Guido Cusinato: Periagoge. Theory of Singularity and Philosophy as an Exercise of Transformation

Periagoge. Theory of Singularity and Philosophy as an Exercise of Transformation Book Cover Periagoge. Theory of Singularity and Philosophy as an Exercise of Transformation
Philosophy as a Way of Life, Volume: 4
Guido Cusinato. Translators: Rie Shibuya and Karen Whittle
Brill
2023
Hardback

Reviewed by: Emilia Barile (Università di Bologna - Dipartimento delle ARTI)

Used by Plato in the cave myth of Politeia, the term periagoge (from which this book takes its title) corresponds to the moment the prisoner ‘turns’ his neck. In diverting the gaze away from the used world, periagoge signifies a total ‘conversion’ of the freed prisoner to an entirely new perspective on reality. The subtitle, Theory of Singularity and Philosophy as an Exercise of Transformation, clarifies how this happens, and its consequences for the constitution of the human being. In human existence, this ‘turn’ often occurs by means of the experiences of crisis and fall, thanks to which the human singularity assumes its unique form. However, this does not happen in isolation but with others, through practices of emotional sharing, particularly in relationships of care. This second moment becomes explicit thanks to the force of exemplarity.

Based on a first Italian edition[1], the book is almost entirely new, encompassing four main focus areas: 1. The ontology of singularity and its arising in human beings; 2. the constitutive function of emotion and feeling in this process; 3. the key role of philosophy (understood as an exercise of transformation) for the meaning of existence; 4. a final proposal for building up a new axis of social  transformation.

A peculiarity of this volume is the constitutive role of images, with the help of which it has been grown: Starting with the iconic prisoner of the Platonic cave, other meaningful images surround Cusinato’s philosophical analysis. The second image is The Wave by the painter Hokusai: The typical curving of the crest of the wave at the center of this image, breaking the equilibrium, represents the process through which the human singularity assumes form in the experience of crisis and fall of one’s own certainties. Furthermore, two different depictions of the Annunciation (Botticelli’s and Titian’s) are shown: The anthropogenic process of formation does not stop after the impact of crisis or fall, but proceeds further. Concerning this second moment – which becomes explicit thanks to the force of exemplarity – relationships of caring for others and practices of emotional sharing are particularly crucial, thus involving the social feature.

The originality of this work mainly consists in rethinking the traditional question of the meaning of human existence, and in particular the conditions that are needed for it to arise, as a task that is closely interwoven with the anthropogenic process of formation.

 

Over more than 300 pages, Cusinato scrutinizes a number of different topics, as organized in the original structure of the book. Most of them remain pertinent in the contemporary philosophical debate: Self/person distinction, emotion/feeling relationship, social transformation in the era of narcissism and of ‘liquid society’, etc. Nevertheless, the author accepts some terms in a peculiar (and, sometimes, even idiosyncratic) way, so that sometimes it can be difficult to compare his own understanding with other approaches to the same topics (see, for ex., ‘self’, ‘person’, ‘feeling’, etc.). As such, the glossary introducing the volume turns out to be very useful. In the following, I will propose an analysis of some of the most interesting but also controversial terms.

 

The first of these is ‘person’ or ‘personality’, which is already much disputed. We mainly take ‘person’ for granted, understood as a very intuitively grasped concept: However, as soon as we address it more analytically, it suddenly turns out to be much more difficult to describe. As in Augustinus’s discussion on ‘time’[2], we know what it is only until we are asked for a definition. Beyond the approaches emphasizing the social role as an interchangeable ‘mask’[3], we usually consider personal ‘identity’ – understood as having moral as well as legal responsibility – as also exemplifying the definition of ‘self’ or consciousness.

Nevertheless, in order to indicate this concept of the ‘person’ that is acknowledged «as the self-referential subject that says ‘I’» (p. 3), Cusinato links it to what he calls the «little self»[4] (also identifying the dominant culture of narcissism as based on the very lack of distinction between ‘person’ and the ‘little self’). More precisely, personal «singularity» (as he defines it, rather than personal ‘identity’) is understood as the «result of a process of transcending one’s own little self» (p. 4). Under the impact of a crisis, the past horizons of the ‘little self’ turn out to be unable to give a form to her own new existence: So, she searches for further growth in the encounter with the other. Nevertheless, this ‘self-transcendence’ – which is intended as an immanent process, as part of the world – is a transcendence of the ‘little self’, and should not be confused with the existence of an otherworldly dimension (p. 6).

This definition, however, sounds somewhat puzzling for the reader used to the still ongoing debate about ‘self’ and ‘I’. First, in order to discriminate amongst the different levels at which we can deal with ‘subjectivity’, however understood, some approaches prefer to adopt the impersonal term ‘self’ rather than the personal ‘I’. Additionally, in the time sequence of biological evolution, personal identity is neither the principal nor the first organizational level, either phylogenetically and ontogenetically. Neurobiologically, this level corresponds to the so-called «autobiographical self»[5]: Its functioning requires a capacity for memory, for projecting into the future and into the past, starting from the present, within a social and linguistic context. Biologically understood, the autobiographical self can thus be identified with the reflective self that says ‘I’: This level is typically human and requires a language and the exercise of memory in order to be remembered. It is also the only level so far able to ‘witness’ the neural processes themselves, since it is endowed with self-reference, the ability to think about itself  thematically. At a complexity level immediately below sits the so-called «core consciousness», or «core self», the preverbal core: Its neural basis is in the subcortical nuclei of the thalamus, and it is neurally configured as a transient coherent construction of a pattern, formed following the onset of any relationship between the body and an object/event of the world[6]. The so-called «proto-self», meanwhile, is the structure at the deepest level of stratification, at the base of all subsequent constructions. Forerunner of all the higher organizational layers of complexity, both phylogenetically and ontogenetically, «the proto-self is the steppingstone required for the construction of the core self. It is an integrated collection of separate neural patterns mapping, moment by moment, the most stable aspects of the organism’s physical structure»[7]. Much deeper — in the footsteps of the researches of the last 25 years, collected by Tsakiris and De Preester[8] — the physiological underpinnings of subjectivity can be recognized at the physiological level of the interoception proper, as distinguished from proprioception[9], into which it is usually assimilated.

On the other hand, philosophy (mainly phenomenology) also seems to accept this ‘nesting principle’ structuring the different layers of ‘self’. Several phenomenologists nowadays understand subjectivity as based on ‘bodily self’ as its core dimension, and, eventually, on the «minimal self» hypothesis[10]. The perception of the body involved is the qualitatively distinctive experience of the body from inside, the ‘lived’ body [Leib] or the body-subject[11]. In between phenomenology and psychiatry, Fuchs has recently offered a detailed definition and taxonomy of self-experience as relevant for therapy of mental illnesses such as schizophrenia, depression or borderline personality disorder (BDP). In James’s footsteps, Fuchs acknowledges ‘self’ as a «process» rather than a «mere construct or model concept»[12]. In opposition to Metzinger[13], he maintains that «selfhood is not a construct, but our fundamental reality»[14], whose disruption has pathological effects. Even if recognizing that we have still no shared definition of ‘self’ and that it is a difficult concept to grasp, he defines it, very broadly, as «a pole of experience contained in every experience, which centers the field of consciousness on a subject and establishes the unity of experience over time»[15]. The term ‘ego’ or ‘I’, which is traditionally used, thus has to be replaced by the narrower, lower and grounding dimension of ‘self’, that is bodily, unconscious and earlier developed in childhood. «The ego could therefore also be described as ‘the reflective self’»[16].

