After the Death of God: Secularization as a Philosophical Challenge from Kant to Nietzsche
Reviewed by: Thomas Nemeth
Andrea Oppo has given us an interesting and thoughtful book on a most unusual person. Pavel Florensky, part Russian, part Armenian, was born in Azerbaijan, schooled in Georgia, educated at Moscow University and then the Moscow Theological Academy, became an Orthodox priest in 1911. The closure of the Academy shortly after the Bolshevik Revolution made continuance of his teaching activities at the Academy impossible. However, he, like Gustav Shpet, but unlike many others chose to remain in the Soviet Union and was not forcibly deported. Undoubtedly, the Soviet authorities realized for a time that his technical skills could be put to use in service to the goals that they and he shared. Notwithstanding the sheer number of his writings on various esoteric topics and his ecclesiastic position, which he refused to conceal, he, as Oppo states, ‟enjoyed the trust of the [Soviet] government as an applied scientist and electrotechnical engineer” (p. 1). When in 1933 those authorities realized he was an implacable opponent of their fundamental viewpoint – or their patience ran out, he was summarily dispatched to forced-labor camps. Finally, despite increasingly difficult prison conditions, Florensky survived until his ‟number” came up in connection with the order to reduce the camp population in the autumn of 1937. In his case, the camp population was reduced by one in the simplest manner possible. His family was not informed of the exact date of his death until 1989.
Although there are substantial biographies – even in English – of Florensky, Oppo provides in the appropriate context relevant biographical information including recently unearthed material that helps illuminate his topical discussions of Florensky’s thought and that were unavailable to previous biographers. In bringing this material to the attention of Western audiences, Oppo has rendered a valuable service to those interested and capable of consulting these many Russian-language sources.
Clearly of the major figures in the history of Western philosophy Florensky was closest to Plato, whose works he began to read even before entering Moscow University. Notwithstanding his enrollment in the undergraduate course in mathematics there, Florensky read and re-read Plato allegedly in Greek and regularly attended student philosophical circles. In his third year of study, he helped organize a mathematics-physics circle and wrote an address he planned to deliver – but ultimately did not – at the opening of the circle (late October-early November 1902) in which he affirmed that mathematical laws are the laws of the universe. As such, those laws should guide us in understanding the world. Although from a contemporary Western viewpoint such a claim may sound promising, as an expression of the legitimacy of mathematical physics, of the marriage of the a priori of mathematics with the a posteriori of physical observations, Florensky had a different understanding of mathematics than we typically associate with mathematics today. We should add here that Florensky was initially disappointed or dismayed with the narrow focus of the courses typically available to students studying mathematics. He did manage, however, to overcome institutional obstacles, and already in his first year at the University he attended Sergei Trubetskoi’s seminar-course on ancient philosophy, for which he wrote essays on Plato’s Meno and The Republic. Additionally, he attended Lev Lopatin’s seminar-course on psychology, for which he wrote an essay on John Stuart Mill’s view of the inductive origin of geometrical concepts.
Florensky’s desire to extend mathematical reasoning beyond the confines of an abstract discipline was evident from his first years in Moscow. Oppo writes that Florensky’s undergraduate thesis reveals a shift on his part from pure mathematics with his discovery of discontinuity in geometry to seeing discontinuity in every natural phenomenon (p. 38). Clearly, Florensky already in his first years at the university had little interest in pure mathematics and mathematics for its own sake. His outlook was grander. As a first-year student in October 1900, he wrote his mother that he saw mathematics as key to a worldview in which everything is worth study. Through mathematics, nature can be united with ethics and aesthetics to form a whole, and religion obtains a new sense. Florensky’s publication in 1904 of two articles ‟On the Symbols of Infinity” and ‟The Idea of Discontinuity as an Element of a Worldview” surely was taken at the University as an indication of his great promise. Although offered a position to continue his work as a graduate student in mathematics, Florensky opted instead upon graduation to study theology at the Moscow Theological Academy.
Oppo writes that Florensky’s active engagement with Greek thought, particularly with Plato’s philosophy, occurred upon entering the Theological Academy and the start of the ‟Great War.” He is undoubtedly correct, but we must not understand that engagement as exclusive. As we shall see, his interests remained wide-ranging until the end. During that decade-long period, Florensky wrote much that concerned ancient philosophy, but these largely stemmed from lecture notes for a course on the history of philosophy that he taught for an extended period starting in 1908. (It was typical at the time at the theological academies for outstanding students to be retained to teach upon graduation, typically in the subject of their magister’s thesis. Oppo correctly gives Florensky’s graduation from the Academy as 1908 (p. 59f and p. 63) but a few pages later as occurring in 1910 (p. 67) – most likely a simple oversight. Oppo points out that Florensky’s notes clearly reveal an influence from Sergei Trubetskoi and that Florensky’s understanding of Plato’s thought underwent no substantial change afterward (pp. 59-60). Make no mistake, though, Florensky’s Plato was not the Plato of the Marburg neo-Kantians, a Kantian before Kant. His reading of Plato’s dialogues was one from a distinctly Christian, even mystical, viewpoint. As Oppo writes, Florensky’s ‟view of Platonism is integrated entirely within a Christian medieval context and, even beyond that, within a universal and extra-historical dimension” (p. 68).
In order formally to qualify for the teaching position at the Academy, Florensky had to present two lectures, which would meet with approval. The first of these was presented in mid-September 1908 and entitled – at least as given the following year in the published version – ‟The Universal Roots of Idealism.” It was Florensky’s first significant work centered on Plato, but a Plato portrayed as a ‟Christian before Christ” (p. 63). Oppo correctly provides Florensky’s claim in this lecture that only ‟magic” is capable of resolving the Platonic question, but just what is that question? Unfortunately, a plain and precise question, one not couched in vague, metaphoric language is not forthcoming. Oppo writes that theology and mathematics may appear to be concerned with two different worlds, but Florensky found Plato’s philosophy to be the bridge between the two. The difficulty here is that mathematics at least is a precise discipline that allows little ambiguity but offers a great deal of analyticity. There is little of the latter in Florensky’s lecture but a great deal of the former. What Oppo does not dwell on in Florensky’s lecture is the attempt there to make Plato a Solovyov-like prophet of integral knowledge and of ‟all-unity” more than two millennia before Solovyov and the Slavophiles. Rather as Oppo points out, Florensky attempted to assimilate Plato, on the one hand, to Pythagorean mathematics and, on the other hand, with the late Neoplatonism of Proclus (p. 108).
The second of the two lectures, ‟The Cosmological Antinomies of Immanuel Kant,” demonstrated Florensky’s absorption not just with Kant, but also with Western idealism. It is surprising, then, given Solovyov’s fascination with Schelling, on the one hand, and the hold Hegel held on nineteenth-century Russian thought, on the other hand, that Florensky devoted so little explicit attention to the further development of German Idealism. This appears to be something generally overlooked by secondary studies. One also cannot overlook the curious absence in Florensky’s writings of references to the Marburg neo-Kantians, whose interests in certain respects was similar to his own, albeit from a different direction. Like Florensky, Cohen and Natorp were very interested in Plato, and like Florensky Cohen was interested in developing philosophy around a conception of the infinitesimal in mathematics. Oppo makes no mention of these similarities and differences but does note that Florensky displayed no interest in the Russian neo-Kantian movement that was arising as he himself was turning to Kant (p. 107). Oppo writes that Florensky’s Kant was a ‟Mach-like” Kant, the positivistic Kant presented in the early works of Alois Riehl. But apart from a mention by Vladimir Ulyanov (Lenin) in his highly polemical Materialism and Empirio-Criticism, which was intended as an intervention in a political dispute and was not an abstract philosophical treatise, Oppo presents no grounds for saying that Riehl’s works were well-known in Russia. Purely as an aside, we can note that of Riehl’s two-volume work Philosophical Criticism and Its Importance for the Positive Sciences only the second part of the second volume was translated into Russian. Apart from Peter Struve, who certainly could have known Riehl’s work in German, it was generally ignored by the Russian neo-Kantians and Kant-scholars, though these were few in number.
