INCARNATION

A Philosophy of Flesh

Michel Henry

Translated from the French by Kar! Hefty

Northwestern University Press

Evanston, Illinois
firsr puhlished as lncamatirm: Urie phil,n,pMe
u,
de ,·hair by Edition.~ du Scuil, 2000.

'.\!orthwestern L"nivenily Press

www. nu press.northwestern .edu

CopyrighL <&: 2015 by Northwestern I lnive,·sity Press. Puulishcd 2015. All rightc;
reservt'.rl.

Printed in the UniLed Slates of America

10 9 8 7 6 ~ 4 3 2 1

library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

I lenry, Michel, 1922-2002, author.

[Incarnation. F.nglish]
luca:mation: a philo~ophy oftlesh / Michel Henr~; Lranslatcd and with a
preface by Karl HcfL~
pages c:m. - (Northwe.slem University studie§ in phenemenology and
exislenlial philosophy)
Includes biblio~raphirnl references and index.
ISBN 978-0-810l-3Ii5-5 (cloth: alk. paper) - ISBN 978-0--810l-J1~6-i
(pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Incarnation. 2. Flesh (Thcologr) J. Theological anthropolu~)'-
Christianity. 4. Phenomenology. 5. Phenomenological theology. I. I lefty, Karl.
translaLUr, writer of preface. 11. Title. III. Title: Philosophy of flesh. IV. Series:
Xorthwestern Univc1sily studies in phenemenology & existential philosophy.
li'l 701.2.IT42413 2015
 Contents

Translator's Preface x1

Abbreviations. to Frequently Cited Works xix

Introduction: The Question of Incarnation 3

The Reversal of Phenomenology

§ 1. ObJect of Phenomenology: The Question of "Appearance." 22
§2. The lnit:al Indeterminacy of the Phenomenolog cal
Presuppositions of Phenomenology. The "Pr:nciples of
Phenomenology." 25
!)3. The PreJudice Hicider in :he Presuppositions of
Phenomenology. The Ruinous Reduction of All ''Appearance"
to the World's Appearing. 30
§4. The Crisis of Phenomenality i1 I leidegger. The Ontological
Destitution of the World's Appearing. 36
§5. The Criterion of LangL.age. The Breakthrough and Limits of the
Phemw1P11ologicn: lnterpretdticm of L<1119udye. 41
§6. The Paradox of the "World" as a Pov11er to Derealize. 44
§7. The Now Crucial Question of the Impression, Understood as
Founding Rea:ity. I he Problem of It-; Phenomenologicnl St;1tv,
lntentio'1ality and Impression. 47
§8. When the Impress.ion Comes outside Itself and Is Destroyed
in the Temporal Flow 51
§9 The Origin of the "Originary Impression." The Inevitable
Reference of the Phenor1enology of the Impression to the
Phenomenology of Life. 55
§ 10. The Originary Passivity of the Impression, and Its "Passion"
ir1 Life's Trans.c.endental Affeclivily. The Living Present. 59
§ 11. The Question of Originary Appearing arid Descartes's Cogi~o.
Three Fundamerital Questions It Involves. 64
 § 12. Husserl's Mi~ir1tP.rpretat1on of Descartes's Cogito and ll,;
Con,eouerces: Den;grating Sinqular Li''e aml Replacing It
with Life's "Esscrcc-" in Lh~ Phenorrenologirnl 1'.'1ethod's
Themc1ticTurn. 71
§1 :-:l ..4nalysis
of the Thcma"tic Tur1. The Apori-.1 of the
Phenome,ologirnl Method. JI
§14 . .4 Final Attemrt to Ove-rcome t:-,e Aporia. The Queslion of
Invisible Life "Giver in lrr.ig,natio,,." 79
'i 15. T,e Or:gina1y Self-ReveliJ lion of Ufe as the Foundation cf the
Phenomenological Method. A Response to the G!-'neral
P!--ilosophical Prob!em Concerning the Possibility of
Thnkinq Life. 84

2 Phenomenology of Flesh
§ 16. Appearing and Cnntent cf the INorld: The Question of the
"Smsible 1/•lorld." 93
~ 17. The P.adic.i! Critique of I'll-' Sensible VVor;d_ The Impact and
Limits of Gi-:11:leo·s Reduct:or. 96
§ rn Descartes's Coumer-RedLction. 103
§ 19. Husserl's Cr lique cf C,ali/eo's Reduction in the Kr/sis.
1 1O"i
§20. A P.f't:Jrn to the Analysis of the Worldly, Sensible Borly
The Reference of the Ser:5ed Body ID the Transcendental Body
thilt Senses ll. Thf' Arnbiva!ence of be Concept "Sensible." 1UH
§21. The Attempt :o Overcome the Opposition between the Sensing
Body and the Sensed Bouy: lhe 15,ue Facir,g the Later
Me(eau~Ponly ;md ~he i>.bsolutization o.. the· Sensible. 1U
§22. Splitting tre Tra.1scerdertal Body, F ndinq in Life thf' Fssence of
Origi1ary, lmrn~ner,t Corpo'.eity. 116
§23. 'he Generdliw, n-:' Hesh ir. 1\bsolute Li+e. The Oriqinary
Phenomeno:ogical Chari.lcterstics er' Flt·~h that ....rise from This
Generation. ·1 ·19
§24. Frorr· the Hf'ilenic Corception ot the Body to the Phenumenolog,'
of I esr-,. The Fundamcnt.:il Problems of lrem,e11s and Tertullian. 125
'i25. The Radical lnte 0 ore':aton or Fle~h as the Pheromcnologic.il
IVdll-'ri;;I of Life and as Its Sc:t-Reve!ation. lre•1ae1h\
Cnristia1 Cogi:o. 131
§26. An.ily;:ic cf the'', C;-;n_" The Power-to-Move as Condition of the
Powrr-to-Touch, and cf E~el"y Power A.ttributed to the Body.
Concillac Jnd \,1aine de Bi1ar1. 136
§27. Flesh: lnvriemor1,d l'v1emcry of the Vl/orld.
 §28 rlesh: Site of Givenness of an Unknown Body, Given before
Sensation and betore Vv'orld. Structuration and Properties o~ the
"O~ganic Body." 146
§29. The O,;gina: Pos:.ibility of Action as a Carnal Ddve of the Organic
Sody. The Invisible Practicar Reality of the \IVc-rld's Co,,tcnt.
Ccmstitu1'irm il'";d S,iitus of One\ O•:.,n Objective Body_ 150
§CJO. The The>ory of the Con-;titution of Dnp's; Owr Body ,n Ch;,pter j
of ldeen If. The Threefold ConcealMent cf the Transcendental
Possibility of the "I Car," of the Exi'>'.:ence of the Orgac"iic
Body, and of the Loca'ization of Our lmp;esslons upor, It 155
§31. Re-:urn to the Chi.ismoi. VVhoit "Being-l::,ucr.ed" Mea.--,s.
· Phenomenuloyy of Skin "'~ A(h:evemenl uf the Theory of Lhe
Cons:itution of One's Own Body. 159
§32. A Return to CondiHac's Thesis. The Statue's Au:o-Erotcisrii:
F,es.-, as the Site or Perdition. The Necessary Transitio", from a
Phe~,ornenology of Flesh to a Phenomenology of lnrnrnation. 16"i

3 Phenomenology of Incarnation: Salvation in the Christian Sense

§33. Recupiwlation of Results Obtained from the Rev-:::rs.i 1 ot
l'he:-,ornenolog,· and the Phenoro1Pnologica; .l>.rulysis of f-le,h 168
§34. The Question of the "I Can" in a Phenomenology o~
lncarnator. 172
§35. lll11sio11 ;md Reality oLhe "I Can." 178
§35. Forgettirg Lite and Recalling It in 'the Pathos of Eve~1ca1r Praxis. 184
§37. Forqettir,q Life ar.d Recailinq !t with Pathos in Anxie:,,,_ 188
§JS. The Duplicily cf Appe<.lri11g and I.ht:! Re>duplication uf Anxiety. 194
§39. Desire and the "Leap into Sin." 198
§40. Two C.ises of T,oinscendent.il Flesh in the Erotic Relation.
fhe F.go of Description 204
§41. The Erotic Rela:ion in life's Immanence: Desire·s Failure. 208
§42. The Erotic Relation ;n the World's Apoearing. Repetition of the
r-;:iilure. JH
i:j43. The Reduction of the Erotc Relation to Sexuality ir- the Time o'f
Nihilism. 217
§44. Life ls without a VVhy. Ue Is Good. 222
§45. The Degrees of Passiv:ty; From Genesis to the Prologue of John. 226
§46. The ·way of Salv.,Lion according to lrenaeus and Augusti11e. 231
~47 The Experience of ::he Other in a Phenomen::ilogy of Life_ 23/
§48. The Relation to the 0-ther Accordnq to Ch,istan'ty: The Mystcal
Body of Chri<;t. 24:i
Concbsion: Beyond Phenomenology ,md Theology: Johannine
Arch-lntellgibility )53
Index 263
 Translator's Preface

incarnation: A Philosophy ofFlesh is a book that aim.s to elucidate what Mi-

chd Herny c.;;:1.lh ,;incarnation," or cxistcncc-in-thc-flc1~h. To be incarnate.
for Henry, docs not. mean to hn.rJ~ a hocly, h11t. to hf. one, anrl not jw;r. an)
kind of body, but a living one that feels it.self, .suffers, enjoys itself, anc
moves itself. The living body, or "ile~h," is capable of sensing. It can toucli
a. ho<ly in t.he worlri, hut can also he touched by one-and it can touch
itself. This power to feel itself ·will forever distinguish it from all othet
bodies. To 8ay sometl1ing about exislcncc in tl1c .fJe~h, Lhen, is noL Lo ~a)
anything about the world of things it makes possible, the "sensible world'
and everything in it, but rather to say something about what comes befon
flesh and m::ikes it possible. How does life come in flesh:, That is the un-
usual question that \'lill become the primary motif of the phenomenolog}
of incarnation.
And yN, ag the reader will soon discover, the life rhat comes in flesb
and makes it living is not some mysterious principle that by a flick of th~
magic wan<l comes to animaLc an inert mass already there. Life "reveal;
it~df" in flesh in a. v,:ay that no an. of thought, philosophical or othen\oiKe
can do, since it is only by being alive that we know, ·with an invincible cer-
tainty, whaL life is. In Lhe immanence oflife iu fk:sh, all of lift:'s modali-
ties ,ire revealed-as what they are: hunger and thirst, but also satiety
sutlering of all kinds, but also joy. Jn the sense in which Henry means it
lifo in flesh is rea111fc in ,cal flc:~h. the life: thal. allows each of us al: ever)
moment to say, and say with certainty, "I am alive.'· 1 Such a proposition
in Henry's view, is possible only on the basis of a prior relationship oJ
every flesh wiLh the life thal gives iL, in a singular wa.y, life. To ducidal.t
the original form of that relationship, one might say, is the subject and
La::;k of Lhi~ book. Thal i~ lhc life lnrnmation is abouL.
Wl1ar, rhr.n, rloc~ this hook aim to ac.hicvc? C.:m philosophy tdl m
who we are? The book's subtitle reads, "a philosophy of flesh." But whJ
is a philosophy of flesh needed if philosophy cannol add :.mything Lt:
wh::ir life itself has ;i\ready said in flesh? ·what can its intellectual elabo-
ration offer to the humble, the poor, or the sutl:ering, who may well be;.u
the ,-veight of llfe far better than an erudite philosopher? If the death oJ
philosophy (:mil of the human sciences too) is indexed by its near-tot.a 1
1,odal, cultural, intellectual, anti pr,u·.tical impotence today, perhaps this
is only the natuntl conscquenct> of the original impolcucc of philosophy,
of any thought, before life ..And yet, reading the suhlitlc in reverse, start-
ing from flesh, an entirely <liffrrcnr agenda emerges, and a different pic-
ture of philosophy. Tr is clear that Henry i.:mlcavors to initiate a renewal
of philosophy itself, and a renewal so complett> that it will require philo8--
ophy "to rethink. everything, .if one can Think reality.~ 2
Michel Henry (1922-2002) was one of the ~rc;n French philoso-
phers working within, and aho in ~ome way5 against, the tradition of
philosophy known as ''phenomenology," inaugmau.:d by F.dmund 1-lus--
serl (1859-1938) ar the beginning of the lwcnticth century. Henry's con-
tribution to that tradition, and to philosophy as a whole, is only al the
early stages of its apprai:;al, hut. its impact is already beginning robe felt:
"'Lite," for Henry, is "phenomenological." By Lhis he does not mean that
life is one thing among others, appearing in world alongside other phe-
nomena. Rather, life i~ phenomenological "in the sense that it denotes
phenomenality ifsf'lf, givenness itself." Arni far more, "'the givenness of
1:,rivcnneso;_"? Totally unique int.he way that it gives itself, life cm in no ·way
be reduced to the "world" or to anything "in" the world. Life gives it.self
origiuallr in ito;elf: life and self-givenness are one. lly redeilning iu; moRT
ba.~if: <'-Oncept, Henry ha~ not mcrety suggested a nev.' region or snhfield
for phenomenology to consider, he has allen:tl in :m essential way what
pheuomcnology is and does.
In the first part of lnr:arn.ation, Henry oHers a critical rereading of
historical plH.:nomcnology, framed within a global indictment of the
whuk of modem Western philomphy from Galileo to Heidegger. Th.:c
reappraisal ofphenomcuo1ogy in this part ofthe book cmm:s to a point
in Henry·~ engagement ·with Husserl, 1,irn.:c it is pt>rhaps to Husserl that
Hcury remains closest, and thus also perhaps in relief again:-it Husserl
that the stakes of Henry\ argument appear in lhcir finest distinction.
Husserl saw a necessary connection Lclwccn givenness and life, but his
Lala.I mistake, in Henry's view, was made from the beginning. In pl:=ice
::-if life in its origina1y givcnnes.-, Husserl substitutes lhc self-constituting
ego, and through this process of sub:aliturion, replaces life's singular liv•
mg reality with its "essem;c." Not only is the reality of Lhc "impression"
.ost in this substitution, Henry claims, but the reality of time itself is too,
Since flesh is hy definition impre~siuual, t.hf'~e critical remarks in part 1
ire prerequisite to the phenomenology of flesh that Ht:my thr:n develops
.n a positive way in the second part.
Before discussing the argumeut hc. offers in part~. it ls \~orLh mak-
ng .~everal additional remarks ;.ihout Henry's reading ufHu~~crl. An im-
port:mt distinction between them has to do ,'vith the form of the relation
of the ego to its Oi-\'11 life, and thus also to itself, and to the Lime that it
constitutes, Husserl says that the phenomenologic..\l reduction opens me
to "the whole stream of my experiencing life [1:1fahn;ru/,m, lA,ensl ,'' which
is "continually there for me" and given "with the most originary original-
ity a,~ it it.~clf'½ "Rdler.ring, T em ar any rime look at this original living
an<l notP. partkll 1ars r... 1," he say~, and "rhe: worl.d experienced in this
reflectively grasped life goes on being for me (in a certain manner) 'ex-
perienced' as before."~ But does il? Hcmr doe.~ rtol. 1liiuk so. The fir~I g-ap
opened up by reflection tears life away from its originary li11ing reality,
turning life's pathos-filled "emLrncc" into a synthetic, constituted unit)'-
As Henry sees it, everything is at stake in the difference. ~ot only is the
method of phenomenology decided here, but philosophy itself, and in-
deed lite's meaning, hang in the balance.
Many Lhat follow in Husserl's wake, Hcirlcggc-:r notably, h11t ;;ilso
Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, and others, refuse to follow the so-called tran-
scendental turn Husserl makes in the Ideas. One might think this is be-
cause lhcy pn:frrrcci a phcnomt>nolof;)' rooted firmly in time, in all of its
historical, existential, and perceptual dimensions, Henry is distincLive in
that he dor.~ remain faithful to Husserl on this issue: "Phenomenology is
;;i transcendental philosophy."n But what does "transcendental" mean in
this context? 1n Husserl's sense, it means all that Descartes means by tl1e
wor<l cogi.lo: "Lhc: bci11g of the pmc <~go and it"I mgi.tationes, as a being that
is prior in itself, is antecedent to the natural being ofthe 1\ovrld."• Henry's
position differs from Husserl's, howeve1-, i11 l.haL for Henry Lhe scusc of
"Lram;cemlculal" i11 not an ideal one. It dc;;<:ribc:,i life as l!m:h, anrl to rhat
extent also flesh. 1\J1 entirely new meaning is assigned to the idea of a
"transcendental" philosophy. It cannot be said to abstraelfrom time, be-
came only in life i;,1 t.imc re;il. Anrl j'P.t, in .m far a.sit is ;i living present, life
in itself has no past or future, 'fo "reverse" phenomenology thus means:
with respect to the series of impressions Lhal toi;eLhi.:r give form to time,
it is not a qneMion ofwh:H comes afrer an original impression makes its
presence felt, but ofwhatcomes before an original impression and makes
it effective.
The second part oflncamation allmvs 11enry to explore what a true
phenomenology of flesh implies, and lo test how fa1 ilis capable uflhink-
i.ng: life's own sdf-givenncs.s, in il!! Jiving actuality, in flc.~h. The central task
1n this part of the book is to distinguish a phenomenology of the sensing
body, a body that has the power l.o move itself and lo Louch it.•H:lf, from
what philosophy has 1mrler5tood under the ambiguous heading "sensible
body.'' To ex.plain what is capable of sensing itselt and feeling itself by ret~
erence to something else that is sensed by it is to fail to understand what
.sensiug means, ,md what it involves. A to Lally different conception of the
bociy is needed, precisely in so far al-1 it is living. Only the genernlion of
flesh in ab~ululc Life, Henry insists, is capable of remkring intelligible
the original powers of flesh, in their living, phenomcnolog-in1l reality. In
this context, Henry's crit.irnl rcrca<ling ofCondillac and :r-.faine <le Biran,
n...-o French rnunrerparts to the ilritish empiricisll-i, is ::i highly important
contrihution to the history of modern philosophy.
The phenomenological anaJy<;il'- of fle5h in part~ opens onto a phc-
nomenologic.:al analy.~i.~ of incarnation in part 3. In a SUIJ>rising and even
hirlden wav, it is in this part of lhc hook that the question of freedom in-
tervenes in Henry 'i; argument, under the fon11 of the anxiety off1esh that
gives frum it-; own power. The intrinsic com1<..TLions herween the various
parrs of his analysis are here pediaps mo.~t rlifficult to decipher: powe1,
freedom, anxiety, siu, tic:-1in\ passivity, eroticism--how do Lhc,;c themes
hold lu~cthcr unrler the sub-heading "'salvaLio11 in the Christian sense"?
Ann how does the answer to thal 1p1csrion hold together with Henry's
foregoing analyses? However those questions are answered, it ca.nnot be
said that Hc.nry's argument here amouuL~ lo an 1mrritical recourse to
theology (as if that were a disqualification of it). To uncritically a.~sume
thal conclusion i.~ to submit philosophy to dogmatk prejudice, and then
philo.~ophy becomes what i.t opposes. A mmpletely distinct rethiukiug
of the relationship between t.he. phenomenology of life an<l lhcolob'Y i~
needed, and l.o n:<lure that relationship to prcumccivcd determinations
is tn fail to understand it.
In view of the brna<le.r development of1Iichel Henry's philosophy,
lnui:rrwiivn can, in ;:i sense, be seen as a c.:rowning achievement. With
the original edition appearing in French in 2000, it is the last book lie
published during his lifetime. (Although he lived to complete the full
1nauuMcripr of ·words of-Christ l~002J / it was pnblished ;:i few months after
his death.) Considering his work ;is a ,•,;hole,Inmrnation is situate<l within
several conjoiuiug cont.exrs. Most immediately, it bdongi. together ·with
I Am the Truth: To-ward a PMlosophy ufChri1·tianity ( 1996) 9 and \!Vords ofGJwist
;:is the second ofa final uilo!,')' ofhnoks that together forge an approach
to Christianity within philosophy. ln treating the qucslion of flesh, it also
1c 111m.~ full circle to an issue raised al Lh c <~n d of his first book, Phifosophy
and f'henmncnowg_~ of ihe Rnrly (published in 1965, tho u.gli iLs composition
was complt:tc<l in 1949), where he poses for I.he first time "the problem
of incarnation.''rn There the problem of incarnation and the problem of
flesh come togelltcr in the question of finitude, and ii. is this question,
uuc might ;;ay, that incarnation develop:; most folly.
Finally, it must be said Lhat. Jnr:o.rn.ati,m also tests how far tJ1e phe-
nomenology of life can treat, and indeed resolve, anotl1e1 quc'ltion that
occupies Henry from the beginning: the queslion of intermbjccLi-.,iL~. In
the 1953-54 academic year, Henry taugh1. a course a1 Aix-en-Provence on
tl1c question of the "experience of the other" in Hcgcl, Husserl, Sartre,
and Scheler. His nmes for the course show detailed treatment of many of
Ulc :same Lopio; thatappc:ar in Tn.r:r11,u1,tion (corporc:ality, sexuality, "being-
with," etc.), all working toward an experience of tl1e other in the first
personY Readers will be aware that Henry addre:;ses the problem of iu-
tersubjecliviLy directly iu A1alf:rial Pherumu:rwlogy ( 1990) 1 hut in his inlro-
duction to that book, Henry \VTites that "a systematic study of intersubjec-
tivit~' will be !.he subject uf a .1ubsequr.nl work." 1~ lncarnr1li1m i~ undouhtcdly
-the later work he has in mind. In an interview contemporaneous ·with the
publication oflnr.arnation, llenry confirms, v..-ith respect to the question
of the other, "I wanted to see, as a challenge, if my phenomenology ofllfe
could rcwlvc the prohlcm t.har no onP. harl rf'solvP.rl, in my opinion."l3
It will be up to his readers and. generations of interpreters to de-
termine whether Inw:malion is situated within 01 beyond what has lra-
diriorn1lly been unrlcrstoorl :-i~ rhf' morlP.rn worlrl. Hf'nry rakP.s up ;inew
the central problems and questions that determine modem empiricism
and rationalism (and in some ;wnse ::ill philosophy), and he addresses
these problems as they persist through the birth and development of his-
torical phenomenology. YcLHcnry <lucs nul:;imply 1cfuLc lhc theses of hill
philosophical prcdccc~sors, nor <locs he rnP.rdy •mhsrin.ite one premise
or prejudice for another. Instead, by reformulating their same questions,
he give:, them a ne\v inflcclion, and hccau.sc he cuts iltraight tn whar is
funilament;:il, it is difficult to overestimate what is at stake if his arguments
succeed. The phenomenology oflife, as Henry says, "implies a revival of
philosophical questioning in lts e1nireLy" and ''offers a fuLu1c Lu phcuom-
cnology and m philosophy itself" and "at rhe .same time, discovers a new
past.~ 14 So iflncarnation: .4 PhiloJo,bhy ojNe:.h engages in an epic battle ·with
the mu<leru wurl<l, perhaps it i~ nol only iu order to destroy it, bm also to
open ;:i way for i:he breath of life in it.

