. 245.
256Cf. Janssens, "Moderne situatie-ethiek in het licht van de klassieke
leer over het geweten," Persoonlijke verantwoordelijkheid en geweten (verslag-
boek van de lSe R. K. Paedagogische Week), Tilburg, 1955, p. IS.
257Cf. Gits, op. cit., p. 327-328.
258"11 ne s'agit pas ici d'une production empirique de la justice par la
charite; on pourrait sans doute montrer, du double point d'e vue historique
et psychologique, que la justice do it son progn!s aux intuitions de certaines
consciences insatisfaites qui, sous l'inspiration d'un amour inventif, ont su
anticiper des formes d'existence et d'organisation sociales nouvelles." Madinier,
op. cit., pp. 117-118.
259"n y a de l'invention en morale." Mad'inier, op. cit., p. 58.
260Cf. Janssens, op. cit .. pp. 18-20.
281Cf. Wylleman, op. cit., p. 243-246.
instance, man is not inclined to see to it that human conditions of

labor prevail and to recognize them collectively as the right of the
laborer, it will be impossible for him to affirm and express in a law
certain provisions for old-age security as a right of the laborer.
Accordingly, the perfection attained by the legal order of a
society is an unequivocal indication of the level reached by love in a
society.262 The objection could be raised that this level of love would
be merely the level of one or of a few individuals, because the others
would simply be forced by law to do what they would not do of their
own accord. However, this objection is without force. For experience
makes it clear that, if the legal order is to remain effective, there
must be a rather general love of our fellow men. Moreover, experi-
ence has made it also abundantly clear to us that, where love is
totally absent, rights are utterly meaningless.
262"Et la justice represente alors dans la civilisation Ie niveau present de

l'oeuvre accomplie par la charite." Nedoncelle, ap. cit., p. 86.
CHAPTER FOUR
PHENOMENOLOGY OF FREEDOM AND

ITS DESTINY
Introduction: the Meaning of Life. It is the task of the philosopher

to express life. Starting from the experience of co-existence, i.e., of
his being as a self-together-with-other-selves-in-the-world, he attempts
to conceptualize this experience. As soon, however, as the philosopher
sees that the being of man must be explicitated as zu sein, as avoir a
etre, as a task, his question regarding man's essence assumes a drama-
tic importance. He realizes that his question coincides with the most
profound concern of every human being who does not want to go
through life as an impersonal entity (das Man) ; he sees that with his
question he touches the heart of life; he is aware of it that the ex-
plicitation of man's life as "having-to-be" forces him to search for a
reply to the question which every authentically human being asks
himself: "What do I have to be?" His question assumes an ethical
meaning. At the same time, however, it takes a dramatic turn, for
the question: "What do I have to be?" makes it impossible for the
philosopher to consider. his speculations any longer as a kind of
luxury. He is no longer capable of being a "disinterested spectator,"
for he realizes that his manhood itself is at stake. If the being of man
must be called a "having to be," then man's life can be a failure, for
it could be what it ought not to be.
This, however, is not the only reason to speak of drama in philo-
sophical thinking. Evidently, the philosopher can consent to life only
if life is what it ought to be. But-is he ever capable of saying that
his life "is"? The impossibility of an affirmative reply is apparent as
soon as he earnestly admits that the being of man is a having-to-be.
Man's being is unrest. l Is it, then, at all possible to consent to life?
This is the question which every authentic man asks himself when he
inquires about the meaning of life. With this question the philosopher
finds himself again in the middle of a drama, for how could life be
livable if it were absurd? Is it surprising, then, that there are philos-
l"Et inquietum est cor nostrum." (St. Augustine).
260
Phenomenology of Freedom and Its Destiny 261
ophers who think that there is only one really important philosophical
question-the question about the meaning of life. 2 They do not mean
that the philosopher is not a philosopher before he has answered this
most important of all questions. When this question arises, a large
amount of authentic philosophical work has already been done. N ever-
the1ess, it should be evident that the results of this work will obtain
their most profound meaning in the light of the reply to the most
serious question which the philosopher can raise-namely, is life
meaningful or not? Let us first endeavor to state exactly what this
question means.
1. THE SENSE OF THE QUESTION REGARDING THE MEANING OF LIFE

The Term "Meaning." Is life meaningful or not? The term
"meaning" assumes here a very special sense. In the preceding chap-
ters we have become very familiar with this term. Hence it is neces-
sary to emphasize here that asking about the meaning of life gives to
the term "meaning" a dimension which has not yet been thematically
explicitated.
"Meaning" has been constantly used in the sense of "appearing
reality" or "phenomenon." "Meaning" is correlative with the inten-
tional movement which is consciousness.3 There is "meaning," there-
fore, as soon as there is a human being to whom reality appears as
reality.
If "meaning" is taken in this sense, life obviously has a "mean-
ing."4 Man's existence, in the sense of being-conscious-in-the-world,
is precisely the discovery of meaning, and man's existence, in the sense
of being-"at" -the-world, is the giving of meaning.
The question, however, regarding the meaning of life aims at a
much more profound issue. Its orientation is toward the question
which contemporary philosophers generally refer to as the question of
2"n n'y a qu'un probleme philosophique vraiment serieux: c'est Ie suicide.

Juger que la vie vaut ou ne vaut pas la peine d'etre vecue, c'est repondre a la
question fondamentale de la philosophie. Le reste, si Ie monde a trois dimen-
sions, si l'esprit a neuf ou douze categories, vient ensuite. Ce sont des jeux: i1
faut d'abord repondre." Camus, Le My the de Sisyphe, Paris, 1942, p. 15.
3"Wenn innerweltliches Seiendes mit dem Sein des Daseins entdeckt, d.h.
zu Verstandnis gekommen ist, sagen wir, es hat Sinn.... Was im verstehenden
Entschliessen artikulierbar ist, nennen wir Sinn." Heidegger, Sein una Zeit,
p. 151.
4"Nur Dasein kann daher sinnvoll oder sinnlos sein. Das besagt: sein
eigenes Sein und das mit diesem erschlossene Seiende kann im Verstandnis
zugeeignet sein oder dem Unverstandnis versagt bleiben." Heidegger, op. cit.,
p. 151-152.
"value." Among ancient philosophers the term "good" was used for
what we call "value." By this term they meant that which perfects,
i.e., that which means a fulfilment of human tendency and desire. 1i
Meaning and Value. There would be no objection against main-
taining these terms if there were no danger that tendencies or desires
would be conceived as "contents of consciousness." Classical psychol-
ogy of consciousness conceived tendencies and desires as "things" in
the "locker of consciousness" in a similar way as perceptions and
memories were supposed to be "things" stored away in consciousness.
De facto, however, tending is a mode of being-human, a mode of
existing-namely, the mode through which man affectively "nihilates"
his facti city and anticipates what he sees as a possibility to be realized.
This affective "nihilation" is essential to any tendency. It means
that one is not at peace with the facticitous, not satisfied with it, and
in a sense says "no" to facticity. Affective "nihilation," then, is dis-
tinct from cognitive nihilation, which consists in the awareness that
the subject is not identical with his facticity.6 While all affective nihi-
lation implies cognitive nihilation, cognitive nihilation says nothing
about dissatisfaction, emptiness, or insufficiency.
Insofar as man nihilates his facticity both cognitively and affec-
tive1y and is "ahead" of himself, he is a being which is characterized
by its openness to possibilities to be realized. The same cannot be
asserted of a rock or a paper knife. These things are facticities. Man,
on the other hand, is facticity and potentiality7-he is essentially
unfinished. In this sense, therefore, man cannot be said to "be," just
as a paper knife or a rock "is," for man "has to be." Accordingly,
instead of speaking of tendencies "in" man, we should speak of man
as zu sein, 8 as "having to be," as task.
Human existence, as task, contains the experience of value, i.e.,
the awareness of what is objectively valuable for man as zu sein, as
"having to be," as task. An example may perhaps serve to render this
assertion more easily intelligible and to lead to its further explicitation.
Man experiences himself as a being in quest of truth. To search for
5Cf. Louis de Raeymaeker, The Philosophy of Being, pp. 212-235; John A.
Peters, Metaphysics, no. 43 and no. 75.
6Cf. above, pp. 104 ff.; pp. 269 ff.
7Cf. the well-known expression of Merleau-Ponty, calling man "ouverture
toujours recreee dans la plenitude de l'etre." Phenomenologie de la perception,
p.229.
8"Und weil die Wesensbestimmung dieses Seienden nicht durch Angabe
eines sachhaltigen Was vollzogen werden kann, sein Wesen vielmehr darin
Iiegt, dasz es je sein Sein als seiniges zu sein hat." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 12.
the truth of things is a task of man, one of the many forms which his
zu sein may assume. If he succeeds in discovering truth, he experi-
ences his discovery as a fulfilment of his zu sein, as a perfection of
his "unfinished" being, as valuable. 9 Thus what we have hitherto
called "meaning" is known as "value," insofar as the meaning implies
an enrichment of man's "having to be."
Man is not a task merely as a seeker of truth. His biological nature
also prescribes certain modes of his "having to be." Man, for
instance, becomes hungry, thirsty, or sleepy from time to time. With
respect to these deficiencies and defectivenesses, or rather, with
respect to the modes of zu sein which are called to be hungry, thirsty,
and sleepy, food, drink, and ~est mean the desired fulfilments, i.e.,
values.
These two examples show that the zu sein which characterizes man
assumes many forms. There is a hierarchical order of intentionality
levels. On none of these levels man "is" just as a rock or a paper
knife "is." On the contrary, on each of them man "has to be." Ac-
cordingly, there is also a hierarchy of value levels, a hierarchy of
meanings which imply a relative fulfilment of man's zu sein in its
diverse forms.
Objective Values. These values are called "objective." It should
no longer be necessary to emphasize that the objectivity of the values
may not be understood in an objectivistic sense. The values cannot
be affirmed in-themselves. They do not lie as rocks in a desert which
has not yet been discovered. Values are values only within the unity
of reciprocal implication of subjectivity-as-zu-sein and facticity.
Values may be called values only in the full sense when they are
appreciated, i.e., adhered to as fulfilments of man's zu sein.l0 Food,
fresh air, sun light, truth, humor, beauty, justice, love, etc. are
objective values, because I do not merely dream, hallucinate, imagine,
or wish that they fulfil manhood as zu sein, but because I see that they
9"Un bien ne vaut que si nous trouvons a travers lui une suffisance et une
plenitude nouvelles; Ie plaisir, ['emotion estethique, I'evidence intellectuelle,
la communion amoureuse ne sont que des modes de conscience ou se rend
presente a elle-meme notre propre perfection d'etre." A. Wylleman, "L'elabora-
tion des valeurs morales," Revue Philosophique de Louvain vol. 48. (1950),
p.239.
lO"L'experience de valeur ne nous enleve pas du monde. Sans Ie contenu
qui lui vient de ['ensemble des choses et des autres, elle sera it vide. Pourtant, si
elle indique a la fois une possession de soi qui est autonome et absolue, et une
presence au monde qui est relative et dependante, it reste que Ie fondement
des valeurs est l'existence meme qui les eprouve." Wylleman, ibid., p. 239
do this. It goes without saying that the term "to see" should be
understood again in a very broad sense. It indicates any form of
recognizing what is present. Obviously, the presence of food as value
differs from the presence of truth or love.
"Meaningful.}} The term "meaningful" is used with respect to

zu sein itself. A meaning is called a "value" because it really perfects
man's being as zu sein. For this reason the term "meaningful" is used
also with respect to zu sein itself.
The zu sein is perfected or "filled" by means of certain activities
regarding determined values. These activities themselves are called
"meaningful," insofar as they put man in possession of values corre-
sponding with his zu sein. Eating and drinking are meaningful activi-
ties, for they satisfy hunger and thirst, they mean a filling of certain
modes of zu sein. Insofar as the various modes of zu sein can be filled
by corresponding activities, these modes of zu sein also are called
"meaningful.' ,
Relative and Absolute Consent to zu Sein. Is life meaningful, is

it worth living, or is it idle and absurd? In the light of the preceding
remarks the meaning of this question is perhaps clear to some extent.
The question is concerned with the meaning of life. Man busies him-
self in many realms: economy, politics, medicine, pedagogy, arts, and
sciences. In each of these realms his being is a zu sein, which is mean-
ingful to the extent that his activities in these realms imply a certain
fulfilment of his respective modes of zu sein. The zu sein of man as
an economic being is meaningful, insofar as his economic activity
gives him a real fulfilment with respect to a definite mode of existing.
This meaningfulness makes it possible for man to consent to a certain
extent to himself as an economic being, and not to despair of himself
as having-to-be in a determined realm of existence. This assent would
be impossible if Zft sein would not be able to find its fulfilment. In
that case zu sein would be meaningless, absurd, and idle, not worth
undertaking or promoting.
This consent to himself, however, is merely relative. Even if man
consents to himself as an economic being or as a political being, etc.,
this consent does not mean that it is possible for him to consent to
himself as man. Being man says more than being economic or politi-
cal; more even, we may say, than all possible modes of existing taken
together. For this reason man has always the possibility of asking
about his "being-there" (Da-S ein) as such, about his zu sein as suchY
Although he may consent to his zu sein. as an economic being, this
consent does not imply that his life is .filled, that he can definitively
consent to himself as man. The question regarding the meaning of
life is the question regarding the possibility of consenting ultimately
and definitively to being-man as to "being-there" and zu-sein un-
qualifiedly.
The full meaning, of course, of this question is realized only when
it is raised in life itself. There is even a very real danger that the
philosopher will speak very unauthentically about this question-
namely, when he himself has never really experienced it as a ques-
tion. It may happen that because of "knowledge obtained from other
sources" he knew beforehand how to answer the question. Of course,
he may be able to take the question over from others, but is such a
question still authentic? Perhaps the answer may be in the affirma-
tive, but certainly only on condition that he be filled with love for
his questioning fellow man. For a human being for whom this ques-
tion is a real question, it is at the same time a struggle against despair.
By speaking unauthentically about it or without love, a philosopher
would make himself despicable.
2. PHENOMENOLOGY OF FREEDOM
It is not possible to speak of the meaning of life unless being-man

is understood as being-free. If man were a thing and if his life were
a thing-like process, the term "meaning" would not make sense. Only
on the supposition that being-man is being-free is "meaning" more
than an empty sound. By means of an analysis of freedom we will
attempt to justify this supposition. We may expect that this analysis
will lead us back to the question of the meaning of life.
In the works of contemporary phenomenologists the term "free-
dom" is used in significations which seem to be widely different.
Closer inspection, however, will show that an inner dialectics can be
discerned in these different significations, that they evoke and com-
ll"Above all particular goals, such as science, art, economics, and politics,
which give meaning and value to man's being as being-in-the-world, there
arises in man by virtue of a natural necessity the question regarding the
meaning alld value of his being as a whole, i.e., the question, What am I?
whence do I come? what is the ultimate destiny of my life?" Dondeyne,
"Belang voor de metaphysica van een accurate bestaansbeschrijving van de mens
als kennend wezen," Kenleer en Metaphysiek (Verslag v. d. XlIe alg. verg.
der ver. v. Thomistische Wijsb. en v. d. 3de studiedagen v. h. Wijsgerig
Gezelschap te Leuven) , Nijmegen, 1947, p. 37.
plement one another, and are internally coherent. We will endeavor

to let these meanings present themselves in their inner coherence,
starting from the "lived" experience of the freedom which is our
own. 12
a. To be Sub;ect is to be Free
Whoever gives a real meaning to the term "freedom" uses it
to express negatively a certain absence of necessity and positively
a certain autonomy.13 This use of the term points immediately to
man as distinct from a mere thing.
The Being of a Thing. What a thing is finds its full explana-
tion in its antecedents. A thing is nothing else than the result of
processes and forces; the being of a thing is to be a result. Once
the processes and forces which causally influence a thing are fully
known, the thing itself is wholly known. A thing is only a pause
in the endless evolution of the cosmos. It is not something new
with respect to the forces and processes causing it.14 A thing,
then, is essentially relative, merely a part of the material cosmos,
and not itself something transcending its antecedents. 15 The being
of a thing is nothing else than its pertaining to the material cosmos.
The statement that the being of a thing is nothing else than
being-a-result means the same as the assertion that the being of a
thing is a being-necessitated, because the world of things is ruled
by determinism. Cosmic forces act of necessity and give to processes
the constancy which the physical sciences express in their laws.
If in individual cases the physicists notice that their laws do not
apply, then they know that other forces must be at work which
likewise act of necessity.
The necessary forces of the cosmos are "blind" forces. This
term expresses that these forces do not know themselves as forces
and their results as results. The world of things is struck with
"blindness." Things are utterly "prostrated," they are not for them-
selves and are not for other things.
12':Like every human concept, our concept of freedom is drawn from

experIence and must remain in contact with that experience' otherwise it wiII
end up by standing for an abstract and empty freedom which no longer has
anything to do with true human freedom." Dondeyne, "Truth and Freedom"
Tmth and Freedom, Pittsburgh, 1954 p. 30. '
13Cf. Dondeyne, ibid.
l4C. A. de \Vaelhens, "Lineaments d'une interpretation phenomenologique
de la liberte," Liberti? (Actes du IVe Congres des SocWes de Philosophie de
langue fran,aise.) Neuchatel, 1949, p. 82.
15Cf. D. M. de Petter, "Personne et Personnalisation," Divus Thomas
(Piac,), 1949, p. 164,
The question could be asked how such a statement can be

made. The assertions that things are not for themselves and are
not for other things, that things have no meaning for themselves
and no meaning for other things can be made only if the totality
of reality is not identical with the totality of things. If there were
nothing else than things, processes, and forces, there would be no
meaning, nothing would make sense. But there is meaning. To
express it paradoxically, if there were nothing else than things,
processes, and forces, nothing would be in the only meaning which
the term "to be" can assume-namely, to-be-for-man. But there
is something. There are things, processes, and forces.
Man is Not a Mere Thing. Once these ideas have been thor-
oughly understood, it will be impossible to call the totality of man-
hood, i.e., all that man is, the result of processes and forces. If
man were such a result, he would be a thing and, therefore, to
express it again in terms of the above-mentioned paradox, nothing
would be in the strict sense of the term. But something is-thanks
to the fact that man reveals reality. The being of man, therefore,
cannot be called in its totality "being a result." Likewise, it cannot
be called in its entirety a mere part of the material cosmos. Al-
though man is also a result, although he is also necessitated, also
a part of the cosmos, he cannot be wholly result, entirely neces-
sitated, merely a part, for otherwise nothing would be.
In the world of things there is absolute darkness. A thing is.
not a light for itself or a light for something else in such a way
that something would be for a thing. The being of a thing is blind-
ness.
With the appearance of subjectivity in the endless evolution
of the cosmos, the darkness is pierced. Man as subject is a "natural
light," the light through which something is in the only possible
sense of this term.16 Accordingly, it is through the being of man
as subject that are transcended the being-a-result, being-merely-a-
part, being-necessitated, which have to be predicated also of man.
Being Man is Being Free. Whoever attaches a real meaning to
the term "freedom" negatively expresses a certain absence of neces-
sity. It is evident, therefore, that being subject must be called being
free, for it is through his freedom that man transcends necessity. No
16C. Heidegger, Von WeSffl der Wahrheit, pp. 14-17.

matter how many aspects there are in man under which he must be
considered the necessary result of processes and forces, they cannot
be the totality of man's being, for it is only through man's subjectivity
that there are necessity, results, processes and forces.17 The being of
man as subject is being free as the "letting be" (Seinlassen) of the
cosmos. IS
It should be evident that there is no question here of freedom as
the property of an action or of a power. Freedom here is concerned
with the being of man on the proper level of his manhood. The being
of man as subject is being free. It is only in the light of this funda-
mental freedom that the freedom of human action can be understood
and that the many meanings which the term "freedom" has in the
philosophical literature of our time become transparent. 19 Before
considering these meanings, we must endeavor to express the positive
content of being-free in the above-mentioned sense.
The freedom of man as subject implies a certain autonomy.20
Not everything which man is results from processes and forces, but
the being of man as subject is a self-being. Man cannot be fully ex-
plained by his antecedents, but the being of man as subject is a
being-of-himself (aus-sich-sein). Man's being is not merely being a part
of the cosmos, it is not solely a pertaining to the cosmos, but as sub-
ject, man is subsistent and belongs to himsel.21 As subject, man is
an "I," a "selfhood," a person. 22 The freedom of man as subject,
17"En effet, si la condition de l'homme est de decouvrir et d'etablir des
significations, !'idee que Ie determinisme pourrait s'appliquer a l'homme devient
simplement absurde." de Waelhens, op. cit., p. 83.
IS "Die Freiheit zum Offenbaren eines Offenen lasst das jeweilige Seiende
das Seiende sein, das es ist. Freiheit enthiillt sich jetzt als das Seinlassen
von Seiendem." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 15.
I9"Affirmer qu'ontologiquement l'homme est libre par definition et, encore,
que la liberte est pour lui la condition de la verite puisqu'un etre non-libre
ne pourrait dire ce que les choses sont, n'equivaut naturellement pas a resoudre
tous les problemes que l'existence de la liberte peut poser, ni meme a nier
que la liberte, relativement a l'homme, peut s'entendre en bien des manieres.
On pense pourtant que cette affirmation de principe permet seule de com-
prendre la portee exacte de ces difficultes ulterieures et Ie sens que l'idee de
liberte devra revetir lorsqu'on l'envisage dans les divers domaines de la
philosophie et notamment, sur Ie plan psychologique, moral, social, religieux."
de Waelhens, op. cit., p. 83.
20In general philosophers approach the autonomy of being proper to
man as subject from the autonomy of human activity. By virtue of the prin
ciple "action follows being" they conclude from man's self-acting to his
self-being. Cf. De Petter, op. cit., p. 170.
2ICf. H. D. Robert, "Phenorr.enologie existentielle et Morale thomiste,"
Morale Chretienne et Requetes contemporaines, Tournai-Paris, 1954, pp. 208-
209.
:nCf. de Petter, op. cit., pp. 170-171.
therefore, should be understood positively as a certain autonomy of

being, a certain independence of being, a belonging-to-oneself on the
ground of a "to be" which is his own and thus also non-generated. 23
Scholastic philosophy uses the term "subsistence" for the ontological
autonomy of man as subject.24 As subject, as person, man "sub-
sists."25
Man's ontological superiority constitutes at the same time his
rationality. Boethius' famous definition of person as "an individual
substance of a rational nature"26 clearly emphasizes this. The being
of man as I means his ontological superiority over the things of the
cosmos. But this I, as ontological superiority, is the "natural light"
through which man is a rational being. If it were not for man's sub-
jectivity, there would be nothing but darkness. Man's ontological
superiority as subject is the light through which there is meaning
To be subject, as being free, means to be rational. 27
h. Freedom as "Distance," as "Having to Be," and as "ProJect"

No Absolute Freedom. If being subject means to be free, then
the way of conceiving this subject is decisive for the content of the
freedom attributed to man. If the subject which man is is described as
an isolated subjectivity, his freedom must evidently be called absolute.
As a matter of fact, there are a few contemporary phenomenologists
who do this.28 Their views, however, mean that they have given
up the phenomenological way of thinking on this particular point.
There is no absolute freedom in human beings, because the sub-
ject which man is, is not an isolated subjectivity.29 The self occurs
only as involved in the density of reality, in the facticity of body and
world, with which it is not identical. The self posits itself only in
23Cf. de Petter, op. cit., p. 171.
24Cf. de Raeymaeker, The Philosophy of Being, p. 241
25Cf. de Petter, "Het Persoon-zijn onder thomistisch-metaphysische belicht-
ing," De Persoon (Verslag v. d. XlIIe alg. verg. der ver. v. Thomistischr
Wijsb. en van de 4de studiedagen v. h. Wijsgerig Gezelschap te Leuven),
Nijmegen, 1948, pp. 45-46.
26De duabus naturis, c. III.
271t is important to draw explicitly attention to the fact that in the case
of a person, the concept "rational nature" is not related to "subsistence"
or "supposit" as an extrinsic difference but expresses that rationality means
a higher perfection of subsistence itself. Moreover, it is only in the case of
a rational nature that there can be question of subsistence in the strict and
proper sense. Cf. de Petter, ofr. cit., pp. 45-46.
28Cf. Robert, op. cit., p. 202-204.
29"1m Ich-sagen spricht sich das Dasein als In-der-Welt-sein aus." Hei-
degger, Sein und Zeit, p. 321.
relativity, it exists, it is intentional, and situated. 30 The ontological

autonomy, therefore, which man is, is very relative, for it is not what
it is without the body and the world. The freedom which is proper to
man because of his being-subject is at the same time immediately a
bond, and this bond must be conceived as a kind of "powerlessness."
Freedom is not an "acosmic liberty," not the perfectly autonomous
source of reality's meaning, for without this reality subjectivity is
not what it is. On the other hand, man is not merely a phase of the
material cosmos, for without man there would not even be a cosmos.
The Self as Non-Distant from Reality. If attention is paid to the
meaning of manhood, understood as "engaged" subjectivity, as situ-
ated freedom, one sees that the envolvement of the subject in reality
implies a "distance which is at the same time zero and infinite."31
Reality is conceived here as the facticity of the world and of being
corporeal in the broad sense, i.e., the facticity of what with Strasser
we have called the "quasi-objective ego."32 That there is a "zero
distance" between the self and reality means that the self as conscious
"I," as self-affirmation, simply does not occur except in fusion with
consciousness of reality, in fusion with the affirmation of bodily being
and the world. Accordingly, the "zero distance" is nothing else than
what we have previously called "intentionality."
The self-affirmation of the I, however, lies on a two-fold level,
just as the affirmation of the reality in which the self is involved by
virtue of its intentionality. It lies, first of all, on the cognitive level,
the level on which the self is recognized as self and reality as reality.33
The ontological superiority of the self, as "natural light," i.e., the
rationality of subjectivity, constitutes at the same time the rationality
of reality by "letting it be."34 Secondly, the self-affirmation of the I
and the affirmation of reality which is fused with this self-affirmation
by virtue of intentionality lie on the affective level. The subject is not
only a Cogito, but also a Vola (I will). The affective aspect of sub-
jectivity is distinct from the cognitive level. The self-affirmation of
30"Si Ie sujet est en situation . . . c'est qu'il ne realise son ipseite qu'en
etant efiectivement corps et en entrant par ce corps dans Ie monde." Merleau-
31Cf. de Waelhens, op. cit., p. 8l.
32Cf. above, pp. 114 f.
S3"C'est en communiquant avec Ie monde que nous communiquons 10-
dubitablement avec nous-memes." Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. 485.
34"On ne peut dire ni que I'homme libre veut Ia Iiberte pour devoiler I'etre
ni Ie devoilement de I'etre pour la liberte; ce sont hi. deux aspects d'une seule
realite." S. de Beauvoir, Pour une morale de l'ambiguite, Paris, 1947, p. 99.
the I contains not only a recognition of the self as self and of reality
as reality, but also a consent of the self to the self and, fused into one
with it, a consent to reality. The taste of the first cigarette after
breakfast, the relish of a glass of wine, the joy over a lovely baby,
the rapture of the bride over the groom, the happiness over the find-
ing of a long-sought truth, the burst of laughter over an hilarious
stroke of wit, the emotion over the sight of the ocean or of mountain
scenery-all are examples of being affectively involved in, and of
affirming reality. Fused with this consent of the self to reality is the
consent of the self to itself. The self-affirmation of the I on the
affective level means a certain plenitude of being, a certain fulfil-
ment and satisfaction, a kind of rest and peace, which may be called
"happiness."
The Self as Infinitely Distant from Reality. The involvement of
the self in reality, however, may not simply be called "zero distance,"
for it is just as immediately "infinitely distance," on the cognitive as
well as the affective level. What is meant by this infinite distance?
It implies that the positivity of the self-affirmation which the I is,
is not simply what it is without negativity, without self-negation. At
the same time negativity affects the affirmation of reality which is
fused into one with self-affirmation by virtue of intentionality.
As self-affirmation, the I is positivity of being. On the cognitive
level, however, the recognition of the self as self implies a negation-
namely, the denial that the self is identical with any reality whatso-
ever, conceived as the facticity of my bodily being and my world.
The ontological positivity of the I, therefore, as cognitive self-affirma-
tion, is not what it is without ontological negativity: the self is not
the All, but a finite positivity of being. Likewise, the cognitive affirma-
tion of reality which is fused with the self-affirmation of the I by
virtue of intentionality implies a negation-namely, the negation that
the reality of bodily being and world are identical with the self, and
the negation that any reality is identical with any other reality what-
soever. No single reality is the All, but every reality is a finite posi-
tivity of being.
The Positivity of Being-for-Itself. The well-informed reader will
recognize a Sartrian thought in the foregoing remarks, although
there is a difference insofar as we conceive the self and intentionality
primarily as positivities. Sartre's "for-itself" is pure nihilation. This
is not correct. While the "for-itself" is also nihilation, it is not noth-
ing but nihilation. The subject-I, therefore, is not pure nothingness,

but a positivity of being which is affected by negativity and conse-
quently finite. Sartre considers the negativity of intentionality in
Being and Nothingness especially from the cognitive level. In his
literary works, mainly in Nausea, he is primarily concerned with the
affective level. On this level he likewise absolutizes negativity: for
Sartre, the affective involvement of the subject in reality is pure
nausea. This, too, is not correct.
Nevertheless, in the affective self-affirmation of the subject and
in the affirmation of reality which is fused into one with this self-
affirmation by virtue of intentionality there is an aspect of negativity,
an affective "no." The consent to reality is never a consent without
reservation. The subject which man is, is never capable of a perfect
"yes" to r~ality.35 Money, sex, bodily health, power, revolution-
nothing fully satisfies man. 36 The subject's affective "yes" to reality
includes an affective "no." The same applies to the affective self-
affirmation, the consent of the subject to itself. All fullness of being
is at the same time emptiness, all fulfilment and satisfaction is affected
by unfulfilment and dissatisfaction, all rest, peace, and happiness are
permeated with unrest, lack of peace, and unhappiness.
((Man is a Being which in its Being is Concerned with its Being."
It is not at all a purely imaginary danger that the details which had
to be mentioned in considering the subject's involvement in reality
may have obscured somewhat the view of man's being in its totality.
Nevertheless, these details were necessary to prevent certain aspects
from being emphasized at the expense of others, as is done in Sartre's
works. To counteract the danger, let us endeavor to see man again
in his totality. We will do so by means of an expression used by
Heidegger. When the German philosopher wants to explain that man
is not a thing among things, that he is a subject, a person, he calls man
a "being which in its being is concerned with its being."37 A thing
"is not concerned with what it is," for it lies "prostrated in what it
35"11 manque a son assentiment que!que chose de massif et de charnel."