In his lecture on Kant, Florensky dealt with Kant’s epistemology as if it were the stark antithesis of Plato’s. In this he may have been consciously emulating Pamfil Iurkevich’s similar contrasting of Plato vis-a-vis Kant in an address he delivered at Moscow University in early 1866. However, whereas Iurkevich sketched Plato as starting where Kant had stopped his investigations, Florensky saw the philosophical ideas of Plato and Kant in sharp opposition. Florensky, not unlike many other theologically-oriented commentators on the first Critique, was chiefly concerned not with the ‟Transcendental Deduction,” but, as the title of his presentation indicates, with the cosmological antinomies. Oppo finds Florensky’s dissatisfaction with Kant to lie in the latter’s reasoning. Kant confused the conditions that he assigned to appearances with those he assigned to things in themselves (p. 85). Florensky also found a petitio principii in Kant’s placing conditions in the concept, not in experience. Oppo’s interpretation here could be greatly clarified. Are the conditions in the two cases identical or different? That is, Oppo fails to inform us as to just what these conditions in either case are so that the Kant-scholar can determine whether Florensky’s position is substantial or illusory. Just what are the conditions that Kant assigned to things in themselves? Is there a dichotomy in Kant’s epistemology between conceptual conditions and experiential ones? Florensky certainly rejected Kant’s strict distinction between appearances and things in themselves, but where does Florensky make the case for this rejection? For Kant, the basis for that distinction lies primarily in his ‟Transcendental Aesthetic,” and it is not his conclusions that are sophistical, but Florensky’s.
Oppo tells us that Florensky lectured for four years on Kant, presenting the latter’s Critical system, his scientific outlook, and even his biography. In this connection, Oppo writes that Florensky translated Kant’s pre-Critical Physical Monadology, which of course he did, but not in connection with his lecturing. Rather, it appeared in the house organ of the Moscow Academy, Bogoslovskie trudy, in 1905, although the original plan, as we see from Florensky’s letter to his mother from October 1902, was devised in conjunction with others in the university’s new mathematics society to publish such Kant-translations. Again, though only as an aside, Oppo refers to a 2020 edition of Florensky’s lecture notes on the history of philosophy, which includes a listing of Kant’s works in Russian. This listing, however, is quite unreliable. Vladislavlev’s translation of the Critique of Pure Reason is given as 1807 instead of 1867, and Florensky’s translation of the Physical Monadology is given as ‟1901 August?” note the question mark found in this listing. These lecture notes as published contain no critical apparati that would inform us of the ambiguities in deciphering Florensky’s handwriting and his ample use of abbreviations. Additionally, if the listing of Kant’s works was made by Florensky himself, how is it that he did not recognize the errors pointed out above? And if these errors were ones introduced by unnamed editors of these notes in deciphering Florensky’s handwriting, then must we not be suspect as well of any precise reading of these notes?
Oppo declares that his main objective consists in identifying Florensky’s philosophy as a ‟dialectical part” of the Western tradition. Thus, being such a part it can confront that tradition (vii). One is hard pressed, however, to understand how Florensky could be considered as part of a tradition – or at least that part of the Western philosophical tradition – that upholds the fundamental laws of logic. For Florensky was apparently comfortable with rejecting its most elementary law, namely that of non-contradiction. Florensky questioned ‟the idea of truth based on an absolute and dogmatic faith in the law of non-contradiction” (p. 89). Thus, Oppo clearly recognizes Florensky’s position but seeks not to question it. How can dialogue occur if one of the participants rejects the very possibility of being contradicted and thereby refuted? Are we to take Florensky’s statements at face value without question, i.e., dogmatically? Arguably in contrast to Oppo’s picture of Florensky here, Zenkovsky in his classic history of Russian philosophy contended that Florensky made a sharp distinction between Russian philosophy and philosophy in the West. Turning to his criticism of Kant’s antinomies, Florensky held that contrary to Kant’s position the antinomies arise not from a misapplication of the cognitive faculties, in subjectivity. Rather, they lie in objective space and time themselves. Would it not be more accurate to say that Florensky saw himself as the antipode of the modern Western tradition? Could we not say that Florensky saw his thought as fundamentally an effort, as Oppo himself declares, ‟to demonstrate the profound value – both ancient and modern at the same time – of Russian-Christian culture” against the scientistic one offered by the West (p. 7)? Oppo writes that although Florensky and Husserl are antithetical figures in many senses, both shared the view that Western science has an essentially nihilistic character (p. 15). I will defer to Oppo concerning Florensky’s position, but Husserl in the early pages of his Crisis of European Sciences did not charge science with nihilism, with the denial of values, but with indifference toward them. Husserl exclaimed that fact-minded sciences make for fact-minded people, but he does not say that such people reject values and ethical goods.
Oppo holds that Florensky’s originality, presumably overall originality, lies in his philosophy of discontinuity, a philosophy or, rather, a conception that he believed could be extended to all of nature and human culture (p. 13). This idea came to him with his discovery of Cantor’s work while still an undergraduate in mathematics. We should also mention Florensky’s early recognition of the continuum hypothesis, which Cantor proposed but which Florensky saw utilized, albeit without the term ‟continuum,” in Aristotle and even the pre-Socratics. However, in Florensky’s revisionistic history of mathematics Galileo relying on Descartes’ mechanistic philosophy abandoned the continuum hypothesis. Florensky found discontinuity seemingly everywhere in physical laws and in the natural world, in human history and in human culture, even in language, words, and names. In fact, the term, as Oppo recognizes, appears almost everywhere in Florensky’s works. What it lacks in them, unlike in mathematics, is a precise definition. Rather, it is an operative term, the understanding of which is tied to its specific usage. In other words, Florensky assumes the widespread, if not universal, presence of discontinuity without concluding to it on the basis of evidence. It is disconcerting also that having claimed discontinuities can be found in mathematics and physics, all other sciences should assume discontinuities are present in their respective investigative fields of reality (p. 52). Nonetheless, Oppo writes that Florensky held discontinuity to be a general theory in which there is an unresolved opposition of two truths that form a self-contradiction (p. 29). Here, we surely have moved beyond Cantor’s innovations in mathematics. Whether the term ‟discontinuity” is, then, the appropriate one when speaking of unresolved oppositions remains unexamined. Is Florensky’s conception of ‟discontinuity” the same as that used today in mathematics when speaking of discontinuous functions? In any case, Florensky viewed this ‟tension” between the two ‟truths” in a discontinuity to be necessary in order for knowledge to be ‟alive and not dead” (p. 29). Can we really speak of knowledge as being ‟alive”?
Oppo tells us that Florensky’s conception of discontinuity sets it against the reigning positivistic conception which has knowledge evolving progressively and accumulatively (p. 30). But is that not what we would mean if we say that knowledge is ‟alive”? Do we not then have a contradiction in Florensky’s conception of knowledge? Or is this again a ‟discontinuity” and thus acceptable? If we look at, say, Hegel’s Science of Logic, do we not also see a progression, a progression following a dialectical circuit through discrete stages each of which arises through the development of the previous one toward the Absolute? Was Hegel, therefore, a positivist? Or does Florensky propose a discontinuous model of knowledge that includes transitional stages arising purely by chance and thus as unable to be predicted in any way beforehand? Or is the model far more subtle with shifting reigning paradigms as in Kuhn’s now-classic study of scientific revolutions? Regrettably, these issues are passed over in silence.
Oppo writes that after the original publication of his The Pillar and Ground of the Truth in 1914 Florensky turned toward the second dimension of the world, viz., natural reality including culture (p. 122). But we are not to take this as meaning there was a sharp break or radical turning point in Florensky’s interests. In Oppo’s eyes, this second period in Florensky’s philosophical oeuvre can be characterized as a rational attempt to justify certain symbolic theories of his own. This reading of Florensky sets it apart from and against Cassirer’s constructivist theory of the symbol, which sees the symbol as ‟arbitrarily produced to give meaning to the world” (p. 136), and it is this that Florensky combats. It is highly unlikely that Cassirer would have agreed with Oppo that symbols are ‟arbitrarily produced.” Oppo regrettably ceases his confrontation of Florensky with Cassirer at this point which would have aided an understanding of the former’s theory. Instead, the author pursues a connection, though again only briefly, with the medieval theologian Gregory Palamas. This turn to a medieval theologian marks another characteristic of Florensky’s thought, a concern not with having science and evidence lead the way, but religious belief, indeed a sectarian religious belief. To be fair, though, Oppo makes an admirable study of Florensky’s work, as he phrases it, from the perspective of the philosophy of discontinuity, tracing its development chronologically (p. 31). The final result of this ‟new” philosophy is a ‟scientific Neoplatonism” (p. 35). What are some of the features of this ‟scientific” outlook? Here, Oppo cannot help but remark that Florensky held ‟unorthodox conceptions” (p. 48). Without delving into details – perhaps Oppo believes his own English-language edition of Florensky’s Imaginaries in Geometry is sufficient – Florensky sought to resurrect the Ptolemaic view of the solar system! The result of this was that, as another scholar of Russian religious thought has commented, ‟scientific terms lost their physical meanings and started playing the role merely of religious-metaphysical metaphors” (Obolevitch, p. 106). What are the constraints, then, in the construction of such metaphors? Whereas conceivably we give Florensky the benefit of some ‟poetic license,” he himself thought that data supported the veracity of the Ptolemaic view over the Copernican! Florensky also concluded, for example, that the speed of light was not an inviolable speed limit and arguably most astonishing that the border between Earth and Heaven lies between the orbits of Uranus and Neptune. Are we to take Florensky seriously at this point?