Tn the following- translation, we have sought to render Ilenry's :French as

faithfully as possible, balancing the need to main lain lhc author's com:cp-
tual rigor :rnrlstyle ·with the unique demands of English prose. If, despite
every effort at peaceful resolution, those n•,;o priorities have remained in
conflict, the preference has been given to the need for conceptual accu-
r::icy. The author pushes the limits of what French can do, and perhaps
ev-en exceeds those limits at times, and it is those moments, and their pe-
culiar gra.mmalical characlcr, LhaL have give11 the mo~t tlifficully. Several
particular tcrrns anrl conMrur.rion.~ an· worrh mentioning.
 In a frc1p1cm and important formulation, Henry ~ay~ th;it life
s'qmmvt .mi-meme. The verb epro-uver meaus "Lo feel" or "to experience,"
b11t also "to su..ITer," "to !:iU5lain," "to tc~r.," "t.o pnt to the test," and even
"to afflict" or ''to dislre.s.'i." The dynamic tension between active anrl pa!-!-
!iive meanings is not accidental, am! in Henry's ,onstruction the term is
not merely reflexive, hut exceedingly so, and no single English vcrh c:m
<lo justice to the richness of the original Frend1. Henry does not exactly
mean that life "experiences itself," as if life were an n~ject: of experience,
nor that life is the "experience nf oneself" as if a substantial self were
Lhcrc prior ro it that it would then experience. The' sense is something
more like what experienciug ill-!clf unrl.ergoes. So most often, we have
chosen the still-iuadcquate hut approximate locutions "to undergo ex-
periencing it.~elf" or "experiencing undergoing itsdf."
Several other decisions aho dc~crvc memion in this context, since
they also penain to Henry'" definition of lite. Henry speaks of <Ill ipreiwr,
de .mi, where l'ipreu11e has the sense of a "trial" ur "test" or "ordFal." Vve
have translated this as equally "sdf-1.rial" or "trial of oneself~" But Henry
also employ~ another term with_juridical connotations: 1.eprnr;es, meaning
a "(legal) action," "trial," "court proceeding," or even "la·wsuit.'' 1t may
also mean "procesi;," in the linguistic or anatomical sense, Lul F1cnch
also has availahle processus, and Henry usually <locs not use this word. In
nr<ler to preserve its ,.,ider meaning, and since it nrcurs in the context of
discussing life's self-gc11cration, we have elected to translate prn,.-i:;I mmt
oftcu hr the term "proceeding." .Something like a trial or ordeal is meant,
and any connotation of a 1noccs11 i.~ in some sense secondary. Finally,
Henry's wkt vmue" we haw~ rendered both as "arri\'<ll" and "cumingt wit.h-
uul signifir.ant conceptual distinction, but with some preference for the
former, since it avoids the feel of a nomim1li7ation. Occasionally, where
decisions have Leen made (or avoided), we hw,-e included the original
Fn:m:h term in brackets.
For ease or reference, the philosophical or theological v-.orks dle<l
moi,t oflcn in tht". text have been gathered in the ''Abbrcviatiom to Fre-
quently Cited Works." Where authoritalivc lff recent critical editions are
available, we have adopted Lhcm. Where they are not available, or not
recent, we have mmslated directly from the French, as cited hy Michel
Henry. Scripture reference.shave Leen given from the New Re\-ised Stan-
dard Version. In a number of instances, both philosophical an<l Liblical,
:<.-tan<lanl trim1-1lations have be-en modified, and thei;c: imtancc,~ have been
indicated parenthetically. In no ca;;c have the modifications alte1·ed the
sense. Tlwsc i;mall ch:m.ges have been made either Lo prc~cn·c r.onsi.r;-
lcncy with Henry's usage, or to preserve the flow of his sentences. which
often cite selectively. Husserl's U, imfm1uion, for example, has been ren-
0
dered not "primal impression," as wiLh the standard E11gfo;h t.rauxlation,
buL "originary imprc:,sion." The footnotes thToughout the text corre-
spond to Henry's own footnotes in the orit:,rinal French edition.
The work on this translation would not have been possible ·without
!he :;upport ,md cnrnnragf'ment of m,my. I would like to express my
gratitude to Henry Carrigan at Northwestern University Press, for his
exemplary professionalism tl1roughout the translation process, and for
his eucouragemcul aml palicm;c as I wmkcd Lo com pk Lt: iL; aml aho Lo
Martin Coleman whose careful work on the English copy helped to cor-
recl errurs am.I clarify ambiguilics; Lhc final work i., hcl!.cr for hi:; effort\.
ram especially grateful to Anne Henry for her generosity, encourage-
ment, and hospitality, which have brought me closer to the author of this
book; and I would like to thankJean-Luc Marion, whose indefatigable
pa.~sion for the cs!-lcntial i.~ a b-.jft to us all. Most of all, lam grate.fol for
my family, who has labored with me, and especially for Victoria Hefty, to
whom I dedicate this translation.

Notes

1. Edmund HuS.!:ierl, ld1:en z.u. r.-iner u:inm Phiin1rs11rnologfrr:h1;11 PMwsuphie, I

Buch: A.llgemeine Einju.hnmf!, in die rei-ne Phan1mic1wlof!;ir. (The Hague: Marti.nus Xij,.
hoff, 197ti) / (rien,, l'errain1ng t,1 n /'11,re l'lumomenology omd f.r, a J'lw1wm1:na!.;igi:Ca/
Philosophy, cram. F. Kcrn:cn (Dordrccht: Kluver, 1998), HuaIII-1 ~46. 86 / 100.
2. Michel Henry, Pluhwmenolo?,ie. materiell,.i (Paris: Presses Universitaire de
France, 1990), p. 12 / .'vfaterial Phenorr.,mology, trans. Scott Uavid~on (.\:ew York:
Fordlrn.m Universily Pre:.s, 2008), p. Ci.
?.. "1.e rorp.~ \ivant," in Michel Ilenry. A·"fo-d.i:matio11, Ent.n,tims el t.cnf'e:rrnce.s
(Paris: Beauchesne, 2004), p. 127; originally publi3hcd as ''Le corps : sujct ou
o~jet," in L!., Cukitn t.k l'Ewlt' des sifrares philt,.wphiam·s et rdigieus~ no. 18, 199!,,
pp. 71-1:li, and republi.~hed as "Corp~" in Pmnte-ntaine, no. 12-13, March 2000:
13-35.
,1, Edmund Husserl, Cu,IITitmi:,dte l'1ed-italiunen -wml Pmiser Vurt,-iige (The
Hague: J\,fartinu.~ :\ijhoff, l 1,HiO) / ( :O.rte.fia.n A1editn.tirm..f, trans. Dorion Cairn~
(Dordrcd1t: Kluwer, 1999) Hua 1, I, ~8, .59 / 19.
5. Iuiu.
Ii. St'e ~13, p. 77, below.
7. Hua I, I, §8, p. 61 / p. 21.
8. :Michel Henry, Parou'S du Otrisl (Paris: Seuil, 2002) / Wo,ds ~(Chi-ist, u-ans.
Christina M. Gschwandtne1· (Grand Rapids, :\-II: Eerdmans, 2012).
9. l\llichel Henry, C';;st moi la vhite (l'ari~: Seuil, HJ%) / / .'lm th;, '/h.tth:
Toward a Philos~phy of Ch,·i.slur:ni~y. trans_ Susan Emanuel (SL.,nford: Stanford L" ni,
ver.,ity J're~f, 200:~)-
 JO. Mkhd 1.lenry. Philosophie el p!iinvrtunoUJgie du. r:orpI (l'.iris: .Presses L'ni-
versital.res de France, 1963) / l'hilrisn-ph)' and Plwnwu:rwlug) of th'! Body, rran~. Gi-
rard F.tzkorn (The H~ue: ).fartinus Xijhoff, 1Y75j.
11. Hcm-y proposed for irs title "Communication of Com,ciousm:s:ics and
Relau.om wilh Lhc Other." His prr:viomly unpublished cou.m: notes have been
made available thanks lo I.he commenrfahk work of the recentl), r::~tabl:ishcd
Fond~ ~1ic.hel Henry. under the <lirct:tion of Jean ~derc.q, at the l~niverslte
catholi9ur:: <lr:: Louvain. They are gar.hi,r~rl. and pre5ented, LOfi,dher with an cx-
c.elli>nt c:ritical introduction, in Revue Internationale Mi<:hd 11.enry, no. 2. 2011:
71-178.
12. Michel Henry, J'M:iwm,-n.ologie mati-ridbi (Paris: Pn:s:,cs Univcnitaire <le
France, 1990), p. 12 / ,\ia/1;1-ial Piienom~rwfogy, tr;in,. ,':,cott Davidson (Kew Yurk:
Fordham University l'ri>.ss, 2008). p. 6. our empha!;i:;.
13. l\,lid1d Henry·, "Inter,iew with Virginie Camana," in En/!ri:liens (Arlcs:
Sul!iver, 2005), p. 121
14. Michel Henry, l'hencrmen.olof!i,i 111.allricllt· (Paris: Presses Univer.~itair~ df'
France, 1990), p. 12 / .1\fatm,al Phen.mner,()/ngy, tr;ins. Scott Davidson (New York:
fordham llniversity Press, 2008), p. 6.
 Abbreviations to Frequently Cited Works

Frequently cited references appear parenthetically in the text. The fol-

- lowing aulhors and works an: c:il.cd according to their original edition
first, followe.<l hy thf': pagination of the ~t:rn<iard F.ngli~h language edi-
tion, where available.

Rene Descartes

AT/P\o\i'" CEuvre:; compl~es. Adam and Tannery (Pari3: Vrin, 1996) / The
Philu.1uphii:aIWriiir,,p ,~{Dc,cruleJ, t:tl.
i:1.1111 E11glisl1 lr.1.I1s.John
Cottingham, RobertStoothoIT, and Du'f<lld Murdoch
(Camhridge: CamhrirlgF Lnive.niry l'N'~.<, 198.'i-l 991 }.

Edmund Husserl

Hua I Hu.sserl:ianal. CG;rtesianische ]\,fe:di1a1iono.-. urn/ Pr~t'i.w Vo1l1~1!, ed.

Stephen Strasser (The Hague: .Marci.nus Nijhoff, 1950) /
Ca.,·teiian 1lftdilaJiun1. Anfo/.1odtutirm w Ph1:rwr1Ur1wlu/J_y, Englbh
tran.s. Dorion Cairns (ThF ! lagne.: \faninm '.\ijhnff, 1960).
HuaII Hm,erliu:rwll. Du Ide1: de-r PluZntrmm1Jlugie. Fii11Jv"i,,·lr:su:r1gm, t:tl.
Walter Iliemel (TI1e Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1950) / The ld.-a
nfl'hr.nmnmrnlrig;y, J•'.ngll,;,h rr;m,o.. I.er. Harrly (l}()rrlrt'.<:hr.: Kluwer
A<.:adcmir.:, 1999).
Hual!l flu,s.mtiana Ill. !dP.e1iz11 liner rninrn l'luinmnF-twl.~gif! wn.d.
,1.Jhiin/J'meno{ogisch;m Philoso,f.Jhfr. Erste:. Buch. 11llgmu:ine Eir._(iiJ,:nmg
in dit 1einc Phiirwr=u,b.Jgu, ed. Karl Sdmhmann (The Hi:lgue:
Yi.i.rtinus "\"ijhoff, 1976) / Ideas Pe.rt.ai-ning tu a Pun•
Phenomenology a,,d to a Pherwmenological Philruc>frh): FirJt Book-
C;e.n!!ral lnt:md,w;twn to a Pure Phe-11,munowio,, English tram. Fred
K('r.~ten (Dordrecht: Kluwer, H:18:.',).

Hua IV IIusse,'tianr. IE ldeen zu einer reinen Pkiinomenologie und

J1hii.11omenologi.sd1cn Philosophi.e.. Zweites Bu.cir.: Plrii.no-m.rmologische
Untmuchu11gen zur Konstitutwn. ed. Marly Blemel (The Hague:
 M;irtinm Njjhott: I 952) / ldt:l~ P;:,·tairting w a Pure
Phenomenology and ton l'hmu,mmologiau Phi/,:w,phy; &rcmd Botik-
Si"UduJ in /he Phenmnrno/ogy ~{Constitution, English tram.
Richard Rojcewio a.nrl Anrlre Srh,1wer (Dordrecht: Kln'Ver,
1989).
! lua VI Hu,snlumu \ll. Die Krisis d.er eumpii.isr.him. Wi.mmsr.ha_f'te.n. u.nd di.i
trr.m:umri.mtnJ.11 PhB.11.,J·mr.mologi.e. EineEin!tit-u:ng in du
pliii:runm:rwlrigirdie Phiwsophie, ed. VVah:er Kiemel ('J'hf' Hague:
M,1ninu~ N~jhoff, 1976) / T111!C1isiJ lf Eim;prcm Sciences and
Tmn.wmdmtal I'hil,,sophy, English tram. Da11id C.m (Evanston:
Nmthwc~tcm Universi1;,· !'re.<.-, Hl70}.
HuaX I lmsl'rlumr. X. Zi,,- Phiinomenulu!i,i~ dei innaen Zeitbeu.111.ssts:eins
( 1983-l'Jli'), ed. Rudolf Ho~hm (The Hague: ~fartinus
Nljhoff, 1966) / Lt·;om- Jmur tme phinomenologie ri.it la r;~mciF-nr.~
intimr- du trmp.,, Fre11ch trans. H. Duswrl (Paris, PUF, 1964) /
On tht Pheno-~nowgy oftkf! ( :.m.v:im1.rn,;.,.1 tflnte:rnal Time ( 1893---·
.1917}, English traus._Tohu B.unctt Brough (Dordrecht: Kluwr.r
Ar:lrif'mk, l\fH).

Martin Heideggi"r

sz Sein mul Zr:il (TClLiugcn: :Vlax Niemeyer, 2006, I!-Ith Fri.) / ll11i.1-1g
and 'I 'inie, r.ngli.sh tr=s. Joan Stambaugh ('X cw York: Srarc
Univcrsiry of .\~w York Pres~. 1996).

Seiren K!erkegaard

SKS4 &~f,;,t ,411gP.1/, Smn Kier!wga,rnls Sl11if'u7; VuL 4, ed. Niel~ J0rgcn
Cavpcl'1m cc al (Copenhagen: ( ;:i.rl.~ Forlag. 1997) i Tlu
Conapl ofAmcil!ty, Eugli:;h trans. RcidarThomtt> (l'rinct>r.on:
l'rincnon University Press, 1980).

rertuilian

u:r La Chair J,_. Chri1I, Vu\. I, ed. Jean-Pierre Ma.he: ( l':u·is: Cerf,
IYY!l).
INCARNATION
The Question of Incarnation

Incarnation takes place at the center of a constellation of problems that

we int.end to t.rcl> t in this ci-s:-i.y. Tn its first sense, im:an1at.ion conccrr1~
all living beings on earth since these are all incarnate beings. This Hrst
very general remark. alrea<ly r.onfromJ'. m with enormon.~ rliffk.ult.ie~. The
disti.nguishing characteristic of incarnate beings is that. they have a. hocty.
llut the entire universe is composed of bodies, which common sense,
many philu:;ophcr:;, and almo~l all ~cholan; have long regarded as rnaLe--
rial bodies. Is the body that belongs to living beings the same as the mate--
rial body that quantum physics investigates, and that serves as a snpport
for the other hard :;cicncci; of chemi~Lry an<l biolog)'r Many people lhink
so today, which is precisely the age of science, and yet an abyss separates
forever the malcrial bodies thal fill the universe, on Lhc one ha11d, and
the body of an "incarnate" being such as man, on the other.
In order to throw light on this abyss, we will make an initial deci-
~iou to leave living beings other lhan human being~ oulside the field of
our investigation. A decision like this is not arbitrary. It is justified by a
metl1odological choice Lo ~peak of what we know ralher tJ1an of what we
<lo not. For evf'ryone, every man ~- anrl every woman, al !'!very momenr of
their existence. has the immediate experience of their own body-feels
the difliculty the rise in the sloped lane brings, or the pleasure of a cold
chink in .~ummcr, or of a light breeze on their fac.:c-while t11cir rela-
tion to animal bodies such as infusoria, shrimp, or insects is of another
order. So much so that cenain thinkers, and not tl1e least of them, have
rf'ganied all s1wh living beings, v1111h thf' exception nfm::i.n, as ifrhr.ywne
like computers that understand nothing of what they do. But the increas-
ingly widespread idea that the hwnan body can be comprehended in thi.s
way, as though it were a computer t.oo,ju..~t. more developed and a "gen-
eration" more advanced, corn.es up against a major objection.
Hf're thf! ahyss , ..;rJP.ns. An in~rt. hocl.y likl' Those we finrl in the mate-
rial universe-or that we can construct using materi.al proc.F%es torn
from it, by organizing them and combining them according to physical
law~.....:..such a hody 11cmcs aml feels rnit.hing. ft docs not ,;w11sc itself and
does not feel its ovm feeling, it neither loves nor desires itself. .Even less
does it sense or feel or love or desiI"e any of the things around it Accord·
ing- Lo Heidegger'~ profow1d n.:mark, Liu.: 1.al,k <lues nul "luuc:h" Lhe wall
again~T which iris placed. What is proper to a body .melt ;is ours, on the
contrary, is that it semes every ol<lccL Lhat. is dose to it: it perceives each of
it;, qualitic:., it .~ces it.~ c.olor.11, ht>ars its sounds, breathes in a scent, dete1·-
mines the hanlncs8 of the soil with a foot, and the smoothness of a fabric
,vith a hand. And it seuscs all oft.his, the ciualides of all these objects that
make up it~ environment, it feels the world that pn::s~e.~ on it from all
sides, only because it feels it:, own feeling first, in rhc efforr it exerts to
ascend the lane, and in the impn:ssion ofpkasnre that sum.'> up the cool
of the wal:cr or 1,1,,inri.
We will now fix in appropriate l.crminology this difference between
the two Lollies we have jno;:t dil>tinguished-our own, which feels itself al
the samf' time it senses what surrounds it, on the one hand., a.nd the in-
ert body ot the universe, on the 01.hc1, wlH.:U1cr it he a smnf' on the path
or the micro-physical particles that .mpposedly constitute it. We ,,,.-in call
rhc formP.rflesh, reserving usage of the word body for the laltcr. For our
flesh is nothing other than what/tels itself, mffers itse!f, unde.rp;oes itself and
bears ilsdf, urul lhus rmjny.'i il.~P-lf accordmg to imjYressions that are always ·ubmn.
For thi5 reason, it can feel the body outside il, awl touch it a.<1 well as be
touched by it-and ll ii~ is what thf' external body, the inert body of the
material universe, cannot do in principle.
The first topic of om invesLigaLion will he the f'lucidation of flesh.
We v,•,mt to speak uf lhc incarnate hf'ing.~ we are., we men and ,,,-omen, and
of Lhis singul::tr condition that is ours. This condition, Lhc fan of hcing
incarnate, is nothing other than incarnation. To be incarnate is not to
have a bu<ly, to put onei-f'lf fo:r.vard as a "corporeal" and thus malerial
hcing-an inte,e;ral part of the urriYerse, which one awards with the samf'
qualifier. To be incarnate ~ to have fie.sh, an<l, pe.rhaps more precisely
to be flesh. Thus incarmnc heings are not inert bodies that neither sense
nor ff'el anything, conscious neither ofthemselvc;,; nor things. Tnr.arnare
beings are suffering beings, :;hot Lhrcmgh with desire and fear, feeling
all the impression.~ that are bound together v.>ith flesh because they arc
constitutive of its substance-which i~ Lhu:; an irnprc.~~ional substance,
beginning and ending with what ii feel~.
Defim.:cl by everything a body lacks, flesh should not be confused
wich the body, but is instead, if one ma>· sar l!O, lhc cxar.r opposite. Flesh
and body are opposcda~r-1cm1ngand un-seru;ing-thatwhich enjoys itself
on the nnf' hand: blind, opaque, inert matter, on the olhn. Thi~ <liffor-
ence is so radical that, though it may ~ecm nbviom, it. is very difficult,
even impu:;sibk, actually tn think it . .'\.nd this is because it is a difference
he.rween two terms, one of which ultimately e:;capcs us. Tf it is easy for
us to know our flesh, to the exlclll Lhat it never leaves us and adheres to
our skin in Lhe form of rmm1~ro11g impressions of pain and pleasure that
constantly aftect us-so that each of us actually knows qui Le well, wi lh ai1
abwluk and unbroken knowh"<lgr., whar hi, fle..~h i~ (e.ven if he cannot
express this knowledge c:once.pr.nally)-our knowle<lge. oft.he inert horl-
ies of material nature is quite different and vanishes on arrival, ending
in complete ig-11onmcc.
Here it is not a question of difflculties of the Lechnic.al :.url thal
are encountered in guantwn phy:sie:,, when; each "mcasun;," al the very
location of whaL iL se~ks tu apprehend, inlcrfcrc11 with or makes indcrcr-
minate the very parameters selected for this purpose. A metaphysical and
final aporia bar:. our way, bccau~c the ullirnat.c physical clement. mnst srill
reach us somehow and there is no way around this final order of things:
A flash on a screen, for example, is interpreted as the collision of a pho-
ton, a sensation oflight that arrives in our flesh nowhere ebe but when:
this flesh irnprc.~scs upon iT~clf. Ouuide this inevitable reference, it re-
mains unkno·wn and unknowable what the object of physics, the "thing
in itself," or what Kant called the "uoumena,'' would ht:.
~r
The muzl:y.~is thR body can neoer becomR. an analysis of ourfiesh, or eventu-
ally its 1'!Aplanatory principle; rather, the contrary is true; Ourflesh alune a.ll1.r..vs us
lo k,ww, within. thr. lim.its presc'ti.bed by this int'sr.apabf.e presupposition, something
Wee a "body.,. Thus t11e contours of a strange inversion already stand oul
before our eye:;. The mau who knows nothing, nothing hut the harchhip
ofaJI the :mffcring in his hmi.•r-1 flesh-the poor, and the "little ones··-
probably kno·ws much more than an omniscient mind situated at the end
of Lhe i<lcal <icvdopmcnt of science, for which, according to an illui;ion
that ,•.:as ·widespread in the nineteenth century, "the future and the past
alike would be present to its eyes."
Syslemat.ically eluci<latiug tht: flesh, Lh<.: body, aml ilicir enigmatic
rd:nion will a.llow m ro address the second su~ject of our inquiry: In-
carnation in the Christian sense. 1t is founded on John's astounding
propo:.iLio11; "Ami die v\'ord was made flesh" (1 :14). This ~xn,iordinary
utterance ,.,in haunt the consciousness of all who will endeavor to th.ink
it, from the eruption of what we will call Clui~Lianity omv,ml; llie firM
rdlcctiurn; of Paul, Lhc evangelists, the Apostles an<l their messengers,
tht" F:nhers of the Church, the heretics and their opponents, and the
councils-in short, an entire spiritual aml culLmal dcvclopmc:11! pc1haps
without equivalent in the history of humanity-all witness to this. The
importance of this decisive sequence of philosophy and theology, which
in the early Christian period were mixed Logetl1cr, camwl be obscured
by the fan that many of the intellectual works composing it have disap-
peared, victims of a gigantic shipwreck along wiLh the m~m iLr of lex Ls
from anliquily. ILli impurlarll:e :;Lt:ms from Lln.: fact that when; the .~pecch
of Incarnation is pronounced, an inevitable confrontation is provoked
that very soon becomes almo~t olJ:.css1vc, hcnvcicn those who ·will strive
to understand it, eveu if they still rlo not have the means at their disposal
to do w, anrl rhose who reject it unconditionally as inum1pi:!.liuk with
their philosophy, which is nothing more and nothinl{ less than Greek
philosophy I
The former are convert5,Jews, Creek:;, aml pagan~ of all son:s, who
want to understan<l lhal iu \·vhid1 they have. jmt pm their faith. The others
are the "Creek/ which now means those who, whether Greek or not,
c:omimw to think as Greeks, and accordingly are unabk Ii> think what is
said injohn's myslerious word.
011 the one hand, the Greek Logos displays its es~encc outside rhc
sensible world (and everything perta.iniug to it, whether anim::ility or
inert matter), exhausting this c:,iscn..:e in the timeless contemplation of
an iuldligihlc universe. That the contemplation of a pure imelligiLk
makes the world of things comprehemiLlc and supplies it.~ archetype
changes nothing almul Lin; fundamental ~ituation, from which the oppo-
~ition hctween sensible and intelligible that will come to govern \Vcslcrn
thought originates.
On l11e ot.hcr h:mn, the radical incompatibility between the Creek
concept of Logos and the idea ofiu, possible incarnation reaches its apo-
gee as soon as it a:.sumc~ lhc meaning ir ;v;U have in Christianity, as con-
ferring salvation. This is indeed the thesis of Christian dogma Lhat one
cm tnily call '"crucial," and it is the principle of it.,; entire "ec.onomy.''
Greek tl10ugh1 opened hcfore man the royal road ot a possible, if
11ot plausihle, salvation. Man, according to this thinkiug, is an animal
endowed with Logos. By his animality, Ly his natural horly, he fall, within
the province of Lhe lleu:-;iblc, whic:h it.o.df i.s subject to becoming. ln this
respcn, he i~ a perishable being, destined for decomposition and <lcalh.
But endowed with Logos, and thu~ witl1 Lhc capacity ro c:ontemplate the
intelligible ard1cLypcs of things and, through these, the light of the Ab-
11olme th::it illuminates them, he also has a soul, or rather "he i~ nothing
apart from its soul" {Akibfodes, 38<:). \'\!"hen the wnl turns away from the
sensible world lo he unitcrl tn the eternal nous and lost in the contempla-
tion ofthf" Intelligible, the soul will, like the Intelligible, Le clcrnal. ThcsC'
originally Platonic schema~, which Vl~ll ht> taken over bj' Gnosticism, were
known lo all Gre.f"ks.
And here Christianity .situates ils salv-.:1tio11 in the hony. This mate-
rial body, subject lo putn.:facl.ion, whirh falls prey to becoming, and even
more the .seat of sin, the organ of sensory attraction, and Ilic viclim pre-
destined for every illusion and every idol, i~ appointed to snatch us from
death: As wt: an-1.uin: the mc~ns to do so, we will offer an analysis of
this strange economy of salvation that caused hila1ity among the Greeks.
\i\,'hen on the Areopagus in Athens Paul soughl lo expl.u11 LO Lhem how
human immortality rests on the resun-eclion ofLhe bo<ly, hi:. li:,;lem:r~, ~
we know, went away sm:ning-: "We ,\ill hear you again abom thi'!'." (Acts
17:3~),
A~ extraordinary as rhe doctrine v.~s the attitude of those who im-
mediately and unreservedly accepted it, and, tunher, agreed to ri5k theJate
of Christian it; on its 'llW5t implausible thesis. It is true that the paradox was far
from lid1115 the same for ,:vcryonc. Thi> "Chri~tian" Jews, those who had
recognized in Jesus the ~lessiah, and in a general way all who were ofJew-
-ish cullure, c.lic.l nut share the Greek concept.ion oft.he rlu::ilism herween
the soul anrl horly. ln.Jmfaism, man i.l\ not cut into two distinct substances
and is not a result of their synthesis, which in any case is incomprehen-
sible; so no hierarchy is set up between lhem. M<J.11 is a unitary rcalitr cn-
dowccl v.-ith rlivcn.t~ properties, aJl of which define a single condition. Far
from being the o~iect of certain discredit, and even if it remains subject
to the rigorous prcscripLiom of the Law, what is of the flesh (pa.rcrnity
or marernity, for example) represents a fulfillment for Jewish man, and
a fulfillment of his highest des.ire.
The irlentity thattexists between the conceptions relating to flesh
in Judaism and those in the new religion (which in the beginning is
only a heretical sect) will uev<.:rthdes:, Ix: brnk<.:11 when this new rcli,srion
emerges. The motive for {his divorce, which has all the character of a
tragic battle, is two-fold. In the firsl place, there is Lhe icleaJudai:m1 hal-1
of Go<l and his creation. C,od r:rcat.e<l rhe worlrl mJt"irle him.~elf, and
he i~ ,<;{'p;:irat.erl from it. in rhe ~ame ,vay that he is separated from man,
whom he drew from the matter of this world. Even before the arrival of
Hellenbm,Judaism con Laius within ii., conncc.:Lcit to f.hc idea of a t.errestrinJ
hmly, a notion of man as destimte and destined for death. Only a gratui-
tous act of God, of hi.s all-powerful ·will, allows his ser"lianl to hold ouL
hope lhat he will not he clclivcrcrl over t.o Sheol. Tt. ,.,,"::JS nearly as difficult
for a.few to believe in the resurrection (and many did not) as it was for a
Greek. A terrestrial creature fashloned in Lhe silt of the earlh, he :;eemc<l
<lesliucd, hy his origin as much as by his; sin, t.o r<'turn to it. "Remember
that you are dust[ ... ] " (Genesis 3: lY).
The scc.:ond motive for the hnual n1pt11re het:ween Jurl::iism and
t.hc scc.t of c.hrist. stem.~ precisely from Incam.ation. That the Eternal, the
distant and invisible God of lsrael-···the one who always hides his face in
dou<l~ 01 uchiml bushes, who.~c voice one hears at mosr (of whom, inci-
dentally, is it the voice?)-comes into the world and tak.es on an earthly
body to subject it to the wrment oJ an ignominiou:; death reserved for
vi1laim :mil .5faves, is in the end something as absurd frn a,1 cnulitt> Rabbi
<IS for a sage of pagan Antiquity. For Lhi:1 most. dcstitme man to pretend to
be Codi:; Lhc grc.:atcst blasphemy, whkh inrleed deserved death.
If the Jewish n:fo•.,.,il-the refusal of the Temple priests, high priests,
scribes, Sadducees, and Pharisees-i.� i11 the t•nd (de�pite the secret con­
versio11 of numhers ofi: hem, and despite the idea thaL Lhcy hatl of flesh
as the organic totality of man) as violent a!; the Greek refusal srr>mming
from dualism. we are then broughl hack to our 1nifoil observation, to the
extraordinary diaracrcr of the unconditional faith that all the Jewish,
Greek, and pagan converts would place i11 the Tncarn,uion of the v\'ord,
which is to say, in Christ.
It is in himlsight that, not conlent to constitute tl1e :;uuslam:c of the:
lifr of the first communities gathered arou11<l lhe sacred meal, Tncarna­
tion in the Christian �erm.: hecomc:s rhe o1<ject of a specific intellectual
rcflcclion-evr>n if the "human battle," actually a succession of Lcnihlc
persecutions, '1ewish" first, then Roman, c:onrinuf'.s to accompany the
"spiritual combat." Very great Thinkers, the fathers of the Church, will
devote themselves to this reflection. We have already ser.:n how, having
assumed the Christian pa1adox that posits the coming of God in a mo1·tal
bu<ly a� the mf'taphysical condition of human salvation, Lhey were forc�rl
to fight on two fronts: against the Jews and against thP. GreP.ks.
Against the Jew�. a.-; :;Jwwn for example in the debate between Justin
and Rahhi Trn,ho, who precisely could not understand how llH: Chril-­
i:ians placed their hope "in a mau who was crncified."f But it is the tran­
scendence of Lhc God of T.�n1el that ultimately makes his incarnation
unintc11igihlc. Yahweh is a jealous God. Jealous or his divine c�scncc,
the pm-,·er to exist-·--"!. am \Vho I am'' (Ex. 3:14)-which exist<; only in
him and is not shared. Hence the pretension of a man to be himself
God ind�ed ,;eems absurd. Jewish monotheism h Dawlcs:., The jcalnm;;y
of the God of Israel toward men, or rather roward all their idols (,vomen,
money, powc1·, forcib'll gocls, ecc}. toward everything that would claim
to he a �ubstitute for Yahweh as an objecl of worship, i.� only rhe conse­
quence of this primary onlolugic.:aljcalomy, which is the jealousy of the
Absolute. Aud iL i:i true rhar. a. plural God, if you will, is inconceivable for
a thought of Being for which everything lhal ix or can he comes from the
only Being tl1al u·uly exist�, t.hr> one who has in himself the strength to
be. We: wilJ S!-'f� how the great councils of the Church, as wdl a.'i il!! rnoi;t.
remarkable thinkers (before the Aristotelian inva�ion nf the chirteenth