Following Gallagher’s ‘pattern theory’[17], Fuchs acknowledges ‘self’ as a ‘pattern concept’, grasping a multidimensional process developing at several levels in different periods of life. In a nutshell, Fuchs’s model recognizes two main levels of self-experience, i.e., the so-called «basal self» (basal, vital bodily, affective, social self, also acknowledged by Damasio[18], Gallagher[19], Zahavi[20], Rochat[21]) — which is primary, pre-reflective and always present at further levels – and the so-called «extended self», which is reflexive, narrative, existential and personal proper. These two main layers can be further distinguished in other sublayers: The basal self comprises the physical self, the ecological self, the primary social self; on its side, the extended, personal self includes the reflective self, the narrative self, the existential self[22]. When pathologically affected, different layers of self imply different therapeutic approaches as more appropriate. That’s why a working definition of ‘self’ is not only a sophisticated theoretical need, but, much more, a strong clinical urge.

Having said that, however, it is quite difficult to identify which of these understandings of ‘self’ or ‘person’ are shared by Cusinato in his book.  Up to now the «little self» he deals with seems to be identified neither to any ‘minimal self’ nor to the personal self-referential subject sic et simpliciter. Going beyond the so-called myth of personal identity (marked by ‘continuity’, howsoever understood), the author makes his proposal compatible with a radical Humean perspective. He rather interprets «singularity» as self-transcendence and incompleteness of the starting condition of the so-called ‘little self’. Even if associating it with the personal level, which is understood «as the self-referential subject that says ‘I’» (p. 3), I would say that the author idiosyncratically uses the term (little) ‘self’, which is instead mainly adopted as an impersonal item in literature.

Cusinato further deepens the difference between the concept of individuality and identity and the peculiar singularity of human existence. This singularity listens to the voice of the daimonion of its own individual vocation, independent of biological and environmental factors. His definition is thus intended to leave behind the immunitarian, self-referential and the substantial and confessional conceptions of person. Reborn in the space offered by an exemplarity, once her own ‘little self’ has been transcended in taking care of the other, she herself becomes a space to be offered for the growth of the other. Distancing himself once again from the usual meaning of words, the author understands ‘exemplarity’ as the providing of a concrete testimony to the successfulness of an expressive pathway of self-transcendence and detachment from the ‘little self’ (an exemplarity can be a teacher like Socrates, a testimony to the successfulness of an act of self-transcendence out of the ‘little self’). Since the personal singularity assumes form in detachment from the ‘little self’, it is a ‘non-self’, in the literal sense of the term. To be more precise, it is a «personal non-self» (p. 46). The process of transformation [Umbildung] Cusinato describes is intended as a «transformation», understood as a discontinuous and irreversible process thanks to which an  organic, social, or personal system creates a new equilibrium, giving a form to a being that is born without existential form. Anthropogenesis is thus understood as the process of formation that characterizes human beings, through practices of emotional sharing.

 

Connected to personal ‘singularity’ is the constitutive emotional aspect, which is another key insight of the book. ‘Self’, ‘person’, ‘emotion’, ‘feeling’ turn out to be closely intertwined: Along with the recognition of the fundamental role of affectivity, Cusinato outlines the importance of emotional sharing practices, particularly care and desire, in the process of anthropogenesis described. Amongst affective states, feeling is particularly significant: However, this term too is adopted in a very peculiar sense.  Especially (but not only) in psychology, ‘feeling’ is mainly understood as the subjective component of emotions (emotion as it is ‘felt’), as distinct from the so-called ‘public’ dimension of emotion, i.e., posture, mime, facial expressions and behaviour. Although functionalist approaches à la Frijda[23], for ex., recognize ‘feeling’ as a mere epiphenomenon, the private dimension of an emotion can hardly be eliminated in the analysis as easily as the author suggests.

Cusinato understands ‘feeling’ not as referring to a subjective activity that remains confined to the psychological or mental level, but, more broadly, to «the ability of a living being to interact with the expressive level in such a way as to remain connected with the life of the biosphere» (p. 8). Along an enactive view[24], living and feeling imply each other: A similar perspective is also supported by Fuchs, outlining the very continuity – i. e., not identity (in Lewis’s[25] understanding) – between the organic ground of life [Leben] and the phenomenal level of experience [Erleben], as not just etymologically grounded. In his view, this continuity lies in the very double-faced description of the body as Körper and as Leib[26]. Furthermore, the most recent enactivist approaches, focussing on the affective dimension[27], endorse an integrated approach to the organic ground of ‘aliveness’ and the phenomenal level of ‘experience’ right from the start[28]. The reason for these multiple views lies in the fact that feeling too is a poorly defined concept: Yet despite this, psychologists, neurobiologists, philosophers etc. make broad use of it, in the most widely varying ways. As a result, they often use the same term to refer to very different phenomena. That’s also why the glossary proposed by Cusinato at the very beginning of the book turns out to be very useful, as well as stating explicitly in which sense the term is understood in the context analysed.

In my view, if we wish to work out a shared definition of ‘feeling’, we must not consider ‘feeling’ as related to emotions only. Emotion, in fact, is just one of the possible ‘felt’ states: Probably, not even the most interesting one. ‘Feelings’ are connected not only to emotions, but also needs[29], motivations, desires, etc.: All of these states include a hedonic component (at different levels of complexity) and feedback from the perception of the overall condition of the body. Moreover, the debate[30] on the definition and the classification of emotions seems to have arrived at a theoretical impasse: There are still no unified and shared taxonomies of emotions[31]. We go around in circles: Defining an emotion in a specific way implies a certain kind of classification following, and vice versa. In summary, the different theoretical views can be grouped as: Neuroscientific approaches[32], emphasizing the role of the physiological reactions (in the footsteps of the James-Lange theory[33]), and logocentric views[34], underlying the role of the cognitive evaluation (considered as primitive and antecedent to the physiological reactions). However, the emotion/cognition relationship is much more blurred than it is simplistically supposed to be: Even the most orthodox cognitivist views nowadays have to admit that emotions cannot be just ‘ignored’ or reduced to cognitive states.

Considering ‘feeling’ as mainly associated with ‘emotion’ probably derives from a typical overlapping in the English language, which often employs the terms ‘feeling’ and ‘emotion’ as synonyms. In contrast, the Romance languages distinguish these terms in a more refined way: The Italian language, for example, differentiates the term ‘emotion’ [emozione] from ‘feeling’ [sentire, provare] and from ‘sentiment’ [sentimento]. Cusinato acknowledges this, underlining the same distinction made in the Italian language between feeling as a noun [sentiment] and feeling as a verb [sentire]. He also proposes adopting the nominalized infinitive ‘il sentire’ in translating ‘feeling’ as that state «through which a living being remains connected to the biosphere, to emotions» (p. 8). Nevertheless, as I have suggested elsewhere[35], we can understand ‘feeling’ as distinguished not only from ‘emotion’, but also from ‘sentiment’: The last is defined as a mental state proper, always aware, following an emotion, or, more precisely, a combination of emotions. A complex sentiment like ‘friendship’, for example, is not simply a consciously perceived emotion: It is a long-term state, involving a set of emotions[36]. That’s why I share Cusinato’s preference for the Italian translation of ‘sentire’ instead of ‘sentimento’ and I also accept the term ‘feeling’ to refer to the entire set of states that can be ‘felt’ (like emotions, but also ‘needs’, ‘drives’, ‘motives’ etc.).