Merleau-Ponty, Eloge de la philosophie, p. 81.
36S. de Beauvoir, op. cit., pp. 65-75.
37"Das Dasein ist ein Seiendes, das nicht nur unter anderem Seienden
vorkommt. Es ist vielmehr dadurch ontisch ausgezeichnet, dasz es diesem
Seiendem in seinem Sein urn dieses Sein selbst geht. Zu dieser Seinsver-
fassung des Daseins gehort aber dann, dasz es in seinem Sein zu diesem
Sein ein Seinsverhiiltnis hat." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 12.
is."B8 A man is not bald in the same way as a billiard ball is smooth,
he is not sick in the same way as a cabbage is spoiled, he is not hunch-
backed as a willow tree is gnarled, for "man is concerned with" his
bald pate, with the disintegration of his organism, with his deformity.
He has a relationship to what he is-bald, sick, hunchbacked, etc.-
namely, as a subject. Heidegger expresses this idea by saying that
man's being, Dasein, possesses a relationship to being (S einsverhiilt-
nis) which is an understanding of being (Seinsverstiindnis).39 This
.understanding relationship is what distinguishes the being of man
from the being of a thing. For this reason Heidegger says that man
"in his being" is concerned with what he is, thus excluding that there
would be question only of something accidental to man's being. 40 In
the relationship of man as subject to what he is lie the positive and
negative aspects on both the cognitive and the affective levels which
were spoken of above. All this is lacking in a thing. A thing is not
related to its own being, but is compact density, it is "prostrated in
what it is," so that there is no possibility that it will raise questions,
be astonished, bored, glad, sad, anxious, hopeful, or desperate.
"Situated" Freedom and Distance. As was stated above, being-
subject is being-free, and this freedom manifests itself as a superiority
of being with respect to the being of things. The subject, however, is
not a human subject without being involved in reality. Freedom is
not acosmic freedom but a situated freedom. When one considers
this freedom, it is seen to include a "distance which is at the same
time zero and infinite." Such an assertion can be made only on the
basis of being-subject. A thing is not a subject and, therefore, is not
at a distance from what it is; a thing is not concerned with what it is,
for it is compact density and lies "prostrated in what it is."41 Because
being-subject is being-free, it is readily understood why several phe-
nomenologists use the term "freedom" for the distance itself which
characterizes man on the ground of his being-subject as situated sub-
38Heidegger's idea is taken over by Sartre when he says: "L'etre de
Ja conscience est un etre, pour Jequel iI est dans son etre question de son etre."
L' etre et Ie neant, p. 116.
sSCf. Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, pp. 12-15.
40The old philosophers expressed this in the definition: man is a rational
animal.
41"Mais si nous supposons une affirmation dans laquelle I'affirme vient
remplir I'affirmant et se confond avec lui, cette affirmation ne peut s'affirmer
par trop de plenitude. . . . Tout se passe comme si pour Iiberer I'affirmation
de soi du sein de I'etre iI fallait une decompression d'etre." Sartre, op. cit.,
p. 32.
jectivity. They use this term in this sense even without first drawing
attention to the ontological superiority, the subsistence, of the sub-
jed. 42
That there is justification for the use of the term "freedom" for
the distance which, as pointed out, is implied in the subject's involve-
ment in reality can, of course, be seen fully only when being-subject
is conceived as being-free. About the same has to be said regarding
a third meaning of the term "freedom"-namely, zu sein, avoir a etre,
or "having to be." These meanings likewise are intelligible only
through a more profound penetration of freedom as distance.
Man as a "Natural Desire." The effective distance of the subject
from reality, as an infinite distance, is invincible. Although there is an
unmistakable consent of the subject to reality, the reservation, the
negativity, which affects this consent cannot be eliminated. No value-
experience is such that man's "yes" is definitive and not permeated
with "no." This applies to every level of intentionality, to man's exist-
ence in the technical, economic, political, social, medical, pedagogical,
artistic, and intellectual realms. Insofar as an economic, social, or
political order has a certain value, man is capable of consenting to it
and to himself as an economist, a sociologist, or a politician. The
same applies to the arts, sciences, education, etc. However, there is
never a consent that is not affected by negativity. For this reason man
cannot stand still, but has to go forward. He is never "finished,"
whether as economist, artist, philosopher, physician, or anything else.
The same applies to his world. Because man "is bored by what is
established,"43 because his "yes" can never be definitive, he is con-
stantly urged on. Man as subject is not only a "natural light," but
also a "natural desire."
To understand this characteristic of man, it is necessary that in
considering freedom as infinite distance emphasis be placed on
affective "nihilation." It is in this sense that certain expressions of
Sartre must be taken to be fully understood. Thus, for instance, one
may say that "nothingness haunts being,"44 for all affirmation is
42"La liberte est echappement a un engagement dans l'etre, elle est
neantisation d'un etre qu'elle est. . . . Simplement Ie surgissement de la
liberte se fait par Ia double neantisation de i'etre qu'elle est et de l'etre au
milieu duquel elle est." Sartre, op. cit., p. 566. See also de Waehlens, op. cit.,
p. 81.
43Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Eloge de la philosophie, p. 79.
H"La condition necessaire pour qu'il soh possible de dire non, c'est
que Ie non-etre so it une presence perpetuelle, en nous et en dehors de nous,
c'est que Ie neant hante l'etre." Sartre, op. cit., p. 47
affected by an invincible "nihilation." Or "nothingness lies in the

very heart of being as a worm,"45 which expresses that the affective
"yes" is never "massive" and definitive. Affective nihilation always
means a certain distance of subjectivity from reality, a not-being-
attached-to-it, a certain reservation and affective non-immersion in
facticity which are never overcome.
Terms such as "nihilating rupture,"46 "nothingness of being,"47
"hole of being"48 "decompression of being,"49 are synonyms which
may be used to express that the affective involvement of subjectivity
III reality can never mean a definitive consent.
Man as a Task-in-the-W orld. What we have ::tctually explicitated

here is what phenomenology means when it calls man's being a zu
sein, avoir d etre, or "having to be." Man is a task, a task-in-the-
world. As long as man is man, his being is a task, and essentially a
task. Man is never "finished." A task which is "finished" is no
longer a task. A human being which is "finished" is no longer a
human being. Man, of course, may fail to see the task-lik~ character
of his being in the world, but then he fails to see himself as he is, as
man .. In doing so, he gives himself the mode of being of a thing, for
a thing "is not concerned with what it is." For a thing being is not
a task, because a thing is not a subject, not free.
"Having to Be" and "Being Able to Be." It would be meaningless
to say that the being of man is a "having to be" unless this "having
to be"-if we may use the expression-be "preceded" by a "being
able to be." The being of man cannot be a task if it does not imply
any potentiality.
Being-man, however, manifestly is a being-able. This means that
manhood may not be described as a purely facticitous-being-in-the-
world. Let us illustrate the point and assume that I have earned the
Bachelor's degree. This degree is a certain facticity, a certain mode
of being-de-facto-in-the-world. However, this facticity does not ex-
press everything, for the facticitous situation implies precisely all
kinds of possibilities. When I am in possession of the degree, I have
45"Le neant ne peut se neantiser que sur Ie iond d'etre; si du m!ant
pcut etre donne, ce n'est ni avant ni apres l'etre, ni d'une maniere generale,
en dehors de l'etre, mais c'est au sein meme de l'etre, en son coeur, comme
un ver." Sartre, op. cit., p. 57.
46S artre, L' etre et Ie neant, p. 514.
47 Ibid., p. 516.
48Ibid., p. 121.
49Ibid., p. 116.
the possibility of becoming a lawyer, a journalist, an officer, or enter

in many other professions. The man who I am facticitously is always
also a "being able to be." One must even say that facticity is not a
real facticity without capacity-of-being. I am not a really educated
man if my actual education does not imply all kinds of possibilities. A
facticity without possibilities is not a real facticity.50
This assertion applies to any facticity. I am never merely fac-
ticitously ill. Even actually being ill implies possibilities. I can take
the illness as a means to extol myself over those who were never ill;
I can seize the illness as an opportunity to revolt against God; I can
accept it to expiate my sins. An illness which does not include any
possibility is not a real illness. 51
"Being-Able" is an Essential Characteristic of Man. It is im-
portant to keep in mind here that the ability-to-be of which we are
speaking here is not suspended in a vacuum. It should not be identi-
fied with a purely logical possibility and, therefore, is not merely the
absence of contradiction between two terms. Likewise, being-able-
to-be is not similar to the possibility or contingency of things to which
something may "happen."52 Finally, it should not be conceived as a
kind of plan which later can be readily abandoned. 53 The ability to
be of which we are speaking is an existentiale, an essential character-
istic of man. This idea is implicit in the thought that man's facti city
is no real facticity without this being-able-to-be. The question to be
answered here, however, is, how are we to conceive this ability as
an existentiale l'
Above, we have described the ontological superiority of the sub-
ject as a "light" for both the subject itself and the other than the
subject. Insofar as the subject is a light for reality we ascribed to it
the "letting be" (S einlassen) of reality. This "letting be" is not a ,
creative "letting be" of reality, but only the unveiling, the freeing of
a reality which reveals itself as already present. To be subject is
to-stand-consciously-in-reality-as-facticity. The "letting be" of sub-
jectivity, however, is also and just as immediately Verstehen. 54 By
5IJThis idea has been very neatly explained in B. Delfgaauw's sympathetic
little book, Wat is existentialism?, Amsterdam, 1952, pp. 111-113.
51Cf. Sartre, ibid., p. 393.
fi2"Das Miiglichsein, das je das Dasein existenzial ist, unterscheidet sich
ebensoseher von der leeren, logischen Miiglichkeit, wie von der Kontingenz eines
Vorhandenen, sofern mit diesem das und jenes 'passieren' kann." Heidegger,
5iHeidegger, ibid., pp. 143-146.
this term Heidegger means that subjectivity is not only the "freeing
of the 'already,' H i.e., of reality's facticity, but also and just as im-
mediately the "freeing of the 'not yet,' H i.e., of the possibilities of
reality. Verstehen is the "letting be" itself insofar as "letting be" is
the consciousness not only of a facticitous-being but also of a being-
able-to-be. 55
It should be evident that the potential being which is contained
in the facticity of subject and object is not something accidental but
essential for each mode of existing. An ash tray is not a real ash
tray, and perception is not real perception unless a determined appear-
ing profile refers to the possible appearance of other profiles, and
unless the actual perception refers to the possibility of future per-
ceptions. If one adds to this that existence is facticity and ability-to-be
not only as perceiving existence but as any mode of existence, we
may say that man is the oppositional unity of facticity and capacity
of being.
Man as Project. To indicate this unity-in-opposition which man
is, the term "project" (Entwurf) is used. 56 Man is a project. He
does not lie "prostrated" in his facti city, but Verstehen leaves him a
certain "margin," space for his being-able-to-be. 57
Man's being, however, is a being-in-the-world. Consequently,
man's ability to be is a being-able-to-be-in-the-world. 58 To every pos-
sible mode of existing there corresponds a possible meaning of the
world. The project which man is, is at the same time at once the
project of his world. 59
On the basis of the capacity of being which is contained in every
facticitous meaning it becomes possible now to attribute to the term
"meaning" a more profound sense than that of "appearing reality."
Meaning reveals itself as "direction." The clearest example is pro-
vided perhaps by the perception of an ash tray. The appearing profile
is the meaning which adheres to the perception from a certain stand-
55"Dasein versteht sich immer schon und immer noch, solange es ist, aus
M6glichkeiten," Heidegger, ibid., p. 145.
56"Warum dringt das Verstehen nach allen wesenhaften Dimensionen des in
ihm Erschlieszbaren immer in die M6glichkeiten? Weil das Verstehen an ihm
selbst die existenziale Struktur hat, die wir den Entwurf nennen." Heidegger,
ibid.
57"Der Entwurf ist die existenziale Seinsverfassung des Spielraums des
faktischen Seink6nnens." Heidegger, ibid.
58"Als Seink6nnen ist das In-sein je Sein-k6nnen-in-der-Welt." Heidegger,
ibid., p. 144.
59The French philosophers of existence also describe man as a "world-
project."
point. But the profile of the ash tray which de facto appears indicates
also the "direction" which my gaze must follow if it wants to let
appear what is not yet de facto appearing. The subject, as "letting
be," is the source of meaning but, as Verstehen, it is the origin of
"direction." This assertion applies to every level of existing. The
facticitous meaning of the world, for instance, for a college graduate
is full of references to possible modes of existing and these references
are, as it were, sketches of the "direction" which his existence can
take in the world. The facticitous value of the legal order indicates
to the juridical existence the "direction" in which this existence can
realize itself fuhher.
The statement also that "man in his being is concerned with his
being" receives a new and more profound meaning when one considers
that subjectivity, as "letting be" of facticity, is at the same time
Verstehen of possibilities. 60 That man is concerned with his being
now means that man is concerned with his possibilities and the possi-
bilities of his world. 61 Man is always "ahead" of himself and of his
world,62 because his facti city is not what it is without the "room for
expansion" of his ability to be. This room, however, of his existence
means the "direction" in which his existence can gO.63 Such a room
can be found in any mode of existing. Asking about the meaning of
a mode of existing, e.g., as an economic being or as a political being,
puts not only facticitous values in question but also the values which
are not facticitous. It is at the same time a matter regarding the
direction which the mode of existing in question can take.
From this angle the sense of the question about the meaning of life
makes itself urgent again. The question is not concerned with some
particular mode of existing. It puts into question the facticity of
"being-there" (Dasein) without any restrictions but at the same time
60"Das Seiende, dem es in seinem Sein urn dieses selbst geht, verhalt sich
zu seinem Sein als seiner eigensten Moglichkeit. Dasein ist je seine Moglichkeit
und es 'hat' sie nicht nur noch eigenschaftlich als ein Vorhandenes." Heidegger,
op. cit., p. 42.
61"Das Dasein ist Seiendes, dem es in seinem Sein urn dieses selbst geht.
Das 'es geht urn .. .' hat sich verdeutlicht in der Seinsverfassung des Verstehens
als des sichentwerfenden Seins." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 191.
62"Dasein ist immer schon 'i.iber sich hinaus', nicht als Verhalten zu anderem
Seienden, das es nicht ist, sondern aI,s Sein zum Sei~konn~, d.as es selbst. ist.
Diese Seinsstruktur des wesenhaften es geht urn . . . fassen wlr als das Slch-
vorweg-sein des Daseins." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 192.
63 ["Le temps] est a la lettre Ie sens de notre vie." Merleau-Ponty,
PhL:lIomen%gie de la perception, p. 492.
it is aware of the many "directions" which a subject-in-the-world can

take. 64
Man as Self-Project. As was pointed out above, it would be
meaningless to say that man's being is a having-to-be unless this
having-to-be is "preceded" by a being-able-to-be. Man's being cannot
be a "commission" or task if man lies "prostrated" in his facticity, i.e.,
if his facticity does not leave the "elbowroom" of potential being. It
should be clear now that the term "preceded" is not correct. Man's
being is not "first" a being-able and "next" a having-to-be, but is both
in an equally immediate way. Having-to-be, however, expresses
something more than being-able-to-be. Having-to-be reveals itself
only when one sees that the affective involvement in facticity does not
imply a definitive consent but is affected by and permeated with
nihilation. For this reason man always wants to go forward and
reach beyond any facticitous situation. It is his being-able-to-be
that offers him the necessary room for expansion.
What we are considering here are still the various aspects of
man's being on the properly human level-in other words, man as
"engaged," as involved in the world. As we have seen, man's being
as subject reveals itself as being-free. Secondly, the subject's in-
volvement in reality implies a distance. This distance itself is called
"freedom" also. Further reflection showed us man as having-to-be
and as project. Now we have to point out that in phenomenological
literature the term "freedom" is used for having-to-be and being-
able-to-be. 65 . In this usage man's freedom as subject is not always
explicitly mentioned. It is, however, implicitly presupposed, for the
ability-to-be attributed to man reveals itself as different from the
potential being of things precisely because of man's characteristic
being-subject. Man's being-able-to-be, the potentialities of human
existence, are potentialities of a subject. Man's possibilities are his
own. To a thing something may "happen,"66 but the various possible
happenings cannot be said to be possibilities of the thing itself because
640nce being-subject has been explicitated as being-ethical, the question
regarding the meaning of life becomes more specific in this sense that man
realizes not only that many "directions" are open to him but also that he has
the obligation to choose a certain "direction." But at the present we cannot
yet speak about this sense.
65"Dire que Ie pour-soi a it etre ce qu'il est, dire qu'il est ce qu'il n'est pas
en n'etant pas ce qu'il est, dire qu'en lui l'existence precede et conditionne
I'essence ou inversement, selon la formule de Hegel, que pour lui "Wesen ist
was gewesen ist," c'est dire une seule et meme chose, it savoir que l'homme
est libre." Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, p. 515.
the thing is not a selfhood. Man, on the proper level of his manhood,
is "master of the situation" and holds his possibilities "in his own
hands." The p,roject which man is, is a self-project. This does not
mean that nothing can "happen" to man, for obviously the opposite is
true insofar as there is an aspect in man under which he is as a thing.
However, the thing-like level in question is not the proper level of
manhood.
Just as having-to-be is not something accidental to man's being
but constitutes what man is essentially as a situated subjectivity, so
also his being-a-project is 'not a "little plan"67 which man can readily
abandon if he wishes but an essential characteristic. 68 In his own
way Sartre expresses the same thought very appropriately. He says
that man "is not what he is, and is what he is not."69 Man is not what
he is, i.e., he is not mere facticity, for his facticity leaves him the
"room for expansion" of his capacity of being. He is at the same
time what he is not, i.e., man is a being-able-to-be, but this ability to
be he is not facticitously. However, his ability to be is not something
accidental and, therefore, we must say that man is what he (facti-
citously) is not.
Necessity and Relativity of Freedom as Project. If man as proj-
ect is called "freedom," there is no decisive objection against Sartre's
statement that man "is condemned to freedom."70 The expres-
sion is meant to indicate that the being of man is a project and that
this is an essential characteristic of man, which he cannot set aside.
By the "essence" of a reality is meant that by which this reality is
what it is. Essence always implies a hypothetical necessity. If, then,
a certain reality must be called a "human reality," this reality must
of necessity be freedom, because man's essence is freedom.
Just as man's freedom as subject includes a limiting bond insofar
as the subject which man is does not occur without the facticity of
bodily being and the world, so also freedom as project must be said
to be relative. Man's ability-to-be is a being-able-to-be from a given
situation. A given factictous situation implies certain possibilities
and excludes others.71 I am free to realize myself as a classicist, but
68"Das Verstehen ist, als Entwerfen, die Seinsart des Daseins, in der es
seine Moglichkeiten als Moglichkeiten ist." Heidegger, ibid.
69"Pourtant, Ie pour-soi est. II est, dira-t-on, fut-ce a. titre d'etre qui n'est
pas ce qu'i! est, et qui est ce qu'il n'est pas." Sartre, L' etre et Ie neant, p. 121.
7oIbid. See also "Etre libre c'est etre condamne a. etre libre." Ibid., p. 174.
71"Und als geworfenes ist das Dasein in die Seinsart des Entwerfens gewor-
fen." Heidegger, op. cit., p. 145.
this mode of potential being is contained only in the facticity of an

education in a college of arts and sciences and not in the one result-
ing from training in home economics. I am free to realize myself as
a mountain-climber, but not if my facticity is that of a cripple. My
situation, therefore, binds and limits me in many respects. I am
free only within the limits resulting from being bound to my situation.
To use a Heideggerian term, the project which I am is a "thrown"
project, one that is not entirely of my own making. My facticity is
no real facticity without the "room for expansion" of potential being.
On the other hand, my potential being is a real possibility only
insofar as it is contained in my facticity.
c. To be Free is to be Ethical
The Opposition of Freedom and Ethical Bonds. Not infrequently
an opposition is seen between being-free and being-ethical. This
view is based on the idea that freedom is the absence of bonds, and
that being-ethical is being bound by law. Evidently, if this idea is
true, the opposition of the two is inevitable. Nevertheless, the view
that freedom is opposed to being ethical is rather primitive, because
the presupposition that freedom is the absence of bonds cannot be
justified and, on the other hand, the view does not clarify the origin
of the moral law. Or rather, it is simply assumed that this law "is
there" and is imposed on man's freedom from without.
Even if freedom is not conceived as the absence of bonds but as
"se1fhood," there remains a certain opposition between being-free and
being-ethical as long as law is viewed as a norm which "is there" and
has been imposed from without upon freedom. It is the opposition
between a personalistic conception of man and a legalistic conception
of being ethical. This opposition becomes even stronger when the
irreducible and original aspect of the person is placed in contrast
with the natural law as valid for all, everywhere and at all times.
Legalism and .Morality. Legalism, or the view that morality is
nothing else than willingness to obey a law imposed from without,
was highly favored by Kant's ideas. 72 This legalism led to aridity
and even to hypocrisy with respect to the moral ideal. 73 If the good
72"Au fond la valeur chez Kant n'est pas du cote de la personne mais du
cote de la loi, ou plutot la personne ne vaut qu'autant qu'elle se met au servi~e
de la loi: elle n'a pas de valeur propre. Ce qu'il y a de personnaliste chez
Kant est detriut par ce qu'il y a de legaliste." J. Lacroix, Personne et amOllr,
Paris, 1955, pp. 40-41.
73Cf. Lacroix, ibid., pp. 36-41.
or evil character of a human action depends solely upon its agree-

ment or disagreement with the law, then the disposition of the acting
subject is irrelevant, so that a purely external agreement with the
law suffices to speak of a good deed. Self-satisfaction and pride are
thus promoted: one does not have any self-reproach to make and is
"in accord" with one's conscience. 74 Moreover, one has a criterion to
judge the others-namely, the agreement or disagreement of their
deeds with the law. If one sees that their deeds deviate from what
is prescribed, one has every reason to "wash one's hands in innocence"
and to thank God that one is not like them. This is pharisaism.
In a legalistic view of moral life moral education cannot appeal
to anything else than fear of the consequences following from the
non-observance of the law. There can be no question of a moral
ideal which could give the strength to overcome obstacles. For law
is conceived as imposed from without and, therefore, itself has to
supply the motive leading to its observance. This motive is found in
the threat of sanctions, the fear of which is supposed to move the
subject to keep the law. Educational value is attached to the law
itself and even to "regulations."75
Legalism is not only a predominant mentality in a particular his-
torical phase of morality but is above all a permanent temptation,
against which a man who lives an authentically ethical life will always
have to struggle. As we will see later, this struggle and resistance
imply the refusal to be satisfied with the minimum. It is the refusal
simply to substitute a process-like acting according to the law for the
creative aspect of moral life, the refusal to sacrifice the progressive
character of moral life to the "settlement of old debts."76
Atheistic Existentialism and Legalism. Accounts with the legalism
of the preceding century were settled especially by the representatives
of atheistic existentialism. Their procedure consisted simply in deny-
ing that there are general laws. This denial is based upon various
grounds. Sartre, for instance, rejects universally valid norms or
74"D'une part vis-a.-vis de soi-meme on sera porte a. une sorte de satisfaction

interne, de contentement interieur d'autant plus grand qu'on se soumettra
davantage jusque dans Ie detail aux plus petites prescriptions-et, comme disait
saint Augustin, il y a quelque chose de pire que Ie vice, a. savoir l'orgueil de la
vertu." Lacroix, op. cit., pp. 37-38.
75Cf. N. Perquin, J. "Het 'welopgevoede' Kind," Dux, Vol. XIII (1951).
pp. 432-434.
76Cf. Lacroix, op. cit., pp. 41-45.
values because, in his view, there is no God who can hold values be-
fore us or impose norms upon us. n For Merleau-Ponty general
norms or values are impossible, because there is no meaning which
transcends the historical situation in which it reveals itself. Merleau-
Ponty admits meaning, but this meaning is never valid for all, every-
where and always. It applies only within a given historical situation
to those who live in this situation.78 Outside this situation values
are mere words. 79 As we noted previously, from the viewpoint of
Merleau-Ponty a general idea of, e.g., "table" or "perception" is
impossible, because knowledge contains nothing else than the self-
revelation of reality through profiles which correspond with a definite
historical standpoint and therefore pass away with this phase of
history. so In a similar way the values which appear apply only to
a phase of history and pass away with it, i.e., lose their value. On
the basis of historicity every value can be denied. Thus Merleau-
Ponty's ethics is a radical situational ethics.
Deficiency of Atheistic Existentialism. It goes without saying
that within this existentialistic perspective legalism is impossible.
However, the way in which it is rejected is full of difficulties. No
general norms or values at all are recognized. Nevertheless, it would
be wrong to conclude that these phenomenologists have abolished
all ethics. Sartre rejects God as law-giver, although he finds it a
"great nuisance" to do so, because thus values "are no longer
written in heaven."sl But he then proceeds to elevate freedom
to the rank of norm of good and evil: an action is morally good
if it is done freely. 82 What can be the meaning of this? General
77Cf. Sartre, L'existentialisme est un humanisme, p. 37.

7s"Dans une periode donnee de l'histoire et de la politique du parti, les valeurs
sont determinees et I'adhesion est sans reserves, puisqu'elle est motivee par la
logique de I'histoire. C'est cet absolu dans Ie relatif qui fait la difference entre
la dialectique marxiste et Ie relativisme vulgaire." Merleau-Ponty, Humanisme
et terreur, Paris, 1947, p. 129.
79"La decision . . . n'est pas affaire privee, elle n'est pas l'affirmation
immediate des valeurs que nous preerons, elle consiste pour nous a faire Ie
point de notre situation dans Ie monde, a nous replacer dans Ie cours des choses,
a bien comprendre et a bien exprimer Ie mouvement de l'histoire lors duquel
les valeurs restent verbales et par lequel seulement elles ont chance de se
realiser." Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. 23.
soC. Merleau-Ponty, PhenomhlOlogie de la perception, pp. 382-383, 454.
SIC. Sartre, L'existentialisme est un humanisme, pp. 35-36.
82"On peut tout choisir si c'est sur Ie plan de l'engagement libre." Sartre,
ibid., pp. 88-89.
norms are rejected and then freedom is made a general norm.

Sartre could perhaps defend himself by saying that his norm is not
"written in heaven," but anchored in human existence. But, we
may ask, what exactly was the objection to the ethical norm? Its
universality or the fact that it is supposed to be "written in heaven"?
Moreover, who claims that the norm is "written in heaven"? The
only reply can be: legalism. But if the rejection of legalism still
implies the affirmation of a general norm, then it will perhaps be
possible to find in existence a real ethical norm without having to
re-introduce legalism.
A similar difficulty may be raised against the view of Merleau-
Ponty. It is useless to reject a general norm and then to introduce
one. 8S Merleau-Ponty does not want to have anything to do with
freedom in Sartre's sense but posits in its stead humanity, the
human dignity of sOCiety, as the norm of good and evil. 84 This
norm, however, is wholly meaningless in the perspective of Merleau-
Ponty's general line of thought.. For, according to him, all truths
and values are fully determined by history, they are never more
than provisional and can always be rejected on the ground that
the various phases of history slide away. If this assertion is true
for all values and all truths, then it applies also to the "human
dignity of society." Man, therefore, would never be able to determine
whether a particular situation is in agreement or in disagreement
with human dignity. He would need a norm to determine this,
but a "sliding" norm is not a norm.85
Man's Being is a "Having to Be" Which is Bound by Objectivity.

Does being-ethical mean to be "bound by law"? May it be said
that the ethical is law which "simply is there"? Is there opposition
83Cf. Kwant, "Rencontre et Verite," Rencontre-Encounter-Begegnung,

Utrecht-Antwerp en, 1957, pp. 236-242.
84"Le marxisme avait vu qu'inevitablement notre connaissance de I'histoire
est partiale, chaque conscience etant elle-meme historiquement situee mais
au lieu d'en conclure que nous sommes enfermes dans la subjectivite et voue~
a la magie des que nous voulons agir au dehors, iI trouvait, par deJa la
connaissance scientifique et son n!ve de verite impersonnelle, un nouveau
fondement pour la verite historique dans la logique spontanee de notre ex-
istence, dans la reconnaissance du proletaire par Ie proletaire, et dans la
croissance affective de la revolution." Merleau-Ponty, op. cit. pp. 19-20.
85Cf. Kwant "Menselijke existentie en geschiedenis volgens het wijsgerig
denken van Maurice Merleau-Ponty," Algemeen N ederlands Tijdschrift voor
Wijsbegeerte en Psychologic, vol. 46 (1953-1954), pp. 246-247.
between freedom as "selfhood" and law? Are there laws which

are valid for all, everywhere and always? Let us see to what extent
it will be possible to reply to these questions by making use of the
insights into freedom which we have acquired and by continuing
to penetrate more profoundly into the essence of freedom.
Being subject should be conceived as an ontological superiority
over the being of things. The being of things is a being-necessitated,
while being-subject is being-free. As subject, man is a "natural
light," a light for himself and for reality which is not the subject itself.
Insofar as the subject is a light for the other-than-the-subject, it is the
"letting be" of reality. This light, however, is an objective light, it
lets reality be what reality is,86 is bound by objectivity.87 Being
subject is to be bound by objectivity, to stand in truth as in the un-
concealment of reality. The freedom, therefore, which characterizes
man on the proper level of his manhood reveals itself at the same
time and just as immediately as a being-bound-namely, by objec-
tivity as unconcealment.
On the other hand, man's being must be called a zu sein, a "having
to be," because the subject which man is cannot definitively consent to
any reality. Thus being-subject is the basis of both being-bound by
objectivity and having-to-be. Man, then, is a having-to-be-which-is-
bound-by-objectivity,
Man's Fundamental "Ought" and Morality. When we spoke

about the "ought" of justice, we inserted it into a more general
"ought"-the "ought." namely, which characterizes man's existence
and is called zu sein or "having to be." It was pointed out that man
executes this "ought" per se, even if he pretends to abstain from doing
so. When a man alleges that he abstains from realizing himself and
his world, he still realizes himself, but as a blockhead and as an
egoist, and he still constructs a world, but a world that is full of
illiterates and contagious diseases, a world in which babies can sur-
vive only a few months, and in which floods regularly make thousands
of victims. Man executes per se the zu sein which characterizes him,
S6C. Heidegger, Sein Il1Id Zeit, p. 218.