"Justin Martyr. Di1Zfog11,, ,,,,,!I: Ti;q,i,'.m, Frt"11d1 trnm. C J\rchambault (Pari$; Picard, 1909), X,
3; I, 49 / Dialag,.1, with Tryj,iw, Fngli.,h lr,111,. Thumds B. JiaJls (\o\lashinglOn, D.C.: Catholic
Univcrsit)' of America Pre;;,, 200:i), p. 1.9
century), surreptitiously abandon every form of ontology (and particu-
larly the onr.0!01:,ry that had the most remarkable t.hcorctical flourishing
in Greece), keeping only its language. Thi11 wa::i the price tu pay, or lhc
decisive step to rake, in order to safeguard the founding inrnition of the
lm:arnal.iou. So Hcllcr1i~m will lJ:nd to di:,;appcar or on:upy 011ly a ~ccornl-
ary place to the extent that the "philosophy" of Ch1istianit:y will become
more adequaLe to iLs object. According to Bernard Sesbou.e's profound
appraisal co11ccrni11g the Council of Nicaca, the Hdlcnizalion uf lan-
guage goes hand in hand with a de-Hellenization of the faith;'· as we will
c1aim, howcvc,, Lhis occur~ firsL with n:spccl Lo Lhought iL~df.
This is the singular ideal sequence that we can situate historically
through the .Fathers of the Church and the great councils, bm the con-
tent of it is the result of the internal development of antagonistic presup·
position'-. As soon a.'I Ghri.~rfanit:y escapes it'l Hchraic origins, and hy \1Ttuc
of irB desire for universalism, it is confronted with a culture that is, for
tJn: mu~L part aml from lhc inlcllcdual. poiuL of view, Greek culLure. That
culture thus has ro accept what is most anrirhetica 1 ,rnd incomprehemihlr:
for it, and to put it now more accurately, it has to accept the reality ofChri5t's
body in the Tncnmation as a condition.for !.he id,i.n.tifiratirm ~f tnnn ·mith God. So
from Greek. concepts they seek to understand the most anti-Greek truth
lhcrc is. Thi:; i!i tl1c c.:onlra<licliun the Falhcn a11<l council:; will confront
mnrc-: th:rn <\nee.
1n the ancient context, an approach that is as paradoxical as what
it. Mrivc.~ to unrlcri,;tanrl i:,; not. only motivated hy prrndyti:.m. C.hristianit:y
itself does not have adequate concept~ for its highest Tnnh. This is not be-
cause of some intellectual poverty that would be proper to Christianity, as
if lhc <::arly Chri~liam were iufanL lhink<::rs needing only to be instructed
by real philosophers-Greek philosophers! Jt is for a more radical rea.-
son: The Truth of Christianity is not ol the intellectual orde1: And the genius
of the C::hun:11 Falhcr:- (whether Greek or noL), lhc slrikiug d1a.radcr uf
the sequence of ideas that weaves its way little by little through their daz-
2.ling inluitions, was precisely this-They grasp the Truth of Christianity
in it.~ mo~t haffling affinnation: the Incarrrnt.ion. 1n fact, it is not gTaspctl
in an affirmation (which would still be only mental, or at least would be
open to thcjudgmeul of lhc mirni): it i:. grasped iu whal escapes ever)'
thought: In a body and a.flesh.

"'Bernard Sc,bouc. ~Jcms Christ dans la tradition de l'Egfac," inJesvs e1Jes11!Chris.~ uv. 17
(J'aris: Ucsdcc, E/0'.J), p. JOU: "The peculiarity of the council of Nicaca is to profess in a
trenchanc man n~-r th~- rndical difference between the mystery of Jesus Christ and Crtt·k
philo,vphy. Tlie parn<lux is that Uiis lle·Helle11i:t,lliu11 lakt,, phu:e ,IL th1:e very rllul!H'lll llw
la11~u.1gt> of f.,ilh it; Hdlen.io,d."
 The fight the Fathers took up and pnrsneti relentlessly, from the
end of the fir:-,t ccrnury lhrnug-h the following centuries and successive
councils, rloe.s ~eem ~xtr;iordinary. lt is the fight to affirm, <l~ft:wJ, and
demonstrate by every means available (but also with Lhc help of new in-
sights anti :iuddcn illuminations) that Christ had a real body and a real
flesh like our ovm, and that the pos:siuilily of salvarion takes place in it
and in it alone. ·vve :,;.ud that it is a fight wagerl against Greek thoi1ght,
and its devaluation of the sensible and the body.* The aim of this critique,
however, is not directed toward the past. It unm~k:; everywhere around
it the achievemcul~ of Greek culture, its resurgences and oblique substi-
lutcs;, hcfore with a sudden horror it recognizes them in iL~df: In all who,
although they accept the idea of the com.iug of the Word of Go<l on l""arth,
do not accept a real incarnaijon. Even if an incarnation is not conceivable
withoul a flesh heing assumed, without a coming in a body in whatever
form that may be, the flesh of Chri:.L rnuld :,;jjl] he only ;;i,n ~pparent one.
Or it may be thal Lhc maucr nfthi." flesh is not that of which man is made.
It. i,.; an :utral, "psychic," or even "spiritual" matter. Actually, his flc.~h i~
better described as a soul, a Ilc~h-rnul or a scml-flt>sh, ei:c.
All thi~ debris of Greek thought (or of more ancient prcju<liccs)
is. not only refused across the dillt:rcul form~ of Gnrn1tidsm; it is pieced
together immedi,udy a~ a comp::i.rt hlork: heresy. "Heresy" means every-
lhing lliat, unrlr.r variou~ masks and throu.gh spurious and false con-
structions, denies the truth (in olher words the reality) of Incarnation.
Gnosticism l,cum1c~ a heresy in the eyes of Christianity in as much ~ iL
njcc.t'I the central Christian athrmation. Irenaeus: .4gain.1l the Heresies: rJn
the Detection and Refutation of the Krwwltdge Fal\-lily So {:rzllP.d. Tertullian: 'Die
Fu:slt uf Chri~t, an<l The R11si1.1-rP.r.tion of the Flesh. Athanasius: :nu: Incarnation
of the Wnrd: Against the Arians, etc. ls it an accident lhal Lhc most. violent
denunciation of Gnosticism arises in the \'l:ry text in which the Incarna-
tion is affirmed n1.tcgmically, in which we find the dazzling pronow1ce-
ment "And the Word was made flesh" (John 1:14)? For John also says:
"Many false prophet:. haw gone out into fhe world. This is how you will
know if lhc Spirit of C..od inspires them: every spirit that proclaims 1.hal
Jt>:.~llS Chri~t has come among us in the flesh ls from God" (1 John 4:1, 2;
translation modific<l) .t
Yctwf': must remember the meaning this uncon<liLio11al affinmition
of the incarnation of the Word of Cod assumes, not only in .John, but

* Dues um: need w recall here that r.he idea taken up hy Nietz~che and :;preaJ e,·errwhen:,
:i,·.,·.unliug lu wh.ich Christianity teaches the contempt of the body, is a .-cr11rl<'e 11n1, ulh?
t-An,:\ ,·,gaiu: ~:\fauy who would seduce you have g-one into the world: they do not. prnfr.ss
the faith in I.ht- (ullliHl!, vfJe,us Chrisc in the flesh.- ('.!.lohn 7).
rhroughont the Gospels and the so-called canonical writings, as establish-
ing the possibility of salvation. llut how'? \l\l'hy and how would cominiz; in
a mortal flesh be a token of eten1ity? Despite the paradox, many reasons
converge here, a network ol' implications so tight and on this point so
essential that they belong to the "core" of Christianity. \,\,'e will list them
1p1ickJy hcfon~ lat~r prnpo.~ing an e.xpbnation.
The. Tm:arnar.ion of tht> \\Tor<l i~ r.on~rnntly given in Chri<;ti:mity as
the manner in which the H-'ard becamr. man. And this evidently implies a first
condition Lhat is cornnanL1>' reaffirmed iu lhc Fathers, namely lhat Ou,
flesh ~f Christ is lih.e ours. This is the thesis that supports the enormous set
of impassioned critiques directed against the hcn::lic~-all llw:.c wliu, a:;
we have seen, sLiiYc to erase, minimioc, and denature in every way the
reality of Chri.st's flesh, and first of all irs identity with our own. Thus,
rejecting the theses of Marcion, the heirs ofValentinus, and Apelles, ac-
<.:ording l.o which Jesus did nor. have flc~h, or harl a flesh rliffcrcnr from
ours, or "of a particular quality;· Temllli..1.n, on the contrary, asserts that
"the Christ would not be called man without having a flesh" and "a flesh
like our o\m," a fl~sh th::it nrnnot he composed of anything other than
human tlesh. *
Rut if t.hf: Inr.arnarion of the Word, its coming in flesh, and in flesh
like ours, means that it comes in our human condition, and takes custody
e,fit, it is because another thesis is also enveloped in John's profound a1:
finnatio11: mnn is rlR:finMl as flMsh. For rlw Wm<l f Parole] does not say that
the VVord [ Verlie] took on the human condition and for this reason was en-
dowed with flesh, among other lmmau altriuul<.:s; tJ1c \Vunl says tliaL iL "was
made flc.~h," amt 1.har i'I rruly why, in anrl by rhis flc~h, ir was ma<le man.
Is there any need to repeat how much this definition of man is
opposed to the Greek conception, to the point of shaLtering it? For Lhe
Greeks the flesh defines only animality; there: i.~ no man, in his specific
difference from the animal, except to the extent that added to this flesh
is the capacity lo form meanings, Lo speak_. lo perceive luea.lo, in shmL,
the I .ogos rhar the :mimal by itself lacks. But then it is not only the Chris-
tian vision of man (for which the htm1an condition occurs only in and
through the flesh) lhaL brutall)' c.onfrunls tl1e Creek conccplion. The
two interpretations of the Logos are equally opposed, and are no less
different. To be made flesh, fur the Creek Logos (br whid1 we mean: tu
bt: -r1u1,de in itselfflesh), would noL mean to be made man, hut exactly the
opposite, to get rid of its own essence, to close off the human condition,
to be notl1ing more than animal. ,,vc will have lo come back lu Lhis deci-