Clearly, Oppo attempts to cover as many of the lines of inquiry that Florensky pursued as possible. A short review, such as this, cannot do justice to all of them. But we can, however briefly, mention Florensky’s foray into aesthetic realism. Oppo tells us that Florensky called Renaissance painting ‟fake art,” an accusation meant to be a provocation. He set himself against ‟a specifically Western and positivistic” nineteenth-century idea (p. 146). But as Florensky’s reflections were written in Russian, not German, French, or English, soon after the Bolshevik Revolution, a time when disturbances in the country were widespread, just whom did Florensky seek to provoke – the Bolshevik authorities? One cannot help but be suspicious of Florensky’s fundamental attitude. He, unlike his esteemed teachers never sought to journey, let alone study, in the West. He demonstrated a considerable facility with Western languages, but again unlike his teachers in mathematics and philosophy never thought to express his ideas in what was then regarded as the lingua franca for science. Why was this if he thought his ideas were true and be recognized as such?
Evaluating Florensky’s work is particularly difficult for the contemporary scholar, the Husserlian phenomenologist perhaps most of all, since, as alluded to above, it covers, on the one hand, such a wide range of topics in a quite peculiar, long forgotten style, largely dismissed as antiquated. On the other hand, it explicitly abjures logical reasoning, subjectivity, and manifest evidence. One contemporary scholar of Florensky’s writings, Michael Chase, has conjectured that no one, not even Leonardo Da Vinci, has made as many substantive contributions to a wide range of fields. The question remains, however, whether any of Florensky’s ‟contributions” were indeed substantive or nothing more than jottings of an overly zealous religious mindset. After all, Florensky’s various pursuits were in the interest of uniting all in a distinctly Russian Orthodox Christian worldview that owed so much to an idiosyncratic Platonism. To be sure, some have seen him as an obscurantist. Comparison with Solovyov – at least the later Solovyov – is misplaced. There is little of his ecumenical and internationalistic attitude in Florensky.
Oppo’s work remains a valuable contribution to the expanding literature on Florensky, the comments above notwithstanding. An understanding of Florensky’s wide-ranging thought, however flawed it may be from today’s perspective, can help illuminate the era, particularly its vying intellectual extremes, in which that thought, the consequences of which resonated around the world for decades. Oppo, as it were, presciently recognized the criticisms expressed here in writing that it can be hard to be objective with Florensky (p. 189). Whatever we may think of the object of Oppo’s study, it must not be confused with patience and diligence of the study itself.
Bibliography:
Obolevitch, Teresa. Faith and Science in Russian Religious Thought. Oxford University Press, 2019.
Le problème de la signification dans les philosophies de Kant et Husserl
2023
Paperback
442
Reviewed by: Begüm Özuzun
In her book titled Le problème de la signification dans le philosophies de Kant et Husserl [The Problem of Signification in the Philosophies of Kant and Husserl] (2023) (hereafter abbreviated as PspKH), as the title suggests, Veronica Cibotaru addresses the issue of signification in the works of Kant and Husserl. Within this text, she highlights the similarity in Immanuel Kant’s (1724-1804) and Edmund Husserl’s (1859-1838) approaches to the problem of signification, both of whom engage with this issue in terms of a linguistic and logical semantic signification specific to an expression. Despite this similarity, it is necessary not to overlook the usage of signification in the sense of ‘meaning’ in Kant. That is why when we aim to examine the similarities and differences in their approaches by comparing Kant’s notion of signification with the problem of signification in Husserl, Cibotaru notes that the words Sinn [sense] and Bedeutung [reference] used by Kant are used interchangeably. However, for the sake of clarity in analysis, she distinguishes between sense and signification, suggesting that due to the linguistic and logical aspects of signification in Husserl, it is advisable to focus generally on places where the term Bedeutung appears in Kant’s writings (PspKH, p. 9). If we delve further into this choice, the word signification in French does not have a direct equivalent in German; hence, when the question of signification arises in Kant and Husserl, the German words Sinn and Bedeutung, meaning ‘sense’ and ‘reference,’ respectively, emerge. Bedeutung carries the connotation of ‘intended meaning’ distinct from Sinn. Hence, just as Sinn directs us to a general meaning, the focus on Bedeutung in Husserl indicates a semantic meaning of an expression, leading us toward a more accurate understanding (ibid.).
As previously mentioned, when discussing the problem of signification in Kant, it is necessary to expand our research beyond the instances where the term Bedeutung appears, because signification in Kant only sometimes entails an investigation and curiosity into the semantic meaning of an expression. Since Kant does not sharply distinguish between two meanings, it is suggested that we would predominantly encounter not the signification we associate with Sinn but rather the word Bedeutung (ibid., p. 10).
While these two philosophers diverge in their approaches to signification, whether focusing on a semantic expression or not, both emphasize the importance of consciousness for us to speak of signification, attributing a similar significance to consciousness (ibid.). The importance of consciousness in Husserl’s thought has always been noticed. This importance is evident in the significance attributed to signification, as early as in the Logical Investigations (1900) (ibid., p. 11).
However, a distinction can be drawn between the two philosophers; while in Kant, the issue lies in the relationship between consciousness and objects, Husserl focuses on this relational situation, radicalizing Kant’s thought by determining consciousness through the harmony it establishes with things. The intentional aspect of consciousness in Husserl also arises from this point (ibid.). This difference stems from a strategic difference between the two philosophers: namely, the motivations behind Kant’s focus on consciousness are not the same as those of Husserl. Kant, unlike Husserl, poses an epistemological question beyond the determination of an object from a phenomenological perspective; this question concerns the possibility of “a priori recognition of things” (ibid., p. 12).
While Kant’s discussion of signification may indeed have an epistemological motivation, the question pertains not to linguistic or logical aspects but rather to the connection between unity of consciousness in terms of concepts and representations of objects. Therefore, it is evident that this thought places importance on discussions of consciousness (ibid.).
In this regard, Cibotaru poses three main questions to address the problem of signification in both philosophers: 1) The question of consciousness as the giver of meaning (through this question, we will also address whether in Kant, in a Husserlian sense, consciousness is placed at the foundation of all meaning); 2) The question of separating signification from sense (through this question, we will ascertain whether in Kant, meaning can be understood as the apprehension of an object by a consciousness); 3) The question of signification within the harmony of consciousness and object (through this question, we will inquire whether in Kant, before Husserl, there is a consideration of consciousness conceptualized in terms of intentionality). This book shapes its research methodology around these three main questions (ibid., p. 13).
Following consciousness, another similarity between the two authors is their shared emphasis on intuition. However, while intuitions, a condition of our experience, serve as a fundamental question to answer the problem of signification in Kant, they will fill in the intentional content in Husserl. Although it may seem that the function of intuition has been set aside in Husserl, it will nonetheless facilitate the fulfillment of this aim via intuition via intentional content (ibid.).
This similarity also gives rise to a divergence. This distinction does not stem from the importance of intuition by the two philosophers but rather from the difference in the understanding of the role of intuition. From this perspective, we can question the applicability of Husserl’s concept of intentional content, which is attributed to intuition in Kantian philosophy. Particularly considering the difference between theoretical and practical significations in Kant, while theoretical signification is linked to our intuitions, our practical significations, deriving their essence from the noumenal realm, carry a meaning independent of our intuitions (ibid.). Regarding a Husserlian notion of signification, will these concepts, developed independently from our intuitions, be meaningless? Considering the different functions attributed to intuition, how successful are we in achieving our goal if we think both philosophers address signification in French with the words Sinn and Bedeutung? In other words, how legitimate is it to approach the problem of signification through the words Sinn and Bedeutung?
Faced with this problem, Cibotaru reformulates the three questions she previously posed: 1) What is the harmony between signification and consciousness? 2) What is the harmony between signification and intuitions? 3) Is there such a stark difference between theoretical and practical signification? (ibid., p. 14).