 

Amongst the different layers of feelings, the author focuses in particular on a specific kind of feeling, i.e., the so-called ‘primordial feelings’. Cusinato writes: «(…) There are different levels of feeling: from primordial feeling, through which a living being remains connected to the biosphere, to emotions, which represent feeling that orients the movement of an animal organism endowed with a body schema, a social self, or a personal singularity» (p. 8). At the biosemiotic[37] level, he recognizes at least three ramifications of primordial feelings: The feeling of the living body, the feeling of the social self and the feeling of the personal singularity (p. 156). However, ‘primordial feeling’ is not a notion that can be taken for granted either: It is not at all a shared object in our conceptual armoire.

Amongst other scholars, particularly Damasio (and also Colombetti[38]) recognizes ‘primordial feelings’ in the taxonomies of affective states: Examples of these basic feelings are the feeling of ‘existence’, the feeling ‘of the body’ or the feeling ‘of life’, the feeling of ‘being alive’[39]. Over recent decades, Damasio’s conceptualizations have become very popular in the affective sciences community, including outside neuroscience. Philosophers such as Ratcliffe[40], Slaby and Stephan[41], Varga and Krueger[42], psychologists such as Stern[43] and also psychiatrists such as Fuchs[44] acknowledge his organic portrayal of feelings as the neurophysiological counterpart of their philosophical/psychological concepts. However, in my view Damasio’s conceptualizations have been often misinterpreted[45], especially in the equation of the affective layer of ‘primordial feelings’ and the previously recognized layer of «background feelings»[46], to which these scholars usually refer. Even if the relationship between background feelings and primordial feelings is intimate[47], these concepts cannot be simply equated. Background feelings – such as a (felt) ‘tension’ or a (felt) ‘edginess’ – are discrete feelings (i.e., different kinds of feelings, such as «edginess», «wellness», «malaise», etc.[48]), while «the feeling of being alive» or the «feeling of existence», classed among the so-called ‘primordial’ feelings, concern the overall feelings of the body[49]. Primordial feelings provide the overall ‘sense of the body’: They originate from a number of different sources, such as interoceptive and proprioceptive maps of the body as a whole.

Damasio recognizes that, in essence, his definition of ‘primordial feeling’ can be traced back to Panksepp, in particular to his notion of «early feelings»[50]: Both feelings share the characteristic of preceding any interaction with the world, or any feeling arising from the emotions. Nevertheless, there are also some differences: Panksepp relates the primary consciousness emerging from primordial feelings mainly to motor activities in structures of the brain stem, while Damasio emphasizes the role of sensory structures[51]. Moreover, concerning interaction with the world, Damasio is somewhat incoherent: He underlines that Panksepp’s views differs in that ‘early feeling’ appears to be necessarily related to external events in the world[52], while for Damasio, in theory, primordial feelings occur «regardless of whether the protoself is engaged by objects and events external to the brain. They need to be related to the living body and nothing else»[53]. Later on, in the same book, he maintains that «Panksepp also gives emphasis to the notion of early feelings, without which the process of consciousness cannot proceed. The detailed mechanism is not the same, but I believe the essence of the idea is. More often than not, treatments of feeling assume that they arise from interactions with the world […] or as a result of emotions. But primordial feelings precede those situations, and presumably Panksepp’s early feelings do too»[54].

This point is also controversial in Cusinato’s understanding of primordial feelings as the feelings «through which a living being remains connected to the biosphere» (p. 8), thus revealing an intrinsic relationship to the world that is in line with other phenomenological views (cfr. Ratcliffe’s «feeling of being» — i.e., the feeling of being-in-the-world[55]). Moreover, he defines ‘primordial feeling’ enactively, recognizing it in every living being: «Sunflowers feel light at the level of primordial feeling and so follow the movement of the sun. This is a process of expressive positioning» (p. 129).

In contrast, Damasio’s primordial ‘feeling of life’ (understood as the feeling ‘of the body’) turns out to be a feeling ‘of the body’ from ‘inside’[56], so to speak, and not the feeling of the body as ‘being-in-the-world’. This does not mean that the body is not in the world: It cannot exist in isolation, of course. In my view, Damasio’s view does not presuppose a different ontology: He just focusses on the body rather than the intentional relationship with the world, as in standard intentional feelings, from which the primordial feelings such as the feeling of being alive differs[57]. According to him, the ‘feeling of being alive’ (and the other primordial feelings to which it belongs) is independent of any connection to any object in the world. This, I believe, is explicitly clarified in the following: «There is some deeper feeling to be guessed and then found in the depths of the conscious mind. It is the feeling that my own body exists, and it is present, independently of any object with which it interacts, as a rock-solid, wordless affirmation that I am alive»[58]. Damasio’s primordial feelings entail a relationship to the body, as a whole[59], and not a relationship to the world, as a whole[60] – even if the body is in the world anyway, and does not exist in isolation. Moreover, concerning the questionable intentionality[61] of the feeling of being alive described as ‘the feeling of the body’ as a whole, some further explanations need to be added.

First, regarding the ‘independence’ of any connection to any object in the world[62]: Even if the interrelation provided cannot be a kind of standard intentional relationship from the body to the world, in my view there has to be something like a body-world interrelation that is not intentional. Otherwise, the question of how the body might be able to experience itself as a whole[63], without any contact with the world as a kind of ‘other’ or border of the organism, seems hard to explain[64].

Second: To be ‘objectless’ (that is, the main feature of ‘background’ states as background feelings, as well as primordial feelings) does not mean not being-in-the-world. In my view, it is rather a matter of ‘focus’. Damasio underlines that, while standard emotional-feelings focus on the specific/aspecific object of emotions rather than on the body, background feelings (such as «tension» or «surging») or the primordial feeling of being alive, for instance, reveal an intrinsic relationship to our own body as a whole – so, coming into the foreground. In contrast, in feelings connected to emotions or other more cognitively structured states, the body always stands ‘in the background´, unattended.

In contrast to this view, and adhering to Scheler’s Gefühlsdrang[65], Cusinato defines ‘primordial feelings’ as «the most elementary way in which the organism interacts with the expressive level thanks to the laws of biosemiotics» (p. 113, my emphasis [NoA]).

 

In sum: The first part of Cusinato’s book offers a new ontology of personal singularity as a result of the anthropogenic process. Seeking to separate the problem of ‘singularity’ from that of personal ‘identity’ (marked by continuity, howsoever understood), the author goes beyond the ‘myth’ of personal identity and interprets singularity as self-transcendence and incompleteness of the starting condition of the so-called ‘little self’. This process of antrophogenesis comprises practices of emotional sharing (particularly, care and desire): The book thus highlights the interconnection between the antrophogenic process and the affective dimension (emotions, feelings, and the ‘phatic’). Cusinato supports the hypothesis that emotions and especially feelings (and their particular order) guide the expressive process by which our existence assumes form in the world through society, culture, and language.