"''H:nuJlian,(X;l, V, pp. :.!:n, ~~\), rcspcctivcJi•-

sive point, but we see aln:arly that :m entire intellectual universe hangs
in the balam:c.
vVith the definition of man as Oe~h. a uew implication follov,:s. ffrhe.
Incarnation of the '-'\lord means its coming iHtn the human condition, the
rdation oJr,od tn man is also at stake, in so far as the \Vorel i:-. Gml'.~ mm. As
Ion.~ as this relation is established m1 3 ~pi ritual plane, extending from
the "soul," Lhe "psyche," "consdonsness, ~ reason, or the htunan spiriL
toward a God who is himself Reason and Spirit, this relation is conceiv-
able. It becomes much more difficulL LO explain if man dra,.,-s his own
substance from flesh. "\,Vhere does the possibility of' an inltmal n::huion
hctween this carnal man and God reside when the lartcr is dearly identi-
fied ·with the Logos? Doesn'L Lhis lwo-fokl <lefinition, resting at the hean
ofJohn'~ Wun.I [Parole] as ll. defirr.itimi ~f thd"Jod-m,an ( or man-Cod) rrlulion,
cm:ount.er the di~junction Hellenism institules belwcc11 the ":,r,n~ihle"
and "inteHigible"?
The <liffirnlty incrf'.;cises vertiginously if, examining the word ofJuhn
with more attention, one recognize.s that noL uuly the general rel;ition
between God and man i~ here proposc-'.o under the absolutely new form
of a n:lation benveen the Vford and tlesh, but also tl1al 1}1i.s pararloxical
relation is placed within um: and the .v1,m~ prmn, na.mely the Christ. With this
confrontat..ion and precipitous antagonism between its conslituenl:s, tin;
iulcrnalizat.ion of the God-man relation, which has Lt:cumc the ,,Voni-
flesh relation in the person of Chri~l., calls radically into question its in-
ternal possibilily-tht: very being of Christ is challenged. Can a God he
ma<le man in the fonn of the Word being made flcl'h, aml ilo so in one
and the same person? How :.hould we treat an existence at the juncture
of two helcrng-cncom .~11h~tances? Is someone like the Chri:stconceiva.ble?
This will constantly preoccupy the Falhers and will he the subject of
all the great councils. The eminent parr1cipanrs that they gather through
the early n:n !uric,._ ,~ill reflect endlessly on the person of Christ, on tl1c:
possibility that he could unite in his ex..i:.Lcncc two <liffrrent n;irnres, one
divine, the other human. The very word person is one of the terms re-
ta.iucd in order t.n affirm the real existence whose po:cssibility is in qucs~
rion: The real, concrete, effecti-ve, singula1, and act.ua.1 existence or the
One who, uniting i11 hirn~clfthe t\110 natures, remains "one and the same"
as man anri as God. This appeal to Greek Lenninolob';'' (person comes
from the Greekpro.wpo-n, from which the T.ar.in persona is derived, and this
word denoles, a.~ we know, rhe mask worn by theater actors) will nol be
the only one. The recourses to the Greek ~yslcm of c:nncepmalization,
and through it Lo Creek ontology, m11lriply as the problem of the nature
of Chri:.l is po);t:d with greater acuity. l'or ·with the Fathen it will ucvcr he
a (jlICstinn of skirting the issue beneath a word, but of procluc:ing its in tel-
 ligihilit:y as far ail c:m he done. P.eyond the factual existence or dogmatic
::iffi.rmation of Christ. the continuous effort of the councils is oriented
to'ward the internal possibility of this existence. Could this effort succeed
·within the horizon of Greek culture?
The problem in any case is posed in an ever more precise manner.
The union of lhe lwo naturc11 must. be the union of their properties,
more prcci~dy of nvo scrir:s of propr:rries, some he:longing to r;orl, an<l
others to man. From Nicaea to C'.onstantinople, it is the question of the
appropriation of properties or (since this is how it is stated in Greek) the
;ippropriation of idioms. In what sense can Christ, as God, appropriate
human properties? In what sense is he capable, as man, of appropriating
divine proper Lies? .A.., <lifficulL as iL is lo gra.:sp lhc union ur unity of t.hc Lwu
series of properties in C,hrist, their parn lldi~m alrn cmmts a .._ an explica-
tion of his mysterious existence. As God, for example, the Christ knows
all things; as 1nan, he cannot foresee the future. Thus the scrie~ ofauLilh-
eses, which ::i.J-w::iys re:snlr.~ when ,i divine property is brought together wi,h
its absence or limitation in man, is resolved a prurri. An intinite under-
slau<ling iu Cod, ycl "a fiuilc undcr.~lamliug like our own," Rani. will sl.ilJ
say. On the one hand, the impassibility of a timeless God, as impervious
lo lhc bluw.s of becoming· as to the t.1ibulations of history. On the other
,"' h::iml, pa~sibili(,;, fragiliry, vnlner;cihiliry, hunger, thirst, sufferings, and the
horrific story of Christ's passion-his deatli.
Here again Incarnation crosses the pal.Ii of om Cnrn1gh I.. For a.~ long
as man defines himself through Reason, just like the Greek God in the
end, the capacity for tl1e first to appropriate the properties of the second,
lo pa.rtidpale in iL, al ka:,;L Lhruugh "the bc8L parl ufhi:s bcing," is pusilctl
in principle. The comm11nication of properties, certain one,; in any case.
is a virtual a priori that everyone ,~ill make an dfort to realize in himself.
With the defiuitiou uf mau ii!i flt.::sh, lhe Lwo series of prnperlics have
become irreducible to one another; an uncrossable dis.tance separates
them. Does one imagine the nous, eternally lost in the contemplation
of the an:hct.n>c, a pure crynal illumineci hy iH light, snrlrlenly straining
with fatigue, demandin~ a pillow, beginning to weep upon learning of
his friend's death, or marveling at the perspicacity of a woman who has
just. sat rlown by his side to listen to him, leaving her sister to care for the
cooking?
Worse, does one .imagine Lhat lhis arch-ard1elypal Cod, lhe beyoud
oft.he c:-iscncr:, i:-i horn in t.h,~ dripping wnmh thar midwivf'~ anci doctnr;i
manipulate, "a clot of blood among the refuse"? It is these unsavory rep-
rc8c111.ations that Gno11tici11m reject~; they, or whar they awaken, :ue what
Tl'rt.11lfon opposes ,.,.1th furor ag;cii.nst Mardon in his diarribe against him:
"Exposing· from the exordium your hatred of birth, let us now hold forth
on this filth the genitals have put into the womb, these hideous clots of
blood and waler ... <lescribe us this womb then, more mumlrnu.~ hy the
day, wdghtcd down ... unleash yourself ... .i.gainH (he obsc~ne organ,;
ofa woman in labor" (CC l, IV, 223). It. is r:crl.ainly more difficult to think
Lhe rd.i.tion bc:t\,\•et>n God and man when we leave the luminou.~ horizon
of Greece and it has become L11c relation of the \\Tord ·with a flesh from a
poor birl11 and destined for a certain death!
IL ii1 Lruc rhat Tertullian, as the majmity of the Fatln:rs, i11 no ,vay
limits the reality of man to the reality of his flesh. Tf in rhe beginning of
De came Chri.,li he c:laims to speak only of the latter, it is, he 8ays, only bc,-
cause, "everyone is in agreement regarding his ~piritmil substance~ (CC
I, Ill, tll). 'lertullian still chinks "Grcc.k." Thus Christ has a sonl as well as
a body, awl we do nor hr.gin 10 see any critique of the classical definition
ufman a~ r.ompo~ed of these two substances. This <ldinition r~m;:iins, on
the contrary~ implicit in tht: lrca.ti.sc DP carn.P, but it ~"ill come up explicitly
and repeale<lly c\"cn mor~ so thereafter.
Rut there is nothing of the sorl in John. The profound declaration
that posits God's becoming-man as rhe Word's '"becoming flesh" a.dd.s
uotliing tJl the definition of man it advances, namely man's <lefinirion as
flesh. The proposition thaL fo11ows, far from making aJlusion to a "spiri-
tual substance,'' Lo a "soul" of Christ, merely repeats this defiuitiuu: "He
<lwdt among n~." Tt is thus truly in being made flesh th.i.t t.hc Word is
made man, and it is thus, by a!>suming our carnal condition, that he estab-
lished in this way his heing-in-common with men, his "dwdling" among
them. Rut with the Word's carnal exisLencc, then, is nor rhe opposition
bem·een the nvo series of prnpcrtics (rlivine ;md human, which must
be united in Ilic person of Christ) brought to the poinl of unbearable
tcni-ion?
.:-./evertheless, Lhe pu~sibility of this union of divine and human
propcrlics i.~ hy no means merely a theoretical problem: IL i~ the possi-
hility of salvation itself. So it is necessary to i1ay more on this point and
recall the sche1mt Lhat it will 2ssum<" for each of the Fathers and across the
variou.~ councils: God's becoming-man is the basis for man's bn:oming-
Go<i. Christian salvation does not consist in the cli11pe nsation of particular
and completely pn:--cmim:nt graces: It consists in the deification of man.
H is only when man will bear within himself divine life, which is eternal
life, when he will identify himself with this life, that he will escape death.
But, according ro r:l1ristianiry, God's becoming-man resides in Lhc Tn-
c:arn:uion of the Word. Thus it i:; by identifying himself wi.{h the Word's
flesh (,.,itl1 the body ofChri~t, r:rirpus Christi) that the Christian man may
identi(y himsclh.,irh God. But this possibility of salvation, which will no
JongP.r he affirmed speculatively on the inLelkcLual plane, hut, i.n reality,
as the unity of our Jlesh wlth the Hc!>h of Cluis1, presupposes a11ol11cr
pussibilily: That the unity of the l'l-'nrd and fli!.,h be possih/P. and be realiudfi.nt
when the n,ord was made.fieih, that is, in Christ.
The problem of the existence of the Christ means nothing else. It is
not. the pro hi 1:rn cif hi.~ h imrri ni 1 c:xistcncc. That still concerns only.Tesus.
1t is then a question of whether Jesus really existed, if he really said what
he said, that he was the Christ, the Messiah, the expect.e<l .savio1; and not
:.imply i:l prophet. ::-.lo one tor.lay, wid1 I.he exception oftl1c iguorautonec-
i:arians, doubts this existence. The problem of Christ's existence is one of
knowing iftl1il; man rn:t111cdjc.sus, who imlccd ex.isled aml vdm wa.~ said to
he the Christ-it is for this reason alone that he was condemned-really
was him. From the philosophical point of view, to which we will 1·estrict
ourselves in this book, the quesLion i:r, thus formulaled as follow~: Is some--
one like the f:hri~t. pos~ihlP., i.r thi her:ommg-mn,n of (',od <Jli::l the her:oming:fiesh
~I the VVimi cmueiva-bw, at the -,1ery tease
It is only with a second slep Lh,n, pladng uu1'.:idve~ slill un a philo-
wphical phne, wr will wonder whether the existence of Christ, i:hrn;
understood as the possibility of the Incarnation of the \"1'ord, is some-
thini;:: other than a 5imple possibility-is precisely an existence. A mere
possibility arises from thought, but an existence never does. I can indeed
imag111t, ~uppu:;c, daim, or affirm lhal I ha.Ye a Thakr coin in my pocket,
but the cxi~rcru:c ofth<' coin will neverfollowfrom an a.ct ofmy thoug-ht.
'l'he existence of the Christ as the incarnate \'Vord surpasses infinitely the
com:eption that I can make of it., ,mpposing that T cm make one at all.
\Vhere does it come from then? IJow is the existence of He who is one
and the same as Word and as flesh capable of reaching us, of really being
given, au<l ufshuwing ifaefj lo 'us?
The ultimate motive of Incarnation, which contains the possibility
of salvation, is uncovered for us: 'J. 'helncamation of the Word i:s its revelation,
its rnming among us. If we can thus culer inlo rdalion with (,ucl aml be
saved in this contact ·with him, it is because his Word was made flesh in
Christ. The revelation of God to men is lhu!i here tl1e facL of flesh. The
flesh iL~clf as l!uch ii; revelation. If thii< i.~ so, two entirely new and c<p1ally
surprising questions are imposed upon us: W71at must flesh be, therefore, in
ordff lo br: in ifar:lJ and hy 'il.wdf r1:velation? But wlwl ·rrm1·t rrri!elr,tion he in rmlr,r
to be armm.plishe.d crsjlesh, to a.ccompbsh its re1 1e.alingwork 1n the.flesh and by it''
llut here is a new line ot questioning, which is no less baUling. The
,ford of God-according to theology but perhaps aho in tJw eyes of
a sufficiently perspicacious philosophical reflection-is nothing other
than the revelation of Cod or, .strictly speaking, his self-revelation. In Lhis
Gi.sc, tl1e esscuu: of lhc \'Vur<l would be nothing so oppo:ic<l tu the flc:lh,
which i~ itse!,f, a.nd in i.tseff, perceh1ed 0,5 re-:.ie/.a.tion. On rhe comrary, a secret
affinity would reunite them, to the extent that a single power, the po,,.,er
of making manifost, would inhabit them hoth. The crucial affirmation
enuncialetl iuJulm's discourse woulrl he Jess paradoxical than it seems.
The work of I.he Word, which is to accomplish the revelal.icm of God,
would go on in some way irn1ide the flesh, rather than running up againsl
it as au oparpie and foreign term.
Reflecting upon this last line of quc:,itioning, we see th:it it is capable
of bearing two different meauing~. F.ithc.r the ·word has taken on flesh in
order to rroeal itJe~f tn man, in which case revelation is indeed the work of
flesh, and is entrusted to .iL. Or the rcvdation of God in his Word is the
doing of Lhe 'Word it.~df. \'1-"hy does this Word then nee<l w ask lhc flc~h
fur a. power that would belong specitically to the \-Vurd, for a rf'velation
that the ·word has already accomplishcd in anrl hy itself?
A third hy_polhcsis remaim. Flesh would be its re-velation thanb
tu Lhc Word, t.o i:he Word it bears ·within it. This j:, because it would be
the "\ Vord that. having taken flesh in iL, woulrl ac.c.omplish its own work
1

of revelation in iL, aml it wonld owe to the Word its power of revelation.
The first hypothesis comes up more l11a11 once in rhe Fathers.
"\1\l'hether in Tertullian, Ath:-ma~im, Origen, or even, admittedly on ma.:
occasions, Trenaeus, the coming of the \Vord in human flesh is inter-
pre:ted as the "\\'a)' in which the .inv.i~iLk: Word of C.od 8hows itself to men
and women by making iL~df visihk: to them in the form of an objective
body like rhcir own. Becoming-visible in a visible-body would he the prin-
ciple of the VVord's revelation. "\1Vc will point mit in a moment the strange
constluction to which the same conception will leadAthanasim,, and how
he is forced to h;:ise the intuition of the invisible WorJ upon the external
appearance ofits body and ils machinatiom.
But how can we 11ot norice that the thesis that the \\lord becomc:.-
visibk: in the visible body, which it ha.:s taken on and assumed (a self-
evident thesis and one thal is suppo-iedly definitive of Ch1i.stianity),
comes up ag<11m1t two massive difficulties? The first is that, if Lhc Word
of God took on a body apparently like l11cir own in order to show itself
to men, what would show itself to them in rhis appearance ,•..-ould really
still be only a body like theirs, about which nothing would allow Lhcm
to know that it is precisely not the body of ;rn ordinary man but of the
·word. Thus lf tJ1e Word c:ome~ among men looking like a bod~ uf Lliis
~01t, his journey on earth ·will unfold ,vith in:;unuuuntahk incognito.
From the theological point of view, tJ1c difficulty is formulated differ-
ently, but is rdaLcd to the .~ame aporia that arose from the beg-i1mi11g of
our approach, that of a sah.-ation consisLiug in the union wirh a mortal
body. II ow would this union wllh a pcri;;hahle hody contain a promise of
immortality? How would r:hc resurrection of bodies come from a union
of rhi.~ kind, :malognm; in rhe en<l to a. 1mion esrnhlishf'rl hetwf'en two
human bodies, in the amorous fusion of man and woman, for eJrnmplt>?
It i;; prt>ci~t>ly this h:malization of Chri~t as having come in the appear-
ance of some kind of man thatAthanasius will seek to overcome by using
it as a counterpoint to highlight the extraordinary character of his every
acliou. The more mulk~t, tl1e mun: humbk, and the more a11011ymous
the manjesu:1 appears, the more this appearance will really be LhaL ofa
hum::in being ,vithout social or honorary cfatinr.Tion of any sort, foreign
to all "human glory," and the more his words, which no man has ever
pronounced, the more hi5 acts., which no man has ever accomplishf'd,
will show dearly that he is not a man like others, but the Messiah sent
by Cod lo save all.
The ~c:cond difficulty, which i.~ even more rndical, arises fromJolm's
discourse itself. for John does not say that the Word took on a body, or
assumed the appearance of one. He says that it "was made flesh." On the
one hanrl, ir i~ a quci;tion of flesh and not of the body; and if the cliffer-
ence benveen flesh and body appeared essential to us from the outset,
iL is hecau~e flesh and noL Lhc hod~ mu~l sen·c as ll1e <.:Cnlral lhcme
for understanding Incarnation in the Christian sense (or any incarnate
beiug_. unduublc<lly). On lhe other han<l, ncilhcr dues Jolm claim Lhal
the wor<l took on rhe "appearance" of thi.,;; fk.,h, hut prcci~cly rhat it
··was made flesh." It may well also be true that one can take on the form
or appearance onlr of a body, whereas, wilh regard Lo flesh, or Lo put il
more rigorously, with regard to the cominginftesh tha.t ,s incarnation (every
incarnation), only the "was made" in the Johannine sense of '·was made
flesh" would be appropriate. For then it is no longer a question of"form,"
or "::ippt":::ir:mce," or "st>mhlanrt>," hut ofr~ality, Tt i;. in it~clf, in iti! verbal
essence and reality, as \iVord, that the Word was ma.de flesh.
If Lhat h a question of the secret hidden from the beginning in the
he::irt of rhings, would we now he ahle to glimp~e. a fragment of it.? For
as long as the incarnation of the Word, as taking custody of the body ot
a man and thus of our humanity, i~ put forward a.~ the addition of a hcL-
t>rogeneou~ element (this m:ueri:11 ho<lywhirh is rlt>stinerl for O.f'<'.ompo.~i-
tion) to its invisible and eternal being, we are truly dealing with obscuri-
tic'./-, impn.~sihilities, :rnd even ::ih~nrrlitics. From tl1c fir~t proposition~ of
De came Ghri5ti., Ten1.1llian asked what sort of tlesh Chi.ist's Hesh could be,
and in particular, "''\-l1ere does it come from?'' In his view, if this is a tlesh
like OIIT own, rhc:n it. i.~ a flesh Jrmn,-,d.fmm /h(; Jilt of /lu; P-flrlh. ¼'hen this i~
added in a mysterious way to the Word of God, which is i~elf misunder-
stood, then this uuly leads lo a series uf enigma~.
Herc again, John says nothing of the son. According to him, the
Word's flesh does not originate from the silt of the eanh, but from the
Word itself. It is ofiL~df, in it:-clf, ;md by irselfrhat it was made flesh. Now
we will makf~ .John's thesis our own, before proceeding co elucitlaLc: il. In
t.he silt of' the earth, there are only bodi~; but no flesh. Somelhing like flesh can hap-
pen and come tow only from the lVonl. All lhr dwm1:lr:risli1:.1· offiesh comefrmn the
Word, and m-e e:Jcplained IYy it and it alone: First of all the fact, lhe little facl, that
jlesh is always lhe flesh rif !irmwone, m.y nmn for e,xample_. so that it bears a ''self,"
which is immersed within it, anrlfrom. which i.t does not haDe th.~ leis11,re t.o separate
itst'.?f any more than it can be separated from itselj; that this.flesh is not divisible or
bmaltable, since it is composed neil/n.,- ufpmlides nor atoms, but ~f plr?n.s11.rf.1 and
suffmngs, httn{!ft' and thirst, desi-r-e and fatigue, strength and joy-a wealth uf
lived 1:mpressions, none of which have tver lmmfo·uml l1y rummaging thnm.gh the
soil of the mrth <fr by digging through itI ln.y"-n of d,ny. ·vvr> will show that each
of them draws it.r.; snhmmce from rhe Word alone, and was made only of
rhe Word. They are not made in the Greek Logo~, by which only signifi-
cations or concepts an; formed, rcprc:;ie.ntations or images, which speak
and reason like men do, and think like them. llut they are made in an
older \'\-'ord that, before any conceivable world aml where then: ~till is no
world, speaks lo everyone, in the flesh that is their own, in its sufferings
and in the intoxication of existing-in the Word a:. .Johu umkrsl.amls it,
the "Word of Life" (ljulm 1).
In aclditinn, 3t no point does the reader of.John have the impres-~·
sion of crossing an obstacle course, or straddling an abys5 of absur<lities,
or being crushed agaimL a wall 11f aporia:--even though.John lets fasci-
nating propositions flow and joins them together, each of which, dtspi.lt
theJaa that it is formulated here f"r lhe.firJl lime in the hi.~lory of human thought,
truly seems to be one wiLh all Ilic others. Jr. is nor here a quesrion of intel-
ligibility in tht> orninary sense, admittedly, or of a "chain ob-ea.sons," and
even less is it a question of our habitual manner uf pcnx:ivi11g the worlrl
or ourselves. An i11tdligibility of that. .mrt pert.aim to thought, and to its
n1par.ity to make visible everything that, in some way spread out before iLS
gaze, constitutes the visible uni•.:erse-a. collect.ion of things that we can
really sec and t11at we n1.ll "rnH'," "rational," and "evident," to the extent
rhat. we ran artually see them.
horn the Prologue ofjohn anotJ1er Lype of imdli1::,ribilit.y cmcrgcil,
an An:b-inl.clligihiliry that properly overturns these ways of thinking.
"Arch-intelligibility" means that a mode of revehu.iou t:orncs into play
that is different from tlic one by which the workl h~comes visible; and
Lhat, for this reason, whar it reveals is made up of realities that are invis-
ible in this world, and wmoticed by thought. The Prnloguc li;its them:
Life, ln whid1 .A.rd1-iutel1ig-ihility consist~: rhe ·word of Life, in which this
Arch-intclligihiliry of T.ife is fulfilled; and, finally, the flesh, in which the
Word of Life becomes identical V1':ith each of the living· beings thal we arc,
we men and women. So an entirely new deHnition of humanity is formu-
lated, ·which is a.'l unknovm to Greece a.~ it is to modernity: The rkfinition
of an in.visible, and at the same time carnal, human being-and invisible in sv
fm· as carnal.
.Johanninc An:h-imcllig-ihili1y al:m has anolfo:r rm:anin~. Far from
being reducible to a list, or to a succession of mental objec~ that are con·
neeled by necessary relations, this Arch-intelligibility concerns reality,
iillU, cvl:11 more i111pu1 t..ully, aL~oluLe realily, as philo:.ophy calls it, and
what religion names God-the God rhat according to.John is life.
"To live" mea11s Lo umk1go cxperiem:iug oneself. The essence of
life consists in the pure fact of undergoing experiendng oneself, :rnd,
on the contrary, everything; pertaining to llL.,tter, or more generaUy to
tl1e ''wurld," is devoid of this. This very simple definition of God starting
from thf' rldinition, which i.s itself vc:ry simple, of Life as a pure "lrial of
oneself" (the most difficult is often the most simple, which also means
Lhal Lhe mosl simple is often me mo:;t difficult) now gives us possession of
che insi~ht th;:it will ~uide our invf',">tig::ition, which is precisely the Arc:h-
intelligibility we are talking about.
Arch-inte-lligibility belongs to the internal movf'mcnt of ah..olutc
Life, which generates itself, and is nothing other than the way in which
Lhe prm.:<::s~ of sdf-geneiatiou takes place. Life gene.rates itself by com-
ing in ir.~clf, into it" ovm conclirion, which is to undergo cxpcricm:iug:
itself. Yet no trial of oneself is possible if an lpseity does not also happen
,~ithin thi~ trial, at the same time as it docs a.nd as iL;,; umdition-Lhus,
as consu bstantial l\'lth it. "Ip5eity" denotes the fact of being onesdf, the
fact of being a ~elf 'fo the extent that a real life is produced (and not the
simple "i<lea" 01 Lhe simple "concepl'' oflife), and thus to the extent that
I ,ife's trial of itself i.~ it,;;elf a H'al trial, actually experienced and li\"cd, and
as such is inevitably singular, the lpseity in which it occurs is itself, qua
an actually lived lpscity, a singular lp:;eily. IL is a singular and real Self,
the First Living Self that Life generates, as how ir is experienced and has
revealed itself in this Self, which is thus its seH~revelation, its Word. This
is Johanuine Arch-iutclligibility: The very es:;enu.c: uf abwlule Life, the
movement ofits self-generation as lts self-revelation in in, v\.'orrl-a Worrl
within this movemenL, as the very mode ,vhereby this movement comes
about, and as old ::t5 it is. "Tn the beginning w:::u; rhe \-Vonl"
l'rom .Johannine Arch-intelligibility the first law of Life follows: No
Life is possible that does not bear ·within it a first living Self, in which it
undergoes experiencing itself and becomes life. No life without a li\.ing
being, but, likewise, no living being apart from the movement whereby
Life comes in itself, in undergolng experiencing itself in the Self of this
living- hcin~; no lh,ing- hcing wit.bout life.
 Thi~ law, decrypted from the essence of absolute Life, ~on rems
every po~sible life, and thus our own. ,v·e have also t~nrountered it in con--
nec.tion with one of the mosl ordiuary modalitie~ of the most 01·cliuary
life: Suffering. Did we not. recognize from this first contact tha1. all ~uffer-
ing unrlergoes its own suffe1ing and al the ;,;ame time bears a "self" ,.,.ithin
it, the self who suffers, \'1ithon, which no suffering would Le possihle (if
it is trul:: Lhat no 1,uffering could be the suffering uf nu one)? Thu~ life
i:- anything h11t the impersonal and blin<l uuivcrs:-i\ of modem thought,
whether it's a question of Schopenhauer's will-to-live or Freud's drilic.
The question that motivated our invcsligat:ion i~ now before us:
Would the word that suddenly appean; in verse 14 of the famous Pro-
logue, and which prnnrnmces the Tncamation, also come wiLhiu the com-
peleucy of Johannine Arch-intelligibility? Far frum being ahs1ird in this
case, as it v.ras in the eyes of the Gred...~, or at. le<1st very strange, as it re-
mains for us, Lhis Ard1-intclligibility could gesture to Life, as familiar for
liviug beings a.~ their own life, and returning, ai; cve1y rnnr.f'ivable life, to
rhe spoken word of verse one, speaking absolute Life's selfre\•elation in
its Word. \·Vitlwul h,:ing necessary in the same way or iu I.he same sense, it
w011 l d nevertheless belong to the same ci,scnce of revelation, to the .;\.rch-
intelligibility thal ii; none other, in the end, than that of abi;ulutc TJtr:.
Nuw, if flesh-and, first of all, coming i.n flesh, Tnr.arn::1tion-were
grnsperl by the first Christian thinker:- as a mo<le of manifestation of the
W'ord of God, and if we s11spt-ct that the flesh's mode of manifr~Lation and
Lhc \·Vord's mode of manifestation could iu<lccd he the same, as modes
of Life's manifestation an<l n:vdarion, then a systematic elucidaliou, a
science of this revdi:1.tion ai- iturh, is needed.
Yet rhi.~ science exists; it is phenomenology. So it i.~ from phenom-
enology that we will seek the be:,L way to approach the subject of our in-
vestigation. The phenomenology invented by Husserl at Lhe Legiuning of
Lin: twentieth cennuy has given 1ise to oue of the mrnt important intellec ..
tual movements of this era, and pt~rhaps of all time. The brief remarb in
this imrouuc.:lion allow 11s at least to know on what curnlition philmophy
could scn:e as a way of access for unde1stamli11g the. realities of flesh, on
the one hand, and coming iu flesh, or incarnation-and especially Incar-
nation iu the Chrisri:rn sense-on the other. ll is on the condition that it
is not a Greek idea . .But does phcrnnncnoloizy meet this first condition?
Jn no case. This is why it. now iteems that a recourse to phenuH11.:11olo1:,,y
will nol pmvc fruitful unless it can carry out the n:vcrsal nf phenomenol-
ogy itself, and challenge it!i mosl. hahitual presupposition-unless il can
substitute a phenomenology of life for a phenomenology of the worlrl
or Being.
 '\,\Thy t.hcn makr. ::m appeal ro phenomenology? \1\-nat good does it
do to he-gin with an antithe~is? Hecausf.' behind the Greek pr('."supposi-
r.ion of r.ontt>mporary phenomenology~ a much more general difficulty
is hidden, which in the end affects all possible philosophy. H indsible life
evades thought's grasp, how could we even come into relation with it and
speak ofiL in some way, as we claim to do? Don't the preceding con.sidc:r-
a.tions and L110H.: that will follow belong to the domain ofThinking? How
r.an thi5 escape from itself in some way in order m make itself adequate
lo what is "'·wholly other" than it? The reversal of phenomenology will re-
.5pond to this q111~stion, and at the same time will lead us to the heart of
Christianity's intuitions.
So the order of analysis will be the following:

1. The Reversal of Phenomenolo!{y

2. A Phenomenology of Flesh
3. !'he-:nome-:nology of lncarnarion: Salvar.ion in the Christian Sense

A doubt slips int.o the: spirit of rhc rca<lcr. \\'nat f'x:-trtly i.;; this hook
about: philosophy and phenomenology------or theologyr We will make a
dis Linc Lion in each ca.o;e iu the couri-c of otff analysis hctwccn what arii,;cs
from one or another ofrhe-:se rlisdplines, hefore po5ing in our conclllsion
the problem of their relation, and perhaps also tl1e problem of lmo·wing
whclher lhaL which spcak11 l.o 1111 first and forcmosr would not he anorhcr
Speech that, though no more heard in our lost world, still continues to
call us by making living beings of us.

• J..eaviug ,i.,id~ il~ nc-u,11l cl~vduprn~als in the fumhu111e11tal prublenrnlic of Ermmmud

0

l,F'--inas, ;md nfrhn.sc, ne,<'MC.hf'rs p~r!irip;,ring rorl:iy i,11h,: rf'.nl"·,,r,il r,fph,en,:,mc,nnlng:,.