To answer these questions, Cibotaru presents us with the following method: She divides the study into two main parts, dedicating the first part entirely to the problem of signification in Kant, and in the second part, she reveals the extensions of the conclusions drawn in the first part within Husserlian phenomenology (ibid., p. 17). Thus, she seeks to find an answer to the question of whether the problem of signification can be addressed jointly by these two philosophers. She divides the first part into three main sections following Kant’s three Critiques, thereby addressing the problem of signification independently in each Critique and allowing for a comparison between the concepts of Sinn and Bedeutung (ibid.).
While addressing the first two Critiques, she examines the difference between theoretical and practical signification. When analyzing the Third Critique, she demonstrates how practical significations acquire meaning through the different status accorded to pure concepts such as God and Freedom (ibid.). In the second part, based on the conclusions drawn from the problem of signification in Kant, instead of approaching Husserl’s texts with key terms as in Kant’s texts, she focuses on what Husserl generally says about the connection between signification and consciousness, the connection between consciousness and intuition, and the distinction he makes between theoretical and practical significations (ibid., p. 19).
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In the section where Cibotaru examines the First Critique, she presents three principal axes of inquiry. The first axis considers the significance of understanding concepts regarding the harmony between them and the object. However, this should not be perceived as a referential signification problem in an empirical sense, as it emphasizes that this harmony occurs not through the compatibility of the concept with the object but rather through the connection of signification to pure sensibility (ibid., p. 131). In the second axis of inquiry, she prefers to approach the problem of signification by examining how concepts are introduced in Kant’s logic lectures. In these logic lectures, concepts appear as a general representation of the modus operandi quality. According to this view, concepts are composed of essence and are not considered in terms of their conformity to reality. However, it is demonstrated that the logic theory in these lectures is based on the teachings of Georg Friedrich Meier (1718–1777), inspired by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz’s (1646-1716) theory of concepts. This contradicts Kant’s assertion in the First Critique that for signification to be possible, the object must be given, that is, perceptible. Thus, Cibotaru emphasizes the importance of perception in the problem of signification in Kant, in contrast to Leibniz’s theory of two worlds, and shows that Kant’s theory includes the problem of signification between the worlds of senses and reason (ibid., p. 132, 133). Next, Cibotaru examines the relationship between the problem of signification and the question of consciousness in the third axis of her research. She highlights the significance of Kant’s addressing this issue, considering it essential to establish a connection with Husserl’s texts, as it is a relationship often overlooked by Kant’s successors and contemporaries (ibid., p. 133).
From the analysis advancing along these three main axes, two conclusions emerge: 1) In the First Critique, Kant attributes the meaning of being a synthesis procedure of many different elements to the concept. Therefore, the concept always appears as the synthetic unity of consciousness, whether empirical or pure. This synthesis, in Kant, is adapted to our senses through transcendental schemata grounded a priori. 2) In Kant, although consciousness is not intentional in the Husserlian sense, how concepts acquire signification is defined, meaning that consciousness as the constitutive subject is also inherent and fundamental to signification. Thus, if a theory of signification were to be derived from Kant, he neither presents a conceptualist theory that eliminates the concept as a simple image of things nor proposes a nominalist theory that regards the concept as the abstract representation of many similar objects (ibid., p. 133, 134). What leads Kant away from this approach is his treatment of consciousness through its relation to objects, akin to Husserl.
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In the second main section of the book, Cibotaru lists the sections in Kant’s Second Critique where the concept of Bedeutung is mentioned, this is because she wants to elucidate how Kant approaches the problem of signification in the Second Critique and how he arrives at the distinction between theoretical and practical signification with which arguments (or by what arguments) (ibid., p. 134).
While in the First Critique Cibotaru seeks to answer the problem of signification through the importance of the senses in determining concepts, in the Second Critique, she can develop a more direct method because the problem of signification is addressed more explicitly. She argues that Kant’s more explicit treatment of the problem of signification in the Second Critique is because moral thought is not confined to a single philosophical school and is universally relevant to everyone (ibid., p. 140). Hence, morality must possess a general signification. Additionally, while we do not experience a sense of responsibility for conformity to moral laws in our empirical experience, the justification of morality, which is a product of practical reason independent of the senses, is provided in the noumenal realm, leaving moral laws subject to a certain sense of meaninglessness. Kant endeavors to resolve this sense of meaninglessness.
As practical signification operates independently of the senses, Cibotaru continues to examine the Second Critique by focusing on the concept of Bedeutung rather than Sinn. This allows her to move away from the deficiency of the term “sens,” which remains tied to sensibility, and to explore concepts derived from linguistic practical signification (ibid., p. 140, 141). Indeed, Kant, even in the First Critique, prefers to approach signification linguistically rather than ontologically, as in Kantian thought, the function of the senses only emerges as a condition for signification, and questions such as the meaning of life are not discussed within this philosophy. Instead, the focus is primarily on the signification of concepts (ibid., p. 141).
In this context, Cibotaru focuses on the concept of freedom, which is given a separate status in Kant, and explains how, despite its lack of inherent meaning, it becomes part of the game of signification and emphasizes the difference between theoretical and practical signification, thereby demonstrating that we can still speak of signification. Then, she examines how signification operates in the Second Critique by addressing the idea of God, another pure concept in Kantian philosophy (ibid., p. 142).
Cibotaru asserts that the distinction between theoretical and practical signification is polemically introduced because it is based on a supposed moral assumption. She labels morality as “supposed” because practical signification cannot construct morality, as it is not grounded in morality. For something to have moral value, it must occur in the phenomenal realm where morality is experienced. It gains moral value to the extent that it occurs in the phenomenal realm. In this sense, when the distinction between practical and theoretical signification is initially proposed in the Second Critique, practical signification is not considered moral. Therefore, this distinction arises not initially to interpret our moral actions but rather to describe how we can approach objects of recognition within the framework of any action for specific purposes (ibid., p. 144).
Kant states in the second part of the first book “The analytic of pure practical reason” (Kant, 2015) that he is not concerned with theoretically knowing the nature of a being; for Kant, a being already appears as a pure will. A being must already adhere to causality to determine itself as a pure will (ibid., p. 146). Therefore, Kant excludes freedom from theoretical knowledge. By excluding freedom from theoretical knowledge, he expands the category of causality that depends on it because he demonstrates a practical domain of causality outside the realm of cognition (ibid.). How does Kant determine the special status that allows freedom to appear both as a pure idea and a practical concept, opening up a domain of practical signification distinct from the theoretical?
After the distinction between practical and theoretical signification becomes apparent through the concept of freedom, Kant develops the notion that the concepts of understanding in the First Critique cannot attain signification without recourse to the sensible realm. His argument suggests that while they cannot acquire theoretical signification without resorting to the sensible, they will acquire a different type of signification, namely practical significance, without recourse to the sensible. Thus, although freedom may establish itself as a pure idea in the noumenal realm, Kant demonstrates that it can also carry practical significance. Consequently, the distinct status of freedom does not pose a contradiction in signification, as it can bear both theoretical and practical significance without inconsistency (ibid., p. 147).
Due to freedom’s presence as a pure idea in the First Critique, morality maintains its necessity based on a command from the noumenal realm, even though it only occurs in the phenomenal realm. Even if we do not understand freedom, we must still enact it (ibid., p. 149). The exclusion of freedom from the realm of cognition does not imply that it cannot be thought; instead, I can assume it in the practical domain precisely because I can think it (ibid., p. 149, 150). In this sense, moral causality is not a domain where the concepts of understanding are simply applied to objects; instead, it is the realization of its object’s conformity through a kind of interpretation, through thought (ibid., p. 161).
Freedom, while operating within the framework of moral law in the phenomenal realm and being subject to a kind of causality due to its conformity to the law, demonstrates that members of the ethical community can consist only of rational beings. This is because freedom can only be exercised by agents who apply their will according to conditions and determine themselves. In this sense, individuals can be part of this ethical community to the extent that they can exercise reason; this necessitates an intersubjective moral consciousness in the phenomenal realm (ibid., p. 183).