The second part of the book assumes philosophy as an exercise of transformation. This periagogic turn is conceived as the starting point for the arising of personal singularity. The periagogic conversion – changing the order of priorities and allowing an entirely new perspective on reality, beyond common sense and common feeling – coincides with a philosophy understood as an exercise of transformation. However, there is a difference between the transformation concerning the ‘little self’ or the singularity. In the case of the ‘little self’, the transformation implies a process of pain and suffering: The earthquake fault is experienced only as crisis, severance, separation. In contrast, for the singularity, transformation can additionally involve very intense positive emotions, since it does not necessarily coincide with suffering or pain, but it also includes a kind of ‘rebirth’. The cultivation of emotions as desire represents a way of transformation of human beings that is primarily based on the plasticity of feeling.

In this process, philosophy plays a key role. Since human existence has no pre-stated meaning, but only possibilities of meaning, human beings need to do philosophy: They lack a pre-determined existential form. Since this process is connected to emotions and feelings as its drivers, identifying the most effective techniques for promoting a maturation of all affective layers should be placed today at the center of philosophy. Once reawakened, the new order of feelings themselves will produce orientation and a horizon of meaning, thanks to practices of emotional sharing and the force of exemplarity

This is significant not just at an individual level, but also at a social level: The last section of the book is devoted to this aspect. Starting from an analysis of the failure of social transformation in the era of narcissism, Cusinato ultimately proposes a new axis of social transformation, based on a reorientation of emotions in the public sphere.

 




[1] Guido Cusinato, Periagoge. Teoria della singolarità e filosofia come cura del desiderio (Verona: QuiEdit snc di Fill & C., 2014).

[2] Augustinus, Confessiones [400].

[3] Carl G. Jung, “Two Essays on Analytical Psychology”, in The collected Works of C.G. Jung, vol. VII (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), 264.

[4] My emphasis [NoA].

[5] Antonio R. Damasio, Self Comes to Mind. Constructing the Conscious Brain (New York: Pantheon Books, 2010).

[6] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 22 – 23.

[7] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 190.

[8] Manos Tsakiris & Helena De Presteer, The Interoceptive Mind. From homeostasis to awareness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019).

[9] Charles S. Sherrington, “On the proprioceptive system, especially in its reflex aspect”, Brain 29, 4 (1907): 467-482.

[10] Dan Zahavi, Subjectivity and selfhood: Investigating the first-person perspective (Boston: MIT Press, 2005).

[11] Edmund Husserl, Ideen zu einer reinen Phänomenologie und phänomenologischen Philosophie II: Phänomenologische Untersuchungen zur Konstitution (Nijhoff: Den Haag, 1952); Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phénoménologie de la Perception (Paris: Gallimard, 1945).

[12] Thiemo Breyer and Thomas Fuchs, eds., Selbst und Selbststörungen (Freiburg:  Alber, 2020), 34.

[13] Thomas Metzinger, “Precis: Being No-One”, PSYCHE: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Research On Consciousness 11 (2005): 1—30.

[14] Breyer and Fuchs, eds., Selbst und Selbststörungen, 34.

[15] Breyer and Fuchs, eds., Selbst und Selbststörungen, 31.

[16] Breyer and Fuchs, eds., Selbst und Selbststörungen, 33.

[17] Shaun Gallagher, “A Pattern Theory of Self”, Frontiers in Human Neuroscience 7 (2013). DOI: 10.3389/fnhum.2013.00443.

[18] Antonio R. Damasio, The Feeling of What Happens: Body and emotion in the making of consciousness (Harvest edition, 1999).

[19] Shaun Gallagher, “Philosophical conceptions of the self: implications for cognitive science”, Trends in Cognitive Sciences 4, 1 (2000): 14 – 21.

[20] Dan Zahavi, Self-awareness and alterity: A phenomenological investigation (Northwestern University Press, 1999).

[21] Paul Rochat, “The emergence of self-awareness as co-awareness in early child development”, in The Structure and Development of Self-Consciousness, Zahavi, Parnas, Gruenbaum, eds. (Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2004).

[22] Breyer and Fuchs, eds., Selbst und Selbststörungen.

[23] Nico H. Frijda, The Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986).

[24] Francisco J. Varela, “Organism: A meshwork of selfless selves”, in Organism and the Origin of Self, ed. A. Tauber (Kluwer, 1991): 77–107.

[25] David K. Lewis, “An Argument for the Identity Theory”, The Journal of Philosophy 63, 1 (1966): 17-25.

[26] Thomas Fuchs, “The feeling of being alive”, in Feelings of Being Alive, eds. Marienberg & Fingerhut (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012): 149.

[27] Durt, Fuchs, Tewes, eds., Embodiment, Enaction, and Culture: Investigating the Constitution of the shared World (Cambridge (MA): MIT Press, 2017); Giovanna Colombetti, The Feeling Body: Affective Science Meets the Enactive Mind (Cambridge (MA): MIT Press, 2014).

[28] Evan Thompson, Mind in Life: Biology, phenomenology, and the sciences of mind (Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Press, 2007).

[29] Cristiano Castelfranchi, “Affective Appraisal versus Cognitive Evaluation in Social Emotions and Interactions”, Affective Interactions. IWAI 1999. Lecture Notes in Computer Science, ed. A. Paiva (Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer, 2000), vol. 1814. https://doi.org/10.1007/10720296_7.

[30] Anthony Hatzimoysis, ed., Philosophy and the Emotions (Cambridge University Press, 2003).

[31] Julien DeonnaFabrice Teroni, The Emotions: A philosophical introduction (London: Routledge, 2012). https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203721742.

[32] Jaak Panksepp. Affective Neuroscience: The foundation of human and animal emotions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); Jacques E. LeDoux, The Emotional Brain: The mysterious underpinnings of emotional life (Simon and Schuster, 1998); Antonio R. Damasio, Descartes’ Error. Emotion, reason and the human brain (New York: Quill, 1994). 

[33] William James, “What Is an Emotion?”, Mind 9 (1884): 188-205. http://dx.doi.org/10.1093/mind/os-IX.34.188; Carl G. Lange, The Emotions (Baltimora: William & Wilkins, 1885). 

[34] Nico H. Frijda & Jaap Swagerman. “Can computers feel? Theory and design of an emotional system”. Cognition and Emotion 1, 3 (1987): 235-257; Ortony, Clore, and Collins, The Cognitive Structure of Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022); Martha C. Nussbaum, Upheavals of Thought: The intelligence of emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).

[35] Emilia Barile, Minding Damasio (Roma: Ledizioni, 2016).

[36] Barile, ‘Dare corpo alla mente’. La relazione mente/corpo alla luce delle emozioni e dell’esperienza del ‘sentire’ (Milano: B. Mondadori, 2007).

[37] Guido Cusinato, Biosemiotica e psicopatologia dell’«ordo amoris». In dialogo con Max Scheler (Milano: FrancoAngeli, 2019).

[38] Colombetti, The Feeling Body.