87"Das Sicheinlassen auf die Entborgenheit des Seiendem verliert sich
nicht in dieser, sondern entfaltet sich zu einem Zuriicktreten vor dem Seienden,
damit dieses in dem, was es ist und wie es ist, sich offenbare und die vor-
stellende Angleichung aus ihm das Richtmass nehme." Heidegger, Vom rresell
der Wahrheit, p. 15.
but this execution can be done in an unfitting way-namely, when it

destroys the other's subjectivity.
What is unfitting in this last-named sense is called by everyone
"immoral." Immorality consists in this that man fails to admit the
being-bound by objectivity which characterizes his having-to-be. The
objective meaning of man's fellow man is being-subject. This mean-
ing binds man. He has to respect and favor it.
Perhaps it is not as it should be that we endeavor to explicate the
ethical man by means of immorality. However, this approach may
have an advantage-namely, that in this way it is more quickly
realized that we are speaking of reality than if we were directly to
describe being-ethical as an ideal. Nevertheless, this direct descrip-
tion has to be made also, for the ethical laws, which usually are
formulated in a negative way, explicitate only the minimum demanded
by the moral ideal. To use again the same example, the ethical norm
"man may not destroy the subjectivity of his fellow man" finds its
source in a positive ethical demand-namely, the demand to love our
fellow ma'll. Man's being is a having-to-be-for-the-other, a being-
destined-for-the-other. Its minimum demand implies that man or-
ganizes his life and his world in such a way that the other's subjec-
tivity does not have to perish in this world. Other examples could
be given to illustrate the point. For instance, that marriage is monog-
amous and indissoluble is merely a minimum insight into the objec-
tive meaning of intersubjectivity as sexually differentiated.
The Norm of Man's Action. Perhaps it has become clear now that
being-ethical may not be conceived as being "bound by a law" which
"simply is there." For having-to-be-which-is-bound-by-objectivity is
what constitutes what man essentially is as distinct from a thing, as
subject, as free. The law gives expression to this being, laws and
norms explicitate and conceptualize it. The law is not imposed from
without, but expresses man's bound status reflexively and predi-
catively, and this bound condition is the being of man himself as sub-
jectivity, as freedom. The expression of man's bond on a reflexive
and predicative level is possible because man's being is a being-
conscious. As characterized by "understanding of being" (S einsvers-
tandnis), man knows implicitly of his being as zu sein, his "having to
be." His consciousness, therefore, is moral consciousness or con-
science, and this conscience constitutes what man essentially is as
characterized by "understanding of being." Existence, as unconcealed-
ness, then, is the norm of human actions. Existence is unconcealed
because it is characterized Ly "understanding of being." This under-

standing, as the unveiling of existence-as-norm, is called "conscience."
It constitutes what man essentially is as distinct from a thing. As
distinct from the Leing of a thing, man's l)eing is not a being-
necessitated, Lut a being-free, i.e., a being-obliged. 88 As Renouvier
expressed it, "Man is an animal with precepts."
Conscience and its Substructures. As is evident, we are speaking
here only of the adult conscience of the person, the personal con-
science which pertains to man on the proper level of his manhood.
This conscience, however, has substructures of a biological, instinc-
tive, and social nature whose reality has been brought to light through
the work of psychologists and sociologists, especially in the past few
decades. 89 Their studies have shown that aLsence of conscience is
frequently the result of serious defects on the infrahuman level, e.g.,
the absence of sufficient affection during infancy. The integrity of an
adult conscience presupposes a favorable development of these suL-
structures. This dependence of conscience upon its substructures is
really quite normal, for subjectivity is not an isolated subjectivity but
a subjectivity-embodied-in-a-world. On the other hand, however, it
would be going too far to follow Freud and sociologism in their
identification of rudimentary and primitive forms of conscience with
the adult conscience of a person. 90 It is intentionally that we speak
here of an "adult conscience" and not of the "conscience of the adult,"
for there are many so-called adults whose development has stopped
with ~lJe or the other rudimentary and primitive form of conscience.
The adult conscience may not Le identified with its biological, in-
stinctive, and social substructures. The reason is that the "knowl-
edge" which lies contained in these substructures is not the personal,
objective knowledge pertaining to the subject as "natural light" and,
8BThe phenomenology of conscience is a very suitable example if one
tries to understand the thought "movement" of the phenomenologist. His
thinking is a so-called "spiral thought." It penetrates in a spiral fashion
into the depth of reality, making each acquired insight the standpoint lead-
ing to an ever more profound understanding. His thinking about man as a
conscientious-being illustrates this spiral process. What phenomenology says
about cunscience can and has to be taken up again when man's being-a-
subject has been understood as being-the-result-of-divine-Love and when
having-to-be has been understood as the task to come closer to this divine
origin through life in the world. Only then can the bond of subjectivity to
unconcealedness be understood as a bond to God's will. This identity, how-
ever, cannot he immediately pronounced by the phenomologist.
89Cf. H. H. M. Fortmann, "Het goede, het geweten en de moraal, Een
paedagogische studie over de crisis in de opvattingen over moraal en geweten."
Dux vol. XX (1953), pp. 436-442.
90Cf. G. Madinier, De Mens en zijn Geweten, Utrrecht, 1957, pp. 19-24,
107-116.
secondly, the zu sein and restlessness contained in the substructures

cannot be understood, respectively, as the tending to objective values
and as ethical idealism. Personal conscience emerges from its sub-
structures and from its rudimentary and primitive forms. It continues
to presuppose them, but is not identical with them, as may appear also
from the fact that the person is aware of the substructures' influence.
As soon, however, as he becomes aware of them, he will be faced with
the necessity of making a personal judgment. He will ask himself
whether he will approve these influences or had better take a different
road. This question means that he places himself on the proper level
of his manhood, the level of the personal conscience. 91
Personal Conscience and General Norms. A personal conscience
is not contradicted by general norms which are valid for all, always
and everywhere. Likewise, the acceptance of such norms does not
mean a return to legalism. Of course, one may want to follow Sartre
and Merleau-Ponty who see in knowledge nothing else than the un-
veiling of reality through profiles and thus fail to recognize in man's
characteristic "understanding of being" the reality of the intellectual
act by which he grasps the essence of the rea1. 92 In that case, of
course, there can be no question of an abstract norm which is objec-
tively general, i.e., valid in every situation, not even of the general
norms which these phenomenologists quietly introduce. Their sensu-
alistic positivism excludes utterly any possibility of general norms.
However, such a position is not tenable.
In" accepting general norms, we do not mean norms which "are
written tor us in heaven." General norms are the reflexive expression
of man's essence, understood as "having to be" or zu sein. To use
again the above-mentioned example, man's essence as co-existence is
his being-destined-for-the-other. This is what man essentially is, no
matter what his historical situation may be. If this idea is expressed
negatively and in relation to the minimum demand of love, one must
say that man may never and nowhere destroy the subjectivity of his
fellow man. 93 This general law is not "written in heaven," but "in
91"Let us say, if need be, that conscience is produced by the various forms
of social pressure, but not that it is solely the product of social pressure. The
influence of social pressure has to be integrated and developed rather than
rejected. Only the idea that this influence alone produces conscience is wrong."
92Cf. above, pp. 128 ff.
93Cf. L. Janssens, "Moderne situatie-ethiek in het licht van de klassieke leer
over het geweten," Persoonlijke vcrantwoordelijkheid en geweten, (Verslagboek
van de lSe R. K. Paedagogische Week), Tilburg, 1955, p. 18.
the hearts of men." This law in unconcealed for man who is charac-
terized by "understanding of being." In the .general law man gives
expression to his implicit awareness of his own essence as zu sein.
For this reason this law is called the "natural law" and has a trans-
historical validity.94
Sartre's Objection Against General Norms. Sartre claims that,
even if there were a God and even if general norms were "written in
heaven," they would not be of much use to man. 95 For even in
that case man would not be dispensed from the duty to decipher
these heavenly signs and to give them a meaning. 96 He clarifies his
view by means of an example. During the war one of his students
came to visit him and ask for his advice. He did not know what to do:
go to England and enlist in the French forces there or stay at home
with his mother to support her.97 Sartre ends the example by tri-
umphantly observing that there is no system of general moral norms
which can reply to this question. Therefore, even if there were gen-
eral norms, they would be wholly useless.
This train of thought is very primitive. First of all, even if there
is a God, the general norms are not written "in heaven" but in man's
essence. Man knows this because he is characterized by "understand-
ing of being." Secondly, Sartre makes use of a general norm by the
very fact that he does not even consider a third possibility-namely,
that his student could have become a collaborator and a traitor. This
possibility is simply discarded by Sartre, because it was already ex-
cluded by the general law that one may not destroy the subjectivity of
one's countrymen. 98 The general law, therefore, is not wholly use-
less. Finally, it is a mistake to think that a system of general laws has
to be capable of indicating what should be done in concrete situations
and that such a system becomes valueless because it cannot do so. The
realization of what has to be done in concrete situations arises from
94"Il Y a au sein et a la racine du choix moral une visee de yaleur con-
stante et immuable que nous n'avons pas a inventer, ni a creer de toute piece,
mais a accepter et a faire notre; a savoir la reconnaissance de l'eminente
dignite de la per sonne humaine et des valeurs constitutives de la personnalite."
Dondeyne, "Les problemes souleves par l'atheisme existentialiste," Sapientia
Aquinatis (Communicationes IV CongresSlts Thomistici Internationalis) , Rome
1955, p. 468.
95L'existcntialisme est un humanisme, p. 95.
96"L'existentialiste ne pensera pas non plus que l'homme peut trouver un
secours dans un signe donne, sur terre, qui l'orientera; car il pense que l'homme
dechiffre lui-meme Ie signe comme il lui plait." Sartre, op. cit., p. 38.
970p. cit., pp. 4O-4l.
98Cf. Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought and Christian Faith, p.
197.
290 Existential P henomenoiogy
the encounter of the ethical ideal which man essentially is with the
concrete situation.
To know what he has to do here and now, it is not sufficient for
man to be convinced of his destiny for the other.99 He will have to
investigate whether this particular deed is such that it will foster the
other's subjectivity or destroy it. This investigation cannot be con-
ducted by looking at general norms, but only by studying the deed
itself and the situation in which it is to be done. What has to be done
here and now cannot be deduced from general norms, because these
norms say nothing about the character of this particular deed and
this particular situation. Whether or not a Rorschach test is a vio-
lation of on~'s subjectivity cannot be deduced from the general law
which prescribes respect for the other, but becomes clear only by
investigating what exactly is done in a Rorschach test. Claiming that
this question can be solved by a reply deduced from the general law
is tantamount to saying that an artist can deduce from general es-
thetics what he has to paint on this particular wall and how he has to
do it.loO Evidently, no such reply is possible. The same applies to
the moral order. The acceptance of general norms in itself does not
justify any moral choice in particular. It is excluded that man would
necessarily do good deeds because general norms would dictate a cer-
tain moral choice to him.lol
Insufficiency of General Laws. While general laws are not use-
less, they are not sufficient for an authentic moral life. Some reasons
for their usefulness as well as their insufficiency have been mentioned
above, but others could be added. General laws are insufficient espe-
cially because they do not explicitate moral life as an ideal of man-
hood. This is certainly true of general laws which express moral
99"S'il est vrai que la foi chn!tienne developpe Ie sens de la personne humaine
et nous oblige a promouvoir la justice et la paix dans Ie monde, par l'instaura-
tion d'un ordre temporel plus digne de l'homme, elle ne nons donne pas pour
autant une image concrete de cet ordre." Dondeyne, art. quoted in footnote
94, p. 467.
lOO"On ne deduit pas plus la morale de la loi qu'on ne deduit la science des
axiomes de la raison ou l'art des principes de l'estetique." Lacroix, op. cit. p. 44.
lOl"La foi ne justifie aucun des choix qu'on peut etre amene a faire dans
une situation donnee; i1 faut se risquer, s'aventurer, et l'on ignore touiours
se qui en result era et l'on ne doit pas pour autant cesser de s'en preoccuper,
d'y veiller, de s'efforcer au besoin d'y porter remede. Peut-etre a-t-on 'tort',
peut-etre va-t-on . . . declencher des catastrophes; du moins doit-on savoir
qu'elles risquent de se produire et ne pas se rassurer par avance en se disant:
ce que je fais est necessairement bon, puisque c'est la foi qui me Ie dicte."
Fr. J eanson, "Les caracteres existentialistes de la conduite humaine selon
Jean-Paul Sartre," Morale chrhienne et requites contemporaines, Tournai-
Paris, 1954, p. 181.
demands in a negative and minimal way. An authentic moral life

implies that the subject constantly continues to give himself to a task
which is never finished. Man's being is always a zu sein or "having to
be" and, therefore, never finished. One can never say of a man that
he is virtuous, without misunderstanding the proper character of
virtue. As a mode of being-man, being-virtuous is a mode of having-
to-be. An authentic moral life always progresses. This progress does
not consist in an increasingly more accurate observance of an increas-
ingly more sharply formulated law, but in an ever-greater clear sight-
edness of conscience and an ever-more faithful realization of an ideal
which is never reached. Moral life too knows geniuses and inventors
(Madinier). They no longer need the general laws,102 because in
their personal endeavor to realize the moral ideal they always do more
than is prescribed by general laws. loa
We may even say that laws which are "in force" endanger authen-
tic moral life. Every moral life begins with an almost process-like
observance of the laws which in a sense "rule" a society. Every vio-
lation of these laws is met or punished by the moral facticity of the
society in a similar almost process-like fashion. Thus there is a
danger that moral life will never advance beyond a kind of automatic
functioning under the law. This is legalism of the worst kind, fix-
ism,lO' which leads to the disparagement of any authentic moral life.
The Value of Moral Facticity. On the other hand, it would be
wrong to deny, on the basis of this danger, the value of these general
laws, understood as a kind of moral facticity of a society. Yet moral
idealism often leads to such a denial. It begins by placing itself above
the law in the conviction that the moral ideal can be attained without
"passing through the law."1011 This attitude may be compared with a
similar mistake committed by those who one day experience the
attraction of authentic philosophical thinking, unite into a "circle,"
place themselves above all so-called "ready-made truth" or all "dog-
mas," and earnestly expect that now they are capable of serious philo-
sophical achievement. This expectation is illusory. What happens all
the time is that such people remain below the level of "ready-made
truth." The same applies to those who appeal to the personal charac-
102Cf. Lacroix, op. cit., pp. 45-46.
103"Plus un hom me progresse en moralite et devient une personne, moins
la loi a pour lui d'importance; plus la charite regne dans une arne ... moins
ses devoirs apparaissent comme des obligations." Lacroix, op. cit., p. 52.
104Cf. Dondevne. art. quoted in footnote 94, p. 467.
lOIlCf. Lacroix, op. cit., p. 48.
ter of the moral ideal to place themselves above the law: what they
attain is less than the law, less than the minimum. lo6 Man needs the
law, at least to prevent him through a minimum achievement from
falling in times of aridity, discouragement, and weakness. 107 The
failure to admit the necessity of a law which is valid in a society as a
moral facti city is an anthropological error. No subject is without a
body and, likewise, no moral subject is without a "moral body." This
is a truth which the pedagogists of freedom should not lose sight of.
Sin. A final thought comes to our mind here. It is concerned
with sin. Whatever moral principles a person or a society may fol-
low, ultimately moral life is not concerned with principles but with
life itself. What counts is not the inscriptions on monuments, the
slogans of commemorative addresses, the principles of national con-
stitutions. Even the most noble moral principles will not absolve a
person or a society if they are not embodied in the world. lOS Yet all
too frequently this embodiment is lacking. The wicked do not merely
make martyrs, but also liquidate hypocrites professing pious prin-
ciples. Because of his personal lack of fidelity to the moral ideal, the
person living an authentic moral life is always inclined to apologize
for the sublimity of his principles, especially when he defends these
principles against others. His principles are pure, but his hands are
not. Nevertheless, he has to defend his principles. For truth, even
moral truth, is intersut5jective. Unfortunately, this intersubjectivity
is one of principle but not ;:tlways de facto present. Since a society of
persons can live only on the basis of truth, life becomes increasingly
difficult according as moral demands are more frequenti)Ldenied in
practice, albeit not in theory, by those who see and accept the objec-
tivity of these demands. For, if those who see negate in practice what
they see, how will those who do not see be able to obtain sight?
There is No Isolated Conscience. However, it is not only personal
sins that have to be considered here. Even one who tries to realize the
l06"De meme que . . . celui qui s'eleve au-des sus de l'intelligence sans
passer par elle risque de tomber au-dessous, ainsi celui qui veut s'elever
au-dessus de la loi sans passer par elle risque de tomber au-dessous." Lacroix
ibid ..
l07Cf. Lacroix, op. cit., p. 53.
lOS"Quelle que soit la philosophie qu'on professe, et me me theologique,
une societe n'est pas Ie temple des valeurs-idoles qui figurent au front on de
ses monuments ou dans ses textes constitutionnels, elle vaut ce que valent
en e1les les relationS de l'homme avec I'homme. . . . La purete de ses prin-
cipes ne I'absout pas, elle Ie condamne. s'il apparait qu'elle ne passe pas dans
la pratique." Merleau-Ponty, Humanisme et terreur, Paris, 1947, p. X.
moral ideal as faithfully as possible is unable to do the "absolutely"

good. 109 If man were an isolated subjectivity, fully locked up in him-
self and separated from the world, from mankind, and from history, a
stainless conscience would be possible in the midst of a morally rotten
world. But such a subjectivity does not occur. Man lives in the
world, in history, among his fellow men. As a "natural light," man
has a certain objective awareness of his own reality and of the reality
of the other men and things. When he acts, he knows what he is
doing. But the light which man himself is, is at the same time and
just as immediately darkness-man does not possess reality in a "clear
and distinct idea." He knows what he is doing, but at the same time
he also does not know it. Oedipus did not want to kill his father and
wed his mother, but he did do itYo Responsible parents do not want
to make life impossible for their children by excessive indulgence or
excessive discipline, but many do it anyhow.
"Man's Hands are Always Dirty." Because man gropes in dark-
ness, his hands are always dirty. He is not fully master of his deeds,
because he also does not-know what he is doing. Man, moreover, is
not master of his deeds, because his deeds may also resound in reality
in a way which he rejects or disapproves of, but which principles are
utterly unable to modify. The holiest wedded love cannot prevent
that children are born whose life is only a long chain of misery and
wretchedness. The most unselfish and dedicated educator cannot
prevent himself from occasionaly making a mess of his task. The
noblest intentions of a statesman cannot guarantee that he will not
cause a series of disastersYl A philosopher who speaks the language
of phenomenology cannot prevent that others with the best intentions
will seize his words to spread errors. The same would happen if he
used instead the language of scholastic philosophy. While man's
deeds resound in the world and in history, man has lost his control
over them. They may receive also a meaning which he detests.1l2
Principles alone cannot change this situation.
If only it were possible for man to withdraw his hands completely!
But it cannot be done. Precisely because man is essentially in the
I"~Cf. Jeanson, op. cit., pp. 182-189.
110M. Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. XXV.
I l l " ~ ous ignorons pour une tres large part 1es consequences de nos actes.
Nous posons des actes et nous ne savons pas au juste que1s en seront 1es
retentissements, proches ou lointains. Tout ce que nous faisons est deorme,
et nf)S intentions les plus genereuses subissent, en se propageant dans Ie
monrle. tine sorte de refraction sou vent imprevisible." J eanson, op. cit., p. 186.
1I2Cf. Jeanson, op. cit., p. 187
world it is impossible for him, despite the fact that he lives for love,
not also somehow to destroy the other's subjectivity. For in the world
in which he lives murder and manslaughter are a kind of facti city
that has been institutionalized in tyrannical colonial systems, dicta-
torial economic orders, the intolerant fanaticism of ill-conceived re-
ligion, and other similar ways. By withdrawing his hands, man
becomes automatically an accomplice, for he commits the sin of
omission. 113
The sinfulness with which we are concerned here, the sins which
man commits in spite of his principles, is not a personal sinfulness. It
is a kind of facticity in which man participates and of which he par-
takes by the simple fact that through his birth he belongs to mankind-
in-the-world and is inserted it.to history. Man's hands are always
dirty. He cannot lock himself up in the interior of his conscience to
live on his principles,u4 His interior life is not an alibi for the
disasters of history-there is no pure conscience in a rotten world.
Moral man is a task-in-the-world, a task-in-history, and this task
always is also a failure. Nevertheless, contrary to what Merleau-
Ponty thinks,l11S man does not have the right to liquidate his fellow man
because of this failure. In this sense Merleau-Ponty is right when
he says that no revolution can rely on the full support of a Catholic. 118
d. Freedom as Transcendence
Human Action is Not a Process. When psychologists, pedagogists,
and moralists speak of freedom, they usually mean the freedom of
human action. The more fundamental meanings of the term, which
we have explicitated above, are not denied by them, but they do
not fall within the sphere of the interest, the intentions, of their
respective sciences. After our preceding considerations, the character-
istics which mark the freedom of human action reveal themselves
readily. When man's action is said to be free, the meaning is that
113"Du seul fait que je continue d'exister dans ce monde, je me retire

Ie droit de prt!tendre refuser Ie meurtre absoillment: car Ie meurtre est dej a
la, car je vis de ce meurtre indefiniment perpetre-sur d'autres hommes-
par une organisation solidaire. Je n'ai me me pas besoin de lever Ie petit
doigt pour etre complice, il me suffit de m'abstenir." Jeanson, ap. cit., p. 182.
lU"Dans la mesure meme ou un homme est moins sur de soi, ou i1
manque de gravite et, qu'on nous passe Ie mot, de moralite vraie, i1 reserve
au fond de lui-meme un sanctuaire de principes qui lui donnent, pour reprendre
Ie mot de Marx, un 'point d'honneur spiritualiste,' une 'raison generale de
consolidation et de justification'," Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. XL.
115Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., pp. 26-75.
116Sens et non-sens, p. 352.
his action is not a deterministic process, not a discharge of forces,

not a reaction. Man's action, on the proper level of human being, is
the execution of the self-project which man is.
Man's action is not a process. While the being of a thing must be
called the being-the-result of processes and forces, man's existence
contains an aspect through which man transcends such a mode of be-
ing. As subject, man is a self and this self itself possesses a certain
autonomy of being with respect to the processes and forces acting upon
man. This ontological autonomy reveals itself most strikingly in
human actions for, insofar as an action is human, man himself is its
source. The self from which the action springs means a breach in the
chain of deterministic processes; the result of the action is a meaning
which is "new" with respect to the forces acting upon man. The loco-
motion of billiard ball B is nothing new with respect to the force with
which ball A hits ball B. If, however, John bumps into Peter and
knocks him down, the meaning of Peter's fall cannot be revealed by
mechanics, calculating the force with which John ran into Peter.
Peter's spatial position is "new" with respect to the force because of
the attitude which Peter himself takes toward this position. Because
man himself acts, his acting is not a process and, insofar as man's
activity is not a process, it is free.
Facticity and Human Action. Perhaps it is better once more to
emphasize a point which has drawn our attention repeatedly in the
preceding pages. What we want to stress is that man's action always
originates also from man himself. Otherwise there is danger that the
I, the selfhood of man will again be conceived in isolation, divorced
from the facticity of its situation. Subjectivity is not what it is, is
not human subjectivity, without being involved in facticity.n 7 If,
therefore, I say that I myself perform a certain action, I exclude that
the action would be solely the result of a determining influence of
facticity but, on the other hand, I include that without facticity this
action would not be what it is. 118
The consequences of this insight are far-reaching. There is no
personal philosophy without sedimented philosophies, there is no
personal religiousness without institutions, no personal love without
sensuality,119 no personal morality without biological and sociological
117Merleau-Ponty, Phblomenologie de la perception, p. 467.
11S"I\ n'y a done jamais determinisme et jamais choix absolu, jamais
je ne suis chose et jamais conscience nue." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 517.
119Cf. Humanus, "Zinnelijkheid en Hefde," J( ultuurleven, vol. XXIV
(1957), pp. 485-497.
conscience, etc. The meaning of asceticism in human life can never

consist in "killing" man's facticity, for without this facticity the person
is not capable of anything.
The subject's facticitous situation makes an appeal to him in a
certain way, but this facticity does not mean that a causalistic influence
is exercised, the reaction to which would consist in man's action. 120
On the proper level of manhood there is not a single situation which
determines human action. A very harsh economic situation does not
determine me to revolutionary activity.121 There is question only of
an appeal made to me by a certain facticity, so that a certain decision
is rather obvious. 122 The way in which facticity makes its appeal
co-motivates my decision. The motive, however, has no meaning in
itself but derives its meaning also from my subjectivity as a certain
project. The motive is taken as a motive. My poverty does not drive
me into a revolutionary party in the same way as a storm pushes a
ship ashore. But my poverty makes an appeal to me in a certain
fashion, so that the decision to join a revolutionary party is rather
obvious. The motive, however, is taken by me as a motive and stands
in relation to a certain project-namely, to be well off. In relation to
another project, e.g., resignation, the situation has a different meaning.
Accordingly, there can be no question of facticity having a unilateral,
deterministic influence, for subjectivity also is a co-source of new
meaning.
"Existence Precedes Essence." Sartre expresses this idea by
means of his notorius characterization of existentialism: "Existence
precedes essence."123 We call this characterization "notorious," be-
cause in Sartre's view this assertion is connected with atheism. From
the fact that man is not a paperknife, i.e., that his being is not as the
being of a thing, and, "therefore," not conceived and created by a
"superior craftsman,"124 Sartre concludes that man is what he makes
of himself.121i Of course, Sartre is rather hasty in asserting that God
120"Le choix semble etre entre une conception scientiste de la causalite

incompatible avec la conscience que nous avons de nous-memes, et l'affirmation
d'une liberte absolue sans exterieur." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., pp. 498-499.
122"Notre liberte ne detruit pas notre situation, mais s'engrene sur elle:
notre situation, tant que nous vivons, est ouverte, ce qui implique a la fois
qu'elle appeUe des modes de resolution privilegies et qu'elle est par elle-meme
impuissante a en procurer aucun." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 505.
123L'existentialisme est un humanisme, p. 17.
124Ibid., p. 19.
1211/bid., p. 20.
Phen01nenology of Freedom and Its Destiny 297
can conceive and create only things. However, if abstraction is made

of Sartre's atheism, his statement that existence precedes essence may
be very useful, for his main intention is to indicate that a certain
priority of subjectivity has to be admitted. 126 This priority holds
even insofar as man's actions are concerned, i.e., action is not the
result of a causalistic influence exercised by facticity in the same
way as a process takes place under the influence of a unilateral,
deterministic causePT In this way Sartre's assertion simply means
that man is not a thing like a paperknife, a stone, a table, a kind of
moss or a cabbage, and his life is not just a rotting-away.128
Another reservation, however, must be made with respect to
Sartre's statement. We said that a "certain priority" of subjectivity
has to be admitted. For Sartre, as could be expected, this priority
is absolute. Although Sartre--correctIy-<laims that being-for-itself
is intentional,129 he speaks of being-in-itself as isolated from being-
for-itself. ISO As soon, however, as an absolute in-itself is accepted,
it is no longer possible to speak seriously of the intentionality of the
for-itself. Consequently, for-itself also will have to be posited as
absolute. IS 1 As a matter of fact, this is what Sartre does when he
describes for-itself as freedom. If for-itself is taken absolutely, there
can no longer be question of an "engaged," situated freedom. True,
Sartre claims that freedom is situated,132 but at the most crucial
moments of his philosophy he no longer takes its situated condition
into account.l8S In a fully idealistic way, the priority of subjectivity,
the being-of-and-for-himself (aus-sich-und fur-sich-sein) of man,
126L'etre et Ie neant, pp. 60-62.

l27"On voit ainsi dans quel sens et dans queUe mesure il nous est possible
d'accueillir la these fondamentale de I'existentialisme, qui dans I'homme veut
accorder a l'existence, c'est-a-dire a I'exercice de son activite autonome, une
priorite sur I'essence; qui caracterise I'homme comme I'etre qui doit par son
existence, c'est-a-dire par la mise en ceuvre de sa liberte, se donner sa propre
determination." De Petter "Personne et personnalisation," Divus Thomas
(Piac.), 1949, p. 174.
l28Cf. Sarte L'existentialisme est un humanisme, pp. 22-23.
129L'etre et Ie neant, p. 17.
130 Ibid., pp. 33-34.
l3lCf. Remy Kwant, "Menselijke existentie en geschiedenis volgens het
wijsgerig denken van M. Merleau-Ponty," Algemeen N ederlands fijdschrift
voor Wijsbegeerte en Psychologie, Vol. 46 (1953-1954), pp. 231-233.
l32"La liberte est origineUement rapport au donne." Sartre, op. cit.,
p. 567.
183 L'cristentialisme est un humanisme, pp. 35 -50.
becomes in him a being-from-himself (durch-sich-sein), an absolute

autonomy.IU Such a mode of autonomy, however, is not human.
Absolute, non-situated freedom does not occur.181i At the most
crucial moments of his philosophy Sartre falls with a resounding
crash from the phenomenological standpoint which he professes to
occupy.
((Man Knows What he is Doing." Because man subsists, is a
selfhood, it is possible to say that man himself acts. To be a subject,
however, means at the same time immediately to be a light. In con-
nection with the proper character of man's action on the proper level
of his manhood, it is important to indicate explicitly the meaning of
man as a light. Because man as subject is a "natural light," the action
emanating from the subject is not a blind action. Processes operate
blindly, without knowing about their actions and effects. Man's
action, however, as subject is not a process, because man performs
his actions knowing what he is doing. As subject, as a "natural
light," man exists in truth, lives in objectivity. The subject as light
frees the objective meaning of facticity and the objective meaning of
the possibilities that are grounded in this facticity. "Man knows what
he is doing."
Man's activity which is creative of culture in the strict sense of
the term testifies in an unmistakable way to this characteristic of
human action. 136 Animals have no culture, because they do not live
in objectivity. For an animal reality has meaning-this term cannot
even be properly used her~nly as an imperative call upon its bio-
logical nature. Because an animal does not live in objectivity, it does
not develop techniques and arts, it does not form a language, organize
a social, political, and economic order, cultivate the mind, and under-
take education. 137
134Cf. A. Dondeyne, "Beschouwingen bij het atheistisch existentialisme,"