Following this, Cibotaru addresses the issue of signification in the idea of God, which does not derive its source from the sensible realm but emerges as a pure idea. Although Kant touches upon the immortality of the soul, God, and Freedom as the three concepts of pure reason in the First Critique, in the Second Critique, while discussing God and Freedom as conditions of practical reason, he does not address the immortality of the soul (ibid., p. 195, 196). This underscores that God and freedom have a functional aspect beyond their theoretical significance in practical signification. For instance, Kant discusses the necessity of the idea of God for moral reason in the Second Critique. Kant speaks of an indirect necessity because although the moral law is obligatory, it is subjective rather than objective, and its subjectivity is realized only through an imagination of a good sovereign. Without the functionality of the idea of God, just as it would be without the objective nature, finite beings like us would not be able to fulfill it (ibid., p. 196). It’s essential to emphasize that the function of the idea of God lies not in the possibility of morality but in our ability, as finite beings, to actualize morality by acting under moral reasons. I feel the moral law within me without resorting to the idea of God in my experiences; I am immediately conscious of the moral laws (ibid., p. 197). Thus, although its origin is derived from a residue of thought in the noumenal realm because it is based on the assumption of a world of reason, God can manifest himself in the phenomenal world because of the subjectivity he gains. Through this idea, Kant ensures we can guide our actions within morality and happiness and govern our desires accordingly (ibid., p. 201). Thus, through this special status, God presents himself as the legislator of the ethical community, enabling the subject to govern according to these laws (ibid., p. 202).
Despite the difference between theoretical and practical signification, for instance, connecting practical significations with the phenomenal world through imagination, both signification theories lead to objective reality. The givenness of the sensible guarantees the connection with objective reality in the concepts of the mind. In contrast, in the ideas of pure practical reason, the connection with objective reality is ensured by the subjective necessity of the supreme good (ibid., p. 206).
***
Cibotaru points out that the signification issue is addressed in the three parts of the Third Critique. First, it is discussed in §50 of the “Analytic of the Sublime” section. In this paragraph, it is mentioned that without laws, freedom is merely absurd. The word absurde used in the French translation corresponds to Unsinn in German, meaning freedom lacks meaning without laws or, in other words, without moral causality (ibid., p. 215, 216). Second, in the final paragraph of the “Methodology of Teleological Power of Judgment,” in the section “General Remark on the Teleology,” the concept of Bedeutung, not Sinn, is used (Kant, 2000). Once again, the concept of God is discussed in terms of its limits, with a negative connotation (PspKH., p. 217). Finally, the signification issue is addressed at the end of the “Methodology of Teleological Power of Judgment” (Kant, 2000). Here, Kant also refers to the concept of Bedeutung, discussing signification in the context of the limits of our categories, stating that without these limitations, our categories would be meaningless (PspKH., p. 217).
The issue of signification, although less addressed in the Third Critique, has a broader scope than in the other two critiques. Cibotaru finds the explanation for this in the remarks of Alexis Philonenko (1932-2018), the French edition translator of Critique de la faculté de juger (2000). According to Philonenko, this book presents an intersubjective logic. Thus, Philonenko considers the Third Critique as a logic of signification (ibid., p. 241). Since the act of signification is also a form of communication, it always finds its essence in human encounters. To speak of a universal beauty in these encounters, one must delve into the depths of the issue of signification. Without delving into these issues, such an investigation into signification would not be possible (ibid.). In a sense, although Kant addresses signification in different contexts, he uses signification in meanings found in the assumptions of the First and Second Critiques without introducing a new definition of signification in the Third Critique.
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Kant and Husserl both agree on the role of intuition in enabling signification. However, as previously mentioned, they attribute different roles to intuition. In the First Critique, Kant pursues pure intuitions to make signification possible, while Husserl defines signification as pure ideality in the Logical Investigations’ First Investigation. After defining signification as linguistically pure ideality, Husserl discusses intuitions’ function in intentional acts. Unlike Kant, he examines intuition not to reach the conceptual domain but to investigate intuition in the conceptual flow (ibid., p. 247). In other words, in the Logical Investigations, the problem of signification arises as a correlation problem between thought [signification] and intuition. At the same time, in the First Critique, Kant arrives at a duality between intuition and thought. This dichotomy, stemming from the radical distinction between the sensible and the intellectual, leads Kant, unlike Husserl, to the inability to conflate intuition and thought (ibid., p. 248).
Husserl proposes categorical intuitions to establish a correlation between intuition and thought. Thus, unlike sensory intuition, which perceives objects in their spatio-temporal extension, Husserl defines intuition as perceiving objects as general and non-temporal entities (ibid.). By giving intuition a categorical meaning, Husserl addresses the problem of synthesis between thought and the sensible world found in Kant (ibid., p. 249).
Linguistic expressions carry meaning through this function of intuition. Husserl distinguishes linguistic signs from indicators. Linguistic signs carry meaning inherently, not based on their relationship with something else; indicators, on the other hand, are part of a process of signification about something external to themselves. By addressing signification through the distinction between linguistic signs and indicators, Husserl elevates signification to an independent structure and ensures its definition as an ideal unity. This ideal unity distinguishes between linguistic expressions and physical phenomena in Husserl’s framework. Physical phenomena, lacking an ideal unity, do not enter into a signification game alone (ibid.). On the other hand, linguistic signs carry a different meaning because they always refer to a determined entity, even if it does not exist (ibid., p. 250).
In this sense, Cibotaru identifies a fundamental difference between the two thinkers. In contrast, Husserl sees signification not as the emergence of the sensory, as in Kant, but as an intentionality inherent in phenomena already carrying meaning (ibid.).
Husserlian thought manifests itself in two senses: Firstly, by distinguishing between physical phenomena and linguistic signs, and by extension, between Bedeutung and Sinn; secondly, by assigning a foundational role to intuition in signification. While Kant uses Bedeutung and Sinn interchangeably, Husserl’s theory assigns distinct meanings to both (ibid.).
Husserl does not directly reference Kant in his discussions on the problem of signification. However, significant Kantian references in Husserl’s texts indicate his stance. For instance, in §100 of Formal and Transcendental Logic (1929), Husserl adopts a critical stance towards Kant’s formal logic. He directs this critique by praising its a priori nature against Humean conceptual understanding (ibid., p. 251, 252). This critique reveals Husserl’s views on formal logic. It reflects his opposition to Kant’s failure to acknowledge the presence of an objective ideal in formal logic within the problem of signification (ibid., p. 252).
The second reference comes from Husserl’s lectures on ethics delivered between 1920 and 1924. Here, Husserl highlights that in Kantian ethics, the phenomenological method is only applied through how words are understood, and he criticizes Kant for not focusing on acts that give meaning instead (ibid.).
The third reference is from an unpublished fragment of manuscript B IV 1, where Husserl draws a parallel between the theory of analytic judgments in his work and Kant’s theory of analytic judgments. This parallelism arises from both gaining their validity through simple significations, implying that in both thinkers, it is possible to establish a connection between simple signification and a simple concept (ibid.).
However, all these references do not provide us with enough material to develop a systematic theory of signification between the two thinkers. This is because Husserl only aligns with Kant on analytic judgments, which remain more within the realm of pure logic, theory of knowledge, and phenomenological methodology due to their applicability only to simple concepts. In other words, there is no parallelism between the two thinkers regarding signification.
***
Cibotaru aims not to examine systematically the moments when the term “signification” emerges or the passages in Husserl’s texts that refer to Kant. Instead, they seek to compare how the two thinkers respond to the question of signification by clinging to the similarity based on the importance given to consciousness and intuition by them.
In Kant, the connection between consciousness and signification is indirect. This connection is established to explain how concepts are possible. Without consciousness, speaking of concepts or any signification is impossible. Thus, Kant’s understanding of constitutive consciousness is similar to Husserl’s. However, Kant does not explicitly characterize consciousness as constitutive; for him, consciousness is seen merely as the field that unifies sensible multiplicity (ibid., p. 260).
Nevertheless, consciousness is a fundamental discussion of signification. On the other hand, Husserl emphasizes more directly in Logical Investigations that consciousness is necessary for all kinds of signification (ibid.). At this point, Cibotaru suggests examining the interconnectedness of consciousness and signification in Husserl’s Logical Investigations and Ideas (1913) texts.
Husserl distinguishes physical phenomena and linguistic expression in the ninth paragraph of First Investigation. He reaches a radical separation between the word and its object, defining the word as an ideal. According to this view, an object can only acquire meaning when a word is intended for it. In other words, when the intended object, targeted by linguistic expression, becomes intended towards the physical object. However, the object intended through consciousness already possesses signification because it comes from consciousness (ibid., p. 261).