[39] «I now introduce this fundamental feeling as a critical element of the ‘self’ process, which I had not deemed necessary to note in earlier approaches to this problem. I call it primordial feeling, and I note that it has a definite quality, a valence, somewhere along the pleasure-to-pain range. It is the primitive behind all feelings of emotion and therefore is the basis of all feelings caused by interactions between objects and organism» (Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 185).

[40] Matthew Ratcliffe, Feelings of Being: Phenomenology, psychiatry and the sense of reality (Oxford: Oxford University, 2008); Ratcliffe, “The phenomenology of existential feeling”, in Feelings of Being Alive, eds. S. Marienberg & J. Fingerhut (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012): 23–54.

[41] Jan Slaby & Achim Stephan, “Affective intentionality and self-consciousness”, Consciousness and Cognition 17 (2008): 506–513.

[42] Somogy Varga & Joel Krueger, “Background Emotions, Proximity and Distributed Emotion Regulation”, Rev. Phil. Psych. 4, (2013): 271-292.

[43] Daniel N. Stern, Forms of vitality (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010).

[44] Fuchs, “The feeling of being alive”.

[45] Barile, “Are Background Feelings Intentional Feelings?”, Open Journal of Philosophy 4 (2014): 560-574.

[46] Antonio R. Damasio. Looking for Spinoza. Joy, sorrow, and the feeling brain (Harcourt, 2003); Damasio, The Feeling of What Happens.

[47] «Prominent background feelings include: fatigue; energy; excitement; wellness; sickness; tension; relaxation; surging; dragging; stability; balance; imbalance; harmony; discord. The relation between background feelings and moods is intimate: drives express themselves directly in background emotions and we eventually become aware of their existence by means of background feelings» (Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 125).

[48] Damasio, The Feeling of What Happens, 286.

[49] «There is some deeper feeling to be guessed and then found in the depths of the conscious mind. It is the feeling that my own body exists, and it is present, independently of any object with which it interacts, as a rock-solid, wordless affirmation that I am alive» (Damasio Self Comes to Mind, 22, 185) .

[50] Panksepp, Affective Neuroscience.

[51] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, ch. 1, note 17 (my emphases [NoA]).

[52] Barile, “The Interoceptive Underpinnings of the Feeling of Being Alive. Damasio’s insights at work”, Phenomenology and the Cognitive Sciences (2023). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11097-023-09900-7.

[53] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, ch. 1, note 17 (my emphases [NoA]).

[54] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, ch. 8, note 3 (my emphases [NoA]).

[55] Matthew Ratcliffe, “The Feeling of Being”, Journal of Consciousness Studies 12 (2005): 52.

[56] «Primordial feelings [to which the feeling of being alive belongs] result from nothing but the living body and precede any interaction between the machinery of life regulation and any object» (Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 101; my emphases [NoA]).

[57] Barile, “The Interoceptive Underpinnings of the Feeling of Being Alive. Damasio’s insights at work”.

[58] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 185 (my emphases [NoA]).

[59] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 76.

[60] Ratcliffe, “The Feeling of Being”, 52.

[61] In my view Damasio’s formulation of the deepest level of primordial feelings (2010) definitely endorses a nonintentional account of this kind of non-emotional feelings, at least in the standard meaning of intentionality. Following his latest analysis, both according to the meaning of «aboutness» and the meaning of «directedness» (in Goldie’s (2002) understanding), Damasio’s background feelings – and above all the primordial feelings on which they are based – turn out to be not intentional (see Barile, 2014).

[62] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 185.

[63] Damasio, Self Comes to Mind, 76.

[64] Barile, “The Interoceptive Underpinnings of the Feeling of Being Alive. Damasio’s insights at work”.

[65] «I have developed this concept while thinking of the one proposed by Scheler in 1926 by means of the term “primordial impulse of feeling” (Gefühlsdrang). Cf. GW VIII, 336; in GW VIII, 443, he also speaks of “exstatische[m] Gefühlsdrang”» (Cusinato, Periagoge, 113, note 6).

Jan Patocka: Introduzione alla filosofia fenomenologica, Editrice Morcelliana, 2023






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Introduzione alla filosofia fenomenologica




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Jan Patocka. Traduzione: Anna Maria Perissutti





Editrice Morcelliana




2023




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320

Íngrid Vendrell Ferran (Ed.): Else Voigtländer: Self, Emotion, and Sociality, Springer, 2023








Else Voigtländer: Self, Emotion, and Sociality




Women in the History of Philosophy and Sciences (WHPS, volume 17)





Íngrid Vendrell Ferran (Ed.)





Springer




2023




Hardback 117,69 €




IX, 245

Natalie Depraz, Anthony J. Steinbock (Eds.): Surprise: An Emotion?






Surprise: An Emotion? Book Cover




Surprise: An Emotion?




Contributions To Phenomenology, Vol. 97





Natalie Depraz, Anthony J. Steinbock (Eds.)





Springer




2018




Hardback 88,39 €




X, 189

Reviewed by: Andrew Bevan (Centre for Research in Modern European Philosophy, Kingston University, London)

What is it to define an emotion? Or to categorise an experience as an emotion? This is the aim of this collection of essays, the result of a conference of 2013 with the same name that discussed ‘surprise’ and attempted to categorise it as emotion, feeling, affect or otherwise. The editors identify two main theoretical frameworks with which to approach the question: psychology and philosophy. They argue that, whereas psychology treats surprise as a primary emotion, philosophy relates surprise to passions which are then opposed to reason. With this split in place, they seek to question these frameworks: is surprise not also cognitive? Is it not embedded in language? And how is it to be related to personhood and the interpersonal and moral emotions? Already we see that the exercise of defining an experience as an emotion takes place within the traditional binaries of philosophical psychology: passion/reason, emotion/cognition, etc. Yet throughout this volume, perhaps the most surprising aspect of surprise is just how inadequate these traditional categories are and how the phenomenon under discussion will exceed and trouble these traditional binaries.

One immediate difficulty the volume is faced with is what to call that which is to be defined or categorized: what is this realm of undefined or uncategorised? What most general word can refer to it: ‘surprise’? At some level, all authors can speak to this uncategorised experience called ‘surprise’; there is some binding of word and experience such that all authors can write on its vagaries and varieties. Yet how is this to be disambiguated from similar terms like wonder, startle, glance, etc. as well as the translation of these terms from other languages, most notably that of wonder (thaumaston) which, as Plato argued in Theaetetus, ‘is the only beginning of philosophy’ (155d). This is the very problem the volume engages with and thus, in so doing can be read as continuing this long tradition of surprise as the beginning of philosophy.

Three main themes occur in all the authors’ discussions. The most commonly invoked criteria for surprise that all authors mention in some form or another is the frustration of expectations. For example, Steinbock delineates surprise not only as ‘an experience of unexpected givenness’ but as ‘the accommodation of us to the situation by being the acceptance of what I cannot accept’ (10). These expectations can be implicit or explicit and not merely cognitive: they are discussed through concepts like habit or bodily adaptation to an environment. It is then in the frustration of expectations, or the difference between expectation and actuality, that surprise arises. Authors use many concepts to characterise these expectations (dispositions, integrations, entanglements and habit) and their frustration (startle, rupture, punctuation, anxiety, novelty and reconfigurations).  But there is also room for concepts that convey a lack of surprise when expectations meet actuality (affinity, affordance).