Tijdschrift voor Philosophie, Vol. XIII (1951), p. 24.
185"Au nom de la Iiberte, on refuse I'idee d'un acquis, mais c'est alors
la Iiberte qui devient un acquis primordial et comme notre etat de nature.
Puisque nous n'avons pas a la faire, elle est Ie don qui nous a ete fait de
n'avoir aucun don, cette nature de la conscience qui consiste a n'avoir pas
de nature, en aucun cas e1le peut s'exprimer au dehors ni figurer dans notre
vie." Merleau-Ponty, PMnomenologie de la perception, p. 499.
136Cf. de Petter op. cit., pp. 166-170.
137"Que I'on songe, pour preciser quelque peu les idees, par ex. aux pro-
ductions de la technique et de l'art, a la formation du language, a I'organisa-
tion sociale, politique et economique, a la culture de I'esprit et a l'education."
de Petter, op. cit., p. 166.
Facticityand Choice. Finally, the freedom of man's action implies

that a decision precedes his action, that the subject chooses among the
possibilities allowed by his facticity. Every facticity allows the subject
a certain "room for expansion" of his potential being, for man is a
project. These possibilities are possibilities of the subject, for man
is a self-project. When man acts, he decides to realize this or that
possibility and not another. With respect to man's action on the
proper level of his manhood, this decision or choice is free. For the
possibilities which every facticity leaves open to the subject are the
subject's own possibilities, and it is the subject himself which decides
to realize this possibility and not that one.
This choice, however, is not absolute. It does not start from zero.
It is a decision regarding possibilities, but possibilities are real possi-
bilities only within a certain facticity. The project which man is, is a
"thrown project" (Heidegger). Every choice is a decision about pos-
sibilities within a given situation. The facticity of human existence
will at most indicate an obvious way of deciding, but does not causally
produce a decision. ISS
Strictly speaking, man is always faced with several possibilities,
even in those cases where it is said that there is only one possibility.
For on the proper level of his manhood man can always choose either
for or against this possibility. This choice for or against is even essen-
tial to the freedom of choice, for it is utterly meaningless to say that
man can choose between various possibilities if he is not able either to
accept or reject them one by one. U9
In choosing for or against a given possibility, man explicitly takes
up an aspect of the fundamental structure of his being as "engaged"
subjectivity. For the subject's "engagement" or involvement in his
situation implies both a positive and a negative moment on the cogni-
tive as well as the affective level.140 What interests us here is the
affective level. Its involvement in its situation means for the subject
an affirmation as well as a nihilation of this involvement, an affective
consent and at the same time just as immediately an affective dissent.
There is no reality to which man can not to a certain extent give his
consent and, likewise, there is none to which he can give this consent
fully and definitively. No reality is the All for man as zu sein, as hav-
ing to be. Affirmation and nihilation are essential aspects of manhood
as existing subjectivity.
lssef. Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. 505.
13gef. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol., p. I-II, q. 10, a. 2.
Boef. above, pp. 270 If.
In his choice for or against a certain possibility man explicitly

takes up the positive or negative aspect of his "engagement" in reality.
His subjectivity, as Verstehen, means to anticipate, to run ahead of
the objective sense proper to the new meaning which his action will
establish. Man anticipates also the affective affirmation and nihila-
tion of the new meaning. Even before the action is done, the sub-
ject's intentionality includes a positive and a negative aspect. When
man chooses for or against a certain possibility, he allows the positive
or the negative aspect of his existence to prevail. The freedom of
choice consists in explicitly taking up what man as "engaged" sub-
jectivity essentially is. An explicit choice for or against a certain,
not yet actual, meaning is possible, because the subjectivity's relation
to this meaning essentially includes an affirmative and a negative
aspect. 141
Situated Freedom and Responsibility. When the subject which
man is establishes a new meaning through his action, this meaning
remains in the subject as facticity of his existence. This newly estab-
lished facticitous meaning opens new possibilities for the subject, for
man is a project. Because man is essentially a project, a constantly
re-created openness,142 this assertion is valid for any human action.
Man through his action constantly calls forth new voids; hence one
can never say that man is "finished." For this reason Merleau-Ponty
calls man a "movement of transcendence,"143 a self-transcending move-
ment. Sartre simply speaks of "transcendence,"144 and Heidegger of
"existence." 145
The insight into the situated character of freedom applies most
especially to the question regarding the relationship between freedom
141 "Unde, si proponatur aliquod obiectum voluntati quod sit universaliter

bonum, et secundum omnem considerationem, ex necessitate voluntas in illud
tendit, si aliquid velit: non enim poterit velie oppositum. Si autem proponatur
ei aliquod obiectum quod non secundum quamlibet considerationem sit bonum,
non ex necessitate voluntas fertur in illud. Et quia defectus cujuscumque boni
habet rationem non boni, ideo illud solum bonum quod est perfectum, et cui
nihil deficit, est tale bonum quod voluntas non potest non velie, quod est
beatitudo. Alia autem quaelibet particularia bona, in quantum deficiunt ab
aliquo bono, possunt accipi ut non bona; et secundum hanc considerationem
possunt repudiari vel approbari a voluntate, quae potest in irem ferri secundum
diversas considerationes." St. Thomas, Summa theol. p. I-II, q. 10, a. 2.
142"Cette ouverture touiours recreee dans la plenitude de l'etre . . ."
Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. 229.
1430p. cit., p. 492.
144"Mais, precisement, par la transcendance, j'echappe a tout ce que ie suis."
L'etre et Ie neawt, p. 96.
141i"Das 'Wesen' des Daseins liegt in seiner Existenz." Sein lind Zeit, p. 42.
of action and being-driven by passions or emotions. Psychologists and

moralists are mainly interested in freedom from this viewpoint because
of its connection with the subject's accountability and responsibility. us
Above we indicated that facticity makes a certain appeal to the
subject by virtue of which this or that decision presents itself as obvi-
ous without, however, being ever causally produced by a facticitous
situation. Psychologists could object to the last part of this assertion
on the basis of established facts. To what extent can one say that man
himself is the co-source of his actions without unduly minimizing the
influence of passions and emotions?
Freud. In this question Freud and Sartre are perhaps the most
authoritative representatives of radically opposed views. For Freud
it is certain that man's actions, even the higher psychical activities
which reveal themselves in science and art and in living a life of faith,
are determined in their rise from the depth of an unconscious libido.
At first Freud considered his view applicable only to pathological
behavior. But when his analysis of dreams showed that the same
normal behavior, because dreams are entirely normal. For Freud,
mechanisms worked in dreams as in pathological behavior, he ex-
panded the area of applicability and declared his view valid also for
there is no freedom in cases of pathological behavior; dreams reveal
the working of the same mechanisms as those which determine patho-
logical behavior; therefore, he concluded, normal behavior, of which
dreams are merely a form, must also be considered to be determined
by an unconscious libido. 147 In other words, the freedom of normal
behavior is merely an illusion. The logical consequence is that there
can no longer be question of accountability and responsibility.
Sartre. Sartre, however, denies this and takes a position which is
radically opposed to Freud's standpoint. So far as Sartre is con-
cerned, there can be no question of diminished or merely partial
responsibility,148 for man is entirely free. He possesses absolute
autonomy, even with respect to his passions. 149 Of course, one could
ask whether there is no difference between an act of will and an act
146A. de Waelhens, op, cit., p. 84.

147Cf. ]. Nuttin, Psychoanalyse en spiritualistische opvatting van de mens,
Utrecht, 1952, pp. 138-145.
148Cf. L'existelltialisme est un humallisme, pp. 37-38.
149"Et si la neantisation est precisement l'etre de la liberte, comment refuser
l'autonomie aux passions pour l'accorder a la volonte?" L' etre et le neant,
p. 159.
302 Existential PhenC'menology
of passion. llio Sartre does not deny that there is a difference, but
considers it unimportant, because in a certain sense freedom lies
ahead of the act of will and of passion. Freedom lies in existence
as a project. A threat against my life, for instance, is a threat only
in relation to the project of saving my life. I can execute this project
either through a passion-inspired flight or through rational resistance.
I myself make a choice between these two possibilities. Iii 1 I choose
either the act of will or the passion-whether the world will be a
rational world (the object of the act of will) or a magical world (the
object of passion) depends entirely on my choice. lli2
It goes without saying that motives in themselves have no mean-
ing. They appear as motives only in relation to a project. But
Sartre should have added at least that freedom as project is situated,
i.e., that all projects are possible only within definite limits, e.g.,
within the limits imposed upon freedom by passions or emotions.
With this restriction Sartre's question may be repeated: Is it unthink-
able that passions or emotions may be so strong that at a given moment
there can no longer be question of projects in the authentically
human sense of the term?
As far as Sartre is concerned, this possibility is excluded. Fear
of a threat can never determine me, for something or someone appears
to me as a threat to my life only in relation to my project of saving
my life. For Sartre, this means that the threat derives its meaning
exclusively from my subjectivity.lli3 Thus subjectivity is fully isolated
from the facticitous situation and absolutized as a project. For free-
dom of action it makes no difference whether the subject replies with
an impassioned action or with a free action: the impassioned action
also is free, for a threat, for instance, becomes a motive of fear only
through a fully autonomous project of subjectivity. This fully auton-
omous project is executed either through passion or through an
act of will. l54
Reply of Phenomenology. The phenomenologist has only one
answer to the views of both Freud and Sartre: "lived" experience
150 0. ibid.
151"Serai-je volontaire ou passionm:? Qui peut Ie decider sinon moi?"
Ibid., p. 520.
152Cf. Ibid., p. 521.
153"En fait, motifs et mobiles n'ont que Ie poids que mon project, c'est-a-
dire la libre production de la fin et de I'acte connu a realiser, leur confere."
Ibid., p. 527.
154Cf. Ibid., pp. 523-528.
knows better. "Lived" experience knows that freedom as project

and as the execution of the project, i.e., as action, is not an isolated
but a situated freedom. In his actions man is appealed to by motives
that are anchored in his facticity, or rather, motives which are his
facticity. Motives have no meaning in themselves but, on the other
hand, they do not derive their meaning exclusively from subjectivity.
They "themselves" also have a certain weight, albeit only in the unity
of reciprocal implication of project and meaning.
The properly human element of the action consists in this that the
action is always to a certain extent performed by man himself, by the
subject which man is. If I want to express the meaning of a given
action, I have to indicate more than the influence of facticity. For in
addition to facticity, there is also the subject's spontaneity, by virtue
of which a meaning is always in a certain sense a new meaning, even
if only because the subject either ratifies or does not ratify the facticity.
The action, therefore, is always also the action of the subject itself.
We may say even more. The fact that the action always co-
originates from the subject means also that the subject, as standing
in objectivity, places himself in a sense at a distance from his facticity,
from the motives which make an appeal to him, in order to grasp
their objective meaning. This implies that man investigates whether
or not a certain meaning will give a real fulfilment to his being as
having-to-be. More simply expressed, man knows what he is doing. lIill
Human and Animal Action. The action of man, therefore, is dif-
ferent from that of an animal. Psychologists have established that an
animal in its behavior simply follows the impulse of the strongest
need. IllS A given impulse within certain conditions will per se lead
to a certain behavior. In this way the animal's behavior is determined,
as is also the development of this behavior. This development is fixed
and can be expressed in laws that are valid for a given biological
species. Thus the animal is and remains an element of material
nature, and its behavior is a phase in the evolution of this nature.
An animal is a "stagnant being."157
With man the situation is different. Man's action is, within the
limits of facticity, always an activity of man himself with the objective
I55"Everyone agrees that to act freely is to act with knowledge of what
one is doing and why one is doing it." Dondeyne, "Truth and Freedom,"
Truth and Freedom, Pittsburgh, 1954, p. 3l.
11l6Cf. J. Nuttin, Psychoanalyse en spiritualistische opvatting van de mens,
Utrecht, 1952, pp. 202-205.
1 II 7 Nuttin, op. cit., p. 203.
consciousness of what his facticity is and what the action will be.
This objective consciousness also makes it possible for man to
improve a certain way of acting, as is shown by his cultural activity.
Hence the "evolution" of human existence cannot be laid down in
laws, while the evolution of an animal's behavior can be codified as
typical of its species. los
If we apply this idea to the relationship between free action and
passion, it means that subjectivity places itself at a distance from
every instinctive impulse and breaks through its necessitating and
determining force. The action of man, as human action, is not a
being completely fascinated and captivated in the same way as an
animal is fascinated by its prey.l09 On the contrary, it is a modifying
intervention in facticity, in which the subject places himself at. a
distance and judges objectivity from a standpoint which transcends
the appeal that is made to him here and now. 160
However, it is necessary to keep in mind that we are speaking
here all the time of human action as human. We do not say that
all actions which in some way or other can be attributed to man
are per se authentically human actions. 16l We do not deny, there-
fore, that passions can ever determine man. Likewise, it is not
asserted that an action can never be considered as a kind of "dis-
charge," elicited by an instinctive impulse. Whether or not, how-
ever, such an "instinctive" action ever occurs is something which
can be determined only on the basis of experiential data. To solve
the question, one would have to determine to what extent an action
was concretely preceded by the objective evaluation of the motives
or whether for some reason or other the subject was not capable
of such an evaluation. 162 If the subject was not capable of it, then
the action cannot be considered as human action and, consequently,
not as free. In Hegel's words, as man, man is a sick animal.
l5S"En efIet, si la condition de I'homme est de decouvrir et d'etablir des

significations, I'idee que Ie determinisme pourrait s'appliquer a I'homme
devient simplement absurde." De Waelhens, op. cit., p. 83.
l59"Que je puisse dire Ie sens des choses, suppose que je ne sois pas
emporte ou ravi par elles comme l'animal par la proie qu'il poursuit, que
je puisse toujours les considerer en me pla~ant en retrait par rapport a
elles: c'est qu'on exprime en disant que je saisis l'etant comme tel ou que
je suis capable de laisser cet etant etre ce qu'il est." de Waelhens, op. cit.,
p. 81.
l60ef. Nuttin, op. cit., pp. 152-155, 166-168.
l6lWe are referring here to the classical distinction between "act of man"
and "human act." Our considerations refer to the human act.
l62Nuttin, op. cit., p. 153.
Freedom as a Task. The data of experience make it clear that

every concrete action is guided by a very complex whole of motives.
The involvement of subjectivity in facticity is so complex that it
is certainly wrong to claim that a concrete action is either free or
determined. According to Nuttin, there are only a few manners
of behaving which "do not contain at least a certain influence or
after-effect of insights and considerations that transcend matter, if
only because of the specifically human braking or hesitation with
which an irresistible impulse is accepted or through which the in-
stinct is followed less vigorously."163 From this viewpoint, there-
fore, it is meaningless ,to say that man "is condemned to freedom."
On the contrary, we should say that it is the task of man to be
man and, therefore, to act humanly. In this way the freedom of
action appears to us at the same time as a task, and in this sense
one may say that freedom has to be gained by conquest. l64
e. Freedom as History
The term "history" is used to indicate the proper character of
the dynamism of human existence. The use of this term is justified
by the implications contained in the insight that on the proper
level of his manhood man is the execution of the project which
he is, that man is transcendence, a transcendent movement. To
arrive at this insight it is necessary and sufficient to understand,
first, that man's dynamism on the proper level of his manhood
is wholly different from the dynamism found in things. 161i Terms,
therefore, such as process, evolution, becoming, and movement are
no longer appropriate. 166 Secondly, it must be understood that man
as transcending movement is the synthesis of the three states of time,
present, past, and future. Because we have sufficiently spoken about
l63Cf. ]. Nuttin, op. cit., p. 167.

l64"Mais du fait de son incarnation, ce sujet est toujours menace de se
laisser submerger par Ie vital, de ne vivre que pour celui-ci. II eprouvera done
Ie besoin de se defendre contre cet engluement dans la matiere pour sauve-
garder sa Iiberte et pour conserver intacte la faculte meme de jouir des objets,
faculte qui serait compromise par un affaiblissement de la subjectivite per-
sonnelle. Une lutte incessante s'impose ainsi a I'homme, ranc;on de la liberte
dans une personne incarnee." A. Brunner, La personne incarnee, pp. 191-192.
l65"On n'explique rien par I'homme, puisqu'i! n'est pas une force, mais une
faiblesse au coeur de I'etre; (iJ n'est pas) un facteur cosmologique, mais Ie lieu
ou tous les facteurs cosmoiogiques, par une mutation qui n'est jamais finie,
chan gent de sens et deviennent histoire." Merleau-Ponty, Eloge de la philos-
ophic. p. 61.
l6GCf. Dondeyne, Contemporary European Thought and Christian Faith,
pp. 41-43.
the proper character of the dynamism of human existence in the

preceding pages, we will concentrate here especially on showing that
existence as transcendence is temporality.
Human and Infrahuman Temporality. In describing man as ex-
istence, we indicated that to exist is to-be-conscious-in-the-world. 167
We saw that a twofold level has to be distinguished in existence: the
level of the infrahuman, of the I-body, and the level of subjectivity,
of personal consciousness and personal freedom. It should be obvious,
therefore, that in the description of existence as temporality this
temporality also must be seen on several levels, and that we must
distinguish at least an infrahuman and a human temporality.16s The
temporality of the infrahuman, which is also called "cyclic time"169
or "prehistory,"170 leaves room for "processes." As soon, however,
as we find ourselves on the level of the properly human, on the level
of consciousness and freedom, terms such as becoming, movement,
process, and evolution lose their meaning.
Nevertheless, it would be wrong to separate human temporality
from the infrahuman. l71 Such a separation would mean the divorce
of facticity and freedom. Freedom would no longer be situated, it
would no longer be human freedom but an abstraction. Human action,
however, as conscious and free, is set in a prehistory. Conscious and
free existence "uses the results" of prehistory, it is the "resumption
of a prepersonal tradition."172
Man as Human Temporality. The human temporality of which
we will speak now is man himself, insofar as in his culturally creative
167See above pp. 15 ft.

16SCf. Remy Kwant, "De historie en het Absolute." Tijdschrift voor
Philosophie, Vol. XVII (1955), pp. 264-273.
169"Ce temps est celui de nos fonctions corporelles, qui sont cycliques comme
lui, c'est aussi ce1ui de la nature avec laquelle nous existons." Merleau-Ponty,
Phbwmenologie de la perception, p. 517.
17oCf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 277.
171"I1 faut ... que mon histoire soit la suite d'une pn!histoire dont elle
utilise les resultats acquis, mon existence personnelle la reprise d'une tradition
prepersonnelle. II y a done un autre sujet au-dessous de moi pour qui un
monde existe avant que je sois Iii et qui y rnarquait rna place." Merleau-Ponty,
ibid., pp. 293-294.
172What exactly is this prehistory? What is the precise relationship be-
tween history and prehistory? We do not know and, therefore, can speak
about it only in a superficial way. This superficiality shows itself, e.g., in
the fact that with respect to the temporality of facticity no explicit distinction
is made between facticity as a "natural whole" and as a "cultural whole," i.e.,
as the "sediment of spontaneous actions." Cf. Merleau-Ponty, La structure
du comportement, p. 227, note 1.
activity he gives life to any facticity whatsoever, i.e., insofar as plac-

ing himself at a distance, he grasps the objective meaning of this
facticity and realizes the possibilities contained in it. An example
may clarify the point. Let us take one from economic life. To pro-
vide for the needs of his physical being man has created a very com-
plex system of institutions. This system did not suddenly arise from
nowhere, but was laboriously constructed by man. In the past the
system has undergone many changes, and in the future the same will
happen. Therefore, we may say that there is "movement" in economic
life. What is meant by movement here? The movement in question
is not like the movement of the earth's crust in vulcanic regions; it is
not like the growth of a plant; it is not like the evolution of giant
reptiles in the Cretaceous and Jurassic periods. The reason for the
dissimilarity is that in the movement of economic life human sub-
jectivity plays a role. It is man who is aware of the facticity of an
economic order and who, starting from this facticity, plans a more
satisfactory system to be realized by man himself. The matter with
which the economist works is a "human matter," and the changes in
an economic order are not made by the weight of an economic facticity
in itself but always also through the intervention of human subjec-
tivity.11 3
The same could be said of language, arts, social and religious life,
sciences and philosophy.IH Philosophy does not "evolve," and philo-
sophical views do not "arise" in the same way as things are thrown
into being by other things. On the contrary, authentic philosophical
thinking is the taking up again of eternal problems, the reconsidera-
tion of previously given replies. In this thinking a previously given
reply will be ratified, rejected, or more profoundly analyzed. 175
Without the subjectivity of human existence nothing can be under-
stood of the "changes" in the cultural world, and by virtue of this
subjectivity these "changes" are not processes. 176
Time Refers Essentnlly to a Subject. For the superficial thinking
of "general opinion" history is the succession of events "in" time.
Time is thus considered as a kind of stream, and events in time as the
successive passage of bits of flotsam in the stream.IT7 Different
173Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Eloge de la philosophie, p. 73.
174Cf. in connection with this how Heidegger develops the notion of
Wiederholung in Sein und Zeit, pp. 384-386.
175Cf. Dondeyne, op. cit., pp. 46-47.
176Cf. Marcel, L'homme problematique, p. 45.
17TCf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, p. 470.
moments would have to be conceived as points of "now," as elements

or atoms of time, and time itself as a succession of such points.178
Without further discussion, it should be clear that "general opinion"
speaks of time as an objectivistic process, as a stream without witness,
as a fluid substance, a process that is in itself (Heraclitus).
The illustration itself, however, indicates that there can be no
question of time without reference to a subject.17o For what does it
mean that one piece of flotsam in the stream passes after the other?
There can be no question of an "after" unless the passing of the
pieces is conceived to occur in the presence of a perceiving subject,
a subject which in perceiving the second piece is capable, so to speak,
of holding on to the first perception. This holding-on-to is essential.
We may not say that the past perception no longer is at all) for other-
wise we cannot say that the second perception occurs after the first,
that the second piece of flotsam passes after the first. As soon as we
can no longer speak of "after," time no longer has a past. But without
a past, time is not time. Unless the subject somehow holds on to
the past, any "succession" is meaningless. Likewise, it is evident that
"events" cannot be thought to occur in time if every subjectivity is
thought away. Strictly speaking, the term "event" loses all meaning
if an event is not thought of as an event-for-someone, for a subject. 180
Objectivism cannot form an idea of time. 18l
It is essential to time, therefore, that one holds on to the past and
anticipates the future. As we pointed out, only a subject can do this.
Nevertheless, we should not attempt to "locate" present, past, and
future in the subject, i.e., consider them as states of an isolated con-
sciousness, so that time would again be represented as the succession
of "nows," this time not in an objectivistic world, but in an isolated
178"Und so zeigt sich denn fur das vulgare Zeitverstandnis die Zeit als
eine Folge von standig 'vorhandenen', zugleich vergehenden und ankommenden
Jetzt. Die Zeit wird als ein Nacheinander verstanden, als 'Flusx' der Jetzt,
als 'Lauf der Zeit'." Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 422.
179"Le temps suppose une vue sur Ie temps." Merleau-Ponty, ibid.
180"11 n'y a pas d'evenements sans quelqu'un a qui ils adviennent et dont
la perspective finie fonde leur individualite," Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 470.
181Some expressions of Merleau-Ponty are rather unfortunate. When he
says: "Le moude objectif est trop plein pour qu'il y ait du temps" (Phe-
nomenologie de fa perception, p. 471), his way of speaking reminds us of
Sartre's ideas regarding the in-itself. According to Sartre, the in-itself is
the fullness of being, because the in-itself-for-me evidently implies negativity.
But it is meaningless to turn a qualification of the in-itself-for-itself simply
around and then to think that we may say that the in-itself is the fullness
of being. Nothing whatsoever can be said of the in-itself-not even that
it is "too full to be temporaL"
consciousness. 182 For otherwise another consciousness would be

needed as consciousness of the successive "nows"-as-states-of-con-
sciousness. And the question that would arise immediately would be
how the temporality of this consciousness would have to be explained
without forcing us to continue forever to place one consciousness after
another .183
Existence as Temporality. For those who understand the way
of thinking proper to existential phenomenology the preceding con-
siderations of time are somewhat superfluous. Considerations of time
may be used to find this way of thinking, but once it has been found,
one no longer seeks time either in an objectivistically conceived world
or in an isolated consciousness. 184 The "place" of time is existence,
presence, the unity of reciprocal implication of subject and object.
We may ask the question as to what existence is as temporal.
Man is essentially existence, presence-to-something, but his being-
present is at the same time and just as immediately presence in the
temporal sense. I am "now" in this or that way directed-to-something.
This something is something which I myself am not, but without
which I am not what I am. My presence is at the same time my
temporal present, my "now."
My presence, however, is not closed. Neither am I nor is what
is present "finished." In every presence there lies a now-present
retention of a former presence and a now-present "protention"
(Husserl) or anticipation of a future presence. 185 In perceiving my
ash tray I see now a certain profile. But in the present profile which
I now perceive there lies a pre-reference to other possible profiles
which will be present when I change my standpoint or move my ash
tray. The presence of the terminus encountered in a perception,
therefore, is never a closed presence, for the actually appearing profile
always refers to the presence of another profile, and without this
reference an object of perception is not reality.
This reference implies that no "now" is a real "now," no present
IS a real present without a future. The presence of the terminus
182Cf. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de fa perception, p. 472.

183"Si la conscience du temps etait faite d'etats de conscience qui se
succedent, iI faudrait une nouvelle conscience pour avoir conscience de cette
succession et ainsi de suite." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 483.
184"Mais I'analyse du temps . . . ec1aire les precedentes analyses parce
qu'elle fait apparaitre Ie sujet et I'objet comme deux moments abstraits d'une
structure unique qui est la presence." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 492.
185"Husserl appelle protensions et retentions les intentionnalites qui
m'ancrent dans un entourage." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 476.
encountered in perception is never a closed presence. The same IS

true of being-present-as-temporality.
Something similar has to be asserted regarding the relationship
present-past. My perception at this moment is not a real perception
without reference to a future perception and likewise not without a
retention of the past perception. I could not even say that a perception
is past if it had been totally cut off, i.e., if it had disappeared into
nothingness. The past as well as the future are always present in a
certain sense. Present, past, and future cannot be understood without
one another, they imply one another, they are not what they are
without one another.186
Past, Future, and Present. Nevertheless, it may seem that we
are now in a predicament. We said that in every presence there is
a now-present retention of a former presence and a now-present
"protention" of a future presence. To prevent the present from being
cut off from the past and the future, it is necessary to place emphasis
on the presence of retention and "protention," for an isolated "now"
is not a real "now." But, we must ask, if past and future are con-
ceived as presences, does it not follow that the synthesis of present,
past and future is represented as the sum-total of points of "now,"
albeit that these points are "now" -points of existence? For above it
was stated that my presence constitutes my present-as-temporal.
Do these retentions and "protentions" mean the addition of past and
future to the present?
Such a view is contradicted by experience. There is no present
without intrinsic reference to past and future. The past and the
future, therefore, are present in the present. Nevertheless, temporality
is not a sum-total of "nows," because present, past, and future are
not in the same sense. 187 Temporality is the never-completed un-
folding of my subjectivity-in-the-world, the flow of my present. There
is not a plurality of interconnected phenomena, but the one pheno-
menon of flOW. 18S In this flow my actual presence can be seen as the
present, and my past and future as absent presences. Temporality,
therefore, is not unqualified having-passed-away and unqualified
not-yet-being, but the flowing-by, the coming within my reach and
slipping from my grasp of the close and the distant.
186ef. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 479.
187"11 ne peut y avoir de temps que s'il n'est pas completement deploye,
si passe, present et avenir ne sont pas dens Ie meme sens." Merleau-Ponty,
ibid., y~ 474.
18SCf. Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 479.
An Example. It may be good to illustrate the matter by means

of an example. I am at present writing a philosophical book. I
write: "There is no present without intrinsic reference to past and
future." When I write "without" my presence constitutes my present-
as-temporality. In writing this word, I retain my grasp on the words
which I have already written, i.e., my present holds on to my past.
At the same time, however, I anticipate the words which I am still
going to write, for without this anticipation the term "without" is
wholly meaningless. Past and future, therefore, are present in the
present, but as absent presences, for they are past and future
presences.
This description may be rendered even more detailed. When I
am writing the letter i of "without," I hold the w still in my grasp.
The w is still present under a certain profile (A), and the letter t is
already present under a certain profile. The same applies to the other
letters. When next I write t, I again hold on to the preceding letter-
the i under profile B, but I hold on to the w under a different profile
(Al) than when I was writing the i. In reaching the h, there occurs
another modification in the presence of the past. I hold fast to the w
under profile A2, to i under profile B1, to t under profile C. The same
could be said with respect to the anticipations. 1811
Existence is the "Place" of Time. Concluding, we must say that
time is not found in an objectivistically conceived world or in an
isolated subject. The "place" of time is existence, or rather, the
subject-in-the-world is temporality.190 Time is not composed of
"now"-points synthetized from without, but time itself is the syn-
thesis of present, past, and future, which excludes any type of juxta-
position of data. 191 Temporality is an essential characteristic of an
"engaged," situated subject; better still, temporality is this subject
itself. As Husserl expresses it, temporality is "the living flow of
presence."
Temporality and History. Subjectivity-in-the-world means break-
ing through the determinism of the cosmos. It means freedom. The
subject, however, is not only in-the-world, but also "at" -the-world: it
is the execution of the project which he himself is-transcendence.

190"11 faut comprendre Ie temps comme sujet et Ie 5ujet comme temps."
Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 483.
191"Chaque present, par son essence meme de present, exclut la juxta-
position avec les autres presents." Merleau-Ponty, ibid., p. 483.
Even as transcendence the subject is freedom and breaks through the

determinism of the cosmos insofar as no facti city at all determines
the subject's action as human action. Freedom as transcendence, how-
ever, is the synthesis of present, past, and future; consequently, free-
dom is temporality.
The temporality of the subject-in-the-world is called history when
there is question of man's cultural activity in the stricter sense of the
term. Although perception itself is a humanization of the world, a
cultural activity, the term applies with far greater justification to all
activities in political, social, economic, artistic, scientific, and re-
ligious life. There is more reason to speak of the history of art than
of the history of a perception or of writing the term "without."
Moreover, the customary usage of the term "history" suggests the
intersubjectivity of human action. We do not want to assert that all
intersubjectivity must be denied to perception but, nevertheless, its
intersubjectivity is certainly not as emphatic as that of cultural activity
in the more restricted sense. The history of man as a cultural being
is always a collective history and, according as the world becomes
more and more unified, history will more and more become the history
of mankind as a whole.
In his cultural activity man is rooted in the past. This past was
created by human beings who preceded him. Our ancestors, especially
those among them who were really eminent, have endeavored to
humanize the world. All our cultural activity is the taking-up again
of their intentions. In his cultural activity man places himself at a
distance from what is already constituted, from facticity, and tries to
grasp its real meaning in order to ratify, reject, or modify it. 192 Thus
he constantly enters into dialogue with his fellow men, and thus also
the past continues to live in the present and is projected toward a
future. Man is never "finished" and his world, likewise, is never
"finished." History, therefore, is not something like a film watched
by a "non-involved" subject, for a film is already "finished" and a
non-involved, non-situated subject is not a human subject.
History and Having-to-Be. As long as man is, he is history.
Involved as it is in reality, subjectivity is always the affective nihilation
of every facticity. For this reason man's being is a "having to be":
man is essentially a "natural desire." As history, man is the ex-
ecution of his "having to be," but there remains the affective distance
pp. 46-47.
between the subject and the meaning established by history. "Having

to be" is the motive of the transcending movement, the history which
man is.19S Man is essentially a "having to be," for the subject's
involvement in reality is essentially negativity. History, therefore,
as the execution of this "having to be," is also the non-execution vf
this "having to be."
We may ask: what does man want? Or rather, what is the deepest
meaning of the "natural desire" which man essentially is? Full
emphasis must be placed here on essentially, for the "natural desire"
is not a desire in the psychological sense, a desire which man could
abandon because it is not fulfilled. Man himself is this desire which
is not satisfied and cannot be satisfied in history. "Our heart is rest-
less until . . ." (St. Augustine). The reality of this fundamental
desire has not escaped phenomenology. A survey, however, of the
efforts to interpret this desire would strike the weakest spots of
existential phenomenology-namely, the question regarding the
meaning of life and whether there is a God. In subsequent pages we
must try to understand the principal replies given to these questions.
At the same time it will become clear that certain "philosophies of
openness" close themselves in a very remarkable way at the most deci-
sive moment of their thinking.
3. THE ATHEISM OF JEAN-PAUL SARTRE
God and the Meaning of Life in Medieval and Contemporary Phi-

losophy. All truly great philosophies speak of God. A philosopher
who does not a priori posit a certain way of thinking, e.g., that of the
physical sciences, as the only one having validity, a philosopher who
does not begin by elevating one particular face of reality to reality
tout court, briefly, a philosopher who is sufficiently open to let every
reality be reality, cannot pass over in silence the phenomenon of
religiousness and the question whether there is a God. It was an
incomparable mark of distinction of medieval philosophy that it
showed itself open in this way. As a result, God stood perfectly in
the center of the life and thought of medieval man.
It is rather striking that in the Middle Ages the question about
God and the thinking about the life of man interlocked. God's cen-
tral position in the life and thought of medieval man meant de facto
193ef. Kwant, "De historie en het Absolute," Tijdschrift voor Philosophie.
Vol. XVII (1955). pp. 291-292.
that God was considered as the source of all reality and as the final
destiny of history. Medieval man affirmed the meaningfulness, the
definitive value of life, provided the pursuit of this life meant the rec-
ognition of God and drawing nearer to Him. In any other sense
man's being was characterized as purposeless, meaningless, and ab-
surd. Man's eternal rejection was seen as the being doomed to expe-
rience oneself eternally as identified with the meaninglessness of ones
being.
A similar relationship between the question whether there is a
God and the meaning of life is found also in the philosophies of our
time. It is striking that only those philosophers who admit a God are
capable of giving expression to the meaning of life. This does not
always imply that the others no longer consider themselves capable
of distinguishing meaningfulness and meaninglessness, but it does
imply that they present the distinction in a way against which "lived
experience" has to protest, because "it knows better."
"Left Wing" and "Right Wing" Existentialism. It is sufficiently

well known that there is some justification for speaking about a left
wing and a right wing in existential philosophy. The justification lies
in the fact that there are atheistic and theistic forms of existentialism.
Since, however, Sartre thought that he could identify existentialism
with atheism, or rather, since he thought that existentialism had to
be defined as atheism,194 some authors began to indicate the right
wing of existentialism as the "philosophy of existence."195 Marcel
also rejected the term "existentialism" as a characterization of his
philosophy, because its acceptance would have put his philosophy
under a common denominator with that of Sartre. 196 Marcel pre-
fers to refer to his philosophy as a kind of neo-Socratism. 197
In recent years, however, it has become evident that the distinc-
tion between atheistic and theistic forms of existentialism, between
existentialism and the philosophy of existence, is not very important.
The reason is that in the exercise of existential thinking the funda-
mental intuition of existential phenomenology has gradually come
I94Although Sartre himself distinguishes two schools of existentialism, (d.