The Reversal of Phenomenology

§ 1. Object of Phenomenology: The Question of "Appearance."

\'Vhat is titled "phenomeno-logy" is understood in terms of its two Creek

constituents-phaino·menun and Loi;oJ-w lhat taken lite.rally rhe: word
denoles a k.nuwktlgc about r.hc phe.nnmenon, a science of it. Reflecting
nn thfa very simple definition, we can propose that the first term, the
pherwmenon, qualities the object of this science, whik th.: second, l.ngnI,
indicate:. the mode of treatment thar should be applied to this ob_ject, or
the method to follow in order to acquire an adequate knowledge of it. In
the very title it assumes, phenorncnolog·~ advances it.~ o~jer,t aml method..
Since all this is in Greek, some clarifications are necessarv. Hei-
degger provides them for us in the famous §7 of Sein urul Zeit."' Rcrivf'd
from lhe ve1·L phainestho.i, w-hich me.ans /.() shmo ifse.lf. phenomenon denotes
~that which shows itself, the self-showing, the manifest" ("da.s was sichzdgt,
das Su:meigende, das Ojjenbare''). However, tl1is apparcully Lrivial ~hift from
the verb Lu the ~uhstantjvc hring~ ahout a decisive though hidden sub-
-~t.imrion. Only by taking it into account are we confronted with Lhc lrnc
object of phenomenology. This is prccisdy not the: phcnnmf'non, or that
which a ppca.n; ("rla.1· wa.1· sir.h uigt") , hut the act of appearing (phainestha:i).
This o~ject proper to phenomenology is ,•,hat differentiates it immedi-
ately from all other sciences, The laller adually deal v.~rh numcnmi; phe-
nomena, which an: always c.oni;iof':rf'rl in tenns of their specific content,
as chemical, biological, historical, or juridical phenomena, aml so 011 1
phenomena to which Lhc appropriate :-cicnu:s-chemistry, biology, his-
tory, ctc.-corre~ponrl. Phf':nomenology, on the contrary, makes its task
the study of what these various sciences never take expliciLly inlu <:un-
sideration. Not the particular cuulcnl of lhc;,;c v:-i.rinul\ phf'notnena, but
their essence, what makes each of them a phenomenon: the appearing
in which they show themselves to u:<,-Lltis appca1ing as such.
In the phcuumcnon, certainly, the. contenr., on the one hand, and
the fart that it appears, on the other, go together and seem to be one.
That is why ordinary or sciemilii.: thinking docs 1mt. worry ahout disassoci-

* Hcidcgg-cr, SZ, §7, ~il / '.!5.

ating them. The ,:up pla<:cci on rhe tahle shows it.-,el f t.o me. '\fevertht>less,
neith<"r the table nor rhe cup h:n:e hy themsdve~ t.he <'.apa<:iiy t.o hring
them.~elve.~ into rhe:ir condition a~ "phenomena,"' and this ensure;; thar
1\itl1in the phenomenon, its content, on the one hand, and the fact that
it appears, on the other, differ in principle.
11. is Hus~crl who inlro<lm:c<l lhis cs:;cnlial <lislim.:tiou on which
µhcnomcnology will l>c based. Slu<lying: lhc slrcam of livc<l mumcHls of
con5ci011sness thar flow temporally in us, he ronsirlers them nm as mere
objects but as "objects in their How" ( "Cegenstiindc im Wie").* "Object5 in
their How~ means: O~jects considered not in their particular content bl1t
in the manner in which they give themselves to us and appear to us---in
the "How" of their givenness.
\Ve ca11 urnk1st.a11d Hrni.M:rl\ proposilicm heller will1in the large,
context of his analysis. In hearing a musical symphony, a sound or a sono-
rnus phase of this sound is given to me as an expected, and thus future,
phase, or as a prc~cnt pha~c, or again as a past pha!-!c. In fact, the same
sonorous phase is given to me successively in these three ways: as future,
a.~ p1·csc11l, amJ as pasl. So the cli~Lin<:1.io11 iulrnduccd liy Husserl bclwcc11
the content that remains identical (the same A. of a violin) and its modes
of appearing, which are mu<lifieu through the t.cmpural fluwing, i~ pcr-
fccdy cst.ahlishcd.
The distinction between the content of the phenomenon and the
manner in which il appears allows us to gra:sp more dearly !.he lrue object
of phenomenology. A new and infinite field of investigation is now open.
· lfwe want to measure its magnitude, it \,..ill suffice for us to go back over
a series of equivalent terms we have been using since the beginning of
this hook, without yet noting their reference roan irlcmir.al ol~1:ct, which
is precisely the object of phenomenology. Here they are in verbal form:
To give itself; to show itself; to occur as a phenomenon; to unveil itsell;
rn 1111rnver itsdf; to appear: to manifest iw•lf; and to reve-il itself. Anrl
in substantive form: Givenness; showing; phenomenalization; unYeiling;
uncuvcri11g;; appc:an:mcc; ma.nifeslalion: and rcvdaLiun.
, Yet. it r.annot esrapf' us rhar these ke:y wonl" for phf'nnmenolog'}'
are also, in large measure, key terms for religion, or theology. Another
wnrrl (:mrl not the le-ist, since it has guided philosophic.al thinking ~ince
ancient Greece) also refers to the true object of phenomenology: the
word "truth." There are actually two ways to understand n-uth; one of
them is prc-phi1owphii:al, prc-phcnomc11olngical, arni, hm1c~tly, m1ivc:
Here "truth" denotes what is true. It is true that the sky is clouded over

* Edrnund Huss~1!, H u,i X, App. VIII, 117 / I 21.

and iL rnighl be about t.o rain. hi~ true that .2 + ~ = 5. Except that whal
is true in this way (the state of the sky or a mathemalical proposilion)
mnsr tirst show itself to me. It is true only in a s<::t:uudary ~cnsc and pre-
supposes an orig-inl:11 1rnrh, " firs, and pure manifestation--an unveil-
ing power without which no unveiling would be prnclm:cd, ancl without
which, conseq ucully; nothing tnw in the second sense, nothing unveiled,
woul<l be possible. ft is to H<'idegg·er's credit that he restored an explicit
phenomenological meaning to the traditional philu:;uphical ccmc:cpt of
truth. He distinguishes quir.c: rnrrcc:tly the truth that is always more or
lci;s confosed with something true, and what it is that allow~ lliis Lhing to
be true precisely, that is, lo show ilsdf as a phenomenon: the pure act of
appearing, which he call"> "1:hc mn'\t. original phenomenon of truth" ("das
urspriingluh,1.r Phiinomen d«r l1ah.rheit," SZ, §4·1, 220-221 / 203; translatiuu
modified).
Decisi\,c lhough it may he, the trajectory that leads phenomenol-
o~ through the prestigious ;malyses of Husserl and Heidegger, lu the
most original phenomenon ofll'uth, ?!till only pn:Rf:ntR us ,dth a problem.
\'\111en pure appearing, pure manifestation, or pure phenomenaJ,ity is the
condition of every possible phenomenon (Lhal in which it shows itself
to us and ou.1.;,itle which nothing can show itself, so that there would be
no phcnom~non of any kind), this undoubtedly places appearing al the
heart of phenomenological reflection as i0i sok lhcmc or true o~jcc.t, but
it in no way Sa}S anyl.hing ahout what this pure appearing involves.
ln §44, Heidegger's analysis brings us from truth u1 lhc :;ccondary
sense (what is true, what is unveiled) back lo original rmth (wh,H unveils,
unveiling). However, original truth ii; not presented except, in a way that
ii-1 ~rill ~pt>rufarive, as the condition oftruth in the secondary semc, where
unveiling is the condition of the unveiled aml appearing i,~ the condition
of what appears. Original rm rh is P.xp 1idtly designated as a phenomenon,
"the most original phenomenon of truth." ½'hat is implicu i11 a prnpmi-
tion of this sort is tJrnt original irull1 is it:-c:lfa "phenomenon." More than
this lrulh, it is ultim,U<'ly its phenomenon that is "most 01iginal.''
This means that appearin,g is in no way limited to making appear
what appears in it; appearing mu~t it~clf appear, as pure appearing. In-
lkcd, nothing would ever appear if its appearing (the pure facl of ap-
pearing-, pure appearing) did not it::,elf, an<l in the first plact>:, appear.
\'lie claimed thaL I.he table aml the r.up placed on it are incapable of ap-
pearing of their ovm doing, through their own force, or because of Lhdr
narnre or their own substance, which i.1 bli:rul mntt«r. Tr is thus a power dif-
ferent frum Lhl:m that mah:~ rh<'m appear. \'\-'hen they actually appear,
offering th<'m.~elves to us as ''phenomena," nothing has changed willi
regard to this powerlessness, which is co11gt.:11i1al to them. The ,ippearing
that shines in every phenomenon is the fact of appearing and that alone;
this pure appearing is what appears, an appearing of appearing itself,
and its self-appearing.
If we then question historical phenomenology about this point,
aboul tJie phenomenalitr of lhc mo:;I. original plu:nomcnon of l.nnh
(about what m;:ikes purt> appearing ::ippear as such) and about ,.,·h;,t, in
this pure appearing, constimtes precisely its appearance. its pure phe-
nomenological substance, its incandescent matter, so to speak, its incan-
descence, then we can distinguish t\vo moments in the texts offered for
our analysis. In the first, we face a non-response. Appearance, truth (or
ils miginal phenomenon), rnanife:-1tation, revelation, and phcnomcnality
art> ::iffirmt><l withmn .~aying wh::it thf'y c:omist in, without even formulat-
ing the problem. The presuppositions of phenomenology remain totally
indetenninaLe.

§2. The Initial Indeterminacy of the Phenomenological

Presuppositions of Phenomenology. The "Principles of
Pheno me noiogy."

Lik.e en::ry investigation, phenomenology involve~ pre~uppusilious. Bul

the presuppositions proper to phenomenology present a distinctive fea-
ture. In ordinary research the presuppo~itions Lhat govern reasoning are
chasm by thought and, as .mr:h, can be modified. Thus the mathematician
freely pm;it;; axioms, from which follow the series of implicati.ons thar
make up the theory. ln the course of his work. he adds, subtracts, and
d1a11gcs t.:crlaiu proposiliom; iulcmkd lo cm-it.:h or weaken the a.xiomatit.:
system, in such a ,vay thar rhe dependence of the theory, with respect to
thought, is constantly manifost. In other sciences, such as the empirical
sricnc:cs, tht: prc~uppn~irions an~ cnnstit.nrerl hy a sc•t of propcrric~ that
pertain to certain facts, and are considered as their characteristics. One
wonders, for example, why a phenomenon can be designated juridical,
so<:iologic:al, or historical, etc.
The presuppositions of phenomenology are distinctive because
I.hey arc phcnumcnological, and in a rndirnl sense: It i~ a quc~tiun uf lhc
appc.aringjuM mf'nt.ione.rl, pun~ phf'nomP.na1ity. Thi.~ is what mnM guirlc
the analysis of phenomena in the phenomenological sense, considered
in the manner in which rhcy 6,ivc themselves to 1111, in orhcr words, in
the "How" of their appearing-. As long as this remains misunderstood or
unquestioned with respect to what endow-s it with the power of appear-
ing, Lhc phcnomeuologiutl ptcsuppo~itiom 011 whid1 phc110111c11~Hi
ba~erl remain phenomenologically undetermined. Thi~ I,>henmm.:nolog-i-
cal indetermination of phenomenology'~ prc~uppmitions rdle.cts on all
the research that <lei ive~ from i.L, Lo the point of rcnrlcring it uncerrain
or mi<:lcading.
How can we analyze I.lie most hanal (or mo.~t decisive) histarical
phcri'omcnon if the mode of appearing of tempornlity, which determines
(J, priori. the mode of appearing of every historical phenomenon Ly con-

ferring "historicity" upon it, hllii nol been yucslio11cd in it.self? How r.an
we umlcrstarnl the coming- ofthe Vford in this world and thus its appear-
ance in the world, if the world's mode of appearing has not firM been
recognized aml 1-igornullly dcscrihe.<lr Anrl how do we know whether this
coming in the wnrl<l i~ a coming in a body, as the Greeks think, or in flesh.
a.~John claims? How, if the modes of manifestation proper to a body and
to flesh have noL Lecomc lhc object of:-i. systf'matic elucidation, one that
is ni.p;i hlf' of going hack to what it is, in the manifestation of a body, thal
makes it a manifestation (to the phenomenologkal malc1ial of this mani-
festation), so Lhat we co11ld know \Vit.h :m ;ihsolutely cert:aj.n knowledge
whether the phenomenological material of the body's manifostation i:,
the material of the body itself (the silt. ofthf' f'arth), or notJ And, posing
llu.; same rp1cstion about the flesh, how do we know if the revelation of
flesh i5 different from flesh itself? Or if, on the couua..ry, lhc rcvdation
of flesh is identical to il, as ils owu mhs1.a11cc, ~s. ir~ own flesh, and as
Llu: flesh of it., flesh? In this case, manifestation of body and revelation
of flesh differ completely, since they belong- Lo lwo hctcrogcncons a.nrl
irreducible orders of appearing. fa iT not eqmi lly appropriate to pose to
Lhc \Vorel itself the question about the phenomenality of the revelation
it accomplishes? 1f it is the revelation of God, au<l if, on the other h:mci,
it ha:, taken on flesh like our own, woulrl Wf' nor have cornered, in our
own fli:~h, Goel himself? Revelation of God in his Word, revelation of the
Word in its tlesh--are these epiphanies, which arc aligned in Joh:mnine:
Arch-iuLellig:ibility, 11ot. in ;iolirlarity? Or, to put it more radically, wou.{d they
nnt t.n.ke onflesh in us in th.r, sa:me Wa:J' f
Let us limit ourselves for the momcul lo Ilic ohiicrvation thar the
phenomenolog-ical prcrnppmitiom ofhisrorical phenomenology are in-
determinate. This can be recognized in Lhe "p1inciplci;" that hilltorintl
phenomenology ha~ givcu iL~clf. \Ve 8hall form on three of them.
The first principle, which Husserl borrows from the ~farburg
school, is stated as follows: "So much appearance, so much bci11g." Kow
we are capable of n:cosrr1izing the cq1Jivocal character of this proposition
on affmrnt of the pos.sible double meaning of the term "appearance."
By appearance, either we understand the co11Lc11t that appear.~, or its ap-
parition as such, the appcariu~ it:;clf. Follm"ing the logic of our pre•,:ious
analyses, we will formulate the principle in ·way that avoids all ambiguity,
and will say, ~so much appea1ing, so much being."
This principle is important because it establishes a correlation
hclwct:11 l.wo fundamental cora:q,1s, nr which philosophy and common
sense alike make constant ru;e, ln the eyes of common sense, admittedly,
the corrclat.ion is rcarl hy going from the second to the first, from being
to appearing. It. is only hccausc thing~ first arc that. they can appear to
me. If I go out to buy cigarettes at a tobacco shop on the next street over,
J will pcn:c:ivc the lobacco :;l10p \',,he11 I get lht:rc, and I wiH go in and
make my purchase. Jt is self~evidem that the tobacco shop, the cigarettes
and cigar:;, and tlie street, exist well before my errand. But in what did this
piiur t:xislt:nce of Lhe world con:;ist? Could it occur without a primo.-dial
appearing, c1part from which no man, no animal, anrl no Gml woul<l have
the least contact with it-v,ith the world?
Bcca.1L'<t: it is first of all attentive to the pmvcr oft.hi:; cunclalion,
phenomenology will read it in another direction. \'linen something, whar-
ever it may be, appear:, to me, it at the same time is. To appear is, hence,
to he. '\AlhNher it's a question of a mere image: that ,Tos.~cs my mind, an
enipty signification like that of a vmrd ( the word "dog" in the ab.sence of
any real rtog), or a pun~ hallucination, for a~ long a~ I hold myself to rhc
effective appearing, to what appea.rs such ::is it appean;, T c:rnnor. hf' rnio;..
taken. The appearing of an image (whether something corresponds to
it in reality or not) i~ ahsnlutdy certain. Rut. the appearing of ll1c image
has this certainty not from the particular content of this image, but from
the fact tl1.at it appears. Consequently, every existence and all possible
being 1lcpcnds on appearing. JI. is iu so far as appt:ariug appears, and
for this reason, that being "is . " and because appearing unfurls its reign
being unfurls its own, so that they seem to ha\'e only one and the same
reign, om: arnl the same cs1.;c11cc. ~so much appearing, so much Leing."
And yet, despite this supposed identity of essenc.e, appearing and
being in no \\-ay lie on the same plane; their dignity, so to speak, is not
the same: Appearing is everything, heing i.~ nothing. Or rathn, hcing i:-1
only because appearing appears and in so far as it does so. The identity
of appearing and being is summed up in the fact that the Iirst founds
the second. Identity of essence indeed means here that there is onlr
one and the same power at v.rork, but this power is the pmver of appear-
ing:. Imlc.:pc.:udcntly of Lhis, am.I for a:s long a~ iL does not appear, being
is nothing-at least it is nmhing for us. Being- unfurls its essence (that
which allows it LO be) only in appearing, which has already unfurled its
own e:s~enr.e in it., the e:s.~enr.e of appearing that resides in its cffccrivc ap-
pearance, in its self-appearing.
Uwe question further the principle of phenomenology that we are
~'liamining, we will be able Lo discern more dearly its importance awl
limit. lcs imporLam:c ii-i to have placed phenomenology befun; ontology,
sulJonlinating the ]au.er to the former. AJ.1d this subonliualion is not with
the intention of disqualifying ontology, and especially not traditional on-
tology, Lul m1 the ~ontrary of setting it on a sure foumlalion. Thar which
i.~, or concerning which we claim Lhat ir i~, truly escapes every challenge
as soon as it appears lo us ii:icontcstahly. And only the line of question-
ing concerning appearing and concerning its ways of appearing nm c:le-
ric:le, depending· on whether this appearing i.~ itself incontestable or not,
whether whal uppr.a·r.\ in it, in one '\.\<ay or another, in turn escapes douht.
ur not..
But the first principle in 110 way allows a response to this hne of
questioning. Its iuuncmc ,ve::1knt>.ss is precisely its basic phenomcuolosii-
cal imlctcrmimmcy. It assigns a name to appearing without. ~::iyingwhat it
consists in, or how it appears; wilhoul.g<,ing hack to the authority·within it
that allows it to appear; \\>it.hom recognizing the pure phenomenulol:,rical
material of which all appearance must be made, to t~c t>xtent that one
•
claims that it is what appear:;, in itl-lclf :md first of all-without telling the
nature of the hrightness or how its light shines, wliclhcr it. i'l a matter of
"light" or anything else.
As long as appcaril1g rf'mains in itself indeterminate, huwcvcr, its
determiua.tion of heing also remains indeterminate. One might think
even more that this indeterminaucy kavt>s us with a mere a±hrmation
,-..ithout any way of knov..ing what makes it legitimate. In place of a sp~rn-
laLivc ontology, the constnKtion ofwhkh wi:l!'i mainly a c.onceptual game,
phenomenology wanted to ~ubi1LiLUtc a pht>nomenological ontology, each
thesis ofwhid1 \·voulrl in.,;te.ad rest upon something indispul<i.Llc, upon a
real phenomenon. A "reduced"' phenomenuu, a~ the phe.nomenologi.sts
.~till say, which means excluding: everything from it that is not given in
a dear and <listinct. view, "in person," "in flesh and blood," in an:orrl:mce
with a complete presence where everythiug wonlc:I he shown without with-
drawal or reserve. But how do we know whether appearing respon<ls to
such a de~niplion when., content to indicate it from 1.hc outside 1,1t.her
llian examine its incandescent substance, we still have only a formal con~
cept of it at ow- di:spo11a1? To the formal concept of appearing; a formal
concept ofhcing corresponds. The formal com:cpt ofhcing lets us know
neither what being is (the powt:r of being-), nor what is (a being), nor
the nature of Lheir ,liffcrcnce. if there is one. lt does nol let us knmv
whether such a difference has a general oulologfra1 meaning or whether,
on the contrary, it conccn1s only a rlnmain of being, because it is de--
pendent upon a particular mode of appearing, without any ambition to
uui ver:,al i ty.
 The same remarks will concern what we conventionally call the sec-
ond principle of phenomenology, a principle so important, in fact, that
it is put forward as a slogan: "Zu den Saclu:n selbst!" ("To the things them-
selves1 "). The "things themselves" are the phenomena reduced to their
effective phcnorncunlogi<.:al corncuL, thus lo what appears, and such as
it appears. To go straight to the things themselves, taken in this sense:, is
to consider the immediate-given in its immediacy, freed from interpreta-
tions and successive knowledge that risk covering it, and coming between
it and us. However, according to what w::is claimed about the tnw o~jecr
of phenomenology, one might think that phenomenology's "thing itself/'
which it must treat, is not fin1t the content of the phenomenon, but rather
what makes this content a phenomenon: rhe pure phenomenality of it,
or appearing. 1f we then ask, with regard to appearing, what allows us to
gu i;t.raighl Lo il, whal wa~ lcatls Lu appearing a,; such, then tl1ere i:, no
other response than this: the appearing itself! Tt is pure appearing, a.sit
appears, of itself, by itself, and in itselt; it is the auto-appearing of it that
l<1.kcs u~ by the hancl in some way and lruly doc~ lea<l us Lo iL.
Some very serious implications are at stake here. In analyzing the
Greek umsl.itucnL'> of lhc word "phcnomcuo-logy," we had disLingui::;hed
at the outset its object (the phenomenon) and its method (the Logos): the
knowledge that had to be applied in order to grasp such an object cor-
rectly. The slogan of pht:nrnnenology relurns us to Lhis dist.inclion: "die
Sache selbst," "the thing itself," that is . the true object of phenomenology,
on the one hand, and on the other hand, the :rn, the path that leads to
it. But if it i8 appearing ir... clf, as it appears of itself and in itself, i11 il:-
auto-appearing. that leads us to it., does this not mean that it is phenom-
enology's thing itself that clears the way to itself, that the object and method
of Jiherwmrmulogy a.re onr,? ::'>lol in lhr.: :;cusc Lhat lhey cuul<l IJt: placed on
the same plane, but in the very precise ,~ense that the object u,n.~titu,tts t.h.e
nwtlwd. Like the lightning that rips through the night, it is its own light
rhat makes it.visihle. Docs rhf'. n':-ih~orprion of phenomenology's me I.hod
into its object not imply in turn the elimination ofit pure and simple? At
the very least, does it not render the method quite useless? v\'hat need is
rhcrc of;i method for going t.o a.ppcaring aml knowi11g it, ifif. is appear-
ing that comes toward us and is made known of itself?
Il ill true that lhc ol~cctiou goes ag-.:1inst our habilual conccptious.
WP- have the. i<le.a of a knowle:<lge: that. is different from what it has to know
and so is always separated from the object whose nature it strives to grasp.
Tt. now needs a rmrnhcr of prm:cdurcs or methodologies, which it iT1vcn I.~
for this purpose, and these are the procedures and methodologies of
thinking. In phenomenology, the method is a process of elucidation that
aims to bring prngrcs:;ivdy to lighL, before 1.hougln'.s gaze and in the
 "clarity of evidence," wl1aL in lhis way will he knov,m. with certainty. This
method, moreover, i~ irnplicirly that of all learning that st.rives Lo produce
a "scicntific,TI t.ha.r i~ to !";iy, well-founded, lmowledge. Il is fuun<lcd upon
c\.idence, in this case, and as such "ralional.'' \'vl1en i, is a question of
k.nowletlg<.: of an intelligible- archetype or even the intdkdual intuition
of an ideal object (a geometric.: m mathematical o~ject, a linguistic sig-
nification, a logical relation, etc.), rlo Wt> not, as a condition of access lo
this inLelli!;ihlc, .~till and al-ways insist upon a prior power ofkuowlcdgc, or
ofintu11ion? And does the same not go equally for tht> sensibler Does not
all knowledge, uul more fundamentally every form of experience, refer
uccc.~sarily to the a priori of a power of lu1m~k<lgc, m this a p·nm,: condi-
tion of all possiblt experience Lhat Kaul made the imhject of his philosophy?
\'\-1iat abouL an lutclli 6rihle that escapes eveiypriorcondition, whose
accci;s, intdligi:hility, would not be subject to thought, and would not arise
at the end of a process of elucida,Lion-w~ic:h would do without every
process ofthi.s kin<l, and woukl precede it inexorably? A goal, lfyou. will,
but m which no path would ever lead-a goal like the one K~:rfka speaks
of when he says, "There is a goal, hut. no v,ray. But what we call the way is
hesit.aLicn1"? A goal to which no path would e\'er lead bccauM: it w01ild be
the path, the Way, and the pn:cundilion? Thu~ an Intelligibility placed
at the beginning, a.ud lhc condition of every other conceivable imelligi-
bilily? Au Arch-intr.lligihility, which is still misunderslood, and pcrh:-ips
analogous to the one John speaks of?
For the moment, ir i.~ impossible for us to respond to tl1esc quc.~-
Lions. Tf we turn back to historical phenomenology, we unrlernt:md why:
.· Precisely because it left indetenninaLc the phenomenological presuppo-
_si.tions on which iL n:st1;; hecause the appearing toward which thesc prc-
suppositiorn: c.onverge was not elucidated in a way tha.r wai-1 pmhed all
rhe way to the end. ·what, in appcariug, we have called its pure phenom-
.enological ma.lcrial, or cv<"'n its incandescent flesh, what shine~ or burm
\'lithin it, must now be exposed. Or does this incamlc.,;cent matter not
]end itself to any "expu:;un::" or ,my "evidence"-or the "sight" of any
thought?