The second commonality is the question of temporality: while most agree surprise involves a spontaneous, sudden, ‘rupture’ this is merely the first part of a temporal dynamic. Desmidt, for example argues ‘surprise is the structure of the temporal dynamic of emotional emergence’ (62).

The third point of agreement between most authors is that surprise is ambiguously valenced: surprise can be positive or negative and so appears to transcend any simple division into positive/negative valence.

But, whereas the authors tend to agree on these three main points, there is then much divergence in their characterisation of surprise. The main problem in comparing positions to agree any consensus and the possibility of answering the question of the volume is that the difference between the authors’ positions in part stems from different understandings of the terms being used to categorize ‘surprise’. For instance, if surprise is to be an emotion, there is little discussion or agreement of what an emotion is, nor its difference or identity to affect, passion, feeling etc. is. Some treat affect and emotion as synonymous, others as strictly different but few reflect on what they might mean nor what categorising surprise as one or the other would entail.

The authors who give most attention to this question are the two editors of the volume, Steinbock and Depraz and both invoke Kant to define emotions. Steinbock foregrounds Kant’s use of temporality to differentiate affect and passion: affect is sudden and rash in contrast to the duration of passions (12-13).  Steinbock then, despite the suddenness of surprise, argues surprise is part of a process of much longer duration. But he concludes not that surprise is a passion but that surprise ‘belongs to the sphere of emotions (and is not a mere affect)’ (13). Steinbock thus seems to equate passion with emotion. Furthermore, whereas affects are ‘feeling-states and pertain to who we are as psychophysical beings, where we would find experiences like pleasure or pain, being ill at ease, tickling and arousal,’ emotions – such as ‘regret, remorse, fear, longing and surprise’ (14-15) – are emotions because ‘they can occur without any essential relation to personal ‘otherness’ in that experience’. But ‘genuine’ emotions are those which ‘presuppose an “order” or even “disorder” of the heart – to use a phrase from Pascal – and are lived in some way toward some other as bearer of value in a ‘creative’ or personal manner’ (15). Here we see that the divisions of psycho-physical to ‘personhood’ are played out to differentiate affect from emotion.

Meanwhile, Depraz argues that in psychology, surprise is treated as an emotion. She again cites Kant but, unlike Steinbock, identifies emotion with affect (‘emotion, here as Affekt’, 26). This identification of emotion with the German Affekt has a psychological precedence perhaps beginning with William James in his Principles of Psychology. For Depraz, surprise ‘is not an emotion in the sense of a basic feeling like fear, anger, disgust, jor or sadness.’ Her main argument is that ‘surprise involves an emotional and cognitive component but results in a more encompassing and integrative circular (time, bodily, expressive-descriptive) phenomena’ (39). Depraz then invokes the concept of valence to undermine the idea that surprise is an emotion: valence characterizes more precisely the ‘affective dynamic of the surprise rather than emotion as such, which always remains a partial and static state’ (40). Although surprise is linked to emotional valence when associated with these emotions, it may also appear as ‘a neutral, mixed or epistemic emotion, i.e. as a violated expectation that affects both action and cognitive processing.’ (39).

Other authors tend to reflect less on the problem, focusing their attention purely on emotion (Desmidt, Brizard) or tending to identify emotion with affect (Livet mentions ‘affective attitudes’ (109), ‘affects or affective bursts (111), ‘emotional or affective attitude’ (112)). Although Brizard does state that startle, that can be used to assess emotional reactivity which can be ‘modulated by affective states’ (78). Sheets-Johnstone in insisting the body is not ahistorical or living, speaks of ‘affective dynamics that move through bodies and move them to move’ (83). Yet, quoting Jung, she seems to elide any difference between affect and emotion (85).  Emotions/affects are then qualitatively different: they have their own ‘distinctive qualitative kinetic dynamics’ (85).

At least three different approaches can be identified then: affect equals emotions; emotion is a type of affect; or affects and emotions are different. A fourth approach, however, is to avoid the whole problem by mentioning neither affect nor emotion – such is Casey’s singular approach: he instead likens surprise to glance, something that is perhaps less contentious and more familiar.

This difference in understanding and use of terms then makes the guiding question ‘Surprise: An Emotion?’ difficult to answer: it of course depends on what an emotion is. So when Steinbock argues surprise is an emotion, and Depraz that it is not, they are working with slightly different understandings of what emotion is. For Depraz, emotion is an affect, for Steinbock it is not. Yet both agree that the aspect that differentiates surprise as one or the other is temporality: surprise is not sudden but part of a more involved process.

Perhaps some attention to the terms being used (affect, passion, feeling, emotion) might yield a more productive discussion. The terms affect and passion in particular have a long and rich philosophical heritage and perhaps most significantly enter the philosophical discourse through its use by Cicero, Augustine and others to translate the Greek pathos. Now, whilst passiones is a transliteration of the Greek pathos with similar meanings, affectio already existed in Latin and is comprised of the prefix ad- + facio. Ad- usually adds a movement to or against something whilst facio has a very broad signification including to make, build, construct or produce. Passiones is also the root of our passive and thus this choice of translation would foreground an essential passivity to this realm of experience. Whereas, with the choice of affect, which can be active or passive voiced (‘to affect or be affected’ will become central to interpretations of Spinoza), it is the binary of active/passive that is paramount in discussions of Greek pathos.

However, Cicero, in Tusculan Disputations, chooses neither affect nor passion but uses perturbatio to translate πάθος. He prefers this to morbus, meaning ‘diseases’ because the Greeks also used πάθος for exaltation and joy which we cannot consider disease. Thus, already we see the problem of valence when it comes to choosing a term to characterize these experiences – the term itself cannot be valenced. Furthermore, by choosing pertubatio, Cicero makes a philosophical intervention in the reception of Greek philosophy by replacing medical metaphors with metaphors of movement and reintroducing into Latin a model of mind in Plato and Pythagoras who divided the soul into two: one of peacefulness that shares in reason and another that doesn’t, the seat of stormy emotions, motus turbidosPerturbatio captures this metaphorical domain as it is comprised of the prefix per- meaning ‘thoroughly, to completion’ and turbāre from turbo ‘to disturb’ and implicitly contains a sense of a passive initiation of something that must run its course which means that, for Cicero, it becomes imperative to avoid perturbations in the first place as once initiated they cannot be stopped but must flow to completion.

On a purely etymological level, this understanding of perturbation resembles that of emotion which derives from the Latin ēmovēre to move out, drive away or banish, for example, pain. In this choice of concepts it is an implicit negatively valenced motion (as turbo or moveo) that is foregrounded . However, from a wider perspective than mere etymology, Thomas Dixon’s From Passions to Emotions claims that by 1850, the category of emotion had subsumed ‘passions,’ ‘affections’ and ‘sentiments’ in most English-language psychological theorists such as Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature (1739-40). The increase in popularity of emotion arose from the 17th century consolidation of philosophies of individualism as well as a secularisation that sought to avoid the associations of passion and affection with the biblical and theological preferring emotion for its alternative network of relations to psychology, law, observation, evolution, etc. This resulted in differing causal explanations for the phenomena: whilst Christian philosophers assumed passions were the soul acting on the body, emotions then became the brain acting on the body. The scientific brain replaces the theological soul as agent.