L'existentialisme est un humanisme, pp. 16-17), in practice the distinction
remains unimportant. De facto his existentialism and atheism are identical.
I95Cf. R. Verneaux, Let;OI1,S sur l'existmtialisme et ses formes principalcs.
Paris, n.d., pp. 19-20.
1965 ee the epilogue in Delfgaauw's unsurpassed little wo,k, Wat is existen-
tialisme?, Amsterdam, 1952, pp. 107-118.
197G. Marcel, L'homme problematique, Paris, 1955, p. 72.
into focus. At first, this intuition-we have spoken above of a

"primitive fact" -was not itself reflected upon, although it was not
fully hidden. The fundamental intuition was practiced without being
explicitly thought about, it was implicitly present in philosophical
thought itself. This is the reason why all philosophies indicated
by the term "existentialism," despite their fundamental differences,
betray the same style, the same sphere, the same climate, and move
in the same dimension. But this dimension itself was not previously
explicitated and could not yet be expressed, because existential think-
ing was still too "young" to understand itself.198
The Decisive Issue. At present, however, it appears possible
to explicitate also the primitive fact of existentialism. It is now
understood that the fundamental intuition, the most basic idea, which
guides existentialism is not a primitive atheism but the intentionality
of existence, conceived as man's essential openness, as the encounter
of subjectivity with given realities which are not this sUbjectivity.
The decisive issue of an existential philosophy is the reply to the
question regarding the real meaning of intentionality. To what
extent is man essentially open? Does his openness merely mean
the presence to and in the world or does it obtain a more profound
meaning as encounter with the other and with God? Different
replies are given by various philosophers, and these replies mark
the distinction between atheistic and theistic systems. It is, how-
ever, striking that those who limit man's openness to an openness-
for-the-world either are no longer able to express the meaning of
life (Sartre) or cannot distinguish meaningfulness and meaning-
lessness without introducing internal contradictions into their work
(Merleau-Ponty) .199
Sartre's Rejection of God. Undoubtedly, Sartre is the most
ardent representative of atheism among the adherents of existential
phenomenology.20o In the following pages we will endeavor to trace
the reasons for his position, after which we will investig:.tte the
consequences of his view with respect to the meaning of life.
198"La phenomenologie se laisse pratiquer et reconnaitre comme maniere ou
comme style, e1le existe comme mouvement, avant d'etre parvenue a une
entiere conscience philosophique." Merleau-Ponty, op. cit., p. II.
199Concerning this question see the conclusion of Remy Kwant's article
"Men~elijke existentie en geschiedenis volgens het wijsgerig d'enken van
MaUrice Merleau-Ponty," Algemeen Nederlands Tijdschrift voor Wijsbegeerte
en Psychologic, Vol. 46 (1953-1954), pp. 245-247.
2ooCf. Sarte, Situations, Vol. I, Paris, 1947, p. 153.
Strictly speaking, Sartre has only one argument to reject God

-namely, man's freedom. This argument, however, is presented in
three different ways. It should be noted that we merely say: Sartre
rejects that there is a God. God is not absent from Sartre's works.
On the contrary, He is mentioned all the time, but only to be con-
stantly rejected. 201 Sartre's categorical refusal to accept that there
is a God, despite the fact that it is impossible for him simply to
pass God over in silence, gives reason to suspect that we are dealing
here with an effort to do away with a certain form of intentionality
and to close a certain form of openness-to.
Sartre's Argument from the Autonomy of Freedom. Human
freedom, as it is conceived by Sartre, simply cannot tolerate the
idea that there is a God. As we have noted previously, on derisive
issues of his philosophy Sartre drops the phenomenological dimen-
sion of thinking by isolating being-for-itself from facticity. The con-
sequence is that freedom as transcendence is inflated to absolute
autonomy. If occasionally Sartre describes the situated character
of freedom, the value of the description is undermined by his con-
viction that the meaning of the situation is determined by subjectivity
in a wholly autonomous way.202
There is no reason for Sartre not to inflate the autonomy in
question even more. His next step is the denial of any dependence
of man upon God. God is not the King of mankind, for man is
free. If God had wanted to rule man, He should not have created
him as a free being. At the very moment when God created man
as a free being, this freedom turned against God, insofar as man
as freedom no longer belongs to God. Thus there is no one to give
orders to man. Man has only one law-his own. Freedom, there-
fore, consists for Sartre in perfect autonomy and independence. 203
The idea is clear: there is no God, for man is free. A real God
would press man as freedom to death. But man is free and, there-
fore, there cannot be any God. 204
Why must a real God destroy human freedom? To justify this
idea, Sartre relies on classical thinking about God as Creator. God
creates in accord with a certain idea of the reality to be created, just as
a craftsman who makes a paper-knife first has an idea of that paper-
201Cf. H. Pais sac, Le Dieu de Sartre, Arthaud, 1950 pp. 9-11.
202Cf. Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, pp. 638-642. '
203Cf. Sartre, Les Mouches, pp. 133-135.
204Cf. Pais sac, op. cit., pp. 16-17.
knife. 205 God, then, is a "superior craftsman," and the result of His
act of creation is pre-fixed in God's idea. What is the meaning of
this being-fixed with respect to man? According to Sartre, it means
that man as freedom is destroyed. For man is reduced to something
like a paper-knife, to a being that is what it is, to pure facticity, to a
thing. Man, however, is not in this way, for man is not what he is,
and is what he is not; he is project and, as transcendence, he is the
execution of this project. It is the subject itself which controls this
execution. 206 Man is not, but makes himself.207 To admit a real God,
Sartre thinks, amounts to conceiving man as a thing, as a being which
"lies prostrated" upon itself. It is the denial of man as project, as
transcendence, as freedom.
Sartre's Argument from Intersubjectivity. Sartre uses a second
opportunity to deny a real God in his study of intersubjectivity. What
is God if there is a God? He is the other par excellence. But what
does the experience of the other's sUbjectivity mean for me? As we
have explained above,208 to experience the other's subjectivity means
to experience his stare, i.e., to experience my being-looked-at. This
stare implies the death of my subjectivity as project, as transcendence,
as freedom. Under the other's stare I appear as a thing-in-the-world,
I am what I am. 209 My being-for-the-other means that I am robbed
of my transcendence. 21o If I want to save my manhood, I have to
raise myself, reject through my stare the other's subjectivity, and
reduce him to a thing-in-the-world. 211
In these conditions there cannot be any question of acknowledging
God if man does not want to give up his subjectivity.212 God is the
Other par excellence, which means: He is the one who stares at all
subjects, before whom all experience themselves as objects, one whose
presence is unbearable for any subject. God is the being who stares
at all, but Himself cannot be stared at by any.213 To accept God,
therefore, would mean to accept being a mere thing. Acknowledging
Him would mean to exist as estranged, to be alienated from my man-
205Cf. Sartre, L'existentialisme est un humanisme, pp. 17-19.

207"L'homme n'est rien d'autre que ce qu'i1 se fait." Sartre, ibid., p. 22.
208See above, pp. 195 II.
209Cf. Sartre, L' etre et Ie neant, p. 320.
210Cf. Sartre, ibid., p. 321.
211"Et par la, je me recupere." Sartre, ibid., p. 349.
212"Dieu n'est ici que Ie concept d'autrui pousse 11 la limite." Sartre,
ilXd., p. 324.
213Sartre, ibid., p. 495.
hood, understood as freedom.214 But is it true that I have to admit

God and that freedom is an illusion? Definitely not, for man is free
and, consequently, there is no God.
Critique of these Arguments. It is not primarily Sartre's rejec-
tion of God which induces us to reproach him for unduly narrowing
intentionality, for arbitrarily closing the openness-to which charac-
terizes man. The reproach is inspired by the arguments which Sartre
permits himself to manipulate. Why can there be no question of man's
dependence upon God? Because, Sartre supposes, God's causality
can be only of such a nature that its effect is a thing, and there can
be no question of causality with respect to man as freedom. This
supposition is false, but no one will be able to explain this to Sartre
so long as he conceives causality univocally, so long as he does not see
the special meaning of the causality of love. Love "acts," it has its
own "effect," it is creative, it makes the other be. But what does love
make the other be? Not some kind of facticity which would make
man similar to a thing. Love, understood as the active leaning to the
other makes the other be a subject, i.e., project, transcendence, free-
dom. 215 Sartre, however, does not speak of the openness-for or
intentionality of love and does not know the "causality" that is proper
to it. As a result, he does not have any terms to conceive the creativity
through which God makes man be freedom.
Likewise, there is no reason to reject God as if the acknowledg-
ment of His being would deprive man-under-God's-regard of his
freedom. Of course, from Sartre's viewpoint there is no other choice,
because for him the other's regard can only be a hateful stare. 216
Hatred murders the other's subjectivity, so that man has to reject
God if he wants to save his freedom. Love is unknown to Sartre;
consequently, he is unable to see that God can also look at me lovingly
and thus give me my freedom.
From all this it should be clear that Sartre cannot conceive a real
God because he does not recognize a certain form of intentionality-
namely, man's openness for the other as the other, man's destiny for
the other, the creativity of love. If the other can only want to murder
214"La position de Dieu s'accompagne d'un chosisme de mon objectivite;

mieux, je pose mon-etre-objet-pour-Dieu comme plus reel que mon Pour-soi;
j'existe aliene et je me fais apprendre par mon dehors ce que je dois etre.
C'est l'origine de la crainte devant Dieu." Sartre, ib1d., p. 350.
211iCf. above, pp. 223 if.
216Cf. above, p. 200.
me how could the Other par excellence want precisely the opposite
and give me my manhood?
The consequences flowing from Sartre's conception of God, inso-
far as this conception has been explained here, are mainly of a moral
nature. His thinking of God results in a vision of man's being as
having-to-be: man has to develop and defend his freedom and, in
doing so, he has to recognize only one law-the law of his freedom.217
S artre' s Argument of God's Internal Contradiction and the M ean-
ing of Life. The question regarding the meaning of life remains. Is
it possible to consent to life? Sartre's reply, which is really the
pivotal point of his whole philosophy, is prepared by his thinking
about God, as is also his concept of morality. Life is absurd, for man
is an attempted self-deification, and God is a contradiction. Let us
explain the point somewhat more in detail.
By means of his fundamental concepts of in-itself and for-itself
Sartre endeavors to make some remarks about the Being which the
various religions call "God." What he means by in-itself has been
explained previously.218 Hence it will be superfluous to repeat its
description here fully, especially because not all the qualifications of the
in-itself play a role in the use which Sartre makes of it in his con-
ception of God. The in-itself, unlike consciousness, is not a being
which refers to itself, it is not a being which "is concerned with its
being." In Heideggerian terms, it is not characterized by Seinsver-
haltnis and Seinsverstandnis. It lies "prostrated" upon itself, i.e., it
does not show the nihilating distance which characterizes conscious-
ness and, consequently, includes no negativity, but is full positivity.219
It is in the full sense of the term. 220 It is the fullness of being and
does not need anything else to be what it is. 221
These remarks st~ffice, Sartre thinks, to see that the God of whom
religion speaks must be an in-itself. For God is conceived as a Being
which has the fullness of being, a Being which is perfectly self-suffi-
cient and does not need anything else to be what it is. 222 At the same

218Cf. above, p. 104.
220This assertion justifies Troisfontaines' characterization of Sartre's sys-
tem as an "materialisme a epiphenomcne". The "epiphenomenon" is con-
sciousness, for in Sartre consciousness is merely "nothingness." Troisfon-
taines, Le choix de 1. P. Sartre, Paris, 1945, p. 18.
221 Sartre, ibid., pp. 33-34.
222"Et Dieu n'est-il pas . . . un etre qui est ce qu'il est, en tant qu'il est
tout positivite et Ie fondement du monde?" Sartre, ibid., p. 119.
time, however, God is conceived as a for-itself, as consciousness. 22s
But, according to Sartre's general characterization of the for-itself,
the for-itself is diametrically opposed to the in-itself: it is nothing but
negativity and, by definition, it needs the in-itself to be capable of
being for-itself. Consequently, the for-itself is never self-sufficient. 224
The contradiction is evident. God would have to be the identity
of in-itself and for-itself, of pure positivity and pure negativity, of
self-sufficiency and self-insufficiency. Accordingly, God is an internal
contradiction. 225
Critique. This so-called contradiction does not make the slightest
impression on true phenomenologists, for it results from an evident
betrayal of the fundamental principle of phenomenological thinking-
namely, the unity of reciprocal implication of subject and object. In
his phenomenological descriptions Sartre admits this principle, but
nothing remains of it in his ontology. What is the meaning of the
"fullness of being," ascribed to the in-itself if one accepts that we can
meaningfully speak only about the in-itself-for-me? The in-itself-for-
me certainly does not appear as fullness of being. Is it justifiable then
to withdraw the intentional movement of consciousness and claim that
the in-itself is nevertheless the fullness of being? It is true that
religion calls God the Highest Being, the Fullness of Being, but the
identification of this Fullness with the in-itself-as fullness opens an
unbridgeable abyss between Sartre and religion. Sartre thinks that
the definition of God is a contradiction but, as a matter of fact, his
own attempt to speak of the in-itself implies a contradiction.
Similar remarks could be made regarding the for-itself. The vari-
ous religions affirm that God is the Highest Being and that, therefore,
His being must lie on the level of consciousness. But when Sartre
deprives consciousness of all positive value, denies it the rank of the
highest mode of being,226 and conceives it as pure nihilation, his
assertion that God is conceived by religion as an in-itself opens
another abyss. When the various religions call the Being of God
consciousness and fullness of being, what they are saying has nothing
whatsoever to do with Sartre's in-itself and for-itself. Consequently,
what Sartre denies is something else than what the religious man
affirms.
224See above, pp. 104 if.
225Cf. Sartre, ibid., pp. 133, 707-708.
226"Cette presence it soi, on I'a prise souvent pour une plenitude d'existence
et un prejuge fort repandu parmi les philosophes fait attribuer it la conscience
la plus haute dignite d'etre." Sartre, ibid., p. 119.
Consequences of Sartre's Vie1-u-Man's Fundamental Project is

to Be God. The way in which Sartre makes the idea of God a con-
tradiction is heavy with consequences for his view of man. That there
is an in-itself-for-itself is a contradiction, but it cannot be denied that
in-itself and for-itself meet each other in man. For man is the oppo-
sitional unity of subjectivity and facticity or, in Sartre's terminology,
of for-itself and in-itself. The in-itself is wholly contingent: it "just
is there," without necessity, without ground or reason. For "ground"
and "reason" refer to the for-itself, to consciousness, and in-itself does
not have any consciousness. Man, therefore, must be conceived as the
emergence of consciousness in the compact density of a contingent,
groundless, in-itself. It is as if the in-itself, which is without ground
in itself, "decompresses itself,"227 breaks through its compactness,
produces a certain distance with respect to itself, i.e., gives itself the
modification of the for-itself, to find a ground for its groundless-
ness. 228 This bold undertaking is called "man."
Man, therefore, is a project of self-grounding. Sartre conceives
this project as an attempt of consciousness to eliminate the distance
separating it from the in-itself. Consciousness wants to be what it is.
As not being what it is and as being what it is not, consciousness
would like to be what it is. 229 Consciousness would want to give
itself the fullness, the massivity, the density of the in-itself and never-
theless preserve its consciousness. If man were to succeed in iden-
tifying in himself for-itself and in-itself and making them coincide,
the contingency of being-man would have been overcome, i.e., man
would have grounded himself by elevating himself to the dignity of
the Ens causa sui, he would have become his own cause. 230 But
"Being which is the cause of itself," the identity of in-itself and for-
itself, is nothing else than the definition of God. Consequently, the
self-grounding project which man is is the desire to be God. 231
227"L'ontologie no us fournit deux renseignements . . .: c'est d'abord, que

tout processus de fondement de soi est rupture de I'etre-identique de I'en-soi,
recul de I'etre par rapport a lui-meme et apparition d'e la presence a soi ou
conscience." Sartre, ibId., p. 714.
228"L'ontologie se bornera d'one a dcc:ctrer que tout se passe eomme si
I'en-soi, dans un projet pour se fonder lui-mcme, se donnait la modification
du pour-soi." Sartre, ibid., p. 715.
231"Ainsi peut-on dire que ee qui rend Ie mieux concevable Ie project fonda-
mental de la realite humaine, c'est que I'homme est I'etre qui projette d'etre
Dieu." Sartre, ibid., p. 653.
This Project is Doomed to Failure. In his transcendence man

endeavors to execute this project. As not being what he is and being
what he is not, as the oppositional unity of facticity and potentiality,
man in his activity tries to bring about the fulfilment of the possi-
bilities which are anchored in his facticity. Once a meaning has been
realized, it remains as an in-itself which, however, is again nihilated
by the for-itself. Thus new possibilities reval themselves, each of
which in its turn is realized, remains as an in-itself, and is nihilated
by the for-itself. The for-itself, which is a nothingness, always
"follows hard on the heels of the in-itself"232 which of itself is the
fullness of being, but never succeeds in identifying itself with the
in-itself. Man is essentially a hole, a tear, a breach in being, and his
transcendence cannot eliminate this breach. Man is essentially a
"disease of being."
What else could be implied in all this than that the execution of
the self-grounding proj ect which man is, is doomed to failure? The
for-itself is an invincible nihilation of the in-self, so that there always
is and remains an infinite distance between the in-itself and the for-
itself.233 By means of his transcendence man wants precisely to over-
come this distance in order to ground his being. His effort is bound
to fail. "Human reality," as a self-grounding project, is an absurdity.
What else could it be, for it is a project to become a God, and God is
a contradiction. 23 If man were to reach his ideal, he would lose him-
self. For there would no longer be any distance between for-itself and
in-itself, and what else could this mean than that man would no
longer be man ?235 Human consciousness, therefore, is a conscience
malheureuse, an ill-starred consciousness, and there is no remedy for
its misfortune. Man never succeeds in being more than a "failure as
God."236 Man's suffering, then, is the opposite of Christ's Passion,
for man would want to lose himself as man and be reborn a God. But
the whole idea of God is a contradiction, and we lose ourselves in
vain. Man is a useless suffering. 237
232S ar tre, ibid., p. 47.
234"Sans doute cet ens causa sui est impossible et son concept, nous
l'avons vu, enveloppe une contradiction." Sartre, ibid., p. 717.
236"Tout se passe comme si Ie monde, l'homme et l'homme-dans-Ie-monde
n'arrivaient a realiser qu'un Dieu manque." Sartre, ibid., p. 717.
Critique. In the Middle Ages the thinking about the meaning of
life was intermingled with the thinking about God. The same is true
of Sartre with this difference, however, that his philosophy is wholly
negative. In medieval thought God's reality occurred as the final goal
of human transcendence. Thus it was possible for medieval man to
consent to his being. What we find in Sartre is more or less the exact
reverse of this idea: there is no God, and life is meaningless.
It is difficult to say what has to be admired most: Sartre's virtu-
osity in using dialectics to arrive where he "officially" wants to be or
his insight into the life of man, which brings him "surreptitiously"
where he does not want to be. To understand Sartre's impasse, it is
necessary first to realize, as we have already explained, that his idea
of God is an aprioristic concept, a rationalistic construct. In addi-
tion, Sartre's negation has a positive importance because of the
consequences flowing from it for the understanding of man. If
God is not the identity of in-itself and for-itself, then man as the oppo-
sitional unity of facticity and SUbjectivity is not an attempt to deify
himself. The self-grounding project which man is should, therefore,
not be conceived as the desire to elevate himself to being his own
cause. 238
Nevertheless, man is a search for self-ground. This is what Sartre
has clearly seen and what brings him where he does not want to go.
The question now is to discover what this search really means if it is
not the desire for self-deification.
Sartre's Existential Psychoanalysis. For Sartre, man's desire for
self-deification is identified as the meaning of life because of what he
calls an "existential psychoanalysis."239 Such an analysis does not
consist in making lists of human behavior patterns, inclinations and
tendencies, but in an attempt to decipher these psychological data. 24o
On the basis of a pre-ontological grasp of what man is as man,241 on
238The expression "ens causa sui," a "being which is its own cause,"
may not be used to characterize the divine Being. God may not be said to
be His own cause, for a cause is naturally prior to its effect. How could
God as cause be prior to himself as ~ffect? God is a "Being-from-Himself,"
an Ens a se.
239"La psychoanalyse existentielle va lui decouvrir Ie but reel de sa
recherche qui est I'etre comme fusion synthetique de l'en-soi avec Ie pour-soi."
240Sartre, ibid.} p. 656.
241As has been pointed out, Sartre does not want to speak of a human
"nature" or "essence," because these expressions supposedly imply what he
calls "chosisme," i.e., making man a thing. Of course, no such implication
is necessary. De facto Sartre himself speaks of man's essence when he refers
to "human reality," "the human person," or "man."
the basis of the unreflective presence of man to his own essence, it i~

possible to decipher the individual behaviors and tendencies as mani-
festations of what man is in his most intimate essence. 242 The result
reached by Sartre's investigation is that "man is a useless suffering."
Man is an attempt to identify in-itself and for-itself, an impossible
effort, for the for-itself is nothing else than nihilation, than the crea-
tion of distance between in-itself and for-itself.
One who rejects the result of Sartre's existential psychoanalys:s
and his way of deciphering man's behavior could attempt to express
again the meaning of human behavior, inclinations, and tendencies
as manifestations of man's most intimate essence. He would not have
to doubt the real value of Sartre's phenomenological descriptions d
man as transcendence. But it would be necessary to see through
Sartre's words, to read between the lines, in order to express what
Sartre really did see when he described man as searching for self-
ground. However, there is also another possibility, which perhaps
will be more fruitful with respect to what man is in his most intimate
being-namely, to investigate what exactly Sartre rejects when he
thinks that he rejects God. Moreover, this method will enable us to
enlarge the area of our investigation considerably, for it is on the
question of the denial o'f God that Sartre's disciples, such as Jean-
son, de Beauvoir and Merleau-Ponty, agree most heartily with their
master.243
The "Grave" Man's Bad Faith. This agreement extends not only
to the reasons for their denial but also to their way of thinking about
the man who does believe in God. In a unanimous but cynical way
they speak about him as "the grave man." To understand, therefore,
how Sartre and his school conceive the acceptance of God, one has
to understand what this "grave man" looks like. Subsequently, after
realizing the reasons why Sartre rejects the "grave man," it will be
possible to understand what Sartre really rejects when he feels
obliged to deny God. And finally, we may be in a position to show
what Sartre did see when he described man as searching for a ground.
The grave man is a coward, because he conceals his absolute free-
dom from himself.244 He interprets his own being as the being of a
thing-among-things, he resigns his manhood in favor of the world. 245
243Concerning Merleau-Ponty see Remy Kwant, op. cit. (in footnote 193).
244Sartre, L'existentialisme est un humallisme, p. 84.
245Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, p. 669.
He ascribes to himself the mode of being proper to a rock, the con-

sistency, inertia and opaqueness of a thing-in-the-world. 246 Karl
Marx is typically such a grave man, for he affirms the priority of the
object over the subject, and man is "grave" when he considers himself
as an object. 247 Since the grave man buries the consciousness of his
freedom, he is "in bad faith."2;l8
Sartre's analysis of bad faith brings us a step closer to our goal.
It may sound strange but according to him everyone who strives to
be sincere is in bad faith. For what else is this striving but an
attempt to be for oneself what one is ?249 And is not this precisely
the definition of the in-itself, the thing ?250 This effort, therefore, is
always and of necessity hypocritical, for man is a being which in its
being is concerned with its being and this means that man nihilates
what he is. 251 Man, then, of necessity escapes from what he is, and
the ideal of sincerity is a task that cannot possibly be done because
it contradicts the nihilating structure of consciousness. 252 The attempt
to be sincere is the attempt to be like a thing. 25B
The grave man, therefore, is in bad faith, because he ascribes to
himself the mode of being proper to a thing. The same, say Sartre
and his school, applies to the man who believes in God. Let us see
what he means by this.
When man gives himself the mode of being proper to a thing, he
disparages his freedom as distance. It is precisely for this reason
that he is in bad faith. As has been pointed out, the distance inherent
in the involvement of subjectivity in facticity has to be conceived in
two ways. It refers to nihilation on both the cognitive and the
affective levels. The affective distance of subjectivity from facticity
is essential to being-man. It is impossible for man to consent fully
and unreservedly to any worldly facticity and, consequently, all full-
246"I1 s'est donne a lui-rnerne Ie type d'existence du rocher, la consistance,
I'inertie, l'opacite de l'etre-au-rnilier-du-monde." Sartre, ibid., p. 669.
248"I1 va de soi que l'homme serieux enfouit au fond de lui-meme la
conscience de sa tiberte, il est de rnauvaise foi." Sartre, ibid., p. 669.
249"Or quel est !'ideal a atteindre en ce cas? II faut que l'homme ne
soit pour lui-rnerne que ce qu'iI est, en un mot qu'il soit pleinernent et unique-
ment ce qu'iI est." Sartre, ibid., p. 98.
252"Que signifie, dans ces conditions, I'ideal de sincerite sinon une tache
impossible a rernplir et dont Ie sens meme est en contradiction avec la struc-
ture de rna conscience? Etre sincere disions-nous, c'est etre ce qu'on est.
ness of being is permeated with emptiness, all fulfilment and satisfac-

tion are undermined by unfulfilment and dissatisfaction, all rest, peace,
and happiness are mixed with restlessness, lack of peace, and unhap-
piness. The disparagement of his non-being means that man dis-
parages his manhood. It is bad faith.
Sartre and his school reject this kind of man, and correctly so.
Man cannot be satisfied with any form of his being-in-the-world, he
cannot give his complete and definite consent to any worldly reality.
But this is precisely what the grave man does. 254 Thus the affective
distance of subjectivity from facticity is buried, and man gives him-
self the mode of being of a thing, for a thing is compact density and
lies "prostrated" upon itself. For this reason Sartre says that the
grave man resigns his manhood in favor of the world and that he
"belongs to the world."255 Simone de Beauvoir, who follows Sartre
most slavishly, calls the grave man eloquently, with an allusion to
Nietsche's superman, a "subman." The "subman" loses himself in
the object,256 he holds fast to his facticity and thus impedes the ex-
pansion of the kingdom of man, the development of freedom. 257 But
the "subman" is bored and experiences the world as a desert. 2G8 He
is in bad faith.259
The God Denied by Sartre. It is sufficiently clear now, we think,
what Sartre and his followers really reject when they feel obliged to
deny God. The man who admits God is "grave," but this grave man
renounces his manhood in favor of the world. God, therefore, is con-
ceived as a worldly reality, to which man nevertheless consents un-
reservedly. Such a "god," of course, must certainly be rejected, for
he is not God. Simone de Beauvoir gives us a series of unambiguous
examples of the "gravity" she despises so much, i.e., of the acceptance
of God. The military for whom the army is Everything, the colonial
administrator who sacrifices the lives of the natives for the construc-
tion of a Road, the revolutionary who lives only for Revolution, all of
254"L'homme serieux, s'i! existe, est l'homme d'une seule chose a laquelle
il dit oui." Merleau-Ponty, Bloge de la philosophie, p. 79.
255"L'homme serieux est 'du monde' et n'a plus aucun recours en soi."
256"L'attitude de sous-homme passe logiquement d'ans celle de l'homme
serieux: i! s'efforce d'engloutir sa liberte dans Ie contenu que celui-ci accepte
de sa societe, i! se perd dans l'objet afin d'aneantir sa subjectivite." Simone
de Beauvoir, Pour une morale de l'ambiguite, Paris, 1947, pp. 65-66.
257Simone de Beauvoir, ibid., p. 64.
258Simone de Beauvoir, ibid., p. 65.
259"La mauvaise foi de l'homme serieux provient de ce qu'il est oblige
de sans cesse renouveler Ie reniement de cette liberte." de Beauvoir, ibid., p. 68.
these are "grave men," because they are servants of divinities. 260 But
what are these divinities really? They are only worldly realities to
which a transcendent value is attributed. A man who unreservedly
consents to them disparages the negativity which affects his existence,
he crushes his freedom. Life will necessarily be a disappointment for
him, because his "gravity" is the impossible attempt to realize the
self-contradictory synthesis of in-itself and for-itself.261 Simone de
Beauvoir returns to this Sartrian definition of God immediately after
her examples of "gravity." Evidently, then, God is conceived as a
reality within the world, and the man who consents to God appears
to us as someone who absolutizes a relative being and his own rela-
tivity. On the basis of these premises it has to be admitted that man's
properly human being dies through contact with this absolute. 262
Sartre's Psychoanalysis and the Essence of the Absolute. It should
not be necessary to state explicitly that all this has nothing whatsoever
to do with the true God and the authentic belief in God. On the con-
trary. The Christian religion speaks about sin where Sartre and his
followers speak about belief in God. Sin, in the strict sense of the
term, is precisely the absolutizing of a worldly phenomenon, the
affirmation of a "God" by the "grave" man. Man's struggle against
evil is precisely a struggle against such affirmations, to which the
world invites him.
The way, however, in which Sartre rejects the massive affirma-
tion of the world, of man's "belonging to the world," is of such a pene-
trating nature that his insight may be called a permanent acquisition
of philosophy. The most profound ground of "having to be" has
perhaps never been so clearly revealed as in Sartre's philosophy. This
ground is the negativity belonging to the essence of manhood. No
one perhaps has shown more clearly than Sartre that "having to be"
is the most intimate essence of man. This insight is the result of what
Sartre calls an "existential psychoanalysis," i.e., an analysis which
starts from a pre-ontological and fundamental awareness and under-
standing of the essence of the human personality in order to con-
ceptualize this essence and express it in clear terms. 263 The result
260de Beauvoir, ibid., pp. 70-73.