Then, in the eleventh paragraph, he presents three reasons the intended object is ideal. Firstly, the intended object is ideal because it can never be reduced to a single word or group of words. In other words, the word itself cannot explain the object’s ideality. The second reason is that the ideal object is never reduced to the relationship between the object and consciousness. Therefore, this ideality cannot be reduced to subjective, ever-changing representations each time. Thirdly, the intended object is ideal because it never becomes identical to the actual object. The concept of ideality, for Husserl, renders the actual object insignificant in terms of the problem of signification, thus diminishing the importance of intuition compared to consciousness. While the intended object presents itself with signification as it is, the actual object only realizes signification in intuition. This indicates that the actual object is the body of the intended object, but to acquire meaning, the actual object does not require intuition afterward (ibid., p. 262). Husserl also states that complex significations combine these simple significations (ibid., p. 265).
Kant, unlike Husserl, does not perceive signification as an ideal objectivity. Still, he defines it based on the relationship between consciousness and an object or an objective reality, as Husserl does (ibid., p. 268). However, in the case of theoretical signification and practical signification, the object intended in Husserl’s theory, as opposed to Kant’s, would be categories rather than objective reality. Cibotaru offers an interpretation at this point: the difference between ideality in Husserl and reality in Kant arises from one being timeless and the other being spatio-temporal. Kant’s theory requires the precondition of pure sensory spatio-temporality for signification. However, according to Husserl, in a Kantian sense, space and time only provide an idealized perception of space-time. In other words, they are not objects perceived empirically (ibid., p. 269). From this perspective, although Kant’s philosophy may not seem to attribute a priori characteristics to reason beyond categories, it legitimizes all our experiences through an idealized space-time, providing us with a philosophy before orientation towards experience in a sense (ibid.).
***
In Husserl, as we ’ve shown, there’s less emphasis on intuition than in Kant. Therefore, Cibotaru turns to Husserl’s Sixth Investigation to compare the relationship between intuition and signification in the Kantian and Husserlian sense. In this book, Husserl investigates not directly signification but rather the possibilities of knowledge. In this sense, he demonstrates that intuitions are necessary not for signification but for knowing. An ideal object must already be presented to our intuitive consciousness for us to know. So, while intuition is not necessary for signification in this sense, it gains a fundamental function in recognizing an object, termed as Auffassungssinn. Through this definition, the function of intuition in the general process of object recognition expands, as it enables a Kantian-like extension of intuitive consciousness (ibid., p. 324), thereby allowing Kant to include the sensory in the realm of knowledge.
However, Husserl attributes a role to intuition quite different from Kant’s. While Kant shows our pure intuitions as conditions for our experience, he does not assign them an operational role in these conditions; if there were to be any operation, it would be performed by the understanding. Conversely, Husserl defines intuition as the meeting point between the ideal and actual objects, asserting that cognition occurs in this manner, thereby intertwining the realms of understanding and intuition. For instance, in Kantian thought, categories belong to the realm of understanding, whereas in Husserl, we can speak of categorical intuitions.
***
The exploration of the topic of signification between Husserl and Kant and its transformation from Kantian thought to phenomenological inquiry is one of the significant areas of inquiry due to its limited treatment and its influence on contemporary French philosophy. In this regard, two points stand out: 1) The frequent examination of the distinction between “sens” and “signification” in contemporary French philosophy (For instance, Jean-Luc Nancy attributes distinct importance to “sens” as opposed to other senses as the provider of externality (Derrida, 1998), while excluding “signification,” which denotes a more active, linguistically meaningful interpretation); 2) This distinction transforms “signification” from being something apprehensible to being an actively given element. From these perspectives, it can be said that this work occupies an essential place among current research endeavors.
While initially, it may seem possible to establish a parallel between Kant and Husserl by examining the roles attributed to consciousness and the practical significance of pure ideas in Kant and to interpret Husserl as a complement to Kantian idealism, it becomes evident that the positions they hold regarding intuition and signification diverge. Kant views intuitions not as where intentionality realizes, as Husserl does, but as conditions for apprehending objects. This indicates that, unlike Husserl’s phenomenological act, Kant does not speak of a general act of signification. With his persistent stance on Bedeutung, Husserl radically distinguishes between “sens” and “signification,” transforming the act of giving meaning into a phenomenological act mediated by intentional consciousness. In this regard, PspKH successfully reveals the fundamental differences between the two thinkers and can be characterized as a significant publication for contemporary research due to its systematic approach.
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XVII, 590
Reviewed by: Luz Ascárate (University Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne)
In response of the increasingly overwhelming interest of today’s scholars in various forms of naturalism and realism, Cynthia D. Coe offers us a look at the opposite side of philosophy, that inhabited by German idealism and phenomenology. Theses traditions, as the editor states, “jointly provide a counterpoint to the veneration of a materialist worldview and empirical methods of investigating reality that have dominated not only the natural and social sciences but also analytic philosophy” (p. 1). We believe that it is important to make this counterpart since, in the face of these tendencies, the Husserlian phenomenological project of saving man from being treated as a fact (Husserl, 1979) cannot be more relevant today: there are indeed still reasons to defend human freedom in terms of an irreducibility of the humanity or the spirit to the material conditions of scientific and technological progress. Unfortunately, the defence of this irreducibility in both German idealism and phenomenology have been widely misunderstood, in the sense that these traditions are accused of flat intellectualism and forgetfulness of reality, to say nothing about the supposed obscurity of the language and theories of their exponents, who have certainly preferred theoretical rigour to clearness of expression.
Now, with respect to the links immanent to the development of the studies of these traditions, much has been said about the influence of thinkers such as Kant, Hegel, Schelling or Fichte on the phenomenological proposals of Husserl (Steinbock, 2017, chapter 4), Heidegger (Slama, 2021), Fink (Lazzari, 2009) or Merleau-Ponty (Matherne, 2016), among others. However, this collective work offers us a vision of phenomenology either as a reappropriation, overcoming or continuation of the project of German idealism. Therein lies its importance. According to Cynthia D. Coe there would thus be a continuity to be emphasised between the preoccupation with consciousness in German idealism and the phenomenological preoccupation with first-person lived experience. This continuity is reviewed by the contributors to this book on different thematic fronts which articulate the 6 parts of this book: subjectivity, intersubjectivity and the other, ethics and aesthetics, time and history, ontology and epistemology, hermeneutics.
Throughout the contributions in these parts, we can identify the influence of German idealist thinkers on Husserl and on the phenomenological tradition in general. In addition, some contributors choose to point out the problems of interpretation of either Husserl or other phenomenologists with respect to the most representative texts of German idealism. In other contributions, the influence of the German idealist project on the conception of the phenomenological project can be seen. Finally, it can also be observed that the very definition of phenomenology for some representatives of this movement owes as much to Husserl as to German idealism. There remains, however, an interpretative line to be explored: in what sense phenomenology has been important not only for the reception of German idealism, but also for current studies of this tradition, contributing themes, angles, or interpretative nuances that the specialists of German idealist thinkers may not follow, but with which they discusse and dialogue. Although the importance of phenomenology for current studies in German idealism is a fact that we can ascertain (see for exemple Schnell, 2009), no author of this book cares to make this explicit. The directionality that the dialogue between these traditions thus takes is to start from German idealism to see its influence on phenomenology and to return to German idealism only if there is an error of interpretation to be criticised with respect to a specific problem. But let’s take a closer look at the content of the contributions in this book.
We would say that the concern with the concept of subjectivity can itself characterise both the idealist tradition and the phenomenological tradition. The contributions in the first part of this book are devoted to this common concern. Dermot Moran, in his paper entitled “Husserl’s Idealism Revisited” (pp. 15-40), drawing on Husserl’s understanding of the intentionality of consciousness, reveals that the place given to consciousness leads him to affirm a new kind of transcendental idealism. Husserl’s idealism, akin but not comparable to that of German idealism, gives intersubjectivity a fundamental character. But if Moran focuses exclusively on Husserl’s thought, the two following contributions in this part explore more closely the relationship between Husserlian phenomenology and German idealism.
Claudia Serban’s contribution (pp. 41-62) discusses the relation between the transcendental I and empirical subjectivity in both Kant and Husserl, differentiating their conceptions. The transcendental perspective is positioned here, in both authors, against the psychological and anthropological perspective regarding the concept of the inner man. First of all, the author opposes Husserl’s and Kant’s perspectives on internal and external experience within the horizon of the purely psychological perspective. Serban insists on defending Kant against some of Husserl’s criticisms. This opens the way to the Kantian distinction between the inner man and the outter man that appears in the context of his anthropology. Anthropology will try to be brought closer, by Husserl, to transcendental phenomenology. The paper thus shows how Husserl and Kant converge in the continuation of the transcendental perspective in an anthropology.