This analysis of concepts reveals at root two alternative approaches adequately described by affect/passion and emotion. Whether separated or identified, however, they nevertheless share an implicit foundation in activity and passivity and in the metaphorical domains of theology, medicine and physics. The question as to whether surprise is an emotion, affect or other is therefore not philosophically, historically or politically neutral. And this question continues to haunt the pages of this volume: for the question of valence appears regularly as well as the question of active/passive. And the metaphorical domain continues to oscillate between a philosophical approach (mainly that of phenomenology) and a more scientific one of psychology and linguistics. Indeed, the sheer diversity of disciplines included in this volume (without any one dominating) – medical (depression), philosophy (phenomenology), science (psychology), theological (in the discussion of Paul) or language and literature – continues the question over which metaphorical domain to place the concepts in. Such a complex and multi-faceted problem does indeed touch on everything from language, linguistics, phenomenology, science and theology and it is therefore refreshing that this volume features accounts from all these differing approaches.

Moreover, the volume is enhanced through combinations of these disciplines: the introduction states the multidisciplinary approaches as ‘philosophy, psychophysiology, psychiatry and linguistics’ (vi) and mention early attempts at the interface of philosophy and linguistics, phenomenology and psycho-neuro-physiology or philosophy-phenomenology. Phenomenology, neuroscience, physiology, is an interesting and productive binding.

If this short history of the concepts used to describe this realm of experience reveals anything, it is perhaps how implicated in past metaphysics this whole discourse is. Thus, it might be productive to uncover how implicitly the authors depend on such a past metaphysics (notably that of a past metaphysics of coupled opposites derived from Greek philosophy) in approaching the central question posed by the book. Furthermore, perhaps the value of this book lies in its manifestation of a tension relating to how surprise appears to depend on and yet transcend these categories and conceptual histories of philosophy.

Sheets-Johnstone speaks directly to this question of past metaphysics when she complains of a ‘metaphysics of absence’ that leads to an ‘absence of the body below the neck’ (84). The traditional body/mind division is that which leads to this critique. But the influence of a past metaphysics of coupled opposites is felt most concretely with the numerous oppositions that continue to structure the problem field: positive/negative, approach/avoidance, and sympathetic/parasympathetic nervous systems not to mention emotion/cognition and emotion/volition. Such a metaphysics enables the very analysis Livet proposes in his concluding paragraph where he walks through eight possible combinations based on oppositional pairings of explicit/implicit, emotion/volition and the transition between the two. This then requires also that emotion be opposed to cognition and the whole realm of complexity is perhaps reduced to slotting aspects into a neat, three dimensional grid of implicit/explicit, emotion/volition, affect/cognition.

But perhaps the main oppositional pair that governs all these other pairs is the active/passive which features prominently in many authors’ discussions and may stem from the translation of the Greek pathos into a discourse of passivity. For example, Steinbock asks whether surprise is active or passive given that startle must be passive (10). For Livet, the active/passive is applied to the difference between emotions (passive) and volitions (active) and Livet argues both can actually be active either in an explicit, conscious or implicit way. But ultimately, Livet and Steinbock both demonstrate just how futile and inadequate conceiving something like emotions as passive or active is. Steinbock notes that the active/passive cannot adequately be applied to surprise for it cannot be purely passive but indicates transition from a more passive to a more active awakening (12). Often what is passive is said to be also active leading to them being active and passive at the same time and the whole point of the distinction to disappear.

The centrality of the active/passive together with the alternate history of mostly disturbing movements gives rise to a conception of affects as quantitative flows and is evidenced in the repeated mentions of intensity and valence. For example, in Depraz’s brief history of the concept of valence that began with Kurt Lewin in 1935. He proposed valence as a double-opposed movement of attraction and repulsion in reference to his force-field analysis of social situations. It defines the intrinsic attractiveness of an event, object or situation and, by extension, also the attractiveness of the emotion itself. This concept then became ‘an operative concept to define the very structural dynamics of emotions in psychology’ (41). Perhaps we could say more generally it is a metaphysics of coupled opposites that defines the structural dynamics of emotion implicit to psychology?

Given the privileging of their disturbing character, passions, affects or emotions are then treated as (or have to be differentiated from) external impositions disrupting purely self-present subjects that produces philosophies of defence that privilege sameness over difference. This approach would then consider surprise as negative or, at least, somewhat out of our control.

Furthermore, if surprise is based very much on this difference between world and self, the question of what is surprising – prominent mostly in the linguistics section – is problematised as it will vary from individual to individual. Philosophies might then seek to ‘master’ affects: because one could not know in advance whether a surprise would be negative or positive, it is better to resist them all together. This question of individuality presents a challenge to those papers that try to elicit surprise in experimental settings. Can surprise be identified in the absence of the experiencer and their expectations that are often implicit? This is perhaps why Steinbock differentiates surprise from startle – one could agree we could all be startled by a loud interruption but whether one is surprised by some of the examples might depend on one’s experience in the world, particularly in the case of police interactions (9). Perhaps this question underlies the difficulty inherent to the project of deciding whether surprise is an emotion.

Bloechl is perhaps most explicit in addressing this question. He writes that, if surprise depends on some difference between a subject’s expectation and actuality, ‘the intelligibility of the experience depends in some important measure on the condition of the subject and its relation to the world in which it lives’. He thus argues we can differentiate among surprises by attending to the context in which they occur (historical, cultural, personal-psychological, etc.). But, he adds, ‘without surrendering the possibility of grasping their inner unity in some irreducible essence (eidos)’ (119). What is it that remains the same across all differences in surprise, different expectations, different subjectivities? The experience of difference?

An important point to mention on this question of individuality and whether emotions like surprise can be said to be universal is the focus Ekman’s paradigm of ‘basic emotions’ based on facial expressions receives in Depraz, Brizard, Goutéraux, Celle et al. Although Ekman receives criticism in Sheets-Johnstone for ‘“the absence of the body below the neck”’ (84), his paradigm as a whole continues to pervade the psychological discourse of emotions despite major methodological criticisms coming from within and without psychology. Ekman’s paradigm has been coherently critiqued, particularly over its claims to cross-cultural comparison, most notably by Ruth Leys in her The Ascent of Affect.

So is there an alternative to this approach to affects and to surprise? Could we uncover such an alternative, manifest them in the same way surprise acts to manifest a difference between implicit expectations and actuality? Can a focus on surprise yield the very surprises needed to reveal implicit foundations? Perhaps surprise best offers such a path with its ambiguous valence problematizes any neat ascription to either positive or negative. Furthermore, whilst we may know surprise in itself, the details of its surprise is unique to each occurrence. And, in the surprise, we can learn the difference between our habitual, implicit being as it becomes manifested in the difference to the actual. Thus, affects here become a potential for individual growth and becoming rather than something to be defended against whilst retaining some universality for comparison and intersubjective understanding.