261"Le serieux est une des manieres de chercher a realiser l'impossible
synthese de l'en-soi et du pour-soi." de Beauvoir, ibid., p. 74.
262"La conscience metaphysique et morale meurt au contact de l'absolu."
Merleau-Ponty, Sens et non-sens, p. 191.
263Sartre, L'etl'e et Ie neant, p. 656.
of his analysis is, as we have said, that man is the desire to be God.26~
This statement, however, can be made only under the aegis of an
erroneous idea of God.
If we reject Sartre's interpretation of man's most intimate essence,
our rejection must not be taken to mean that we cannot accept the
ontological value of the description he gives of man's most intimate
essence. His description is, indeed, very penetrating. Man as a
"natural desire" is essentially such that no worldly reality can fill him.
As long as man lives locked-up in the world, it is impossible for him
definitively to consent to his subjectivity as "having to be," for all
consent to himself is given in function of the fulfilment which sub-
jectivity finds as "having to be." Searching for the ground of his
being, man seeks a possibility to consent definitively to his subjectivity
as "having to be."
The Reality of the Transcendent. Such a consent is not possible
within the confines of the world. The "grave" man, the sub-man, is
an eloquent witness of this impossibility. He is in bad faith. He is
bored in a world which is for him like a desert. This boredom has
metaphysical dimensions. It reveals the innermost essence of man
as "having to be," it shows the true character of subjectivity-in-the-
world, understood as a "natural desire," it discloses that the "desire"
which subjectivity-in-the-world is must be understood as "desiring
more than worldly beings," as "desiring really something entirely
other" than the world. This "Other" we have called the Transcendent,
but the only thing we are provisionally able to say about it is that
the Transcendent is real but not like worldly beings.
The Transcendent is real. If the natural desire which man is
would be conceived as a desire in the psychological sense, as a
tendency which man could also disregard if he wants, it would be
impossible to show the reality of the Transcendent. If the natural
desire is conceived in this way, and man comes to the conclusion that
it is impossible for him to give his definitive consent to any worldly
reality whatsoever, he could tell himself that he wants "crazy things,"
that he should not foster any impossible desires, just as a man with
an I.Q. of 70 should not want to become Secretary of Education.
264"La valeur fondamentale, qui preside a ce projet est justement I'en-soi-
pour-soi, c'est-a-dire I'ideal d'une conscience qui serait fondement de son
propre etre-en-soi par la pure conscience qu'elle prendrait d'elle-meme. C'est
cet ideal qu'on peut nommer Dieu. Ainsi peut-on dire que ce qui rend Ie
mieux concevable Ie projet fondamental de la realite humaine, c'est que
I'homme est I'etre qui projette d'etre Dieu." Sartre, ibid., p. 653.
Such a man should definitely set aside his desire. But the same can-
not be asserted of the natural desire as it is described by Sartre, for
this desire constitutes what man is. If man sets it aside, he disparages
his own essence. Thus he can no longer ask whether the Transcendent
is real, for without the reality of the Transcendent man would not
be what he unmistakably is: a natural desire, in the full sense of the
term. It is impossible to ask whether the world is real, for without
the reality of the world man would not be what he unmistakably is-
namely, a being-in-the-world. In the same way, it is not possible to
ask whether the Transcendent is real, for without the reality of the
Transcendent man would not be the intentional directedness which
he is.
On the other hand, the Transcendent is not real in the same way
as a worldly being is real. For this reason it can never be affirmed
in the same way as worldly being is affirmed. Every attempt to affirm
it as one affirms a worldly being degrades the Transcendent and dis-
parages man's proper dimension as a natural desire. Nevertheless,
the Transcendent has to be affirmed, because without this affirmation
man cannot recognize the integral reality of his essence.
Man is Authentically Directed to the Transcendent. Man is a
being which in its being is concerned with its being. Asking about
the meaning of his being, man asks about the "direction" of his
being. Existential psychoanalysis reveals man to himself as intentional
directedness to the Transcendent. In searching for the meaning of
his being, man seeks a possibility in which he can definitively consent
to his being as a natural desire. As long, however, as man under-
stands himself exclusively as directedness to the world, such a
consent is impossible. Nevertheless, the world invites man to this
consent. Acceptance of the invitation is called "sin." Sartre and his
followers join issue against this invitation, because they realize that
its acceptance is the death of manhood, because they realize that the
suffering of the sinner is a useless suffering. 265 His existence as a
self-grounding project cannot find its ground in the world. Merely
as being-in-the-world man cannot be definitively happy.
26~" L' etre et Ie neant est tout entier consacre a la description de cette
attitude d'echec, qui est une attitude de mauvaise foi. Loin de representer
ma morale de Sartre, L' eire et Ie neant devoile au contraire, dans ce souci
d'etre, l'attitude spontanee que la morale aura a convertir pour engager Ie
mouvement d'authentification." Fr. Jeanson, "La conduite humaine selon J.-P.
Sartre," Morale chretiCllne et requetes contemporaines. Tournai-Paris, 1954,
p. 176.
\Ve may ask, however, whether it is perhaps possible for man

definitively to consent to his existence as a natural desire on the
basis of his consent to the Transcendent. In the perspective of
Sartre's thought this question can be raised only if one understands
the implications of his thought better than Sartre himself. Accord-
ing to his explicit theories, the question is meaningless, for Sartre
does not explicitly recognize the Transcendent and, consequently,
a definitive affirmation of anything at all can have no other meaning
than an estrangement of being-man. On the other hand, one may
distinguish the Transcendent radically from the world, for other-
wise man would degrade the Transcendent and disparage his own
being. If this distinction is admitted, it cannot be said that a
definitive consent to the Transcendent implies "gravity," for the
"grave" man massively affirms a wordly reality. This affirmation,
however, does not give any definitive meaning to life. Once man
is convinced of this, his question regarding the meaning of life
is placed in its proper perspective, provided that the explicit recog-
nition of the Transcendent precedes the question. As conceived
in this way, the question remains unanswered by Sartre. But it is
not impossible that later Sartre's philosophy may have to be in-
terpreted as a theology without God. 266 We must see now whether
the same has to be said of Heidegger's philosophy.
4. THE "BEING-TOWARD-DEATH" IN HEIDEGGER
In his book Sein und Zeit (Being and Time) Heidegger intends
to open again the road to a correct understanding of being.267
This re-opening is necessary because, according to Heidegger, in
the course of history the thinking of the philosophers themselves
has closed this road. 268 In order to be able to understand being-in-
general, Heidegger first asks about man's being, because man is
the being which asks the question about being. 269 Asking what
man is must be the correct approach to the idea of being-in-general,
because man is the being which in its being is concerned with its
266Egon Vietta, "Theologie ohne Gott," Versuch iiber die menschliche
Existenz in der modernen /ranzosischen Philosophie, Zi.irich, 1946.
267Sein und Zeit, pp. 2-15.
268Ibid., pp. 2-3.
269"f!:insehen auf, Verstehen und' Begreifen von, wahlen, Zugang zu sind
konstltutlve Verhaltungen des Fragens und so selbst Seinsmodi eines bestimmten
Seienden, des Seienden, das wir, die Fragenden, je selbst sind." Heidegger,
ibid., p. 7.
being,270 man is a being which is capable of reflecting upon its

own being, and the question regarding being-in-general is a mode
of man's own being. 271
Man's "Falling-Away." Reflection on man's being will open
the road to understanding being-in-general only if this reflection
supplies a view of man in his totality. This view is given to man
in the experience of dread. 272 Dread, however, is a rare phe-
nomenon,273 for everyday man is constantly fleeing trom himself,
i.e., from the proper meaning of his being-himself, from his dread. 274
Heidegger calls this flight from oneself "falling-away" (Ver-
fallen) .275 He first speaks about this mode of being-man when
he asks himself who really is the subject of man's everyday mode
of being.276 This subject is the anonymous everybody (das Man),
not the I, the I 'lnyself.277 The others have robbed the self of its
being. "They" are not even determinate "others," for each "other"
can replace and represent any "other." The others exercise an
unobtrusive control and dictatorship, although no one can be pointed
to as the dictator. 278 In using the means of transportation, in read-
ing the newspaper, everyday man behaves just like every other
man. We enjoy things and rejoice just as "everybody" (das Man)
enjoys and rejoices; we read, see, and judge as "everybody" reads,
sees, and judges; we find shocking what "everybody" finds shock-
ing.279 The "everybody," the anonymous nobody, allows no ex-
ceptions, has no secrets. Its possibilities have been channelled and
limited to well-determined tracks. The anonymous nobody and
everybody can explain everything, for no one in particular is re-
sponsible for anything. 280
271"Wenn die Interpretation des Sinnes von Sein Aufgabe wird ist das
Dasein nicht nur das primiir zu befragende Seiende, es ist iiberdies das'Seiende,
das sich je schon in seinem Sein zu dem verhiilt, wonach in dieser Frage gefragt
wird. Die Seinsfrage ist dann aber nichts anderes als die Radikalisierung
einer zum Dasein selbst gehorigen wesenhaften Seinstendenz, des voronto-
logischen Seinsverstiindnisses." Heidegger, ibid., p. 15.
275Heiciegger, ibid., pp. 166-180.
276"Wer ist es denn, der das Sein als alltiigliches Miteinandersein iiber-
nommen hat?" Heidegger, ibid., p. 125.
277"Das 'Wer' ist das Neutrum, das Man." Heidegger, ibid., p. 126.
279Heidegger, ibid .. pp. 126-127.
What remains in this state of the 1's selfhood? The selfhood of

the everyday mode of being-man is the selfhood of the anonymous
everybody (das Man), but this selfhood constitutes the unauthentic,
non-genuine man. 281 The unauthentic man is absorbed by the things
in which everybody is absorbed and ends up by being no longer
capable of interpreting himself in any other way than as a thing
among other things. 282
To clarify the unauthenticity of being-man, Heidegger undertakes
a very detailed analysis of "talk" (Gerede), "curiosity" (N eugier),
and "ambiguity" (Zweideutigkeit), in which everyday man is ab-
sorbed. This analysis shows that everydayness is a positive mode of
being-in-the-world,283 but in this mode the I is no longer itself,2u
and its possibilities are no longer its own. 285 For this reason this
mode of being-man must be called a "falling-away."286
Dread. Because man in his everydayness has fallen victim to the
dictatorship of the anonymous everybody and nobody, he experiences
himself only rarely in his authenticity. Thus one can understand that
dread is a rare occurrence, for it is dread which constitutes the proper,
genuine, and authentic meaning of the self. If then, one wants to
acquire a vision of man as a totality, and the road to this vision lies
in understanding man as dread, there seems to be no possibility of
ever acquiring such a view, because everyday man in his "falling-
away" always has avoided dread.
The difficulty, however, is merely apparent. For "falling-away" is
evidently man's flight from being authentically man, from being
authentically himself, from dread. 287 But this flight betrays the
unconcealedness of that from which man flees. 288 Man's flight from
281"Das Selbst des alltaglichen Daseins ist das Man-selbst, das wir von dem
eigentlichen, d.h. eigens ergriffenen Selbst unterscheiden." Heidegger, ibid.,
p. 129.
283Heidegger, ibid., pp. 175-176.
284"Von ihm selbst als faktischem In-der-Welt-sein ist das Dasein als ver-
fallendes schon abgefallen." Heidegger, ibid., p. 176.
287"Das Aufgehen im Man und bei d'er besorgten 'Welt' offenbart so
etwas wie eine Flucht des Daseins vor ihm selbst als eigentlichem Selbst-sein-
konnen." Heidegger, ibid., p. 184.
288"Nur sofern Dasein ontologisch wesenhaft durch die ihm zugehorende
Erschlossenheit iiberhaupt vor es selbst gebracht ist, kann es vor ihm fliehen."
Heidegger, ibid., pp. 184-185.
the genuine meaning of himself is possible only insofar as man as

dread is unconcealed for himself.289
The flight of unauthentic man must not at all be conceived as
the shrinking-from and drawing-back of fear. Fear is entirely dif-
ferent from dread. 290 What is feared is always a definite thing or a
definite person. 291 A definite being approaches me in a threatening
but not fatal way. The threat can be diverted. 292 What approaches
me threateningly as something definite from a determined region of
my world makes me fear for myself. Only a being which in its being
is concerned with its being can fear. 29B What is feared and that for
the sake of which I fear, therefore, are correlated: a certain worldly
being threatens my being-in-the-world.294 In fearing a determined
worldly being, I am concerned with my own being-in-the-world
as threatened.
In his unauthenticity man does not flee from fear but from
dread. 295 Unlike the object of fear, that of dread is wholly indeter-
minate. 296 It is never a well-defined object of my world which makes
me dread. What makes me dread is even wholly undeterminable, it
cannot be pointed out. What threatens me does not approach me here
or there: the dreadful is not really anywhere, but nevertheless it is
so close that it takes my breath away.297
In dread the world in which I am involved collapses. In dread
the world as a totality reveals itself as unimportant, insignificant, null.
What I dread is not a determined worldly being but the world as such.
In dread the world as world inexorably appears to me in all its noth-
ingness. 298 In dread the world reveals itself as nothingness. 299
Unauthenticity and Dread. This, however, is not the most im-
portant point. With respect to fear, I am afraid of a certain object
291"Das Wovor der Furcht, das 'Furchtbare', ist jeweils ein innerwe1tlich
Begegnendes von der Seinsart der Zuhandenen, des Vorhandenen oder des Mit-
seins." Heidegger, ibid., p. 140.
293"Das Worurn die Furcht fiirchtet ist das sich fiirchtende Seiende selbst,
das Dasein. Nur Seiendes, dern es in seinern Sein urn dieses selbst geht, kann
sich fiirchten." Heidegger, ibid., p. 141.
294"Das Fiirchten urn als Sichfiirchten vor erschlieszt irnrner .... gleichur-
spriinglich das innerwe1tliche Seiende in seiner Bedrohlichkeit undo das In-sein
hinsichtlich seiner Bedrohlichkeit." Heidegger, ibid., p. 141.
296"Das Wovor der Angst ist vi:illig unbestirnrnt." Heidegger, ibid., p. 187.
but for or on behalf of myself. Regarding dread, we must likewise

say that I am in dread of my world as such but for myself, for my
being-in-the-world as such. 300 For the world is a system of meanings
correlated to my facticitous and possible modes of being-man as
being-in-the-world. The world belongs essentially to being-man as
existence. 30l If, then, the world as such reveals itself as unimportant,
insignificant, null, the implication is that being-in-the-world as such
is experienced as a nullity. For this reason man does not feel "at
home" in the world. 302 In dread man stands face to face with the
hard, inexorable, invincible fact that he "is thrown into a state of not-
being-at-home" (U nheimlichkeit) .303
Unauthentic man tries to escape from this hard fact. He takes
refuge in being one-like-many (das Man), in the peaceful and
trusted world of the impersonal and anonymous. His flight is an
escape from the not-being-at-home implied by his "thrownness" into
the world. 304 In his falling-away man closes himself to the uncon-
cealment of the world as such and to his being-in-the-world as such
to lose himself in the care of a particular well-defined world, a world
in which he is at home-be it at the expense of the meaning that is
proper to his selfhood. His peace, however, is fragile, for in the most
unexpected situations dread may suddenly appear. If this happens,
the impersonal man has only one escape-fear. By interpreting dread
as fear, the terror of unconcealing dread can be kept concealed. 30s
Dread and Being-Toward-Death. What is the reason that in
dread the world as world is experienced as unimportant, insignifi-
cant, null, and that being-in-the-world as such reveals itself as being-
not-at-home? This experience is the effect, if we may use this term, of
the fact that in dread man faces the mysterious presence of the utmost
possibility contained in his being as project.306 As project, man is
the oppositional unity of facticity and possibility, of determination and
300"Worurn sich die Angst angstet, ist das In-der-Welt-sein selbst." Heideg-
ger, ibid., p. 187.
301"Diese (die Welt) jedoch gehort ontologisch wesenhaft zurn Sein des
Daseins als in-der-Welt-sein." Heidegger, ibid., p. 187.
302"Das In-sein kornrnt in den existentialen 'Modus' des Un-zuhause. Nichts
anderes rneint die Rede von der Unheirnlichkeit." Heidegger, ibid., p. 189.
303"Die Angst angstet sich urn das nackte Dasein als in die Unheirnlichkeit
geworfenes. Sie bringt zuriick auf das pure Dass der eigensten, vereinzelten
Geworfenheit." Heidegger, ibid., p. 343.
305"Furcht ist an die 'Welt' verfallene, uneigentliche und ihr selbst als solche
verborgene angst." Heidegger, ibid., p. 189.
potentiality.307 Dread discloses the utmost possibility of man as

project, and this possibility is death. All dread, therefore, is dread
of death. sos
For the acquisition of a vision of the whole man an adequate
concept of death is indispensable. For how could anyone claim to
have acquired such a vision if man as project always contains an
aspect of potentiality and therefore, is never really "finished" ?309 This
difficulty can be overcome only by the explicitation of man's being as
being-toward-death. slo For as long as man is man, one or the other
form of potential being is always open to him. Among these forms of
man's possible being is also the end of his being-in-the-world, and this
end is death. The end of man as potential being limits and determines
the possible totality of man's being. 1Il1
An Objection. Is not all this, one may ask, merely the postpone-
ment of a fundamental difficulty? The aim is a total vision of man,312
but as long as man is man, i.e., until his end, man has possibilities,
his being includes a being-able-to-be, is unfinished and, therefore, can-
not be grasped as a totality.3ls On the other hand, as soon as being-
man no longer includes any possibilities, as soon as it is finished,
man has become a "no-longer-there," he is no longer concerned with
his being, he can no longer experience himself.s14
This line of thought reveals a wholly mistaken view of man as
capable-of-being.s15 As potential being, being-man is not the being
of a thing "to which something can happen."S16 Man's being-unfin-
ished is not like the not-yet-being-full of the moon or the not-yet-
S07Heidegger, ibid., p. 145.
S08"Das Sein zum Tode ist wesenhaft Angst." Heidegger, ibid., p. 266.
309"Und wenn die Existenz das Sein des Daseins bestimmt, und ihr Wesen
mitkonstituiert wird durch das Seink6nnen, dann musz das Dasein, solange es
existiert, seink6nnend ie etwas noch nicht sein. Seiendes dessen Essenz die
Existenz ausmacht, widersetzt sich wesenhaft der m6glichen Erfassung seiner
als ganzes Seiendes." Heidegger, ibid., p. 233.
3l0Heidegger, ibid., p. 234.
311 "Dieses Ende, zum Seink6nnen, d.h. zur Existenz geh6rig, begrenzt und
bestimmt die ie m6gliche Ganzheit des Daseins." Heidegger, ibid., p. 234.
3lS" 'Solange es (das Dasein) ist' bis zu seinem Ende verhiilt es sich zu
seinem Seink6nnen." Heidegger, ibid., p. 236.
314"Sobald iedoch das Dasein so 'existiert', das an ihm schlechthin nichts
mehr aussteht, dann ist es auch schon in eins damit zum Nicht-mehr-da-sein
geworden. . . . Ais Seiend'es wird es dann nie mehr erfahrbar." Heidegger,
ibid., p. 336.
being-ripe of a fruit.s17 In a similar way man's end or death is not

like the end of a shower or the end of a road. Sl8 Such a way of
thinking about man does not conceive death as the death of man.
Death is conceived as the death of man only when man's being is
understood as being-toward-death. 319
Death and Man's Fundamental Structure. Accordingly, when
death is said to be the end of life, this expression means that life is
a being-toward-the-end. It is not a being-at-the-end, but a being-
toward-the end. 320 Life is consecrated to death: as soon as man
comes to life, he is old enough to die. Death is not an external fact
which happens to man,321 but is intrinsic to life. Hence man's being
must be called a being-toward-death. Just as the facticity of human
existence is not what it is without man's potential being, so also
human life is not what it is without death. Because death is inherent
to life, death has to be understood from the fundamental structure
of man's being.322 This fundamental structure Heidegger charac-
terizes as "care,"323 as the organic unity of existence (the "not yet"),
facticity (the "already"), and "falling-away."824 If death belongs
to the being of man, it should be possible to determine death from
man's fundamental structure. 321i
As a matter of fact, this determination can be made. 326 First of
all, death is the mode of potential being which is most proper to man,
the mode in which he, alone, is confronted with the possibility that

318Heidegger, ibid., p .. 244.
319"Daseinsmassig aber ist der Tod nur in einem existenziellen Sein zum
Tode." Heid'egger, ibid., p. 234.
320S0 wie das Dasein vielmehr standig, solange es ist, schon sein Noch-
nicht ist, so ist es auch schon immer sein Ende. Das mit dem Tod gemeinte
Enden bedeutet kein Zu-Enge-sein des Daseins, sondern ein Sein zum Ende
dieses Seienden. Der Tod ist eine Weise zu sein, die das Dasein iibernimmt, 50-
bald es ist. Sobald ein Mensch zum Leben kommt, sogleich ist er alt genug zu
sterben." Heidegger, ibid., p. 245.
32lHeidegger, ibid., p. 254.
324"Als Grundverfassung des Daseins wurde die Sorge sichtbar gemacht. Die
ontologische Bedeutung dieses Ausdrucks driickte sich in d'er 'Definition' aus:
Sich-vorweg-schon-sein-in (der Welt) als Sein-bei (innerweltlich) begegnen-
dem Seienden. Damit sind die fundamental en Charaktere des Seins des Daseins
ausgedriickt: im Sich-vorweg die Existenz, im Schon-sein-in ... die Faktizitat,
im Sein-bei ... das Verfallen." Heidegger, ibid, pp. 249-250.
is most proper to him, the invincible possibility of his impossibility.327

Man's "being-ahead-of-himself" becomes concrete in the most original
way in his being-toward-death. 328 Death is the extreme "not yet" of
man's being as potential. This possibility, however, is not incidentally
acquired by man in the course of his life. The extreme possibility of
his existence, as a possibility, is also "already" present,329 for as
soon as man begins to live, he is old enough to die. Finally, death
reveals also the third characteristic of man's being as care-namely,
"falling-away."330
Unauthentic Man and Death. In his everydayness man is ab-
sorbed by the anonymity of being "one like many" and by its anony-
mous world, he flees from the most proper possibility of his existence,
from dread and not-being-at-home. This flight from dread is an
escape from the dread of death. 331
The anonymous "one like many" is not ignorant of death. His
knowledge, however, consists in a very definite way of explicitating
being-toward-death. The anonymous man knows death as an item in
the column of death-notices. 332 For everyday man death is a trivial
event which befalls man from without: one dies, of course, but right
now the "one like many" himself is spared. 333 "One dies" means:
not I die, but everybody (das Man), i.e., nobody, dies. Thus dying
is explicitated as an event, while death itself does not belong to any
person. Everydayness is the covering-up of death as the possibility
which is mine par excellence. 334 Even the way in which the dying
are consoled reveals the same unauthenticity: the "one like many"
tries to make him believe that he will not die, that he will return to
trusted old everydayness, i.e., he tries to conceal from the dying man
his most proper possibility.331i The "one like many" simply does not
327"In dieser Moglichkeit geht as dem Dasein urn sein In-der-Welt-sein

schlechthin. Sein Tod ist die Moglichkeit des Nicht-mehr-dasein-konnens ...
Der Tod ist die Moglichkeit der schlechthinnigen Daseinsunmoglichkeit." Hei-
degger, ibid., p., 250.
329"Sondern, wenn Dasein existiert, ist es auch schon in diese Moglichkeit
~eworfen." Heidegger, ibid., p. 251.
330"Das Dasein stirbt faktisch, solange es existiert, aber zunachst und zu-
meist in der Weise des Verfallens." Heidegger, ibid., p. 252.
331 Heidegger, ibid., p. 252.
332"Die ~ffentlichkeit des alltaglichen Miteinander 'kennt' den Tod als stan-
dig vorkommendes Begegnis, als 'Todesfall'." Heidegger, ibid., p. 252.
H34"Das Man gibt Recht und steigert die Versuchung, das eigenste Sein zum
Tode sich zu verdecken." Heidegger, ibid., p. 253.
allow the courage for dreading death to arise,s36 but only knows fear
of death-as-an-event, a fear to which self-confident man may not
give in.337
Evidently, then, the being of the one-like-many is an estranged
being. He is estranged from himself and from his most proper pos-
sibility. Death is conceived as an event which occurs to the anony-
mous one-like-many. Thus the proper meaning of death, its being-
already-present-as-a-possibility, its being a possibility as a possibility
of me, of me alone, is not recognized and is concealed. The imper-
sonal one-like-many is interested only in the certainty that it iself is
still alive. 338 It does not want to accept that the being itself of man
is a being-toward-death, that life itself is affected by death as an
ever-present possibility.
In spite of this unwillingness, the being of the one-like-many is
still a being-to ward-death. We may even say that in his everydayness
man is concerned with his most pr9per and inescapable possibility,
albeit only by nurturing an undisturbed indifference toward his pos-
sible impossibility.339 The impersonal one-like-many is also quite
certain of death. Although this certainty does not seem to be more
than a kind of empirical certainty, derived from the occurrence of
death as an item in the column of death notices, i.e., as an event,340
the one-like-many really knows better.341 Insofar as he tries to hide,
conceal, and banish the proper meaning of death, insofar as he flees
from death, the impersonal one-like-many really derives his certainty
about death from an awareness that being-man is being-toward-
336"Das Man laszt den Mut zur Angst vor dem Tode nicht aufkommen."
Heidegger, ibid., p. 254.
338"Dass das je eigene Dasein faktisch immer schon stirbt, d.h. in einem
Sein zu seinem Ende ist, dieses Faktum verbirgt es sich dadurch, dasz es den
Tod zum alltaglich vorkommenden Todesfall bei Anderen umpragt, der alle-
falls uns noch deutlicher versichert, dasz 'man selbst' ja noch 'lebt'." Heidegger.
ibid., p. 254.
MOHeidegger, ibid., p. 257.
341"Wenngleich das Dasein in der iiffentlichkeit des Man scheinbar nur von
dieser 'empirischen' Gewissheit des Todes 'redet', 50 halt es sich im Grunde doch
nicht aU5schlieszlich und primar an die vorkommenden Todesfalle. Seinem Tode
ausweichend ist auch das alltagliche Sein zum Ende des Todes doch anders
gewisz, als es selbst in rein theorethischer Besinnung wahrhaben miichte." Hei-
degger, ibid., pp. 257-258.
death. 342 Death is certain, for it is present in the being of man as

being-toward-his-end. 343
Authentic Being-Toward-Death. We are now perhaps in a posi-
tion to determine the correct attitude of man toward death. This
determination must be possible on the basis of the fact that the true
meaning of death has been unveiled and the improper, unauthentic
being-toward-death exposed. 8u
The true reply to man's awareness of his being as being-toward-
death consists at least in this that he does not try to escape from his
most proper possibility, that he does not conceal it, and give it a false
meaning. a41i The reply does not mean that man must put himself to
death. Man's being is a having-to-be, but in obedience to the uncon-
cealedness of his essence. The essence of man lies in his existence ;848
consequently, the reply to his awareness of his being-toward-death
may not destroy his whole potential being, But by suicide man would
demolish all his potentialities. 347
In man's being-toward-death the possibility of death must be
apprehended as a possibility without being minimized, it has to be
cultivated as a possibility, it must be "endured" as a possibility.a48
The authentic answer to the awareness of being-toward-death is "ex-
pectation" (Erwarten) , not in the same way as one expects a shower,
but by "running forward in thought" on its possible impossibility, in
the realization that in the light of this extreme, yet present, potentiality
it is futile to busy oneself with things and with the company of fellow-
men. 349 Nevertheless, this realization must not induce man to aban-
don his occupation with things and the company of fellow-men in a
kind of apathetic surrender. For busying himself with things and be-
ing-together with other men pertain to the essential structure of man's
being. He must accept all this, but in the light of his most proper pos-
342"Das verdeckende Ausweichen vor dem Tode vermag seinem Sinne nach
des Todes nicht eigentlich 'gewisz' zu sein und ist es doch." Heidegger, ibid., J>.
256.
343"Der Tode ist als Ende des Daseins im Sein dieses Seienden zu seinem
Ende." Heidegger, ibid., p. 259.
347"Damit entzoge sich aber das Dasein gerade den Boden fUr ein existie-
rendes Sein zum Tode." Heidegger, ibid., p. 261.
sible impossibility.350 Man's proper being is an ahead-of-himself lib-

eration for the extreme possibility of his self-realizing essence, a libera-
tion from losing himself in the particular possibilities which happen
to present themselves, an understanding and choosing of these possi-
bilities in the light of the extreme possibility, the impossibility of being
"benumbed" by what has already been attained. 3sI
Thus it does not matter that the "when" of death, which itself is
certain, is not determined. 352 The constant "threat" of death does not
arise from death as an event which happens at a certain moment. The
threat springs from the unconcealedness of man to himself as "run-
ning ahead of himself." Man is certain of his being-in-the-world and,
consequently, of his extreme, "already" present possibility.35s All
this is revealed in dread. For all understanding is at the same time a
being-affected (befindliches) .354 The fundamental affectivity or mood
of being-man, through which man constantly and unqualifiedly IS
faced with the threat arising from his innermost and isolated being,
is nothing else than dread. 355 In dread man stands face to face with
the nothingness of the possible impossibility of his existence as self-
realizing being; in dread he stands face to face with death, for dread
is dread of death. 356 The freedom to be authentically himself which
reveals itself in dread appears to be freedom-toward-death.
Conscience. Finally, Heidegger seeks a confirmation of his theory
about man's proper being in the testimony of conscience.35T As de
Waehlens points out, looking for such a confirmation cannot mean
more than making an effort to approach the same question again from
a different viewpoint-namely, the question regarding the meaning of
man's proper being.3ss Ultimately, therefore, if we abstract from Hei-
degger's theory about the character of moral consciouness, the analy-
sis of the testimony of conscience does not offer any important new
350"Das Dasein ist eigentliches selbst nur, sofern es sich als besorgendes Sein
bei . . . und fiirsorgendes Sein mit . . . primar auf sein eigenstes Seinkonnen,
nicht aber auf die Moglichkeit des Man-selbst entwirft." Heidegger, ibid., pp.
263-264.
353"Im Vorlaufen zum unbestimmt gewissen Tod'e offnet sich das Dasein
fur eine aus seinem Da selbst entspringende standige Bedrohung." Heidegger,
ibid., p, 265.
354"Alles Verstehen ist befindliches." Heidegger, ibid., p. 256.
357Heidegger, ibid., I!P. 267-301.
35SCf. A. de Waelhens, La philosophie de Martin Heidegger, Louvain, 1948,
pp. 150-151.
ideas. Although man has fallen victim to losing himself in the ano-
nymity of the impersonal one-like-many, he has sometimes privileged
moments in which he is addressed by the voice of his conscience. 3Ci9
The one thus addressed is man insofar as he has become lost in the
one-like-many. But this being-addressed is a call upon man, a call to
his most proper potential-being-himself. 360
How does this "voice" have to be understood? Who is it that
calls? Undoubtedly, it is man himself who calls,361 but not man inso-
far as he has become lost in the one-like-many. The voice of con-
science is man in his not-being-at-home, in his original "thrownness"-
in-the-world, in his "nullity."362 Man calls himself from his unau-
thenticity to his most proper potential being.
Conscience and Guilt. The origin of the call, however, is not the
main point. Before one can say that he really understands the call of
conscience, it will be necessary to clarify the relationship which evi-
dently exists between conscience and guilt. 363 Here also the anony-
mous one-like-many has done its nefarious work: it has coupled the
guilty conscience to certain evil deeds. 364 This is wrong, for guilt is
not the result of evil deeds, but evil deeds are possible only on the
basis of an original being-guilty.86Ci What, we must ask, is this origi-
nal guilt?
This original guilt is constituted by "thrownness" (Geworfenheit).
Man's being as care (sorge) is always also a being-already-thrown-
into-the~world. Man is a having-to-be, but as already-embarked; he
has to undertake his being, but without having chosen it himself, with-
out having asked for it; man belongs to himseii, but without being his
own gift to himself; man is the ground of his potential being, of his
possibilities, but he himself has not established this ground. 366 Man,
for whom being-himself is a task, can never be himself to such an
359Heidegger, ibid., pp. 270-27l.