§3 The Prejudice Hidden in the Presuppositions of Phenomenology.

The Ruinous Reduction of All "Appearance" to the World'::;
Appearing.

So ·we should n:lurn l:o rhe pre.rnppositions of historical phenomenol-

ogy. Their incleterminacy can be noticed, we clai.metl, i11 the purely for-
mal character of the principles in which they are expressed. "So much
appearance, so mw.:h being." "Straight to the things themselves'.": What
Appt:araun:? "\,\Thal being? Which "things"? What does "to g-o straight
to" mean? Do we not notice here that in hi~lmical phc:nomenology this
indetenninacy is only provisional 01 apparent? Behind it, and in its favor,
a certain conception of" phenom.enality slips in. the very r:rnu.eptwn t.hat ocrur.,
forst in 01dinary thought and thm: at th.e smne tit1ie constifute.~ the n/,de~t and least
r:ritical jJrr.judice uf trnditio-nal philosophy. It is the conception oj plunomenality
that is borrowed from the percepti.on of objects in thr. wm-ld, or uliimalely from lite
aJ!J1r.a1aricr. uf 111.t world ilself.
Certainly \<le c.:rnnot. forget. the conlribuliun of phenomenology, its
ability to distinguish within the worlcl.'s phf'nnmcna bctwccu the puw~r
LhaL makes th em appear, the manner in which it does so, and, fin ::i 1ly, this
appl':::trancc itself. Still, since Lhc phenomena which are spontaneously
subjected to analysis belong to the vmrld, tht> appearing drawn from them
can only be the one in which such phenomena show themselves to us: the
world's appearnncc arnl mmc: olht:r. The formal and stilJ-indeterminate
concept of appearing cedes place surreptitiously to an emircly diffc:n:nl.
concept, which rhi~ Tirnc i~ pcrfrctly uelermined. 'ii\i11ile the pertinence
of the formal and empty concept of appearing extemfa, at leaH at first,
tu all po%ible phenomena, to every conceivable form of manifestafion
nr rcvdarion, and can serve as a guide for new questions, it is not the
same when the appearing is reduced to lhe appearing of t.hc world. /\.
clc<:isivc limiLaliuu slipped fraudulently into the investigation. Modes of
appearing thar ope.n ont.o fonns of experience lhat a.re perhaps essen-
tial are excluded a p1iori by a philosophy that daim~ to he free of every
pn:wpposilion.
f.rt 11., .rnfJ[irm:jnr examf,lr. lhal a body cun be given to m only in the world,
by,-.'hich we mean properly the world's appe.aring, t.o the poinl that some
of it.s essential properties follow from this mode of appearing and are
determined by it. In this ca~e, a phenomenology of the world will furnish
a key of great fecundity for understandin~ corporeal phenomena. lf ir
cslablishcs lhal the: intuitions of space and time are co-constitutive of the
world's appearing, unrlcr the form ohm original phenomenological spa-
tiality and temporality, it will make use of the intelligible archetype of all
pos~ihle ho<lies hcforc finding- in each om: the properties that belong to
it by virtue of its mode ofapp~aring.
Let ·us now mppose that no fie.sh ca.n slww itself in the wm-ld (in the, world '.r
appeating) while this mode of appearing is ncvcrthdes~ lhe only one
thought knm·vs_ Everything sug-gests that, since the mocit- of n~vclation
proper to flesh is obscured in principle, its nature would be inev:irnhly
f.::tlsifierl, aml confosctl wilh 1.hal of lhe body. Since the essence of flesh
would be reduced iu an illmory way to the essenu.; of the hody, and since
the body woul,1 ht> invested with a flesh Lhat in itself is foreign to it, thb
flesh/body or body/flesh would l>c put forward ::a.;; a .kind of mix, a dual
being, without being ahk: In give the ultimate reason fr•r 1l1il'- duplicity.
And what should we deduce frnm.John's proposition at tl1e cenl.cr
of our investigation? For die '"''ord to have come in llic flesh w011ld equally
mean that il has come, in a body and thus, be<..:ausc a bony helongs to the
world, that this i,5 i:he way it has come in Lo world, by coming into a body.
Bllt to come into the work! in a body also means to take m1 1hc human
condit.iou. Tl1is t.h11.i. implies equally thal men arc heings of the world, and
being~ thar must be undersluod on this basis. liut here again John ~ays
nothing of the sorl. Atxording to him, men are Som of f',nci. Therefore
they musl Le recognized on the basis•of another intelligibility than that
of Lhc world; on the basis of an An:h-intelligibility v,;hose Sons t.licy arc,
and which belongs uuly l.o f'.nrl. It shines on everything; that i~ generated
u1 it and by i l, th u.~ on its Word, on its coming in flesh, on this Hesh its elf
in so far as it comes from Cod, amt on ours finally, in as much as it is like
his o'\'.n. But all of lliis, once again, assumes a mmk of appearing that is
radically foreign to that of the worlcl.
Contusing the world'~ appearance with all com:civahle appearing
does not only bl (1ck ac.cess to Christianity. It cmTuprs rhe who Ie of western
phao~ophy, hefore reaching phenomenology itself. In Husserl's phenom-
enology, it is his most famou:-1 principle, "the p1inci pk of pri n riples, ~ that
exposes this i:onfosion in all its magniiu<lc.
ln §24 of ldeen I, the µrinciple of principles posits inLuition, "all
originary gi-,ing intuilion a.-1 a source by right for cousciommess.* "Intu-
ition" i.s a phenomenological concepl: ll docs not relate to an object buL
lo il.s mode of appearing. This i~ why it. is .said to be ''giving," Lern11.~c a
mode of appearing is a mode of givenness. This is also why it is qualified
as ~ori.ginary.'' P.ecause ifwe consider 1101. thing& but the way in which
t.hcy are given to us, it is evident that, for example, they can he given
clearly or coufusccily. Tf T presently perceive c:t lc:tblc in rhe room where
I am slauding and if I concentrate Ill}' allcntion on it, at least on the :side
facing me, this is given to me originally. If it is a question of a 1.ahlc in
the salon where my mother used to play the piano for me, I have only a
vague m P.m o:ry of it. The perceµlion i8 "an originary giving imu.ili.on," the.
memory is not: it is ouly a ~er.ond re-presentation of a first perception
and cannol Le att}lined with the same degree of evidence and certitude.
Now, as we have uncea:.iugly r.laimed, if intuition is a mode nf ap-

"Edmunrl H11s~eil, Hua IIJ, §'..!4, 5~ / 44.

pt>aring, we must say what this appearing consists in, how it appears, and
thus how it makes appear within it everything to which it gives appearing.
Under various formulations, the answer is highly ilhuninating, and always
the same. ,'Vliat, in in tuition, !-\ivc~. arnl makes i I. :ct "giving" in1ui 1ion, is t!l{'.
structure of consciousness such as Husserl understand:; it: this is inten-
tionality. Tnt.11it.ion owes irs phenomenological power to intentionality-
irs power m estahlish in the phenomenal condition, and to make phe-
nomenality emerge in order to do this. 'J.'his bringi-ng into phenomrmality
cons·ist,,; in the 11urJemr.nl by whir:h i1ilt1llumfllily thmw.~ itsr.lf 01J,t.~idP. itJ1df whr.n. it
goes be.yond itself toward what is now pl.aced 1n front ofit5 ga:u, and ·which Hus-
serl calls its "iment.ional corrclalc'' or cvcu a "lransccndcm ol~cct." The
distancing of this ol~cct. in the primitive "out~irlc," whfTP inti,ntionality
goes beyond itself, is phenomenality in its purity. The phenomenalization
of pure phenomenality (or, to speak like Heidegger, tJ1e "most original.
phcnomcrnm of tJ"uth") con~ist~ in rhi.~ "nnt.~icle," in the ;'oursirle itself"
of the very movement by which intentionality goes beyond itself.
So in this conception of phenomenality one can easily detect the
way the principles of phenomenology formulated by Husserl emerge
from their initial indeterminacy. It is not just the principle uf principk,~,
i;incc inmition rlraws its phenomenological power {its role as a "source by
right'" for all consciousness) from intentionality. 'l'he slogan of phenom-
enology is illuminated in the same way. The zu of the ".m den Sachen selfot,"
the movement rhat karls "straight to the things themselves," is equally
intentionality. The latter is described in a rigorous v,ray as a "relatlng-to
the Lranscendenl objed,'' so Lhal "rdaLiug-to'' bdungs lo tl1c realitr of
corn,ciowmcs!!, ii; "an int<crna1 c.haracrer of the phenomenon," while the
object is thrown back outside it." In this way a very dean break. is traced
between the substantial reality of consciousnes~ an<l whal is placed out-
side it, whal is not part of it-that i.~ what rhc wnrrl "t.ranscenrlent" mt>:m.~
in phenomenology.
A mi.~mHlcri;tarnli11g: of cxl.n:rm: importance rnu.~l then he rejected.
Tf intention;:ility belongs to the reality of consciousness while the object
to which it is related is situated outside it, should the power that reveals,
namely, revelation itself, not be placed "within" consciousness? ·would
there not be in this case an "interiority" of consciousness opposed to the
exteriority of tl1e object? But in what <lues this suppu:;c<l inlcrimily cun-
:;isl? l\s :;uuu as it is understood as intcntiona1ity, it is no longer anything
but rhe movement by which it throws outside its "reality" and its "sub-
stance," drifts away, and cxhausls iL~df in 1}1is co111i11g ou1~idc, in tlic

~ Edmund Hmscrl, Hua 11, 4o / J5.

process of t:xlcrnalizacion in which tcxreriority externalizes itself as such.
lkc::.iuM~ it is this coming outside that produces phenomenalily, lhe n::vc-
lation that inrentionality carries out is rigorously <lefiuec.l: It i~ accom-
plished in this coming nuL~idc :.ind is illentical to it. To reveal in a coming
mitside, in a distancing, :is to make visible. The po~sibilily of vision lies
in the distancing of what is placcrl in front of sight and then is seen by
it. This is prcdsdy the definit.ion of the ob:ject. Ob~ject means: Placed
in fronr and made visible in this ·way. Intentionality is the act of making
visible that reveals an object Re1;elalion is hem th; m 1elati:on of the object, and
11pjJearrm,r,P, if the appea:mnce of the object, and in a ro.Jojold sens.:: In /he s1;-risr.
that what appears is the obj.:ct, and al:.u in the :,ense that, sincP. what npprwrs is
tlie object, the mode of appeari,ng inrnfom in th.i., appenring of the ob1ect is the ob-
jt:cl '.i· own modP. nf appPm-ing, a.nd makes it po.1sible- · -the distancing i:n which the
·oisibility of el'l'T)'thing that rpn become visible f'-'r u;, wu;ei.
We cannot mi.ni..m.izc the scope of the intentional analy5is inaugu-
ra.lcu by H u.v,crl. Tt c.onsist5 first in a systematic description of vario~
types of intentionalities or intuitions, of all Lile maimer~ of making vis-
ible available Lo rnnscioumc~s and with which it coincides: perception;
imagination; signifying intentionalities like tho:;c thal. form mc,mings
conveyed by word:s iu language; the intuition of "essences"; categorial
intu.ilion, which makes icieal o~jects such as logical relations evident, etc.
The gre;n form5 of experience that are ours and that we denote under a
global heading as "experience of the world," "experience of the other,"
"ae:sthctjc: experience," in reality involve a plurality or intelllionalilic:a of
different types. For example, the perception of lhc scnsihk ohjer.rs rhat
surround us implies in realily the pc:n:cption of subjective appearances
uf Lhcm that continually flow away in us, and thU5 the intenlionaliLies
constitutive of the inte1nal consciousness of time, which we have already
encountered. In the amJ.ysis of Lhc very simplP- phenomenon of hearing
a somul, eac.h sound, as we have seen, or each sonorous phrase of tl1c
same sound, gives us the future, Lhc prc:-1c11t, and finally the past. Each
of these mu<lcs of appearing is !he work of a specific intentionality, the
"pro tension'' t.hat gives the sonorous phrase as to come, but first of all the
future itself, the consciousness of the presenl Lhal gives 1hc present, :;md
the relenlion th:n gives the past. One sees ·without difficulty that each of
t.hese types of intentionality brought to light lJy Husserl is indi~pc.nsihl~
for the 111.ost elementary pcn:cplion of a worldly ohjec.t.
So wi 1.h the <lii,;,covery and analysis of these multiple types of inten-
tionalities at 'Nork in the infinite diver~ily o[huma11 cxpnicnce~, an extra-
ordinary extension of 1.hc field of vi,'lion rn.ke8 place. llecause each type
uf intentionality is properly a way ofmakinJ:pisible what would never be
,,wen without it, this extension of the reign of seeing is aL~o an cxrcnsion
of a new domain of objects. It is a question of an en hirgc:ci and clcepened
undcr~landing of all types of objects to which it i~ po~sihle for us to relate.
The iult:nLional definition of experience cnnfon- a new characler-
istic on h that also dc~crvcs 10 he mentioned briefly. Intentionality is in-
deerl ncH:r limilc:d to the vision of what is seen through it. The nature of
what is.seen, on the contrary, is s11rh rhat. one musl <li~cern in it what is
really seen, given in itself. "in perwn," and what is only an "emply inten·
Ihm." Thus, in the perception of a cube, only one of its sides is perceived
by me with incontesf.ahlc cvidcm.:c, while the others are only intended
without being actually gi....-en. The same goes for the surc:c.~sivc appear-
ances of thf: hon.~c, where only the current phase contains a proper given.
And yet intentionality ne:ver limits ilsdf Lu the intuition of the visible
side, but always projects itself toward ,he ~i<lc.s ell' phases l11at are not
given. F.vc ry "fulfi lied" in tuition is surrounded by a horizon of potc-:n tfa.l
appearances, every effective. presence hr a horizon of non-presence or
vir:tual presence. Because intentionality aims, hcyond I.he given, at the
non-given, it i~ never a.n isolated act, but is inscribed within a process of
knowledge whose immanent teleology is to im:n:ase continuously the
field of vision. Tn a process like this, all the significations potentially im-
plied in the present evidence come m evidence in Lurn, :;o that they com-
plete, confirm, invalidate Cstrike it out," Hnsserl saY',), modify, or correct
it in ,'-Orne way. IL is Lherefore each time a new evidence, a new suing, t.haL
enables the indefinite progres,3 of consciousncs!oi.
Bcn1.u:.e the structure of consciousness is borrowed from that. of in-
tentionahty, thP. making vi..siLk iu which this consists governs all the re\::i-
tions that bind man to being. Tn rh is ~cmc phenomenality is the precondi-
lion ofbeing·-by making it \.isible. This empire of the: visihk st:tmh out
vividly in the following Lcxl by one of Husserl's assistants: ''\\Te must. ~ee,
only see." And it is rlaimf:<l no lcs~ explicitly lhat this seeing is the prin-
ciple, which no longer needs to be analyzed, bur only deployed: "v1sion
must be put into operation, clltahli.shing the originary evidence so that ir
fa the ultimate ciiterion [ ... ], vision is legitimarcrl only in i~ operntion
[ ... ] we can not go behind vision [ ... ] . Vision can hf: imprcci~e ur in-
complete, hut. only a new vision that is more precise and more complete
can rectify this. Vision can 'deceive', or can mi~-sc,:: The possibility of
deception contradict.'i vision .su liule that only a better \.ision can rectify
deception."*
lntenti011ality is the "relating to" that. n:latc:s Lo everything we can

*Eugen flnk, "Le probleme de la ph~11om,'c1,olngie:," in TJ,. Ir. pMnamir.,c/oi'l4, French trans.
Didier 1'1:-arn;k. (P,ai.: E,hlio,1> rl.e Minuit, 1974), respectively pp. 212 aod :.!~5. .\gam Fink
v..Tite~: "Th~ hypolh~~i~ u.fHu$~erli~n ph~nomenology re;~ upon the mpposit1on th-~\ origi-
access as something hd<l in front of us. Thus we discover the in1111u1~c
empire of heing. But how is this "relating to" rdaLc<l 11ot to c:w~ry pm-
sible ob~ject, to every ;'lran~n:ude1n" being, hut to ir.~elf? ffnw i, the in-
tentionalit) that re-oeals all thhig, 1-,,,r,1:nlnl /ti itself? Is it by directing a new
intc.ntionality onto itself? Doesn't the question n:ly on intentionality?
Can phenomenology c~capc thf' bitter destiny of classical philosophy of
co11sciowmc!!s, pulle<i into an unending regression, obligaL~<l Lu phu:c a
scconrl consciomness behind the one that knows-i11 Lhis case a scconrl
intentionality behind the one Lhal is suppose<l to be snatched from the
night.? Ori~ there a mode of revelation other than Lht: way intentionality
makes visible, a revelation whose phcnomcnalil)·would no longer be that
of the "outside," ur of Lhis foreground of light that the world is?
TI1crc is no response to this question in Husserl's phenomenology
So an extremely serious crisis arises in iL. TI1ili c:ri~i~ st{'ms first from the
reductive chaiacLer of the concept of phenomenality it employs. Is ou.r
destiny truly limited to the experience of the world, ,.,helher iL is an i~rnc
of a sensible or intelligible world? Doc3 to k11ow mean anything other
than to see? And if kJJowk£1~e consists in such a vision, what will we say
;;ihom: vision itself? it'ho has ever se1m J.i1 1mm vi,1ion? f:an all our experi-
ences, especiall~ llwse Lhat provoke the "great hunt" Nietzsche discusses,
be shul up within con$doumess in the sense of.a relation belwe<.:n 8ccing
and whar is seen? Are they only ever theo1dirnl cxpe1icncc.~r
More serious than Lhc reduction, which remains implicit v..-hen it is
not undertaken a5 a deliberate decision, is the aporia that. follow.~ from
it. The very possibility of phenomt:no]ogy in gem~rnl becomes problem-
atic if intemionalily is im:apahk of securing its own promotion into its
umdition as a phenomenon, if the p1indple of ph<.:uomenality c:-1c:i.pes
it. Can what is seen still be 5een if 11isiun ilsey·sinlr.~ into the night and i5 no more?

§4. The Cnsis of Phenomenality in Heidegger. The Ontological

Destitution of the World's Appearing.