One such alternative is being drawn out by the work of Depraz for instance in her rejection of opposites for circularity (39). She argues, refreshingly, that ‘integrated emotions [like love, submission, etc.] show that we have to deal here with a three-dimensional dynamic model and not with a linear list of emotions opposed one to the other’ (29). She notes how phenomenology is uniquely positioned to enable such a synthetic integration of of cognitive, physiological, evolutionary and other aspects and her proposal is for a cardiophenomenology that places the emphasis not on the brain but on the heart partly because the heart-system is an integrative system and better recognizes the ‘unique dynamic circular living rythmic of such a system’ (48). The heart self-organizes ‘as soon as the embryo develops spontaneous contractions independently of the brain’ and integrates the nervous and brain system as well as performing a control function (48-49). The heart is both physio-organic and uniquely lived. You can’t feel your neurons but you can feel your heart and thus is ‘self-feelable’, an auto-affection. Thus the heart becomes, ‘the matrix of the person as both lived (affection) and organic (muscle), or again, the core of the weaving between the first- and the third-person experience of the subject’ (48).

Such an approach allows for physiological measures to get third-person perspectives on surprise as startle yet also allows for comparison with first-person perspectives on the feeling of those physiological measures. It also allows the experiential aspect not just a theoretical-textual approach so that individual differences in singular surprising events can be acknowledged. Surprise is thus the core-experience of a heart-centred, cardiophenomenology for Depraz.

This focus on the heart and its rhythmicity gives a more interactive circular dynamic than the perhaps active/passive transmissions of the brain from input to muscular output.  Instead of causal, sequential flows of neuronal pathways, of flowing out of movements that must be expended, which always eventually leads to the active and passive (the brain as active sending out of passive sensations or movements), Depraz enables a focus on integration and circularity.

Desmidt also mentions cardiac psychology as ‘an integrative dynamic that includes the systems of the context, the body (and the heart and brain within the body), and the lived experience that dynamically interact according to the three phases to produce an emotional experience’ (64). He quotes Craig’s model of emotion in which an emotional experience ‘is produced by the sequential integration in the insular cortex of five types of information according to a spatial gradient’ (66).

Yet is this a move that repeats the debate between Galen and Aristotle – Aristotle seeing the heart as the centre, Galen the brain? For the nervous system is also seen as integrative. Perhaps the ultimate issue here is not whether it is the brain or the heart that is central but the challenge to the dominance of the active/passive ‘sending out’ for one that is more about circular dynamics.

Livet also acknowledges there should be a focus on ‘the entanglements between the different aspects of motivation experience […] without taking for granted restrictive definitions that overestimate their oppositions and underestimate their intimate relations. He urges a study of the ‘entanglements between different aspects of motivational experience without taking for granted restrictive definitions that overestimate their oppositions and underestimate their intimate relations’ (114). As to the active/passive, Livet recognizes that emotions are usually considered passive whilst volitions active but proposes they be considered as two kinds ‘that belong to a more inclusive category, namely the category of motivational dynamics’ (105).

It is then a question, not of oppositions but of entanglements, bindings, integrations that cannot be reduced to couplings of opposites or mechanical linear flows of active and passive but instead opens to the question of what bindings might enable and sustain our flourishing. Bloechl can perhaps be read as providing how an affect such as surprise could lead to our becoming and not be something to be defended against, mastered or known in advance through the example of Paul. Notably, Bloechl attends both to Paul’s state such that he experienced the surprise of a conversion (which depended on Paul’s ‘disposition’) as well as how he then integrated the experience. He looks for evidence for the former by attending to Paul’s Judaism prior to the experience and the latter through the Christianity in Paul’s letters.

What Bloechl concludes is that in Paul’s experience, and perhaps the experience of surprise more generally, there is a passage from inward and personal experience to an outward and universal discourse. He adds, ‘unless there is an affinity […] between that which surprises and that which is interpreted as the surprise, the event itself is literally unintelligible’ (127-128). This ‘affinity’ could also be called a context and it is surprise which can alter the entirety of a context, it comes, he adds, with ‘its own horizon of meaning’. Yet ‘unless at least some of this new meaning can be fused with the meaning of what it may challenge and transform, it remains strictly alien. The nature and limits of that fusion are open to interpretation and call for concepts that do not obscure the experience in question’ (128). Surprise and affects not so individual as to be incomparable across individuals or cultures but not so universal as to preclude the first-person perspective. Somewhere between reductive binaries and trivializing infinities.

Such an individual/universal approach is demonstrated in the volume applied to depression which is conceptualized in terms of an inability to anticipate pleasure in a situation even when they do then feel pleasure in its actualisation. Yet, it is a pity this account did not take into account the individual histories of expectation/actuality that is so paramount to surprise – if someone is depressed and cannot anticipate pleasure in a situation perhaps it is because of so many failed expectations? Although the authors suggest ‘hyporeactivity in depression may be characterized by an imparied cardiac physiology, especially during the anticipation phase’ (67). Here the question of individual history and ahistorical biology rears its head and the benefit should surely be in their mutual cooperation.

Perhaps if there is one key theme emerging from all these discussions it is the question of difference; difference between emotion and cognition, a difference encountered in an organism’s interaction with itself and its world that leads to differentiations, splits, retreats or avoidance and it extending or protending itself into its past/future. This focus on difference also helps against one discipline dominating: where is the organism’s self-difference? In the neurons? The gap between neurons? Any criticism of a cognitive privilege could then be countered by the fact that these expectations are often implicit and, moreover, manifested in the difference experienced and thus prior to any split between mind and body, this split coming after the fact as an attempt to integrate the experience. Indeed, it could be through a historical series of surprises that we find ourselves in this problem of mind/body dualism split. Is the feeling of oneself then arising from a unity with oneself or difference to oneself?

There are several mentions of the entangled nature of emotions and surprise. Can these be best understood within a metaphysics of opposites such as of active/passive, of cause/effect any longer? Or is the domain emotions try to capture one more of contingency, of expectations meeting actuality where these are not opposites but in their unfolding produce each other. Just like Picasso’s quote ‘je ne cherche pas, je trouve’ cited in this volume: it is only in finding, in the difference between expectation and actuality, that one knows one was searching.

It is in the unfolding of the entanglement this collection of essays resides in rather than the entanglement itself where surprise and emotion surely lie. Otherwise, we cannot truly find the alternative to the dominance of cognitive and computational so many authors descry. It seems if universality is not acceptable, and definitions vary, the experience of defining affects is the very experience of individuating, growing and self-differentiation, this self-differentiation that is the universal. Is this not a more adequate account of the affect surprise? Such would be the performative and not merely textual effect of reading this volume. Today, perhaps it is not wonder but surprise that is the beginning of philosophy.

Ana Marta González, Alejandro G. Vigo (Hrsg.): Reflection, Emotion, Identity. From Kant Onwards, Duncker & Humblot, 2019






Reflexion, Gefühl, Identität im Anschluß an Kant / Reflection, Emotion, Identity. From Kant Onwards Book Cover




Reflexion, Gefühl, Identität im Anschluß an Kant / Reflection, Emotion, Identity. From Kant Onwards




Philosophische Schriften (PHS), Band 96





Reflexion, Gefühl, Identität im Anschluß an Kant / Reflection, Emotion, Identity. From Kant Onwards





Duncker & Humblot




2019




Paperback 59,90 €




131