360"Der Ruf stellt, seiner Ruftendenz entsprechend, das angerufene Selbst
nicht zu einer 'Verhandlung,' sondern als Aufruf z.um eigensten Selbstseinkonnen
ist er ein Vor-(nach 'vorne'-) Rufen des Daseins in seine eigensten Moglichkei-
ten." Heidegger, ibid., p. 273.
361"Das Dasein ruft im Gewissen sich selbst.... Der Ruf kommt aus mir
und doch iiber. 1l!ich." Heidegger, ibid., p. 275.
36Ci"Das Schuldigsein resultiert nicht erst aus einer Verschuldung, sondern
umgekehrt: diese wird erst moglich 'auf Grund' eines urspriinglichen Schuldig-
seins." Heidegger, ibid., p. 284.
extent that he overcomes his "already."367 Man undertakes his own

being, he realizes himself, without ever acquiring perfect power over
himself. He is a "thrown" project and, therefore, null, and this
radical and invincible nullity constitutes his guilt.36s
The call of conscience is an invitation to man to recognize himself
as being-guilty,369 but at the same time an invitation to take his guilt,
his nullity, upon himself, i.e., as null, to run forward (in thought) to
his most proper potentiality, his end, his death. 370 Man is the null-
like ground of his nullity, the thrown project of his death, and it is
as such that he "has to be."371 The authentic reply to the call of con-
science is the resolve (Entschlossenheit )372 with which man as an
I myself takes the nullity of his being-thrown-into-the-world upon him-
self and in anguished silence projects himself forward to the nothing-
ness of his death.
The Meaning of Life: Contradiction or Despair'! It is time to
survey the road we have thus far travelled. Asking about the mean-
ing of his being, man seeks a value which is a perfect and definitive
fulfilment of his being-man, understood in the sense of having-to-be.
The philosophers of the Middle Ages replied to his question by describ-
ing man as a seeker of God. Man's being is a being-toward-God;
his having-to-be ultimately means to be destined for the Transcendent.
Man, however, may fail to recognize his own being, he can refuse
to acknowledge God and to adhere to Him. By doing so, he condemns
himself, his being is rendered absurd, good for nothing, "in the way
forever." To be doomed means to experience himself as identified
with this "in the way," to experience the meaninglessness of his being
as eternally unfulfilled having-to-be.
Sartre rejects the affirmation of God for reasons which have been
explained above. In the works of his followers this rejection is pre-
sented in greater relief and reveals itself as the refusal definitively to
consent to any worldly being whatsoever. This consent is erroneously
conceived as the affirmation of God. Such a misconception, however,
367"Das Selbst, das als solches den Grund seiner selbst zu legen hat, kann
des sen nie miichtig werden und hat doch existierend das Grundsein zu iiberneh-
men." Heidegger. ibid., p. 284.
36SHeidegger, ibid., p. 285.
370"Die Entschlossenheit wird eigentlich das, was sie sein kann, als verste-
hendes Sein zum Ende, d.h. als Vorlaufen in den Tode." Heidegger, ibid., p. 305.
372"--das verschwiegene, angstbereite Sichentwerfen auf das eigenste Schul-
digscin-." Heidegger, ibid., p. 'l!:)7.
is inevitable as soon as man's being is explicitated as fully identical

with being-in-the-world. 373 If man is nothing else than openness for
the world, the openness for God can be understood only as referring
to an incorrectly absolutized worldly reality. It becomes something
similar to the being-fascinated by the world which we observe in
children.874 Many adults have been benumbed by the same attitude.
But such an attitude is slavery and ignorance. 375 The authentic man
is free. He "makes himself" and follows only one law: his own.
He does not labor under any illusions, for he knows that his affirma-
tions can never be definitive. He wills himself as a "defect of being"
and does not fall into despair or nihilism. For the nihilist is "grave,"
because he attributes an absolute weight to his "non-being" thereby
making it an immobile "being" instead of realizing his negativity as
living movement, as freedom.376 Likewise, the man who despairs is
"grave," for in his despair he really continues to live in accordance
with the contradictory ideal of making the in-itself and for-itself
identical in himself.877 Man's authentic life, however, begins only
beyond despair.
For Heidegger, on the other hand, genuine, authentic being-
human is precisely despair. Does this view make Heidegger "grave"?
Does he live according to a contradictory ideal? Is it impossible for
him to accept that the consent to a worldly being can never be
definitive? Or is there something more in Heidegger's philosophy than
relatedness-to-the-world when there is question of man? Is man in
Heidegger's thought related to the Transcendent ?378
873"Mais si nous retrouvons Ie temps sous Ie sujet et si nous rattachons au

paradoxe du temps ceux du corps, du monde, de la chose et d'autrui, nous com-
prendrons qu'il n'y a rien a comprendre au-dela." Merleau-Ponty, Phenome-
nologie de la perception, p. 149.
874Simone de Beauvoir, Pour une morale de I'ambiguite, pp. 51-54.
375de Beauvoir, ibid., pp. 54-61.
876"Le nihiliste est proche de l'esprit de serieux, car au lieu de realiser sa ne-
gativite comme mouvement vivant, il con<;oit son aneantissement d'une maniere
substantielle; il veut n'etre den et ce neant qu'il reve est encore une sorte d'etre,
exactement l'antithese hegelienne de l'etre, un donne immobile." de Beauvoir,
ibid., p. 75.
377"Mais dans la mesure ou cette tentative participe encore de l'espdt de se-
deux et ou ils peuvent croire encore que leur mission de faire exister l'en-soi-
pour-soi est ecrite dans les choses, ils sont condamnes au desespoir, car ils de-
couvrent en meme temps que toutes les activites humaines sont equivalentes-
car elles tendent toutes a sacrifier l'homme pour faire surgir la cause de soi-
et que toutes sont vouees par principe a l'echec." Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, p.
72l. .
878There are authors who see an indication of God in Heidegger's notion of
being. Cf. e.g., F. de Graaff, Het schuldprobleem in de existentie-philosophie'Van
Martin Heidegger, 'sGravenhage, n.d. pp. 49-53.
According to Sartre and his followers, despair betrays that man

secretly continues to dream of the Absolute within the realm of
worldly being. We must point out, however, that when this dream
comes to an end, a new dream begins. What we mean is that when
the Absolute is denied for the sake of freedom as a transcendent
movement, freedom itself emerges as the Absolute. Man is freedom,
because no reality is worth his definitive consent: any definitive
consent is the death of man's being. But in Sartre and his followers
it is freedom itself which has to be definitively and unreservedly
affirmed. Freedom itself appears as the Absolute. Thus we meet here
with a contradiction.
Heidegger's Philosophy is Not Nihilistic. Is, then, our only
choice one between contradiction and despair? Certainly not. In
Heidegger also the dread which motivates despair is not the last
word. Just as it is unjustifiable to say that Descartes' philosophy
is a philosophy of doubt, so also there is no justification for saying
that Heidegger's philosophy is a philosophy of dread. It may be
difficult to see this for one who limits his reading to S ein und
Zeit. But even if one puts full emphasis on "resolve" as the ex-
plicitation of the most proper and most authentic mode of being-
man, understood as being-in-the-world, one may not present
Heidegger's philosophy as nihilism. The reason is that there is no
justification for claiming that in Heidegger being-man and being-in-
the-world are synonymous. Only insofar as being-man is being-
in-the-world, being-man, according to Heidegger, is null because
it is toward-death. The reader of Sein und Zeit must keep in mind
that at the beginning of his work Heidegger does not describe man
as openness to the world but as openness to being. Man is the being
which in its being is concerned with its being, and the question
about being-in-general is a mode of being-man. Everything depends,
therefore, on the question whether this being-in-general, which is
what all the questions aim at, for which man is openness, and to
which he is related, is identical with the world in Heidegger's
thought.
We are not able and do not intend to tackle his question
exegetically.379 Perhaps it cannot even be solved so long as
379Cf. J. Moller, Existenzialphilosophif und katholische Theologie, Baden-

Baden, 1952, pp. 112-144.
Heidegger himself does not make clear what he means by being.380

But it is certain that he has not yet expressed himself clearly enough
to allow anyone to identify being and the world. Noone, therefore,
has the right to consider the terms being-man and being-in-the-
world synonymous in Heidegger's philosophy. Otherwise there would
be no room for an affirmation of God. But Heidegger himself has
declared that the explicitation of being-man as being-in-the-world
decides neither positively nor negatively about a being-toward-God.381
Moreover, it should be kept in mind that whatever Heidegger
says about dread and the nothingness revealing itself in dread is
related to the question regarding the meaning of being. Heidegger's
thinking speaks only about man as a road to being. What he says
really becomes a road to the concept of being only when a total
view of man is given. Dread, the revelation of nothingness, is
Heidegger's approach to this total view. True, in Sein und Zeit
he does not make the passage from dread and nothingness to being,
but in later works it becomes clear that dread and nothingness are
not Heidegger's last words on this question. 382 While the thought
of Sartre and his followers has reached its term and is contradictory,
Heidegger's philosophy is not yet completed and leaves open the
road to the affirmation of the Absolute. 383
Is All Non-Dread Being Unauthentic? With respect to
Heidegger's "road" to being, a final question must be raised. Is
dread really the gate to a total vision of manhood as being-in-the-
world? Are there no other experiences, distinct from dread, which
open up a view of the world-as-world and of being-in-the-world
as such? Heidegger's own reply would be in the negative. No
880Cf. W. Biemel, Le concept de Monde chez Heidegger, Louvain-Paris, 1950,
pp. 172-178.
381"Durch die ontologische Interpretation des Daseins als In-der-We1t-sein
ist weder positiv noch negativ iiber ein miigliches Sein zu Gott entschieden.
Wohl aber wird durch die Erhellung der Transzendenz allereerst ein zureichen-
der Begriff des Daseins gewonnen, mit Riicksicht auf welches Seiende nunmehr
gefragt werden kann, wie es mit dem Gottesverhiiltnis des Daseins ontologisch
bestellt ist." Heidegger, Vom Wesen des Grundes, p. 36, note 56.
382"Die rechte Stellungnahme zu diesen Siitzen [ie., the objections which
opponents have raised against Was ist Metaphysikf] entspringt aus einen erneu-
ten Durchdenken der Vorlesung. Es mag priifen, ob das Nichts, das die Angst
in ihr Wesen stimmt, sich bei einer leeren Verneinung alles Seienden erschiipft,
oder ob, was nie und nirgends ein Seiends ist, sich entschleiert als das von allem
Seienden Sichunterscheidende, das wir dil.s Sein nennen." Heidegger, Was ist
M etaphysik f Nachwort, L>, 45.
383For a simple explanation of this point see Delfgaauw, What is existential-
ismef, Amsterdam, 1952, pp. 74-81.
other answer could be expected from him, because his own view
of dread forces him to relegate whatever is not dread to the domain
of "falling-away," of unauthentically being-man. The fact that dread
is such a rare phenomenon does not trouble him in his efforts to
build a metaphysics of man. On the contrary, it strengthens him
in his views, because the rarity of dread demonstrates how man has
always been submerged in what Pascal calls "diversion," and in this
submergence the recognition of man's authentic being as dread is
supposed to be implied. If, then, anyone would remark that he is
not at all aware of dread in the Heideggerian sense, the German
philosopher would reply: "That only proves that you have never yet
been man."384 A very simple answer, of course, but it presupposes
precisely what has to be proved-namely, that whatever is not dread
pertains to "falling away."
Is, then, the resolve to which Heidegger "concludes," if we may
use this term, not really a prejudice which he wants to "prove" at
any price? Is not his thinking merely a circular form of reasoning in
which a certain type of authenticity is first presupposed and next
"concluded" to? Heidegger himself has raised these questions 385
and replied to them without hesitation. 386
It is readily to be admitted that a certain form of authenticity is
presupposed and it is quite obvious that the process of thought has a
circular form. One must even say that everything is presupposed
which a philosopher conceptualizes and expresses about man's being.
The philosopher, however, does not have to apologize for it, he does
not have to avoid it, as a logician would be obliged to do when he
uses a syllogism. s87 Man is the being which in its being is concerned
with its being, man's being is an understanding of being (Seinsver-
stiindnis) , and for this reason man is always to a certain extent
"already" unconcealed for himself ;388 hence every explicit question
regarding man's being is "already" prepared by man's mode of being
384Cf. R. Verneaux, "L'experience humaine et Ie Tout Ie monde," Actes du

XIeme Congres International de Philosophie, Amsterdam-Louvain, 1953, vol.
II, p. 173.
385"Aber liegt der durchgefiihrten ontologischen Interpretation der Existenz
des Daseins nicht eine bestimmte ontische Auffassung von eigentlicher Existenz,
ein faktisches Ideal des Daseins zugrunde?" Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, p. 310.
386Heidegger, ibid., pp. 310-316. .
388"Die forma Ie Anzeige der Existenzidee war geleitet von dem im Dasein
selbst liegenden Seinsverstandnis." Heidegger, ibid., p. 132.
itself, and the reply also is always to a certain extent "already" given. s89
But in his "understanding" (V erstehen) man is unconcealed for
himself as potential being i.e., ultimately, as being-toward-death.
What higher possibility could there be in man's potentiality than that
of death ?S90
The so-called presuppositions in the philosophy of man are noth-
ing else than man himself as understanding of being, and the so-called
circular form of reasoning is nothing else than man himself again
insofar as in his "understanding" he is unconcealed for himself with
respect to his most proper potential being, i.e., his being-toward-
death. Anyone who tries to avoid this "circular form of reasoning"
really attempts to set aside the fundamental structure of man as
"care." But such an attempt cannot succeed. Accordingly, if from a
pre-ontological awareness of the most proper mode of potential being
one "concludes" that "resolve" is man's authentic being, he does not
make himself guilty of a circular argument, in the sense in which such
an argument must be rejected by the logician, but he simply gives
expression to what man is and has to be. sn
Dread is Not the Approach par Excellence to the Total Vision
of Man. It is on the basis of this pre-ontological awareness, men-
tioned by Heidegger, which man has of himself that we refuse to see
in dread the gate par excellence to an integral vision of man. Heideg-
ger's view is very one-sided, because in his philosophy there is no
room for something which lies unconcealed in man's pre-ontological
self-awareness-namely, that existence always implies a kind of quali-
fied consent. If Heidegger were fully right, man's being would have
to be explicitated as a curse and there would be no r:oom for the
experience of the same being of man as a grace, as a gift.892 This
experience cannot be disposed of and disregarded. The "resolve,"
however, in which Heidegger sees the authenticity of man's being
does not offer any possibility of a qualified consent-to-the-world.
Moreover, an effort to make this consent fall under "falling-away"
is doomed to failure, because in Heidegger "falling-away" occurs as
a being-absorbed in the world. Heidegger is right when he rejects
man's unauthenticity, as are Sartre and those of a kindred spirit when
389"Jede ontologisch ausdriickliche Frage nach d'em Sein des Daseins ist
durch die Seinsart des Daseins schon vorbereitet." Heidegger, ibid., p. 132,
s90"Hat das in-der-W elt-sein eine hahere Instanz seines Seinkannens als
seinen Tod?" Heidegger, ibid., p. 313.
S92Marcel, L'homme problematique, Paris, 1955, pp. 9-47.
they speak of the "grave" man and the sub-man. Such a man mis-
judges his manhood, because he destroys the affective distance which
bores into his affirmation of any worldly being whatsoever, and this
destruction is the end of freedom as transcendent movement. It is,
however, intentionally that we speak of a qualified consent and not of
wonder (Cmerveillement), as is done by Vemeaux. 393 For we are
aware of it that no worldly reality is worth a definitive consent and
that no worldly value can be the definitive fulfilment of manhood as
having to be. On the other hand, we may not deny all fulfilment and
every consent.
Heidegger and Sartre with his followers constantly point out that
unauthenticity cannot be "lived," because it constantly denies itself
in life,894 while authenticity keeps imposing itself as a demand. The
same, however, has to be asserted with respect to Heidegger's "re-
solve." The resolve cannot be "lived," not even by Heidegger himself,
because life itself constantly denies the resolve. And what else has a
philosopher to do than to give expression to life? But life implies a
qualified consent to the world. The things of the world are worth
such a consent, because they offer man a real, albeit not definitive,
fulfilment of his being as having to be.
But, Heidegger asks, "is there in man's potential being any higher
possibility than his death ?"895 The reply is in the negative. Does
this mean that the world-as-world and being-in-the-world-as-such are
radically null? Let us point out that the matter can be turned
around. Man's being as being-in-the-world includes essentially an
aspect of affirmation. Could death really be the highest possibility
of his potential being, in view of the fact that in this supposition it
is impossible to maintain the affirmation in question despite all its
evidence? New perspectives suddenly arise here, which Heidegger
failed to consider.
Thus we are forced to conclude that Heidegger's description of
man cannot be considered as the explicitation of man in an unqualified
sense. 396 We do not mean that there are no human beings whom
Heidegger's description fits. But it is certain that they misjudge
the true character of their own manhood, because they have no eye
for the affirmative aspect of their existence. With respect to them
393R. Verneaux, op. cit., p. 173.

394Cf., e.g., de Beauvoir, op. cit. (footnote 374) pp. 72-94.
396Cf. A. de Waelhens, La philosophie de Ma,.tin Heidegge,., Louvain, 1948,
pp. 179-180. -
one can ask at most what the cause or the occasion was which made
them be or become as they are. If, however, such a question is asked,
we are no longer in the realm of philosophy and have to leave the
reply to psychologists, characterologists, or psychiatrists. 397 One
could also point to the spirit of the time and, as far as Heidegger is
concerned, to the fact that during World War I he experienced the
horrors of life in the trenches. 398 This experience was for him a very
special revelation of man's being.
A Psychological Factor. If a psychological explanation is sought
for the fact that in some human beings the affirmative aspect of their
existence has been pushed completely into the background, a certain
statement of St. Augustine may bring some light. In his letter to
Proba, he writes: UNit homini amicum sine homine amico," nothing
is lovable for a human being without a loving human being, which we
may perhaps paraphrase more clearly in this way: without the love
of his fellow-man, man is not capable of affectively affirming the real
world. This truth has been definitely established by empirical psy-
chology. One who is unloved always sees the harshest face of the
world: the world appears to him always as resistance, as an obstacle
for his having-to-be. The more a man stands alone, i.e., unloved, in
the world, the more difficult it is for him to realize himself in the
world and to-consent to his own being.a99
Is it a mere coincidence that love finds no place in Heidegger's
works? In dread man's most proper possibility reveals itself, for in
dread man stands alone, isolated, before the extreme possibility of his
potential being, in dread man is eminently an "I."400 This revela-
tion calls upon man to make the only proper reply-namely, "re-
solve," a radical "no" to the world. But we know that there is more
in man than this dread. His authentic being-himself is not the lonely,
isolated, doomed-to-death being-in-the-world, but being-together with
his fellow-men in love. In love the world shows man a face that is
entirely different from the one described by Heidegger, What
Heidegger says may be true of the unloved, "barracks-type of man"
(Marcel), but one who loves cannot speak in his way. Man cannot
897Cf. R. Le Senne, Trait; de Caracterologie, Paris, 1949, pp. 258, 288.
398Cf. R. Troisfontaines, Existentialisme et pensee chretienne, Louvain-Paris,
1948, pp. 14-16.
8D9Cf. John Bowlby, Child Care and the Growth of lAue, London, 1953.
400"So sich bevorstehend sind in ihm aile Beziige zu anderem Dasein geliist.
... So enthiillt sich der Tod als die eigenste, unbeziigliche, uniiberholbare Mii-
glichkeit." Heid'egger, ibid., p. 250.
live without being loved but, on the other hand, neither can he die
without love. Whoever faces death alone, isolated, will curse the
world-as-world and being-in-the-world-as-such. But such a man is
a mutilated human being.
5. PERSPECTIVES
Transcendent Cause. "Why is there something and why is there

not rather nothing?" Following an age-old tradition, we have raised
this question in our first chapter. It is the philosophical question par
excellence, the metaphysical question. We conceived this question as
the search for the ground, the cause, of being as being, and found as
our first reply that the being of beings is the being-result of the
causality of the Transcendent Being, of God.
No being escapes from God's causality, not even the conscious and
free being which is man. 401 Undoubtedly, man is a co-source of the
world's meaning, but as such he is the "second source": through his
actions man co-originates new meanings, but his initiative is a "pro-
duced initiative." With man the world begins to be in the real sense
of the term, but the beginning-of-the-world which man is, is a "begun
beginning."402 God is the Lord of beings in their universality.
Cause and Freedom. The first chapter formulated the difficulties
which arise from this thought. How can the being of man be caused
by God if his being is a being-free and if God's causal influence can-
not be contingent? God's causal influence may not be explicitated ill
such a way that the free-being which man is can no longer be con-
ceived as a possibility. Metaphysics must be based on the reality of
beings. But the being of man cannot possibly be conceived as being-
free if God's causal influence is conceived analogously to the causality
prevailing in the realm of things. A causal influence that is conceived
in a thing-like or process-like way would crush man as freedom. In-
stead of borrowing the categories of our thinking about God from the
realm of things, we must derive them from the order of intersub-
401"Sind wir unserer Freiheit gewiss, so wird alsbald ein zweiter Schritt zu
unserer Selbsterfassung getan: der Menschist das gottbezogene Wesen. Was
heisst das? Wir haben uns nicht se1bst geschaffen. Jeder kann von sich denken
es sei !lloglich gewesen, dass er nicht sei. ... Wenn wir frei entscheiden und er-
fiillt vom Sinn unser Leben ergreifen, so sind wir uns bewusst, uns nicht uns
se1bst zu verdanken. Auf der Hohe der Freiheit ... sind wir in unserer Frei-
heit als uns von der Transcendenz gegeben bewusst. Je mehr der Mensch eigent-
lich frei ist, desto gewisser ist ihm Gott." Karl Jaspers, Einfuhrung in die Phi-
losophie, Miinchen, 1957, p. 63. .
402Brunner, La personne incarnee, p. 230.
jectivity. In this order we know a single case in which true "causal

influence" has as "effect" subjectivity, freedom. It is the case of
the creative "influence" of love. Man does not conceive himself as
reality unless he conceives himself as the result of divine Love.
Contrary to Sartre's claim, man's freedom does not mean that man
does not belong to God. For Sartre God is not the King of Mankind
because man is free. As far as things are concerned, God could per-
haps exercise his dominium, but if He had wanted to do the same
over man, He should not have created him free. The very moment
when God created man as a free being, this freedom turned against
Him. As freedom, man does not belong to God, so that there is no
one to give any orders to man.
This Sartrian thought is very primitive. Evidently, God's king-
ship over man must be totally different from God's power over
things. But does this difference mean that God is not the King of
man? It is evident also that things "belong" to and "receive orders"
from God-if these terms may still be used-in a way which is
entirely different from that .of man. But must we admit, therefore,
that man does not belong t.o God and d.oes not receive any orders
from Him? Sartre is not capable .of conceiving the relationship of
God t.o man in any .other way than the relati.on to a thing. But he is
mistaken: man belongs to God in the way a subject belongs toO God.
Man's Self-Consent. Everything is put into question when we
ask about the cause of being as being.403 This applies in a very
special way to man. Because man is a being which in its being is
concerned with its being, man asks questions not only about the
"whence" of his being but also about its "whither." Man is con-
cerned with the "direction" of his existence. The "room for expan-
sion" of the potentiality which is inherent in any facticitous way of
existing indicates the "direction" which the subject can go. Man
seeks the roads through the world which will make it possible for
him to consent to himself as subjectivity-in-the-world. This consent
stands in relation to the fulfilment found by his subjectivity, conceived
as "natural desire." As being-conscious-in-the-world, man enters into
the realms of technology, economics, art, and science, to name only
a few. He experiences his entrance into these realms as meaningful
to the extent that his activities in them imply a certain fulfilment with
respect to his various modes of having-to-be. Thus he can consent to
himself as a technologist, an economist, etc.
403Cf. Heidegger, Einfiihrung in die Metaphysik, p. 22.
Nevertheless, the being which man is remains in a state of sus-

pense. With Sartre and his school we stated that man's consent to
himself as well as to his world cannot be definitive. This consent is
affected by negativity in an invincible way. To deny this point is to
misjudge the essence of man's being. Anyone who continues to
foster illusions will find his last prop removed by Heidegger's
philosophy of being-toward-death. For being-man, as being-in-the-
world, death is the supreme and most decisive court of appeal. If
man's being is nothing else than being-in-the-world, it is impossible to
see how anyone could consent to himself unless he minimizes the
meaning of death. One who sees nothing else in man than the being-
in-the-world which he also is may at most say that man's greatness
consists in this that he is aware of the meaninglessness of his being,
for this is something which cannot be asserted of an animal. Man's
being is put into a state of suspense in the most horrible way through
its explicitation as being-toward-death.
Seeking the ground of his being, man seeks not only his origin but
also his purpose. There are many human goals, corresponding to the
many possible modes of having-to-be-in-the-world. But not a single
one of all these goals constitutes the proper purpose of man as "natu-
ral desire." The self-grounding project which man is and which is
executed in his transcendence fails radically if it is conceived exclu-
sively as a project-in-the-world. The "natural desire" which man is,
however, must be understood as man's orientation to Transcendent
Being, an orientation which is essential in man. Man does not have
the desire to be God but to see God.
The Affirmation of God. For the man who understands this point
the self-grounding project which he is appears in an entirely new
light. Is it possible for man to consent to his existence on the basis
of his affirmation of Transcendent Being? But, we must ask, what is
this affirmation? Is it the one that is effected in the proof of God?
At the end of the first chapter we pointed out that man does not
exactly know what he affirms when he affirms Transcendent Beirig.
Nevertheless, this Being must be affirmed, for otherwise no affirma-
tion of anything is possible. Without the Transcendent Being noth-
ing is. But there is something, there are beings, the universe is.
Not everyone can be convinced that there is a Transcendent Being.
The affirmation of God, prepared and made on the purely cognitive
level in the proof of God, remains an idle playing with words for the
non-religious man. The entirely new light in which the question about
the possibility of consenting to life is placed by the recognition of the
Transcendent Being is not the light of the affirmation of God in and
through the proof of God. The affirmation of God, prepared and made
on the purely cognitive level in the proof of God, itself presupposes
a preparation and practice on the affective level. The purely rational
proof presupposes a disposition of an affective nature, through which
man detaches himself from the world and does not belong to it in a
"carnal" way. The decision to become detached in this way is not an
irrational decision but rather based on the rational recognition of
man's most intimate essence: man is not destined-only-for-the-world.
Only if this recognition is made, will there be a possibility that the
Transcendent Being will really become a light. If in the proof of
God man's thinking endeavors to transcend beings to attain to Being,
the success of this endeavor presupposes a way of life in which this
transcendence of beings is affectively executed. If life itself is not a
preparation for, and the execution of the affirmation of God, then
there is no possibility whatsoever that God will be affirmed in a way
which has real meaning for man's life.
Transcendent Being and the World. It is undeniably true that
"modern" man becomes increasingly absorbed in hedonism and utili-
tarianism. 404 To the extent that he falls victim to these trends, he is
a mutilated human being. The world is like opium for the recog-
nition of his most intimate essence. Nevertheless, to some extent
the tide is on the turn, as appears from the fact that man no longer
tries to camouflage his "sadness," even though he may not yet have
found the courage to give up the attitude of life which has caused
this "sadness." The philosophers, however, are far ahead of their
fellow men, for they have long since given up faith in reality that
is solely of this world.
Accordingly, Transcendent Being can become reality for man only
when the things of the world begin to mean less in his life. The man
of real wisdom is aware of this. He manages to maintain himself
when the world fails him.405 Heroes and saints revealed their true
404Cf. M. Sciacca, Le probteme de Dieu et de la religion dans la philosophie
contemporaine, Paris, 1950. p. 261.
405"ln der Hingabe an Realitat in der Welt-das unerlassliche medium der
Hingabe an Gott-wachst das Selbstsein, das sich zugleich in dem behauptet, an
das es sich hingibt. Wenn aber alles Dasein eingeschmolzen wurde in die Reali-
tat, in Familie, Volk, Beruf, Statt, in die Welt. und wenn dann die Reali-
tat dieser Welt versagt, dann wird die Verzweiflung des Nichts nur dadurch
besiegt, d"ass auch gegen alles bestimmte Weltsein die entscheidende Selbst-
greatness in such conditions. They renounced their worldly future

and their possessions and did not allow the most horrible possibilities
to defeat them. They died in peace. 406 The fascination of the world
has to be broken. Detaching himself from this world may be experi-
enced by man as entering into a dark night, but it is only by entering
the nothing-of-the-world that it is possible for man to enter into the
"light of Being." A metaphysics which is true to life demands a
metaphysical life. Only then will we have to do with a real question
when it is asked whether it is possible to consent to life on the basis of
the affirmation of Transcendent Being.
H ope or Despair'! This question allows also a different formula-

