Memory, of course, is not a trivial or isolated act, and therefore truth or falsity in descriptions of memory will have consequences for large reaches of our philosophical theory. Memory at least purports to give us our only direct knowledge of the past. And our only indirect knowledge of the past, through inference, must credit some memories somewhere. If then our knowledge of the past is vitiated, what remains of our knowledge of the present, or our expectations for the future? (...) But if memory lives up to its pretentions of acquainting us with the past, then what sort of world is it where an existent mind now can become directly acquainted with what is no more existent, but passed away? What in other words, are the ontological presuppositions of the act of memory? (shrink)
A philosophical consideration of political affairs has the disadvantage of being incapable, in and of itself, of implying any specific practical action or policy. It would, then, seem useless except for the accompanying reflection that specific policy undertaken without any attention to principles, is mindless; and mindless action can have no expectation either of practical effect or of intellectual defense. No doubt the relation of principles to action is complex indeed; but at least it can be said that practical principles (...) without reference to possible action are vacuous, and action which can not be clarified by principle is aimless commotion. Principled action offers us then the best that can be hoped for. That, however, is the work not of philosophy but of statesmanship, a faculty which is as theoretically clear as it need be but also skilled by experience in reading the existing political scene. Accordingly my present remarks aim only at some principles involved in the understanding of war, focusing on those which seem conspicuously absent in contemporary discussion, and not at defending any specific judgments about the current war. Examples of incoherent principles will be drawn from present discussions; but any other war might have served equally well. No judgment about the present war can be derived from these remarks on principles; and if most of the false principles are quoted from the antiwar side, it is only because that side has been more vocal. (shrink)
Today, happily, we have much less confidence than a Montesquieu or a Hegel in depicting the “spirits” of nations, times, and generations. The more intelligible such depictions are, and the more suitable for their role in world–historical drama, the less plausible they seem to those whose spirits they are supposed to be. For no matter how subtly drawn and with no matter how many reservations, they remain in the end categories. The application of categories to any living subject matter itself (...) generates a categorial malaise: the category is clear, but life while it illustrates that category, also illustrates its opposite, as well as an indefinite number of other categories not encompassed in either the one or the other. (shrink)
The I in the reflectively revealed "I think" has had, as we all know, a rather checkered career. For Descartes, it was a "thinking substance". For Kant it was a "transcendental unity of apperception," an empty, formal unifying function whose occupation was a priori synthesis, and which was sharply distinguished from anything which might be called a "soul." With Husserl the pure I was again an empty, formal source of all intentionalities, a pure transparency devoid of depth; at least this (...) was Husserl at the epoch of the Ideen I, although the Cartesian Meditations altered the matter in fundamental respects. But there has always been an opposing body of philosophers, empiricists, and now existentialists, for whom there is no I at all within consciousness; the Cartesian cogito ergo sum demonstrates, they maintain, only that "there is thinking," an impersonal stream of conscious acts which need no I as their source or support. And finally, there is a third group which holds that while there is most certainly an I, it is not formal, nor empty nor even fully transparent to itself; it has certain depths which are not accessible to its own direct reflection but can be "felt" or "touched" in certain experiences which engage the ego in its totality, or which shatter its own thin picture of itself. Jaspers and Marcel belong to this group. And so, while we began with a certitude, I think, we find at last that both the existence and character of this most certain of all things are questionable, or at least have been questioned. I propose then to reexamine the question, first briefly to ascertain that there is indeed an I or thinking subject; and then more extensively to follow certain clues as to its character in depth. (shrink)
Running back then, we can collect a few salient facts about the Invisible World:While things in it are visible, the World itself upon which they are conditioned is not and can not be in principle.Among things in the world, contingency or surprize is a central feature, making possible both the content of perception and the possibility of action, and is in effect some sort of synonym for life. The contingency means both the nondeducibility of what happens as well as the (...) dependence of each thing upon the others in varying degrees of relevance.The World of events and things, certainly ourselves, is composed of singulars, unrepeatable and unique occurrences or things; singularity also derives from the World Itself, the invisible singular condition of Fact.Within the world, each thing appears within a horizon, a last limit of visibility for us wherever we are, but that horizon is itself movable as we move our existential point of view. Beyond one horizon there are other things not too unlike ontologically the ones we see, and so emerges what Jaspers calls a ‘horizon of horizons.’ In short, we remeet that famous ‘etc.’ almost invariably bound up with what the world of things is for us. This ‘horizon of horizons’ itself derives from another aspect of the World as Invisible: its absolute self-enclosed infinity. How else could such an absolute cause or condition express itself seriatim except through endlessness?The last feature we noted was the fracture within the world of things: to wit, that while complete in one sense, in another our world is far from constituting a whole. We are there, too, and are not members of it no matter how much some would like to be so.Singular, unique condition of what is in the world, a world of essential surprize, interdependence, increasingly the Invisible World begins to take on the characteristics of the old philosopher's God, something of the order of Spinoza's God, natura naturans, the world of things being the same substance but taken bit by bit, natura naturata. And if this identity of God and the World seems and has always seemed slightly blasphemous, since God is usually opposed to the World, to soften the blow we might only consider their point of resolution: the Soul, or Transcendental Ego, has the possibility of knowing all this, or at least exploring their unity. To revert to Spinoza again, each Attribute, in his case Extention and Thought, is infinite, but infinite in its own kind. The world of things appears to us indeed infinite, but then it is only a ‘kind’; there is also Thought, or infinite Subjectivity, also infinite in its own kind. And what does thought think about? Well, most usually the world into which it was born; but then it is not long before it perceives the absolute condition of that, and then also there is its reflexivity upon itself. Together, though not by way of summation, the Absolute Source as described is the philosopher's God. Spinoza also said that our Idea of God is identical with God's idea of Himself. (shrink)