Federico Ferraguto, in his chapter (pp. 63-83), explores the relationship between Fichte and Husserl. Ferraguto begins with a reconstruction of Fichte’s influence on Husserl, and then points out the role of the self in the constitution of knowledge and thus in the conception of philosophy as a rigorous science for both authors. While it is clear that subjectivity is a fundamental theme of Husserlian thought, it is also present in other representatives of phenomenology. In this sense, even with regard to subjectivity, the last two contributions of this part follow closely the relationship between Gabriel Marcel, Jean-Paul Sartre and German idealism.
The article “Bodies, Authenticity, and Marcelian Problematicity” (pp. 85-106) by Jill Hernandez explores the influence of German idealism on Marcel’s thought, specifically with regard to the existentialist concept of incarnation and the ethical perspective of a life lived, by the self, in an intersubjective communion. This first part ends with Sorin Baiasu’s contribution (pp. 107-128), in which Sartre’s concept of freedom is established through dialogue and opposition with the Kantian perspective of freedom. Baiasu shows that the differences between the conceptions of these authors should not be understood, as is usually believed, as if the Sartrian view of freedom were an implausible radicalisation of the Kantian proposal.
The second part of this book deals with a perspective that is already present, albeit in the background, in the first part. It is about the importance, given by phenomenology, to intersubjectivity and the other. This importance leads us to the communicating vessels that phenomenology makes possible with social philosophy. The whole complexity here lies in identifying the influence that German idealism may have had on this phenomenological area of study. In some cases phenomenology will radicalise the perspective of German idealism in order to integrate the fundamental role of intersubjectivity, in other cases, the strategy will be to elaborate a critique of the tradition of German idealism against and its treatment of social problems, which will allow phenomenology to show itself as overcoming this tradition in response to these issues.
In his chapter (pp. 131-152), Jan Strassheim thus devotes himself to revealing the influence of the Kantian transcendental perspective on Alfred Schutz’s anthropology of transcendence, passing through Husserl’s critique of Kant’s anthropological theory. Strassheim shows that Schutz will insert intersubjectivity into his anthropological perspective inherited from Kant. First, the author shows in what sense Schutz’s anthropology has a phenomenological basis. Next, a difference is established between Kant’s and Schutz’s perspectives on transcendence. For the latter, transcendence will not be that which persists beyond all possible human experience, but rather transcendence “is a category for various ways in which human finitude appears within experience” (p. 137). Transcendence will also be understood on the basis of the concept of meaning and the concept of types, which will allow him to enlarge the Kantian categorical perspective. Intersubjectivity will be inserted here in order to understand the formation of the self.
In the article entitled “Moving Beyond Hegel: The Paradox of Immanent Freedom in Simone de Beauvoir’s Philosophy” (pp. 153-172), Shannon M. Mussett reveals the influence of Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit on Beauvoir’s conception of freedom as expressed in situations of oppression. Mussett argues that Beauvoir’s perspective is able to surpass the historical optimism of Hegelian dialectics by showing how immanent expressions of freedom can remain even in situations of oppression but in empty, abstract and ineffective behaviour. The paper begins by articulating the Hegelian notion of negative freedom by giving special attention to the dialectic of master and slave, which is for Beauvoir an instantiation of the optimism of the Hegelian system. Indeed, despite conditions of domination, the subject can, for Hegel, progress. Next, the author shows the ineffective forms of freedom according to Beauvoir, who not only radicalises the Hegelian perspective of freedom, but is capable of denouncing situations of oppression that only express themselves in empty social behaviour.
The last contribution in this part is that of Azzedine Haddour (pp. 173-199), who situates the dialogue between phenomenology and German idealism in the field of decolonial theory, also devotes special attention to the Hegelian dialectic of master and slave. However, this contribution focuses less on the notion of freedom implied in this dialectic than on the extra-philosophical conditions that make Hegel understand the issue of slavery in a particular way. Thus, the author of this chapter first analyses the position of the Hegelian dialectic vis-à-vis historical narratives that are read, by the system, in a teleological way, thus justifying slavery and infantilising people of colour. The Hegelian system is said to be founded on binary oppositions “premised on a Eurocentric and racialized view of the world” (p. 176). Haddour then draws a comparison between the Hegelian conception of slavery and Frantz Fanon’s decolonial theory. For Fanon, the fact that the world of the spirit is governed by rationality and that freedom is not one of its properties shows Hegel’s Eurocentrism. The Hegelian dialectic is dismantled then, in this paper, as counterintuitive.
If the second part of the book introduced social perspectives in the dialogue between phenomenology and German idealism, the third part of the book will deal with a central theme in order to clarify the deep constitution of the social: the theme of value, from an ethical and aesthetic perspective. David Batho’s contribution, entitled “Guidance for Mortals: Heidegger on Norms” (pp. 203-232), deals with the relationship between Heidegger and Hegel with regard to the normative constitution of the social. Batho argues with Robert Pippin, Steven Crowell and John McDowell, and defends that Heidegger’s concept of death as self-awareness of mortality is a necessary condition for grounding action in norms, which shows that Heidegger accounts for the self-legislation of agents as much as Hegel does.
Takashi Yoshikawa (pp. 233-255) focuses on Husserl’s Kaizo articles in order to point out the contribution of transcendental idealism to moral philosophy. Yoshikawa shows the influence of Kant and Fichte on the Husserlian idea of practical reason. In fact, Kaizo‘s ethical perspective shows, according to Yoshikawa, that as in German idealism, Husserl does not reduce reality to subjectivity. Rather, the transcendental idealism of Kant, Fichte and Husserl is not incompatible with empirical realism if we argue that the world exists independently of us. In fact, Kaizo‘s ethical perspective shows, according to Yoshikawa, that as in German idealism, Husserl does not reduce reality to subjectivity. Rather, the transcendental idealism of Kant, Fichte and Husserl is not incompatible with empirical realism if we argue that the world exists independently of us. In ethical terms, this translates into the defence of the virtue of modesty in the face of the incompleteness of our perception and the dependence of our action on the surrounding world.
María-Luz Pintos-Peñaranda discusses, in her chapter intitled “The Blindness of Kantian Idealism Regarding Non-Human Animals and Its Overcoming by Husserlian Phenomenology” (pp. 257-278), the issue of non-human animals. This subject, which would be indifferent to Kantian idealism, can be understood within Husserlian phenomenology. In this sense, the latter represents a real improvement of the idealist perspective. Pintos-Peñaranda first concentrates on Husserlian critique of Kant’s naturalistic logic, and then unveils the affinity of the concept of transcendental consciousness with non-human animals. Insofar as this concept is constituted on the basis of a pre-reflexive understanding that precedes it, animality occupies an important place in the unveiling of the origin of consciousness. Important implications of this are to be found in the phenomenological understanding of will, lived space and the capacity for spatialisation.
The contribution of Íngrid Vendrell Ferran, “Aesthetic Desinterestedness and the Critique of Sentimentalism” (pp. 301-322), explores the relationship between the Kantian tradition of aesthetics and the phenomenological perspectives of Moritz Geiger and José Ortega y Gasset. The absence of interest with which Kant characterises judgements of taste by emphasising the form of the work of art to the detriment of the content is here opposed to sentimentalism as a defect in aesthetic appreciation. Geiger and Ortega y Gasset are equally opposed to sentimentalism in aesthetics following Kant, but the former emphasises aesthetic value while the latter emphasises the formalism of aesthetics.
The fourth part of this book touches on a fundamental theme for both phenomenology and German idealism. This is the one concerning temporality and historicity, which implies going through the concept of memory. Some of the authors in this part argue for a convergence of perspectives between phenomenology and German idealism, while others oppose them, and still others dispute the erroneous readings of German idealism by representants of phenomenology.
Thus, Jason M. Wirth’s contribution (pp. 325-341) brings Schelling and Rosenzweig into dialogue with regard to the time of redemption. On the basis of a cross-reading between the two philosophers, Wirth argues that idealism is redeemed when truth is located between philosophy and theology, between the side of the intellect and that of revelation. In this sense, what is eternal is realised within the concrete completeness of time. Markus Gabriel, in his chapter entitled “Heidegger on Hegel on Time” (pp. 343-359), first reconstructs the reading of Hegel in Being and Time, and then answers it on the basis of a reading of the Hegelian texts. Finally, he criticises Heidegger’s existentialist perspective on temporality. Gabriel argues that Heidegger does not attend to the methodological architecture of the Hegelian philosophical system because he assumes that this system is a historicised form of ontotheology, which is totally inaccurate. In fact, the Heideggerian reflection on time in general fails with respect to the relation between nature and history.