But Lhc u-i.~is of phenomenality that will shake the foundalion of Ht.1.~-
serl's phenomenology is not proper Lo iL It comes from the very con-
cept of uphenomenon" lhat he uses, h11 t. which, as we know, originates in
Greece. II. mm thro11gh the entire development of western philosophy
before determining that of phenomt:uolob'Y itself. T et us therefore return
to ~7 of Sein und bit, whic.h provided our initial approach to this conn::pL.
Whereas th~ rlerivation ofphainomenon from the verb phaine.~llwi merely
suggests the idea of ''something tlial shows itself," which appears in
general and in a still undetermined w-ay, the mode of appearing implied
in the phenomenon in qucsliuu is, un lhc cunlla1y, perkcLly <l~.fim:cl ..'\.s
Heidegger recalls, phainesthai i~ the mi<l<lle forn1 vf JJl.ainu, which means
"to bring into daylighr," "w place in brightness" (rm di:n 'fog hring1-m, ·i.n
,f.f.e Hell.e st~ll.M1,). TL~ root fiha: f1lws <h:1101.cs lighl, clarity, or, as Heidegger
continues in this decisive text, ~that within which something can become
manifest, visible in itself" (d. h. das, worin etwas oflenbar, and ihm selbst
Jighibar werden karm, SZ ~7, 28 / 25), Appearing thus signifies "coming
to light" or ·'raking place in the light," in the horizon of visibility wi 1lii11
which all lhings ca.11 Lemme YisiLle for us. However, before this appear-
ing can take place within the horizon of lighr anrl he uncovered form,
the horizon itself must be opened and show itst>lf; r.he: horizon must. hc:-
come visible. The horizon becoming visible is the world's appearing. So
app<'aring ca.nnot. mean :simply rnming inlo Liu.; light (lhe world's light)
and becoming 1,,isible in this. Appearing denotes the coming of the world
iliiclf. the emergence oflight, and the horizon becoming visible.
The sf'Con<l part of .Vin 11.nd Zri.t confinns hrillianlly lhal Lhis com-
ing of the world consists in a coming ouu;ide and thus, as we said, in an
externalization of exteriority as .~11c:h. The plu:rnrn1c11olo!:;y of the world
that it constructs is a pure phenomenology. The world is no long-er con-
fu8e<l, in a naive way, witl1 the sum of things that show themselves in it,
\~;th the totality of wha1 is, and that Heidegger, iu h.i~ Creek language,
names "being" [l'etant1. The account of what appears has given way to
that of appearing. Then thi.-; appc,uing is tl10ug-hl a:; Lime. Though lt was
received as ff it were ;:ib'lol11tf'ly new, Heirlf'gg<"r's nmc:cprion of time in
fact stems from that of Husserl, to which we have already alluded. Jn this
rdaliumhip (whid1 will also work in the opposite direction), it ,\;II be
easier for us to gra~p one anrl t.hcn the other.
We have seen how, in hearing- a sound., consciousness is pr~jecterl
loward Lhc cxpcclcd (fuLure) phase oftl1e sound, through an intention-
ality called protension. This expected pha'!le come~ in the present; iris
perceived in a consciousness of the now, before slidingjust as soon into
I.he pasl, which is ,ttairt!!d in an intentional consciousness of the immedi--
are past, called "retemi.on." The,;;e rhrcc intc:nt.iona.litics furn:l.iou al Lhc
same lime when a continuous sound is heard, and they constitute the
temporal grasp of ir. "Rm rhe graiip of this temporn1 ohjr:ct, which is the
continuous sound, is first a grasp of time i t.,;elf, :m "in temal c.omcioumc,~s
of time," lf it is true that the intentional grasp of the sound's future phase
presupposes a ,!!:rasp of thefutu.re as s-u.rh, the grn~p of rhc c:urrcnt pha,;c, a
grasp of the now as such, the grasp of the sliding into the past of the phase
just present, a grasp of the past as such. "\1\'11ile the intentionally consti-
mted sounding ph3.,;cs nc\·cr 11tnp slidiur; from tin: future lo lhe past, the
int~ntion::ilities that give them do the same: TI1e~ cad1 pass umrinually
in the flow that, according to Hu~scrl, makcx up our original suQjectivity.
This um Liu uou~ sliding of pha8Cil of an original remporal tlow leads
Hcirkg-J,;er to substimte for the traditional concept of time what he calls,
in a way that is very sig11ifica11t, a tf.mpnm.li.w.tion oltem:porality (die Leitigung
rurr 7ei.tlir:hk.ei.t). Time "is" not in the manner of some thing:, but uccun,i in
the form of a pro~jection of a horizon in fronl of w;, which is the horizon
of the foture. This horizon in fac:l 11cvc:r .~tops ·widening before us as
some!lti11g that comes towards us, which comes into the present before
sliding in to the past. Husserl's Lhrcc intcnfjcmalitieo; thar are constitutive
of inlerual lime c:onsciousn~ss (prorension of the h.tture, consciousness
of the now, r~tenrion of the past) have become three "Ek-stases," which
an· of the future, the present and the past. lu the conr.inuom pass::ige of
these three ekslasc~ i11to one another (of the future into the present and
into the past) the horizon ohisibilit)f is formed, of which Lhe wud<l's ap-
pearing is composed. The world's appearing comes ahont in this ·way in
the form of the tcmporalization of 1:emporality-its appearing, its pres-
ence for us, or, as l leidegger says, its "being-t11ere," its Da-.vin.
Of whal <locs thii1 appearing consist, and what makes it appear?
Precisely the coming outside as such, the "outside iLself" we have men-
tioned. If temporality makes appearing happen, therefore, it is became
it is nothing Olher Lhau Lhc Y1~.:1y cxtc.rnaliz::iHon originally becomes ex·
tern al in the niple form of the three Ek-stases, each of which dcnot.cx a
fundamental mode in which this nm1ing ont.~irlF. is completed. Ilence
Heidegger's thesis avoirls all equivocation. '"lemporality is the original
'outside it-~elf" in and for itself" (Lrnlichkeit is das unp1ii:ngliclu: 'kufltr-sil:h'
an undfiir sich selbst). No lesi; explicilly, he state~ rhat r.he appearing that
appears in this way in the Fk-.sta.~es in which temporality is temporalized
is prer.isely the world's appea1ing, its way of "being-there," and ofLciug
present. "The world L- .. ] is lcmporalizul in tF.mpo:rality. It is with the
'ouL,iclc it.~clf' of the F.k-stases that it 'is' 'there'" (Die iHdt f . . .] ieitigt shh
in der Zeitfichkeit. Sie 'ist' mit d.em Att}3er--sidi der Eksta.rts 'da', SZ, §fli, :~29 /
30~; §80, J65 / 33-1; translatiou iuo<lificd). So with force and exemplary
da1ily, Heidegger rcaffimis that the most original phenomenon of truth
is identified with the appearing of lhe world, and he rlot~s im with a very
precise descripliun of the w..iy this ::ippearing appears: As the Ek-stasis of
the "out~i<le iti«>lf" rhat the world and time identically "are."
The various forms of critique thal Hcidcgg-cr aimed at Hus.<;t'rl's in-
tenLionaliLy amount. to a rf'proach for passing over in silence the "being"
of intentionality, or for ha'\.ing placed it inside a consciouwcss as if it
were in a ;'box.'' But if, in a pheno111cnolog-~, being i~ always second in
relal.ion Lo lh1.; appearing thar found.<; it; and if, on the other hand, the
,:onsciousncss in which one places intentionality is "always consciousnes~
of something," prcc:isdy this bur:.Ling vulside itself that is intentionality,
then ir i!'. only rhe appearing of t.h:is intentionality that can and must be
called into question. As long as this appearing is tmderstood, based on
the phaincmumon and rhc Greek /1h11,inr,slhai, as a coming to light, and as
lung as the latter lights up when the ''outside itself'' is externali7e.cl, or in
the clearing of an "Ek-stasis," then a critique of this sort, from a phf'.nom-
enologir.al point of view, ha:, no content.
Three decisive characteristics pertain to the world's appearing. A
brief enumeration of them will sent as an introduction to the phenom-
enology of flesh, whose first thesis v.ill he, a.~ we have sugge~ted, that no
flesh can appear in the world's appearing.
1) Provided that the world's appearing consists of the "out~ick
itself~ in the coming out~irlc of an Oulside, then everything that shows
ilself in this shows itself on the outside-as exterior, as other, and as <lif-
fr:r,:,nt. Exterior, becau!ie the structure of the tk-stasis in which it shov.,s
itself is exteriority; other, 1:w.c:msc rhi~ ek-slalic slructllfe i.s the structure
of a primordial alterity (everything outside me is orher than me, every-
thing outside itself is other than it"ldf); differcnl, because this Ek-stasis
is equally' a Difference; it is the operation that, hollowing ont rhc gap of
a <listancc, makes <liffere11t everything to which appearance is given with
the help of this dist:rncing-in tJ1c horizon of tl1e world.
v\'hat differs is thus uvo-fold. On the one hand, iT is a question of
the horizon, whic.h is formed in the !!,ap of this Difference and becomes
visible in it. On the other hand, it is a quc-:stion of lhal which is different_.
of whal appears in the appearing constituted in thi.3 way hy rhi~ horizon.
Difference i:- here the difference between that which appears and the
horizon in which it shows itself, the diffcn:ucc belween what appears
and the appeai-ing itself. How can ,.,.-e not recognize the di.~tinctiuu wilh
which phenmncnologiUJ.l analysis begins, in order to dissociate its own
subject from those of the sciences, the distincf.ion hclwcen things and
t.hc way iu wl1ich lhey show themselves, ben.veen the ~phenomena" and
pure phe.nomcnalityr We an; beginning to suspect that such an opposi-
tion does not have the absolute.J-y general meaning lhat we were trying
gr:mt it. initially. vVc are certainly permitted to isolate the "thing itseW
of phenomenology, whose t::isk i,. t.o dm:idatc it. We caunol forget one
of our previous remarks, however: The fact thar, since lhc phenomena,
which arc lnought under consideration with the aim of extriniting from
them the essence of pure phenomP-nalit.y, are plicnomena of tl1e world,
lhis phenornenality is, by the same token, the world'~ phenomcnality. H
would nor he the case for I.he essence of every conceivable phenomenality
that appearing diilers from c\·crythi11t; Lhat appears in it, but only for the
nature of this partkular mode of appearing, which conshts in the Diffcr-
cuu: of tll(' "outside itself."
An appearing of this :;01 l lmus .:1.way from it~elf wirh 1111c.h violence,
it casts outside with such fmu: (11incc it is nothing other than this original
cxp111 sion of an Outside), that everything to wl 1ich i r givf',5 appearing can
indeed never be anything hut cxtf'rior in the terrible sense of that which,
put ouu;idc, chasecl in some way from its t1ue Dwelling, from iu; Homc-
lanci, and deprived of the goods most proper toil, is hcn<:cforth aban-
doned, v.-i.thout support, ,md lo:-t-prey to the abandonment to which
Hcirlcgge.r would deliver man by making him, as ''being in rhe world," a
being of this world and nothiug more.
2) The appeaiing- that. unveils in the world's Ditlerence does not
only ma.kc diffcre.nr everything that is unveiled in this way; Lhi.~ appear-
ing is totally indifferent to it in principk. 1t neither loves it nor desires
it, nor protect!, il iu any way, 'Ii nee it has no affinity with it. "\'\il1ether iL i:.
a question of the sky that is clouded 0Yer, or of the equality of a drde 's
radii, of a goat or a seaplane, uf an image or ~. real thing, or even of the
formula that woul1l c:onrain the secret of the universe, hardly matters Lo
it. l .ike the light Scripture speaks of and I.hat shinf's on both the just
and the unjust, the \Hnld's appearing illumines everything it illuminates
withuul making a distinction between things or pcrwm, in terrifying
neutrality. The:,-e are victims and execulium:rs, clrn.rit-,ihlf' acts and geno-
cides, rules and excepticm~, ahuse.s of power, v.-ind, water, and earth; and
all Llii~ stands hefore us in the same way, in the ulLimalc way of heing that
we e:irpress by sating: "it is," "there i:;."
3) Excepl lhal Lhc indifferFnce of the appearing of the world Lo
what. it unvFil3 in Difference makes it anything but a Fal11cr for his Sons,
a brother for his brothers, a friernl for his fricn<ls (a friend that knm.,,·s
everything hi~ friend know~, a hro1her that knows everything his broth-
ers know ,md especially the first among them, Lhc Firl'thorn Son}-a
difference of this sort, we daim, cannot. hirie a more radical destitution.
The u.ppearing of the tJJ()rlrl is not only lndijjr.'Tent to eve1ything it ·unvtil1·, it iI
inr:apahle of mn_ferring; existence on this. Undoubtedly, the inc:apac:ity of the
world's appearing to accoum fur whal is unveiled in it explains its indif~
1erencc Loward wh:-i.t. i.~ unveiled. Indifference, neutralily, etc., here mem
powerlessness, and that is where they originate. He.id<"g1;er, who was the
first to think the comx:pl of the workl in its original phenomenological
meaning· as pure appearing, was mistaken neither about tl1i:a indifference
(,he anxiety in which everything becomes in<liffnent) nor this pm-verless-
ness. Cnveiling uuvcils, unrovrn, ::ind "opens, n but does not cn:a.Le (macht
nichl, iiffiu?t). A being, what i.s, gives itself in its very unveiling as in<lc.pen-
dcnL of Lht: power lhal unveils it, as anterior to that power. The "there
is," t.he "ir. is," can nor. say what "is" or what "ti1cn; is,~ aml Lhis is because it
has never heen ahl~ r.o bring it into t:xislcncc.
How is it possible not to notice that this si t1 rnti on rn.11~ ~cri (i 1Hly in lo
question the fi.mdamenr:-11 prim:iplc of phcnornenology? According to
tl1is principle, phenomenality does deliver being. Only from appearing
and only iu so fa1 as appeai-ing appeacs can anything at all be capable of
he:ing. The precedence of phenomenology over ontology is just that. Yet
this precedence is broken in the case of the world's appearing, if i I. i11 Lrne
,hat it i8 powerless to hrini:; into bt:ing that to which it gives appearing.
ln this case, what appears in the world, eve.n though ar.mally appearing
in it, still does not e:x:ist. And there i.s more: It doe.~ nor e.xi~r pr~ciscly
het:ause il appea1"5 in the world. The principle "so much appearing, so
much being" is here nor. only cal Icd in ro q ues Liou, iL is properly reversed.
\Ve must confront this extraordinary paradox. But lee us first ask: Can we
dtc a single cast:, or a single example, that presents us with a simation as
incredible as this 1-edprocal exclwion of h,,ing and appearinlf.

§5. The Criterion of Language. The Breakthrough and Limits of the

Phenomenological Interpretation of Language.

There is one snch case, and nol a mi1101 one: Lhe case of language.
Language is not only one of the recurring r.he.me:s of twentieth century
thought; it also concems the highest point of our investigation. 'We v.~11
fln<l it repeatedly, aml when.: we would leaH expect it, in connection with
the body and the flesh-and even more. m Vl~rh lm:arr1alion. Can we for-
get that, for Christianity, incarnation is the fact of the Word, a.ncl that the
vVorrl i.~ an Utterance?
Another particular reason that the question ofl:mguagc ii-( ,lccisivt:
for us is tl1al phenomenology has given it an entirely new clarity. From
now on, language cannot be lhc cxdusivt: privilege of "philosophy of
language" any more than it can the various di.<:r:iplinc)(, which are always
more rnm1cnms, Utal have directly or indirectly made it the object of
their reflection, such as linguistics, literary r.ririci8m, psychoanalysis,
etc.-but we could also cite the human sciences in fht>ir t>nt.ircry.
Phenomenology's great discovery concerning language is to have
subordinated the analysis oflan:e;uag-e to a fo11nd3tion ,~ithoul which il is
no lougn able to function. Yet a subordination of this sort is consistent
with phenomenology's presupposition; It is the subordination of the phe-
nomena of language to pun: phcuomcnality. Far from ohliteratjng· the
specificity oflinguisric phcnnmena, this alone presents us with their most
original possihility. It. is ('.;,,lk-d Lof!!JS.
\Ve recognize one of the two terms from which wlrnl. is ni.llctl
"phcnomcno-logy" i$ constructed. In the analysis of §7 of Sein und Zeit,
phainQflU!non, the phenomenon, al fir:,l denotes Lhc olticct of phenom-
enology, and Logu~ iu; 1111.:Lhud. "\'\lncn pure phr:nomr>miliry (corning to
light i11 the world's light) is then substituted for simple phenomena (what
is shown in this light) in order to define the true objctt of phenomenol-
ogy (it.s ''Lhing itscW), rhr:n rhr> irlentity of the object and the method of
phenomenology is shown to us. The phenomenality of the phenurm:11011,
the light in which it shows itself, leads to .iL aml l.hu~ defines rhc mcthorl
lo be followc<l in onlcr t:o reach if..
Rut. thi5 reduction of the method to the real object of phenomenol-
ogy also concen.1s language, if iL is Lruc thaL we rannot spmk of any thin!(
·unli:~s ·it fir.1l slwwI 1:tself tn us. ]11.~t (!.! P.T)erything we so:y about it and can say
about it, l!Fn"'y prediwtion that we could fonn·ulate about it, obep lhis inescapable
condition. That is the decisive intuition Lhat emerges in §7: The Logos is
t.hc fin3J poso;;ibility of all language; it is the original Speech that speaks
in every word. lt does so to the e.x.Leul LhaL it is icicntific<l v,:ith the pure
phenomeualily on which it. i.~ hase.rL which is one ·with it. Phenomenality
and Logo~ nlrimately mean the same thing.
Yet how can we forget the presuppusilion Lhal governs Heidegger's
entire a.naly~is, and prr.f'.i~ely at the moment when language, defined as
J .ogos, first receives the possibility ofphenomenality, to Lhe poinlufbcing
identical with it? Phenomenality and Lug:os arc interpreted in the Greek
scmc: They both cir.note the world's appearing-. llut it is this very appear·
ing who,;e principal features we are examining. After having esLablishc<l
how this appearing differs from evcrylhing lhat shows itself in it, we. h:we
11olkcd it11 ha.11ic ontolo~ic.al powerlessness-its incapacity to bring into
being that to which it gives appearing. It uncovers Lhc being, Heidegger
said, bul does uul crcalc it. Yc:t "hcing" fl',s;tnntl denotes the totality of
whal is, the whole collection of thing5 whose infinite diversity makes up
the content of the world: What is in question is this comcnL, and Ute
reality of it, which has alway~ heen ::i human concern. V\lnat would the
worlrl's pure appearing be, independent of this contenl, and whal wuul<l
the Ek-stasis of time's pure horizon of becoming visible be if nothing eve.r
became visiLlt:: in ii.? A pure timf: r:rnnot be perceived, Kant claimed. In
any event, a formidable difficulty remains: ifthe world's appa.uingis in Jrrin-
ciple incapabll' of laying dvwn lhe reality nf that who.w1 (J,ppenmnce. i:t [!j.ves, then
wJmr, ruies /hat. appeamnr:?. cmnR._fmm?
The destimtion of the world's appearing, which is incapable of
briugiug auy ordinary reality into existence, highlights language-I.Ms
language, which finds it~ pu~sibility in the Greekl~g-os and phainesthai, in
rhe worlrl';i appearing! If cvn~ conceivable language (or this one, in any
case) m.ust make visible what it speaks of, tog-ether with what it says about
it, is it any surprise rhat. it would reproduce the deliciency of the appear-
ing tlrnt makes any shm~ing possible'>
Lauguage also repeats the structure of this appeuing. The prop-
erty of Ian gnagc i mk:c<l (a language of this kind) is that it is related to a
referent external to it whose reality it cannot csrahhsh. A ximila.r deficit is
maske.<l in the ca.~c of evcryda;• language, which is content most often to
accompany the perception of ohject.;; that we have before our eyes. 'Take
out that dog that won ·t stop barking!" Thr: way ordinary language has of
standing alongside reality, and of going at the same pace, is what hidc:l'
the abyss that separatr::,; them.
Poetic language unveils this abyss, bec:mse. unlike everyday lan-
guage, what il spc<tk.s of is never there. When I read Trakl's por:m,
now famous from the commentary that Heidegger offered on several
ot:<.:asions''-"'\i\-11en snow falls against the window. / T.ong snmHh I.he
evening bell ... / For so many has the L<1.ble / Been prepared, the house
~t:L in order."-1 "see," in a certain way, the snow and the win<lmv, J hear,
rn to speak, the ringing of the bell, I represent to myself the table pre-
pared for the sacr<'d meal. And ncvc,thdess, in Lhe room in which l read
and meditate on this poem, there is nothing at all of what it mentions.
The Vl~nclow rloc.s not open out tu the snow, no bell rings, and the table
is not set. Snow, window. sound of the hdl, a meal, all thest smrnge, dis-
colored, fantastical apparitions float on the void. ·wnc~n the poet. calls
them hy name, they bct:omc present without finding a place among the
objects that surround m<', in a kind of ab~cnt:e, like visions in a dream,
or death blossoming over. They are present in thtc s~mc that, horn from
the sptcer.h of the poet, tliey appear, but they are absent in the sense that
though apptaring, they are depri,-ired of reality. Thc: principle of phenomenol-
<>b'Y now rea<l:;: "So much appearing, so much unreality."
Rut poetic: lansruagc is uul n:sponsible for the destitution to which
we are referring. It is the property of ,:very hmguage tlml relates to an
external rcfcrc11t Lo he incapable of conferring any reality on it bm an
illusory one. llut neither i5 ir language as such thaL manifcsu; this power-
lessness; it is the appearingfrom which it borrYJws its r.rzpaciry to make vi~ible lhat
d,1Hf,1ili.zP.1· in Jrririciple euny reality shown in it. llecause it is thrmm oursirlc

'"Ct: Lhc lccrurcs gathered in Ur,.Jero~,g.1· wr S_lmu:J.e, G.&. 12 (Frankfurt a. M.: Vittorio Klos-
termann, 1985) / Aclwmin,cr11ml '''"·' I,, /11.t,,lll (Pad~: Gallimard, 1976) /Or.I.hr Wc1y lo Lan-
guage (~ew Ymk: HMper & Row, 1971 ) .
itself in the very prot:t:ss by which it herome~ visible, and is put outside
itself in U1is way, it ii. properly emptied of its substance, reduced to a film
with no thkknesi., no depth, and no consistency--- reduced to the:,e phan-
tom apparitions over which the gaze can only slick:, g-oi11f.i from one to
another, without e\•er penetrating the interior of any content. Language
is thus here only a revealer. There b 110 11ccd for ir ro rletect a deficiency
that is rooL1;:<l in tJ1c phenomcnologic.al ~rnl<'.mre. of the wodd itself.

§6. The Paradox of the "World" c1s a Power to Dereaiize.

It is a greaL paraclox indeed rhar the world (its appearing) derealizes

in principle everything shown in it. isn't what we see around us iu Lhc
world, isn't that, on the contrary, lhc real, lhc only thing for ,vhich there
is immeclialc evidence, and whirh thus makes it the o~ject of universal
helid? Nonetheless, a quick examination of the grealest philosophies
that haYe thought the plmunrumrm ofthc world suffices to shake this self-
eviclcnt conviction. vVhen at the dawn of modem thought, whose cs:.,;cn-
tial themes he would determine, tl1c c.:obbkr Jakoh Roh me formulated
tl1e immt::rm.: and apparently theological question"' Why did God cn:ate the
world?, rhc extraordinary response he put forn-ard belongs to phenom-
enology. God created the world in order lo mrm.ifast h.im.ielf The phenom-
enologic.:al stn1ct.11rc oft.his 50rt of manifestation is clearly indicated. Il
consisi:s in an objectivation, specifically the objectivalion of lhc world, in
such a way that (here at the encl of the Rcnaissanc.e :-i.s well ;:is in Greece)
placing the self outsirle it.,;elf gives rise to manifestation. Since the issue
is fl.crnally the manifestation of God-a manifestation Lhal Buhmc calls
his Wisdom (another name for the \Vorcl)-thc manifestation is rhus pro-
duc.:cd as an ohjt~ctivation of an initial Outside.
But this is what matters for us now, and tJ1is is whal. at. 011cc founds
and condemns modem thought, whit'.h in broad terms follows from
B(:>hmc'.~ unknm~;ng repetition of the Greek presupposition.t For as long

"A thcolo.[?ical question, but of which it is penni.~sihl,- fr, giv-,. a pmdy philu,;uphirnl fornm-
lation: ·-why is there something like a world?"
,. We say ··unknowlm( because this repetition occur~ under t.he aut.hority of a cnnn~p! o(
,ul?jedi~ity that is foreign to (;reek thought, which is ce~tererl on the questimi of Rl"ing,
u1· ~.iturc . .t!>ut when a more radical reflection seeks wha.t 1.hey om<.urr unrlrr thr diversity
uf conceptual syslcms. when .;ubjectivity is grasped as inr,.ntjonal, FIF:ing as "eccsl,Hil· Trnlh,"
"ml NltlLm, a~ comin.~ outside, we must indeed recognize that a single phenom~nnlngi-
rnl basis ,ecnetfy determines !his thinking, who;e different formulations lose all df'd~h-e
rh~; ~cler.
as God does oqjectify himself in orrfor tn he: known, opposing himself to
himself in his own Wisdom, which i~ this self~knowlcdgc, the phenom-
enological milieu deployed by this initial opposition is ~Lill, according
to FVJhrnc, only virtual: a mere diffuse clarity that is unable to tramfonn
itselfinto an actual manifestation, whether of forms or ofsing-ularol!jc:e!f.i.
The appearance of the lat.tcr requires thalan element foreign to light and
to purl:'. ::tppearing he posit.cd-thus an opaque element, "material" in the
sense of a material thing, in short, a "ht:ing-." Only by coming up against
thi~ opaque being, by reflecting itself upon it like the tain of a mirror,
can light be illuminated and become light. Tn hi.~ <:1mccplio11 ofa nalure
within Ilic Absolute, Bohme maintains this requirement that :m element
opaque to lighl is Lhc .;ondition for its own illumination. So Hohme'.~
God bears -wi.rhin himself an eternal hotly because he -wants to manifest
himself by objectifying himself in a world, and because a pure olticctiva-
tion is still powerless lo produce from itself the concrete content that
must be shm...n in it. Thi~ content is then pusctl melaphysically--purely
and simply aHirmed-----and this signifies once again that its rcalily tlue~
not depend upon the plu:nomcuological milieu in which it unveils itself.
Tilis situation, which we have described as the omologic,il dcstiluliou
of the world's appearing- (the iurnpacil~ of this appearing to account for
what appears in it), i~ at once 11nm:askcrl and disguised inJalwb Bolune's
philosophy. Two totally different powers, the objertivation of a horiwn
of becoming vi.~ihlc, m1 till; one band, and the creation of a concrete
content called to become visible in it, on the. other, arc atlribuled lo a
single Lhtologico-metaphysical moment and are thereby confnse<l. Nonc--
theles,;;, hy showing thal a "nature" or "body" (a being) must be added to
the appearing of the world in order for it to he wmcLhiug: other than an
un<li:fferenliated and empty milieu, llohme denounces at. the. ~ame time
the rlefir.icrn:y ofsuch ai1 appearing left to itself. The power of God here
serves only to conceal the powerlessness of ol~cctivalion as such.~
His Lhis very powerlessness of the world's appearing, veiled ami un-
veiled in Bohme, that the. (;ri.tiqu.e ,,JPurn &a.sun expo.se.s plainly. Kant un-
derstands the question of the world as a phenomcnolo1;,11.c.:al quest.ion. That
is why Lhc Ctiliq,ue consists-in its essential positive sections, which an: 1J1c