tion: Is there any hope for man? So long as being-man is under-
stood as absorption in being-in-the-world, so long as his destiny is
sought solely in the possession of the world, there is no hope for man.
Hope finds its source not in being-in-the-world but in the being-
in-the-world-but-transcending-it (in-der-W elt-uber-die-Welt-hinaus-
sein .. Binswanger) which is real in love. When we spoke about the
possibility of an unselfish love, we pointed out the paradoxical char-
acter of human subjectivity. Love is the availability of my subjectivity
for the other, the belonging to the other. But in the surrender of my-
self my own selfhood is revealed to me. In love I have the vague
awareness that by destining myself for the other I authentically be-
come myself, I go forward to meet my own destiny. My having-to-be
as a task in the world finds a certain fulfilment in the world. But
there can be no question of a definitive fulfilment of my having-to-be,
and in the light of death it is even questionable whether the term
"fulfilment" is still meaningful. As soon, however, as I see that my
having-to-be must be understood as a having-to-be-for-the-other and
I effectively undertake the execution of this task, everything becomes
different. Even if I have never heard about a doctrine regarding
man's destiny, I experience in love that I am on the road to the
fulfilment of my manhood as having-to-be. I can say "yes" to it.
We say "I am on the road ..." I cannot say "yes" definitively.
True, there lies something of eternity in love, but only as a promise.
Moreover, who will guarantee love to me? Do I not daily experience
behaugtung vollzogen wurde, die allein vor Gott steht und aus Gott ist. Erst in
der Hingabe an Gatt, nicht an die Welt, wird dieses Selbstein seiber hinge-
geben und als Freiheit empfangen, es in der Welt zu behaupten." Jaspers, op.
cit., pp. 81-82.
4oaCf. Jaspers, op. cit., p. 63.
that I betray the other and that the other is unfaithful to me? Is, then,
the last word that I can say as a philosopher still "despair"? How
could I consent to my existence if this existence is a task which I
would not be able to accomplish anyhow?
Nevertheless, despair is not the last word. First of all, the realiza-
tion that in love I am meaningfully man cannot be simply pushed
aside, and love also is a reality in my life. Secondly, love gives rise
in me to a kind of awareness of orientation, a consciousness of the
"direction" which I myself am in my most intimate essence and which
I must follow if I want to expect to be capable of consenting defini-
tively to my existence. If I could believe in an Absolute Thou (Mar-
eel), a Being in whom unfaithfulness and betrayal are impossible, if
I could believe in this Being's Love for me and if I would be permitted
to love this Being, then I would be able definitively to consent to
myself. This awareness of orientation IS called "hope": it is the
belief in Love.
The man who I am is directedness to Transcendent Being, the
hope in God. I may say also with Marcel that I am "invocation":
my whole being is a calling-for-God. God has heard this "call" which
man is and has entered history. He has made His Word speak to-
man. He has spoken about Himself and about man. If this is true,.
then all that we have said here will be unimportant. Man's thinking
has to begin all over again.
INDEX OF NAMES
AndronicuB of Rhodes, 54 f., 171. De Raeymaeker, Louis, 55, 113, 262,
Aristotle, 54 f., 57, 65, 170 f. 269.
Arntz, A., 200. Descartes, Rene, 34, 45, 78, 79 ff.,
Augustine, St., 74, 230, 260, 313, 349. 85 f., 89, 131 f., 151, 161, 181 ff.,
186, 191, 201.
Averroes, 114.
De Waehlens, Alphons, passim.
Avicenna, 114. Dilthey, W., 185.
Bacon, Francis, 172. Dondeyne, Albert, passim.
Beerling, R, 233, 235, 248 f. Dumas, G., 183.
Bergson, Henri, 34, 234, 255. Duynstee, W., 238, 249, 254.
Biemel, W., 345. Fortmann, H., 287.
Bigot, L., 97, 154. Foulquie, P., 96, 113.
Binswanger, L., 156 f., 179, 223 f. Freud, Sigmund, 167 f., 301 f.
Blondel, Maurice, 149. Froebes, J., 102.
Boethius, 170, 269. Galton, 129.
Bohr, Niels, 23. Geiger, L. B., 124.
Bowlby, John, 349. Gits, Carlos, 232, 235 ff., 245, 248 ff.,
Boyer, Charles, 117, 138, 147. 256.
Brentano, Franz, 93. Gregoire, Fr., 122.
Bronkhorst, c., 237. Hamaker, H., 235, 237.
Brunner, A., 72, 78, 158, 305, 350. Hegel, Georg, 34, 85, 151, 279, 304.
Brunschvicq, 34, 126, 150. Heidegger, Martin, passim.
Buehler, 130. Heisenberg, Werner, 23.
Busmann, Star, 235. Herbart, 127.
Buytendijk, F., 23, 41. 118, 153, 155 Hobbes, 244.
ff., 208, 227.
Hoogveld, J., 93, 236.
Camus, 52, 261. Humanus, 295.
Capreolus, Johannes. 117. Hume, David, 131 ff., 136.
Cassirer, Ernst, 133. Husserl, Edmund, passim.
C1aparede, 101.
Janssens, L., 244, 246, 258, 288.
Claudel, Paul, 97.
J aspers, Karl, passim.
Collins, James, 1.
Copernicus, 133.
J eanson, Fr., 290, 293 f., 324, 329.
Jolivet, R, 54, 66, 68, 70, 115, 129,
Copleston, Frederick, I, 82. 146, 161, 170.
Couwenberg, S., 212. J iinger, Ernst, 52.
De Beauvoir, Simone, 270, 272, 324, Kant, Immanuel, 67, 94, 132 f., 171,
326 f., 343, 348. 281.
De Bruin, P., 43 f. Kierkegaard, Soren, 1, 35, 36, 122,
De Bivort, de la Saudee Jacques, 8, 149.
35. Kohnstamm, Ph., 97, 154.
De Graaff, F., 343. Kouwer, B., 154, 155.
De Greeff, E., 227. Krabbe, H., 236.
Deledalle, G., 113. Kranenburg, R, 232 ff.
Delesalle, J., 240. Kiilpe, 130.
Delfgaauw, B., 106, 276, 314, 345. Kwant, Remy c.. 13, 23, 33, 37, 44,
De Lubac, 72. 45, 122, 147, 153, 167, 226, 234,
De Petter, D. M., 115, 145,266,268 237, 253, 284, 297, 306, 313, 315,
f., 297 f. 324.
356
Index of Names 357
Lacroix, Jean, 42 f., 45 f., 176, 240, Renouvier, 231.

249, 252, 256 f., 281 f., 291 f. Ricoeur, Paul, I, 122.
Lalande, 33. Robert, H., 268.
Langemeyer, G., 234. Roels, F., 130, 183.
Laplace, Abbe, 30. Rogers, Carl, 230.
Laporte, J., 150. Riimke, H., 35, 181.
Leibniz, G., 53. Rutten, F., 193.
Le Roy, Ed., 17.
Saint-Simon, 45.
Le Senne, 16, 349.
Sartre, Jean-Paul, passim.
Levinas, E., 42 f.
Sassen, F., 93.
Linschoten, J., 154, ISS, 181.
Scheler, Max, 149, 185.
Locke, John, 83 f., 87.
Sciacca, M., 73, 353.
Madinier, G., 220 f., 230 f., 233, 239, Secretan, 231.
244, 249 f., 252 f., 287. Sertillanges, A. D., 129.
Maine de Biran, 34. Simmel, 185.
Mandonnet, 117. Siwek, Paul, 118.
Marbe, 130. Socrates, 60.
Marc, Andre, 126, 128, 130. Stein, Edith, 123.
Marcel, Gabriel, passim. Strasser, Stefan, 79, 114 ff., 188.
Maritain, Jacques, 121, 127, 138. Stuart Mill, John, 172.
Marx, Karl, 45, 325.
Merleau-Ponty, Maurice, passim. Tellegen, F., 42 f.
Messer, 130. Thevenaz, P., 95.
Molengraaf, 235. Thibon, G., 229.
Moller, J., 344. Thomas Aquinas, 55, 62, 65, 113, 115
f., 119 ff., 124, 127, 129, 139, 142,
Mounier, Emmanuel, 1, 191, 200. 145, 169 f., 238 f., 299, 300
Nedoncelle, M., 193, 213, 218, 229, Thonnard, F., 57, 121, 131.
239, 250, 252, 259. Troisfontaines, R., 49, 319, 349.
Newman, Card., 149.
Van Boxtel, J.. 252.
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 72, 326.
Van Breda, Herman Leo, 2, 12.
Nuttin, J., 168, 230, 301, 303 ff.
Van Dael, J., 87.
Onclin, W., 232. Van de Hulst, H., 24.
Van den Berg, T.. 119, 144, 171, 173,
Paissac, H., 109, 316. 181, 227.
Palland, B., 97, 154. Van den Berk, J.. 153, 167.
Parmenides, 55 ff., 59 f. Van Lennep, D. J., 157.
Pascal, Blaise, 67, 149 f. Van Peursen, c., 24, 51, 116.
Perquin, N., 282. Van Riet, G., 9. 11, 124 f., 145.
Peters, John, 159, 262. Van Steenberghen, Fernand, 125.
Piaget, 138. Verbeke, G., 12, 13, 52 f.
Picard, Max, 230. Verneaux, R., 314, 346, 348.
Pieper, Josef, 13, 193, 211 f. Vietta, Egon, 330.
Plat, J., 10. Von Hildebrand, Dietrich, 255.
Plato, 60, 121. Von Savigny, 234.
Proudhon, 42, 45. Von Weissa.cker, 23.
Puchta, 234.
Wahl, Jean, 1.
Ramltonnet, H., 234. Watson, J., 184.
Reinhardt, Kurt, 1. Wylleman, A., 257 f., 263.
INDEX OF SUBJECT MATTER
Absence, as presence, 201 f.; from Body, my, 21 I.; as intermediary, 180
the other, 218 f. I.; my body is not a, 186 I.; physi-
Absolute, truth, 163 f.; the essence of ology and my, 187; is not a mere
the, 327 I. instrument, 187 f.; I do not have my,
Abstraction, concreteness and, 103 f.; 188 i is not isolated from me, 188 f.;
divides, 125 f.; unifies, 126 f. the other's, 225 f.; as intermediary
in encounter, 189 I.; or of con-
Abstractness of concepts, 124 I. cealedness, 190 f.
Act, retroverting, 114 I.
Cause, being and, 62 I.; love and, 228
Action, norm of human, 286 f.; hu- f.; transcendent, 350; freedom and
man, is not a process, 294 f.; fac- 350 f. '
ticity and human, 295 f.; animal and
human, 302 I. Choice, facticity and, 299 f.
Active leaning, love as, 215 I. Co-Existence, 175 I., 191 f.; levels of,
193 I.
Affection, encounter and, 211 I.; as
reply to appeal, 218 f. See also Love. Concept, 120 I.; immutable, 121 f.;
abstract, 124 I.; not schematic im-
Alone, I am not, 226 I., see also Co- age, 128 I.; empiricists and abstract,
Existence; dread and being, 349 f. 129 I.; universal, 137 I.
Ambiguity, 6, 332. Concreteness, abstractions and, 103 I.
Analogy, reasoning by, 181 I. Conscience,287 I.; no isolated, 292 f.;
Anonymous everybody, 331 I. being toward death and, 340 f.; guilt
Anthropology, philosophy of law and, and, 341 f.
237 f. Consciousness, 19 f.; closed, 33, 92,
Antonomies of knowledge, 129 I. 103; man's being and, 38; in the
Appeal, the other's, 215 I. world, 50; prereflective and reflec-
tive, 74 I.; idealism, empiricism and,
Atheism, Sartre's, 313 I. 84 I.; reality and, 93 f.; not purely
Attitude, 156; world and man's, 31 I. passive, 95 f.; as "for itself," 104 I. ;
Authenticity, of philosophy, 4 I., 24 f.; as nihilation, 105 I.; nothingness
of human life and legal order, 252 and, 106 f.; spatial and temporal
I.; of being toward death, 339 I.; conditions of, 118 f. See also Sel/-
dread and, 345 I. See also Man. Consciousness, Intentionality, Pour-
Authority, required by justice, 248; Soi, Reality, World.
demands power, 248 f. Consent, to zu sein, 264 f.; to self, 270
Autonomy, freedom and, 268 f., 297 f.; f.
of freedom and God, 316 I. Copula, verbal, "is," 141 f.
Creativity of love, 223 I., 230 f.
To Be, Transcendent, 64 I., 353 I.; Criterion of truth, 82 I., 158 I.
making the other, 225 f.
Being, in the world, 15 I., 344 I.; "at" Dasein, 19, 278 f. See also, Being, in
the world, 39 I.; mystery of, 53 f., the world, Existence, Man.
58; as being, 55 I.; multiplicity and, Death, 205 f.; being toward, 330 I.;
59 I.; ground of, 62 I.; "in itself" man's fundamental structure and,
and "for itself," 104 I., 297 f., 319 336 I.; authentic being toward, 339
f.; consciousness and, 115 I. ; being- f.
for-me, 134 I.; of a thing, 266 f.; DedllCtion, 171 f.
man's concern with his, 272 f.; Tran- Descartes, on knowledge, 79 I., 151;
scendent, 328 I.; toward death, 330 heritage of, 181 I.
I. ; the world and Transcendent, 353
f.; man's, as bound by objectivity, Desire, man as natural, 274 f.
284 f. See also MUll. Despair, hope or, 354 f.
358
Index of Subject Matter 359
Destiny, phenomenology of freedom as, 291 f.; and human action, 295 f.;
260 if. choice and, 299 f.
Dialogue, 37, 168, 192. Faith, the bad faith of the "grave"
Disinterestedness of love, 221. man, 324 if.
Distance, consciousness and, 105 f.; Falling away, 331 if.
freedom as, 269 if.; situated freedom Fear, dread and, 333 if.
and, 273 f. Freedom, God and man's, 71 if., 316
Doubt, Cartesian, 79 if. if.; stare and, 198 f.; love as appeal
Dread, 332 if.; being toward death to the other's, 222 f.; love and, 230
and, 334 if.; authentic being and, f.; phenomenology of, 260 if., 265
345 if. if.; subject and, 266 if.; as distance,
Dualism, Sartre's, 103 if.; Descartes', having to be, and project, 269 if.; no
79 if., 181 if., 186 f. absolute, 269 f.; situated, 273 f., 300
f.; as proj ect, 277 if.; as being ethi-
Einfiihlung, 181, 185. cal, 281 if.; as transcendence, 294
Empiricism, 84 if.; experience and, 87 if.; as task, 305; as history, 305 if.;
if.; object and, 99 f.; subject and, cause and, 350 if.
100 f.; and abstract concepts, 129 if. Freudianism, 167 f., 301 if.
Encounter, 36 f., 97, 191 f., 207 f.; Fr14itfulness as criterion of truth, 166
with other, 185 f., 207 if., 213 f.; and if.
making the other be, 226 f. Future, 310 f.
En-Soi, 104 if.
Essence, existence and, 24 f.; phenom- Geworfenheit, 314 if.
enology and, 122 f.; existence pre- Give1lness of natural law, 254 f.
cedes, 296 if.; of absolute, 227 if. God, existentialism and, 38 f.; tran-
Ethical, freedom and being, 281 if.; scendent "to be," 64 f.; proof of, 65
bonds and freedom, 281 f., 284 f. if.; man's freedom and, 71 if.; Des-
Evidence, as criterion of truth, 165 cartes and, 82 f.; meaning of life
if.; fruitfulness as, 166 if. and, 313 if.; denied by Sartre, 326
To Exist, is to be man, 14 if.; is exis- if.; affirmation of, 352 f. See also
tentiale, 25; is to co-exist, 176 if. Transcendent.
See also Existence, Man, Being, To Happiness, love and, 219 f.
Be. Hatred, phenomenology of, 195 if.
Existence, as being-in-the-world, 15 Having to Be, freedom as, 269 if.; and
if.; science and, 23 f.; essence and, being able to be, 275 f.; and history,
24 f.; world and, 25 if.; as primi- 312 f.; meaning of, 327 if. See also
tive fact of existential phenomenol- Zu Sein.
ogy, 35 f.; as being "at" the world,
39 if.; as logos, natural light, and He, meaning of, 209 if.; as absent from
agent intellect, 143 if.; as truth, 143 me, 210 if.
f.; precedes essence, 296 if.; as tem- H eidegger, critique of, 330 if., 344 if.
porality, 309 f.; as place of time, Historicity, of truth, 145 f., 160 if. See
311. See also To Exist, Man, Being, also History.
To Be, World. History, facticity and, 116; natural
Existentialism, phenomenology and, 1; right and. 253 if.; and legal order,
essence and, 24 f.; legalism and athe- 256 if.; freedom as, 305 if.; tem-
istic, 282 f.; its deficiency, 283 f.; porality and, 311 f.; and having to
atheistic, 313 if.; two wings of, 314 be, 312 f.
f.; primitive fact of, 314. Horizon, 99 f.
Existential phenomenology, 1 if.; Hume, critique of, 131 if., 159 f.
primitive fact of, 34 if. See also
Existentialism, Phenomenology. Ideal, law and the, of the human
Experience, philosophy and, 6 f.; em- situation, 239 f.
piricism and, 87 if. Idealism, 84 if., 131.
Facticity, 40 if., 116; potentiality and, Ideas, Descartes on, 80 if. See also
157 f., 241 if., 275 f.; value of moral, Concept.
360 Index of Subject Matter
Immanence of knowledge, 103 ff., 112 analysis of being loved, 229 f.; and
ff. justice, 243 ff.; minimum of, 244 f.,
Impersonal "They," 41 f., 51 f. 249 f.; modifies legal order, 258 f.
Induction, 172. Man, metaphysical being, 1 ff., 65 ff.;
Intellect, existence as agent, 143 ff. to exist is to be for, 14 ff.; being
See also Consciousness, Concept, in the world, 15 ff., 344 ff.; being
Judgment, Reasoning. "at" the world, 39 ff.; self-realiza-
tion of, 41 ff.; labor and being, 45
Intentionality, 22, 92 ff. See also Con- f.; co-existence as essential aspect
sciousness. of, 178 ff.; as project, 40 f., 241 f.;
Intersubjectivity, phenomenology of, life of, 60 ff.; is not a thing, 267;
175 ff.; Sartre on, 204 f.; of rights, is free, 267 ff.; concern with being,
238; and God, 162, 317 ff.; of con- 272 f.; as natural desire, 274 f.;
sciousness, 92 ff.; of truth, 10 f., being-able characterizes, 276 f.; as
164 f. project, 277 ff.; as self-project, 279
Irrationalism, 149 f. f.; as temporality, 306 f.; wants to
I"ejlechi, the, 76 ff., 92, 103 f., 111, be God, 321 ff.; the grave, 324 ff.;
129. directed to transcendent, 329 f.;
death and fundamental structure of,
Judgment, 138 ff., why many, 140 f. 336 f.; death and unauthentic, 337
f., 346 ff.; and the transcendent,
Justice, law, right and, 231 ff., 238 f.; 343 ff.; dread and the being of, 345
love and, 243 ff.; requires authority, ff.; self-consent of, 351 f. See also
248. Existence, Having to Be, Task,
Destiny, Freedom, Consciousness.
Kant, critique of, 132 f.
Materialism, 16 f.
Knowledge, phenomenology of, 74 ff.,
as explicitation, 77 ff.; critique on Meaning, of meaning, 261 f.; value
prejudices about, 89 ff.; immanence and, 262 f.; of life, see Life.
of, 103 ff., 112 ff.; subject of, 113 Merleau-Ponty, on perception, 134 f.
ff.; sensitive and spiritual, 117 ff. Metaphysical question, 52 ff.; its uni-
versality, 57 ff.
Labor, 39 ff.; being man and, 45 ff. Metaphysics, 54 f.; God and, 65 ff.
Law, phenomenology of, 231 ff.; Monism, 16 ff.
philosophy and sciences of, 233 ff.;
origin of rights, 234 ff.; and legal Mood, 50 ff.
institutions, 246 ff.; ethics and, 284 Morality, legalism and, 281 f.; funda-
f.; insufficiency of general, 290 ff. mental ought and, 285 f.
Legal institutions, 246 ff. Multiplicity, being and, 59 ff.
Legalism, morality and, 281 f.; athe- Mystery of being, 53 ff., 58.
istic existentialism and, 282 f. Nausea, critique of, 110 ff.
Legal order, 250 ff.; life and, 251 ff.; Necessity of freedom as project, 280 f.
and histol"'y, 255 ff. Nihilatio1;J, consciousness as, 105 ff.
Life, and legal order, 251 ff.; meaning Noema,95 ff.
of, 260 ff., 278 f.; God and meaning
of, 313 ff., 319 ff., 342 ff. Noesis, 95 ff.
Light, existence as natural, 143 ff. Norm, of human action, 286 f.; per-
sonal conscience and general, 288 f.
Locke, critique of, 83 f.
Nothing, 53 ff., 58, 61 ff.
Logic, reasoning and, 169 ff., "lived," Nothingness, 106 f., the I is not, 115
172 f.; philosophy and, 173 f.
f.; dread and, 345.
Logos, XI, existence as, 143 ff.
Object, empiricism and, 99 f.; subject
Love, as standpoint of subject, 155 f.; reduced to, 196 ff.
and knowledge of the personal,
156 ff.; phenomenology of, 214 ff.; Objectivism, objectivity and, 23, 146
happiness and, 219 f.; disinterested- ff.; of law, 234 ff.
ness of, 221; self-realization and, Objectivity, objectivism and, 23, 146
225 f.; as appeal to the other's free- ff.; man's having to be is bound by,
dom, 222 f.; creativity of, 223 ff.; 284 f.
Index of Subject Matter 361
Orientation, proof of God and, to God, Profile, viewpoint and, 97 ff.

68 fI. Project, man as, 40 f., 277 ff., 321 ff.;
Other, accessibility of the, 180 ff.; en- freedom as, 265 ff. See also Self-
counter with the, 185 f., 206 ff.; the Project, Freedom, Task, Destiny.
body as intermediary in the encoun- Psychoanalysis, Sartre's, 323 ff.
ter with the, 189 f.; entering the
world of the, 190; I and the stare of Question, the metaphysical, 52 ff.; its
the, 195 ff.; presence of the, 202 ff.; universality, 57 ff.
appeal to me of the, 216 ff.; love
as appeal to the freedom of the, 222 Reality, philosophy and, x f.; detotal-
f.; making the other be, 225 f. ization of, 16 ff.; human character
of, 27; scientism and, 48 f.; knowl-
Ought, fundamental, 240 ff.; of jus- edge and, 74 ff.; consciousness and,
tice, 242 f.; morality and the funda- 93 ff.; self as non-distant from, 270
mental, 285 f. f.; and as infinitely distant from,
Participation, 37. 271; letting be of, 276 f.; of the
Past, the, 310 f. See also Time, Tem- Transcendent, 328 ff.
porality. Reason, science and, 149 ff.
Perception, 91 ff., 118 ff.; viewpoint, Reasoning, logic and, 169 ff.; by anal-
profile, unity, 97 ff.; views on, 131 ogy, 181 ff.
ff. Reduction, phenomenological, 102 f.
Personal, knowledge of the strictly, Relativism, 146 ff., 160 ff.
156 ff. Relativity, relativism and, 146 ff.; of
Phenomenalism, 131 ff. freedom as project, 280 f.
Phenomenology, existentialism and, 1 Responsibility, situated freedom and,
ff.; truth and, 24 f.; of knowledge, 301 f.
74 ff.; its critique on prejudices about Rights, law and, 231 ff., 250 ff.; ori-
knowledge, 89 ff.; of intentionality, gin of, 234 ff.; history and natural,
92 ff.; essence and, 122 ff.; of truth, 253 ff.
142 ff.; objectivity and, 146 ff.;
subjectivism and relativism of, 148 Sartre, critique of, 106 ff., 134 f., 195
f.; irrationalism of, 150; of inter- f., 289 ff., 301 ff., 313 ff.
subjectivity, 175 ff.; of hatred, 195 Scepticism, 158.
ff.; of indifference, 206 ff.; of love, Science, intersubjectivity and, 10 f.;
214 ff.; of law, 231 ff.; of freedom existence and, 23 f.; world without
and its destiny, 260 ff., 265 ff.; man and, 30 f.; Descartes and, 80
primitive fact of, 34 ff., 314 ff. See ff.; world and, 88 f.; phenomenolo-
also Philosophy, Existentialism. gy and, 89 f.; reason and, 149 ff.;
Philosophy, reality and, x f.; authen- daily life and, 168 f.
ticity of, 4 ff., 24 f.; systems and, 4 Scientism, 15 f., 48 f., 89 f., 150 f., 153
ff.; tradition and, 7 f.; truth and, 9 ff.
ff.; usefulness and, 12 ff.; psycholo- Self, as non-distant from reality, 270
gism and, 33 f.; technocracy and, 47 f.; as infinitely distant from reality,
ff.; metaphysics and, 54 f.; logic and, 271 f.; -affirmation, 270 ff.; -cen-
173 f.; God and, 312 ff., 343 ff. teredness, 215 ff.; -consent, 351 f.;
Physiology, my body and, 187. -consciousness, 20, 105 f., 114 ff.;
Potentiality, the other's stare aria my, world for man and -consciousness,
199 f.; having to be and, 275 f.; es- 112 ff.; stare and my -ness, 198 f.;
sential characteristic of man, 276 f. -project, man as, 40 f., 279 f.; -real-
Pour-Soi, 104 ff. See also Conscious- ization of man, 41 f.; love and man's
ness. -realization, 221 f.
Prepredicative knowledge, 139 f. Sin, 292 ff.
Presence, the other's, 202 f. Situation, see Facticity.
Present, the, 310 f. See also, Time, Society, labor and, 45 ff.
Temporality. Stare, analysis of the, 195 ff.
Primitive fact, of existential phenome- Stimulation theory of perception, 100
nology, 34 ff., 314 ff. ff.
362 Index of Subject Matter
Subject, world and, 25 H.; openness of, tivity and subjectivity of, 146 ff.;
39; facticity of, 40 H., 276 f.; em- criterion of, 82 ff., 158 ff.; absolute,
piricism and, 100 f.; of knowledge, 163 f.; evidence as criterion of,
113 f.; truth and, 148 f.; love as 165 ff.
standpoint 'of, 155 f.; of natural law,
255 f.; and freedom, 266 f.; time and, Unauthenticity, dread and, 333 f. See
307 H.; reduced to object, 196 H. also Existence, Man.
See also Subjectivity. Understanding, 117 ff.
Subjectivism, 146 H.; of right, 236 f.; Unity, 97 ff.; horizon and, 99.
subjectivity and, 146 H. Universality, of metaphysical question,
Subjectivity, 18, body and, 21 f., 25; 57 ff.; of concept, 137 ff.
subjectivism and, 146 H.; facticity Usefulness, philosophy and, 12 ff.
and, 157, 277 f.; stare and, 197 f.;
how to regain my, 203 f.; and love, Value, meaning and. 261 ff.; objective,
229 f. 263 f.
Substructures of conscience, 287 f. Ver/allen, 331 H.
Verstehen, 276 f.
Task, man as task-in-the-world, 275;
freedom as, 305. See also Man, Free- Viewpoint, profile and, 97 ff.; love as
dom. the subject's, 155 f.
Technology, absolutism of, 47 H. We, forms of, 192 f.; of indifference,
Temporality, 306 H.; history and, 207 ff.
311 f. World, existence as being in the, 15
ff., 327 ff.; meaning of, 25 ff.; cul-
Thing, 104 H., 241 f., 266 f. tural, 26 f.; material, 27 f.; reality
Thrownness, 341 H. of the, 29 ff.; man's attitude and,
Time, subject and, 307 H. See also 31 ff.; existence as being "at" the,
Temporality. 39 ff.; inhuman, 85; consciousness
Tradition, philosophy and, 7 f. and, 84 ff.; science and, 88; self-
consciousness and world for man,
Transcendence, freedom as, 294 ff. 112 ff.; perception and, 135 ff.; my,
Transcendent, reality of the, 328 f.; as our, 177 ff.; love and my, 230 f.;
man as directed to, 329 f.; man and man as task in the, 275; Transcend-
the, 343 ff.; cause, 350. See also ent Being and, 353 f.
God.
You, meaning of, 207 f.; he and, 209
Truth, philosophy and, 9 f.; intersub- ff.; meaning of, in love, 223 f.
jective, 10 f., 164 f., 175 f.; Des-
cartes on, 81 ff.; phenomenology of, Zu Sein, 262 ff., 275 ff.; consent to,
142 ff.; existence as, 143 f.; his- 264 f. See also Having to Be,
toricity of, 145 ff., 160 ff.; objec- Ought.

Existential Phenomenology

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DUQUESNE STUDIES

DUQUESNE UNIVBllSITY PREss, Pittsburgh, Pa.

CHAPTER ONE-MAN, THE METAPHYSICAL BEING

1. The Authenticity of Philosophy ....... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

3. Technocracy and Philosophy ......................... 47

a. Technocracy, p. 47; h. The Metaphysical Question, p. 52.

4. Man, the Metaphysical Being ........................ 65

4. Critique of Phenomenology on the Traditional Prejudices

5. Sartre's Dualism and the True Immanence of Knowledge .. 103

6. Sensitive and Spiritual Knowing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 117

8. The Judgment ..................................... 138

9. Phenomenology of Truth ...................... " .... 142

10. The Criterion of Truth ........ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 158

11. Reasoning and Logic ................................ 169

CHAPTER THREE-PHENOMENOLOGY OF INTERSUBJECTIVITY

1. To Exist is to Co-Exist ............... . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 176

2. The Body as Intermediary ........................... 180

3. Phenomenology of Hatred ........................... 195

4. Phenomenology of Indifference ....................... 206

5. Phenomenology of Love 214

6. Phenomenology of Law 231

a. Unsatisfactory Theories, p. 234; b. The Source of

CHAPTER FOUR-PHENOMENOLOGY OF FREEDOM

2. Phenomenology of Freedom ......................... 265

3. The Atheism of Jean-Paul Sartre ..................... 313

4. Heidegger's "Being-Toward-Death" ................... 330

INDEX OF NAMES 356

INDEX OF SUBJECT MATTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358

Phenomenology and existential philosophy have been the subject-

It is the fruit of seven years of assiduous study and persevering firm-

HIGHER INSTITUTE OF PHILOSOPHY ALBERT DONDEYNE

DUQUESNE UNIVERSITY, Pittsburgh, Pa. HENRY J. KOREN, C.S.SP.

The editor wishes to express his gratitude to the following pub-

Martin Heidegger, Sein und Zeit, copyright M. Niemeyer Verlag,

Karl Jaspers, Einfiihrung in die Philosophie, copyright R. Piper

Gabriel Marcel, Journal metaphysique, copyright Librairie Galli-

Jean-Paul Sartre, L'etre et Ie neant, copyright Librairie GaIli-

Nausea, copyright New Directions, New York, 1949.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception, copy-

When a book title mentions the terms "phenomenology" or

others on to relatively independent thinking, then it must be ad-

WrLLIAM A. LUIJPEN, O.S.A., PH.D.

1. THE AUTHENTICITY OF PHILOSOPHY

To Philosophize is Not to Learn a System of Theses. There exist

another subject" to be learned. It would simply be impossible to

in certain theses, even if from other sources it would be certain that

An Objection and Clarification. The preceding idea requires to be

9"Die Missdeutungen, von dencn die Philosophie standig umlagert bleibt,

makes a profound study of the works of his predecessors. The philos-

lOAlbert Dondeyne, "L'historicite dans la philosophie contemporaine," Revue

experience. Thus the resulting system is not good but, nevertheless,

17Cf. J. Plat, "Geschiedenis van de filosofie en waarheid, "Handelingen van

tradiction. 20 For, how would anyone seriously endeavor to maintain

20Cf. A. de Waehlens, La philosophie de Martin Heidegger, Louvain, 1948,

convinced of a certain truth. This being-convinced means that I per-

would be in vain. so How would it be possible for those who do not

In this chapter we intend to make the reader experience the value

Whosoever endeavors to penetrate into the history of thought will

system. 36 It 1S in the usage of the term "existence," which expresses

a. Existence as Being-in-the Warld

Materialistic Monism. All materialistic systems agree in this

that are exclusively applicable to things. Esteem for science becomes

Spiritualistic Monism. The fact that things and processes have a

42"Les vues scientifiques se10n lesquelles je suis un moment du monde sont