In her paper, Elisa Magrì (pp. 361-383) explores the relationship between Hegel and Merleau-Ponty with regard to sedimentation, memory and the self. Firstly, sedimentation is understood, in Merleau-Ponty’s thinking, as inseparable from the institution as a process of donation of meaning. Magrì interprets this understanding as a revised version of Hegelianism. Hegel’s concept of absolute knowledge is comprehended here as a process of sedimentation that implies a process of institution. The Hegelian concept of absolute knowledge is finally related to a kind of ethical memory that reactivates potential new beginnings in history and society as a form of critique. This contribution closes by pointing out the ethical value of memory for contemporary debate. On the basis of Merleau-Ponty’s and Hegel’s thought, we can understand memory, according to Magrì, as the constant institution of the self, and not as its neutralisation. Memory thus helps to avoid repeating mistakes and to germinate a new dimension for collective reflection and action.
Zachary Davis focuses his contribution (pp. 385-403) to Max Scheler’s idea of history and shows how it has been influenced by German idealism. Davis explores the different periods of Scheler’s thought. The first period, strongly phenomenological, is marked by discussions with the Munich circle and their views on history. In this period, Scheler shares with Hegel the belief that there is an idea in history which develops in the life of culture. However, Scheler criticises the Hegelian perspective that would see history solely as the realisation of the spirit and historical progress as the realisation of absolute knowledge. Historical progress is seen by Scheler as the socialisation of material conditions and the individualisation of spiritual values. Scheler opposes Hegel’s impersonal view to a personalistic view of the spirit. In the last, anthropologically oriented period of his philosophy, Scheler refers to Schelling’s thought. Contrary to Schelling’s internalist view, Scheler argues that there are external material conditions for the realisation of history.
The fifth part of this book unveils the ontological and epistemological discussions that phenomenology entertains with German idealism. The latter appears, in these phenomenological perspectives, sometimes as a presence, sometimes as something to be overcome, sometimes as a persistence. The contributions gathered here focus exclusively on the non-Husserlian approaches of phenomenology. Thus, Mette Lebech, in her article entitled “The Presence of Kant in Stein” (pp. 407-428), focuses on the questions of idealism and faith in Edith Stein and how these relate to Kant’s influence on her phenomenological approach. Lebech articulates Stein’s engagement with Kant through Kant’s influence on Reinach and Husserl. This allows him to elaborate an idea of phenomenology as an extension of the Kantian understanding of the a priori and to oppose Husserl whom he labels a metaphysical idealist. Finally, Lebech argues that Kant signifies, in Stein, the beginning of a philosophical thought that can be articulated with faith. For his part, M. Jorge de Carvalho (pp. 429-455) makes us reflect on Heidegger’s interpretation of Fichte’s three principles. These principles will be understood here in an existentialist key with regard to the question of finitude. For Heidegger, Fichte’s preoccupation with constructing a system of knowledge prevents him from exploring the temporal and existential problems of Dasein analysis.
Jon Stewart (pp. 457-480) explores the relationship between the phenomenological method in Hegel and the later movement of phenomenology. Although it is known that Hegel and Husserl do not share the same concept of phenomenology, according to Stewart, some of the post-Husserlian phenomenologists know Hegel well. The question this article attempts to answer is therefore whether they attempt to approach the Hegelian sense of phenomenology. The article begins by showing the meaning of phenomenology for Hegel and then sets out the Husserlian critique of Hegel, before pointing out Hegel’s influence on French phenomenology, specifically on Sartre and Merleau-Ponty. Stewart concludes that while there are differences between the latter’s and Hegel’s sense of phenomenology, we find in the phenomenology of Sartre and Merleau-Ponty a clear Hegelian influence because of the importance they gave to Hegelian thinking, unlike Husserl.
The paper by Stephen H. Watson, entitled “On the Mutations of the Concept: Phenomenology, Conceptual Change, and the Persistence of Hegel in Merleau-Ponty’s Thought” (pp. 481-507) somewhat extends the reflections of the previous chapter. Taking as evidence the Hegelian influence on Hegel’s thought, Watson identifies the ideas of Hegel, both systematic and metaphysical, that Merleau-Ponty draws on to elaborate his theory of behaviour and perception in his early thought. We then participate in the resolution of some paradoxes that, in the period of Merleau-Ponty’s expression of thought, appear regarding the relation between system and subjectivity. Finally, Watson shows the influence of Schelling and Hegel on Merleau-Ponty’s last period in which a new ontology is formulated.
Interpretation being one of the fundamental themes of the phenomenological movement, which has made possible the formation of a hermeneutic variant of phenomenology, a final part of this book seeks to identify the influences of German idealism for the proposals of three exponents of this variant: Heidegger, Gadamer and Ricoeur. However, this part of the book escapes the question of whether there would be a real continuity between the phenomenological project and the hermeneutic project, and whether hermeneutics would not have its own origin in the philological sciences and in the interpretation of sacred texts, disciplines that precede the birth of phenomenology. In any case, the question at issue here is whether the hermeneutics that takes place within the phenomenological movement has been influenced by German idealism.
Frank Schalow thus focuses, in his chapter (pp. 511-528), on the importance of Kantian transcendental philosophy for Heidegger’s hermeneutics, which would be a radicalisation of certain Kantian theses, specifically with regard to the power of the imagination. The chapter begins by showing the relationship between the cognitive sense of imagination in Kant and its linguistic and temporal sense. Schalow then shows how Heidegger deconstructs the rationalist tradition of German idealism with his reinterpretation of the Kantian imagination and extends his critical view of Kantian metaphysics to the realm of ethics. Besides, Heidegger’s reading of Kant allows him to distinguish himself from German idealism, in terms of the dialectical method, the metaphysical implications and the place of language in all this. It is here that Heidegger’s hermeneutics finds its specificity, in terms of a deconstructive imagination in which language plays an essential role, as opposed to the systematising rationality of German idealism. Particular attention is given here to Kant’s influence on Heidegger’s aesthetic theory, which also allows him to return to a particular exponent of German idealism, Hörderlin, in order to rediscover the confluence between poetry and truth.
Theodore George’s paper entitled “Gadamer, German Idealism, and the Hermeneutic Turn in Phenomenology” (pp. 529-545) concentrates on the fundamental hermeneutic concepts of facticity, history and language. In contrast to Husserl and Heidegger, Gadamer considers that in Hegel and German idealism we find philosophical perspectives that can be integrated into his hermeneutics, although in order to do so we would have to break with a neo-Kantian reading of this tradition. The author first locates the place of the hermeneutic turn of phenomenology in Gadamer’s thought. Like many students of his generation, Gadamer, according to George, found in both existentialism and phenomenology an alternative way to escape Neo-Kantianism. Later, he was strongly influenced by “Heidegger’s hermeneutical intervention against Husserl’s phenomenology” (p. 534). But if Gadamerian hermeneutics certainly begins with a critique of the inherited forms of consciousness that we receive from German idealism and the Romantic tradition as forms of alienation, we find in it, paradoxically, a positive reception of Hegel. Hegel allows Gadamer to articulate the role of history and language in the hermeneutics of facticity.
Robert Piercey’s contribution shows that Ricoeur’s relation to Hegel is paradoxical since we find different versions of Hegel in Ricoeurian thought. Hegel appears here in methodological, ontological and metaphilosophical form. In fact, the author argues that renouncing Hegel, for Ricoeur, does not mean renouncing dialectical thought altogether or renouncing all Hegelian ontological tendencies. On the contrary, it is a matter of avoiding only unrealistic promises that dialectical thought believes it can keep. It is therefore a critique of a particular metaphilosophy. Although Ricoeur criticises Hegelianism, Hegel is an important philosophical source for his hermeneutical thinking.
The book concludes with a reflection by Cynthia D. Coe (pp. 547-575) that attempts to situate the different historical contexts of German idealism, on the one hand, and phenomenology, on the other, showing that both traditions still have much to offer for the current historical context that is ours. From enviromental ethics to the relationship between life and technology, the sense of humanity and its relationship to the world that we forge through the study of these traditions still has much to offer. We can only invite those interested in these traditions, but also those interested in the various philosophical disciplines, to immerse themselves in the timeless and fruitful dialogue that this book establishes, by many voices, between phenomenology and German idealism.
References
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