*Through G~1man Idealism runs the sophism that consists in atuibu Ling lo ohj,-,-1 ivalion
th<" p;>wer of creating the content objcctivatcd in it, whid, iu n:•.ilily it only ",rn,nve.r.~,"
Against. t.his sophism Marx unleashes a brilliant critique dirc<.:tcd at Hegd i11 Lill' third nf
the .1844 Mr,n"""'~;p,s. On this topic, cf. Michel Hrnry, Marx 1, C•ie frhi!osophi, de lu rt,dii{.
an<l fl, Una phifosaphie de leconomie iParis: Gallimard, 1m6). vol l., pp. 297 -3M/ .'11mx: .4
l'hilosaph, of!Iumm1 Reality, mu~. Kathleen .\kLaughiiu (Bluurningl nn, In rli:ma l.;niversity
Press, 1983), pp. US-::lil.
~Transcendent.al Ae:;U1clie" and rhc "Tramcendental Analytic"-ofan ex-
1.n:mdy rigornm description of the phenomenological structure of the
world. It is co-constituted by the a ,t)riori forms of t11e pun: i11Luitiuus of
space and time, as well as by the categories of 1.l1c undcnn:mding. "Fonns
of pme intuition" means pure ways of maldng visible, or making appear,
considered in themselves, imlepcmlcut of tht> panicular and contingent
cumeul (denoted as "empirical") of that which they make visible each
time . .-1 pri.ori :means that these pure ways of making visible precede e11ery
actual experience, that appearing precede~ aud makes pos;;1hle every-
thing that appears in ii:. Beyond their specificity ~substance, causality,
reciprocal action}, the categories of the un<lersLan<ling haw: the same
fundamental phenomenological meaning, as pe.rtaining to this "making--
visible" and making it pos.~ihle by ensuring its unity. And yet the phenom-
enological structure of this unifying power is the same as 1.haL of the pure
intuitions; it is a making-visible and (like Riihme's ohjectivation, or the
Greek JJhainr.sthai) consists in posing outside what thereby becomes vis-
ible. According to Kant's decisive a1lirmal.ion, Lhe forms ofinruition anrl
the categories of Lhc umlc1~~fan<ling- are horh representations. This way
of rep re sen ting is called vor ste/1,cn in German, which means ~cry pn:d ~cly
ato pose in fronL." Yt::l whal is important form in all this, the repeated
thc:1is of Lhc Critiq1111, is that the phenomenological fonnation of the world
in the c.onjoin t and coherent action of these various ins La.rice~ of making
visible is forever incapable of posiling by itself the reality that constitutes
the rnn<:rctP. rnnrt>:nt of this world-a reality that Kant had to demand
from sensation.
"\Ve find the same ~ilua1ion in Hmserl. f:onsdoumess is always con-
.1;ci011.~ness of something. The intentionality that defines its phenomeno-
logical stnlCture projects us immediately ou1,:;idc onLo lhc thing-s thar. it
attains "in pernon." ·w11cn co11sidcrcd more do.~t>ly however, these first
achicvcmenu of phenomenology strangely decompose. IntentionaliLy
does not produce the immediate givenm::~s uf lhc rhing; rather, it pro-
duces Lhc si1:,rr1ific:ation that tht> thing has of being given immediately.
Bur cvt>ry ,;;ignlfication is an unreality, an object·of~thought-a "noemaLie
unreality" So the object of the most immediate pcrcc:prion i~ precist>ly
not, for Hus11crl, a reality, but an "ideal pole," a rule of presentation for
the series of sensible appearances through which il ~hows itself tons and
which are related lo iL-Lhrnugh pn:cisdy the int.enti01ulii:y that aims at
Lhem as monH:nt.~ or rim1lities of this object-pole. This is the case for the
"cube'· object, the "house" object, and for Lhe scric.~ of concrctf' appear-
ances I experic11cc succcs~ivdy ifT "uu-n a.round" them.
ls reality thus seated in the appearances themselves, in "sensory
data"? But these in turn decompose. Ifwe examine Lhe scnsihlc, colorcrl
appearances of some object, we should make a distinction between the
colon·ri :uea spread over the !>Urfacc uf Lhc ubjccl, and on the other hand
the pure suhjf:l".!.ive impression of colm; whose:: color spread in front of the
gaze is only an intentional projection. Jn Husserl's lerms: the noematic
color apprehenckn on 1}1c ul~ccl, visible on it (noematischeFarbe), on the
one hand, the impression of color, lived, and invisible (Empfindu.n;:s_fmtJP.J,
on the other. ilud yet the 1e«lity of the color is only where it is /ell in us. i-n. thti
im.prf.~.twnnl or .l'lrn1·ual wwr, ·in the Empfindungsfarbe. ln a way that is as
paradoxical as in Kant, but eqmilly explicit the real mnlenl vf lhe sensible
rimrlii doP..f not a:ri.1·e fmm il.1 phmmnenological struct·ure----rt pmentatwn for on.e,
intentionatityfor the other~but.from the impre.~.~ion alm.~.

§7. The Now Crudal Question of the Impression, Understood as

Founding R~ality. The Problem of Its Phenomenological Status.
Intentionality and Impression.

The impression thus c::1ll11 for further analysis. Il is a question of knowing

what lhe exact situation of the impression is relative rn consciou:mcs~,
or, t.o ask it in more phcuumeuological terms, what its phenomenologi.-
cal status is. Hn.sserl has rc11pondcd to Lhc fir:sl que~tion with precision.
'v\-'hile the color that is spread over the o't!iect, which h;;is thereby become
visible (the noematic color), i'I cxlcrior to consciousness, the impres-
sional (material, hyletic, and invisible) color hclongs to the reality of
consciousness just like intentionality does. The reality of consr.iommcs~
is rhus <livi<lcrl he tween two dist.incl elements. Admittedly, these elements
are not only different, but also heterngcncous, ifil is lrne L1rn.t tht 01iginar1
imprenion, the pwe sensual element, is in itself foreign. In intt?nti.onalit;: ,;The
semnom, whirh in it.~df luLS rwihi·rtg pertaining to intentionality" (1 Iua III §85,
17~ / 203, Husserl's emphasis).
Given Llrn.l appearing in Husserl's phenomenology is entrusred
to intentionality in the forrn of a making visible that thruws outside that
which becomes visible by being posited in this outsi1k, a crncial question
cannot. he avoi1lcd: H,7.wl abaul the appearing of the impression itself' Since it
lacks all intentionality, is the impres~ion then handed over to Lhe night,
unconscious? Does it not also owe its appearing to an intentionality lhal
take.~ it i11 vicw?
llut as we have seen, this last question strikes al iulentionality itself.
It was ncc.:cs:,ary Lo ask How is the intentionality that makes all things vis-
ihle rr:vf'alc<l-ro it~df? To haml this task over to a second intentionality
that would aim at the first is to enter into au iufiuilt: regression. Several
texts t.h:-it arr. as rare as they are laconic seem to ·ward off the menacing
aporia. They give a glimpse of a consciousness, arnl Llim au intentional
co nsciousnes:; ( siuce all con:;ciousncss is in ten ti on al) , th at. i~ in i t.~e If an
impression, an i1np1cs.,;iom1l consciousness. Consciousness would seem to
impress upon itself in such a way Lhat this original self-impression would
n:v1.:al it m i1:-iclf, making possible its own revelation. 1n this case, the dis-
tinc.tion I Jusser! inscribes in the very reality of consciousm:ss LcLwecn a
non-intentional impressional elemem and Lh1.: i11tc.:11Lional dcmt~nt would
be overcom1.:. aud in favor of the impression. Not only would the "hy-
letic," material layer of consciousness be compo:;cu of imprc~~iom; th~
"noetic," inlenl.iunal clement would h~ 11ltimatdy of the same nature. In
il, loo, an impre'lsion, in its impressional material, would accomplish the
ultimate revelation. A5 the phcnomenologu:al mmel"iul uf the intentional m;t, it
would allow the revelation of that act. T~ it.an arcirlenr if this revolutionary
pliilrnmphical th<'~is (revolutionary even if one can relate it historically to
I-Il1me) is formulated -with regard to the specifically iutdlc.:cLua1 mode'!
of intentionality, where Lhc "11octic" <:hanirter of consciousness is evi-
dent? "The ,onsciousness that judges a mathematical state ofa.ffain, is un
i1npnnion." But the same goes for all moclcs of consciousness, of belief
for example. "Relief is acmally present belief; it is an -impre.1sion." It is also
claimed that the impression reveals beliefitselfwithuul thi'I helicfha\.ing
any need to be apprehen<lecl uLjcctivcly by a imh.~erp1ent intentionality,
whid1 hy aiming at it would make it into a "psychic state.~ "\\le must dis-
tinguish belief in itself ar the bdief-sen:;atiun, from I.he hdic.,,ing in the ap-
prehension, urnlcr:,tood a.~ my .~t.ate or condition, my judging" (Hua X,
§45, 9fi / 101; App. II, 10?. / 109, our emphasis).
These indications, though liabk Lu d1alkngc the primary of the
Greek phainfftflt:nun, n:main unfortumttdy sc:;irce. Quite quickly a slippage
occurn: The hyl;-, or matter of consciousness {the impression) ceases lo
be understood as phenomenological in itself. Ii no longer bring~ :-ihout
the original n~vdat.ion in and through in; very material-in its impres-
sional matter thus grasped as pure phenomenological malcrial. On the
unquestioned concept of matter thal i:s in iu;df phenomenological. the
schema from afar is i;upcrirnposcrJ, whic.h means that matter is only ever
matter for a form that in-forms it and which, through Lhis infrnming, gives
appearing to it anti Lums il inlo an actual n:ality, 1nto a "phenomenon."
The form that makes visible a matter that is in itself undetermined and
blind is for llusserl precisely intentionality. Because an intculional ga.zc
comes across 1m.l.lLcr:, which ii-: rmnpo~ed of impressions and obscure sen-
satiom, and which the intentional gaze illuminates by throwing in front
of itself, matter become~ a sensible given, 01 "scn:,c datum." A givt>n that
no longer m-ves its ,givenness to its very material, to the impressions and
sensations ofwhi.ch it is made, but to this gaze. So the circle js closed and
Hu.ssciliau pht:uomenology will never escape it. To answer the aporetic
question of knowing how intrntiom1li1y i:; rcvc.:1.lccl tn it.self before it makes
the 1maliL~ of hciug- visible for us, a few illuminating texts appealed to the
impression. llut now, permeated by its gaze and thrown inro the': worlrl
by it, the impression owes to intentionality the power to show itsf:lf to ns.
"Nol only the hyletic moments (the sensed colors, sounds), but also
the animating comtrnals-thui,; bnth toJ!l'-thP.T. 1he "-j)/Jl',ming of the colo1;
tJ1e sound, and and thus of any quality whatever of the object-belong
to the': 're:i.lly inherent' compo~iticm oflhc men Lal prnn:~s" (Hua III, ~~7,
203-4 / 238, Husserl's emphasis). 1t wa.11 alre2rly very rlifficult. to under-
stand how two heterogeneous elements (the non-intentional hyletic mo-
mcnt0 and the intc11lional appreheusiou tJ1al animates it) can be united
in a single reality (of c.onsciomness), which i.11 a 1mitaq reality hen: des-
ignated as "the real composition of the mental process." But finally, by
taking the two together a~ Hus:;crl wants lo do, we obtain the totality
that is the "appearance of color." But we do so in such a way that thir.;
totaliry i.~ immccliatcly ckc:omposcd iulo Lwo elements: that which pos-
sesses the power to appear and that which lacks it. Then the aporerir.21
circle h dear, where each element making up the reality of conscious-
nc8~ requires lhc otl1cr lo make it appear (intentionality the impression,
and the impression intentionality). v\'e are now considering the. glohal
cxpcricucc, which is the "appearance of color" taken as a ,-.-hole. In this
whole, th<" appt':arancf: of color is not the fact of <:olor; the experience of
the sound is not the sound itself (its sound); the impres'\ion's revelation
i.s nut Lht: work of lhe impre.ssion. The material (whether visual or sono-
rrn1s or mhcrwisc), the pure imprc~~iuual material, is now only matter
for a form that is responsible for making it manifost-thc ck-~tark form
of Lhe "outside itselC" The classical opposition between form and matter
is secretly based upon the Greek concept of f!hainomrrrum, and cxprcs!>C!>
that concept in its own way.
"\'\'l1c11 the power of appearing abandons the impression in fuvor of
imenrionality, anorhcr rli:-1placcmcnt is prnducc<l, one Lhat i~ equally de-
cisive because it~ the immediate consequence: Unveiled by intentional-
ity, permealn1 hy it.~ g:ue, the imprcs.~ion i~ no longer rcvcakll in itsdf,
where it impresses upon itself. Tt- is torn from ir.~ original site in order to
be thrown on to the object; it then shows itself as one of the moments of
i:hat object, as one of ir.~ cimiliric:., an nhjtr:tiur: quality which is c.xpllcable
by it in the end, and visible qua part ofits o~jecth.;l}·-"a sensible obje..-twe
qualily." \Vhen, in the text just cited, the hyletic moment and the inren-
tional apprehension are taken wg-1::tlicr to cm1.~tit11t~ rhf' "appearance of
color, sound, elt:.," the color, t.hr. ,mund indeed, offer themselves like "any
othr.r quality of the object."
With the impression now placed outside itself, the great illu..~ion of
Lhe ".~cmihlc worlcl" is horn. This illusion is two-fold. !ts first facet consists
in believing that the impressional, sensual, and th us "scnsihk" mnh actu-
ally Lakes plc1.cc iu Lhc world, where it. i.~ shown ro n.~ ::!!': ;m objective quality
of the o~ccL The scc:on<l fnrm of the illusion, on which the first is based,
is to attribute the impression's original revelation to the inlenLioualiLy
thaL tl11ow~ oulsidc it.~clf, aml uhimately to the "outside itself" which is
the world's appearing. So even though it has been established LhaL llic
world's appearing is unable to creale the rea.lily of it~ content (the im-
pres:r,ional coulcnL, which then hcrnmcs "sensible" content). the world's
appt~aring is ,;urreptitiously invested with a power that it does not have,
while. unduly attributed to the world's appearing, the revelation proper
to the iruprc:s:sion is oln«:urcrl. At the ~::ime time as its power of reveL,tion,
the reality of the impression itself is denatured, in so far as its essence
is to give itself to feeling, in iu,df, of iLsdf, and hy it:'lclf. Properly speak-
ing, thc:re is no longer any impressional color, impressional sound, or
impressional odor. The distinction Hw;sc1l himi1clf cst.ahlisherl hf'lween
Empfinrlung~farbt a.ml noemati.w:he Farht< tr.mis ro fude away.
Anet yet how ran we conceive a color spread over the object, without
an impression of the original color, or :r.ounds rdal.t:d to the imrniments
of an urchc~tra, which woulrl not be first pure ''internal sounds,~ not re-
sounding anywhere but in the grand silence where each is given Lo itself?
This is not about poetry. The wurldly ubjr.d_. lu which we fflatP. tht<~P im.pressions
urul.er thf-Jonn nfsensifh 1ualitles, is.fo,m.ier incapahle ofbearing them, because it
is i:ncapabfl! offeeJing anything at all, or ojjeeling itself The beige or gm)' wall
of the building from the Third Republic, or the yellow or turqnoi~r. of
Lhc Eng·lish ;111ti11w: dcakr's gallery, is no more beige, gray, yellow, or tur-
quoise than it is "hot," or "painful." Does one imagine a wall after long ex-
posure lo Lhe sun, suddc11ly ha.,.ing a "hot flash" :md begging for a drink?
1t. i.~ th c principle of this absurdity that must be made the subject of
a radical investigation. Here it is: Abandoned to the world's appearing
in order to show iL'ldf in it as an o~jcctive quality, the impression is not
only torn from its original site, it is quite simply destroyed. Fur tl1erc is
no possible impression (and thus no pos:siblc oltlet:ti\-ation suhsequenr ro
this imprei;sion) unlc~~ i I. tour.hes itself at each point of its being, in such
a way that, in this ori.ginal self~embrace, it auto-impresses it.self, and iL, im-
pressional charncLer cunsi~~ in nothing other than rhi.~ basic impression-
alit.y, which is unceasing. ln the outside itself of the ,.,,·orld's appearing,
in its pure exteriority in which everything is dis-posed and ls dis-posed
as exterior to itself, no impressionality of this kind, and conscqm:ntly no
impression, ever occurs.

§8. When the Impression Comes outside Itself and Is Destroyed

in the Temporal Flow.

Hu;.iscrl's cxtraordiuary Ler:lmn on time delivered in Gottingen in the

winter semester of 1904-1905 show again that every conceivable im-
prc:.sion is dcslroyctl in Lhe "uutsiJ.e ilsdf" of pure exteriority, where
everything is ahvay~ external to iu;clf and where every o..uLo-impre~~ion
is banished in principle. To place the impression out~irlc it~clf docs 11ol
hen:: mean lo project it intentionally in the form of a sensible objective
quality-the first moment in rhc comtnl<:tion of Lhc ubjeclive an<l spatial
universe, ·which is the one of perception of ordinary ohject~ :mrl which
in everyone's eyes defines the real universe. The way of placing the im-
pression outside itself thar i5 in que11tinn here is much more original,
a11d also much less obvious; it is produced in some way ·within us, where
·we feel all of our impressions and sensntiom, at. the level of·what Husserl
calls the hyletic (material. sensual, and impressional) layer of consciou'l-
ucss. Let us look again at tl1e stratum that is in principle non-intentional,
at an impre5sional sound, for example, ,.,,,·hidi i:. fdl. iu it.s pun:: sonority
and reduced to this.
It rkcornposcs, as we have sccIJ, i.11lu <liITerenl sonorous phases, so
that as soon as it is felt, each current phase :-iliclc~ into the "immc<lial.e
past," to the ''just now past,~ (socben gewesen), and the immediately-past
pha.~c now slides in Lu111 into a more and more distant past. Because this
sli,:hng into tht pa,,!. i.~ gi.Y)f-r. tn an i.numtinnality (rdmlum ), ii is Ott: primiliw fo1·m
of coming outside, the original emergence of Ek-stasi~, and the Diffcrcnr:c
that. one r:an i111lcc1l write all "Diffcrance" because it is nothing but the
pure fact of dii~tiering, diverging, or separating-the fi:rst dista.nr.e.. The
impression sliding out of itself is the very tlow of temporality, the original
way tcmpmalil.y bcum,c:; Lempornl; it h the "stream" of consciousness.
When the impression comes out of irself in retemion, this sig-nific.~ the
rlc.~m1ction of it, anti we um :;cc Lhis in w far as Lhe "immediately past,"
or ''.just now p;ist," is nmi~rthdf!ss rm.tirnly p(],st-not being:, bul uulhingnes~:
lt is not an impression lived in the momem, and presP.nt.; no fragment
of reality subsists in it. This i:, Husserl's explicit declaration: "The reten-
tional tone is not a present tone [ ... ] it is not really the.re in retentional
consciousness'' (Hua X, ~12, 31 / 33; transl.·Hion modified).
IL i~ true Lhal retentional consciousness is not isolated; it is con-
.~1ant.1y t.icxl tn a consciousness of the now, which is itself connected to a
protemion, such that the unbroken synthesis of 1.he1,e three inlcntiou-
alit.ie8 cornt.ituws lln; inLcrnal cuusciou.rnc~s of time, whirh giv~s ns th~
conlfrrum,.s .rnuml Ll11n11~h its llun:csllivc: phases, ,md in its concrete flow.
To put this in other terms, raiher than considering- !he: con:-i:irnumcss
Llrn.L co11sLit1111:i- the temporally-extended sound, or the continuous sound
if we consider instead the flo,.,,ing away, no phase of this sound i:;; :;epa-
rated from the others; no "immediately past" phase is pos~ibk wiLhoul
the currenl pha:;c, whose immcrliat.c .~lirling into the past ir is: and no
current phase is given ·without the "immediately-past" phase, into which
it immediately changes. The same goc:i- for the': future pha.,e&, which are
constantly mociifi~rl into currem: and then past phases. Therefore, if re·
tentional consciousness always gives us only an "immedlately-past," and
yet entirely-past, phase, can we not ~ay in the same way that. cnnM'.i011rness
of the miw givc:s the current phase of the sound, and thus the reality of
the impression, the present impression in its effective presence?
Two insurmountable <lifficultic!I ari'>c here, and they are correlated.
Tn thr. i;ame way as retention and protention, consciousness of the now
is an intentionality; it makes vfaibk ouL:1i<lc jj!-iclf, aml if no impres5ion
occurs in a milieu of pure exteriori.~· (because the reality of the impres-
sion and thus all impressionaJ reality touches itself at every point uf iU!
being and never differs from it~elf), tlieu cumciou.mc'>s of the now turns
oul Lo be just a'l incapahle of giving the impression's realitt•, its presence,
or its actuality as retention or protention are. This is whaL lhc cmTdat.c
of this intentional cmi:;ciousrn:s.~ of the now .~how.~, or what it gives, to be
precise: the t.r.mporal flow, which flows in its entirety, in which there is no
fixed point and no "now" properly speaking. "In llujluu; and in J;riru,iple, no
fragment of the non{luw can apj;r.m" {Hua X, App. 'v1, 114 / 118, Husserl's
cmpha;iis; tramlation mo<lified).
The idea of continual synthesis, by which a retentional conscious-
ness ties it.self Lo Lhis co11~<:irn1.,,;ncss of the now, rends to camouflage the
paradoxical incapacity of consciousness of the now to give in the pre~-
ent what is precisely never present in itself, bul alway:; flow, passage, and
constant sliding, :md1 llrnl the current phase l!; giv~n only sliding inro the
past, so that what is given in the end is this sliding into the past as such.
lt is indeed .true that tht: "immediately past" phas<' is conceivable only as
the past. phase of a phase rhat wa~ just current. llut what is this current
phase other than a logical exigency, in so far as consciousness of the now
is in reality lncapable of g:i ving- i 1.? If we do nm sider The fl ow in its entirety
a!! thii, rnntinuous sliding ofimpressional phases into the past (sonorous
phases, for example), then we must agree with Husserl: The µrc~cul, "the
now, is only an ideal Ii.mil" (Hua X, §IG, 40 / 42). Caughr hctween fnmre
phases and past phases that a.re both unrealitles, in which no real sonor-
ity make~ a srnmrl, t.he pre:se:nt. phase:, in whkh rhe:re i.~ nothing pre:se:nr.
anrl that. constantly f:ollapse:s inro t.he: non-he:ing of the: pasr, i.s nothing
more than the place of annihilation: Reduced to an ideal limit between
unrealities, and it,3elf doubly unreal, it proves to be unable to imen the
realily of an aclual, sonorous impression into the hearing of the continu-
ou~ sound, however brief it may be; and wilhoul thi:,; nu hearing uf ,my
kind ~ccm~ possible.
Finally, what about intentionality, which gives the present with this
sc:n.~c of hcing prc<icnt-consciou.mc~~ of the miwr fs if. not i1sdf an im-
pression (in so far as it escapes the night of unconsciousness where no
givenness happens)? Grasped as a whole and just like the sonorous im-
pres~iun, Lluuug;h lhe Oow, huw would Lhis inlent.ionalil~ escape the uni-
versal blackout any more than the flow doe.~?
Husserl asked what, ·w:itl1in the flow, might escape the flow. "The
form of Lhc flow," he say:, (Hua X, App. VI. 114 / 118). The fmm of Lhc
flow is the synthesis of the three intentionalities {protention, consdmis-
ness of the now, and retention) that together constitute tl1e a pti(!Yi struc-
ture of any possible "flow." The emergence of exteriority, the externaliza-
tion of it, occurs in tllis form; and this "outside jtself" is identically the
tri-dimcnsional horilon of time and of the world, itl! appearing. But like
the world's appearin.e; (for which lt is only another name), the form of
the flow is empty, and for the same reason. 1t is unable to produce the
conrent of it, the tide of impressions that parade through it (through
fomre, present, and past) ,~it11out obtaining their reality from it. Quite
tl1e contrary, in so far as they owe their appearing to the intentionalities
that make up the formal struc:t.urc of the flow, all tl1c~c impressions arc
equally unreal: The future or past phases, which are still or already only
phases of non-being; the phase called "present," which is only an ideal
limit hctwccn two ahy~scs ofno1hing:ncss.
\1\-'here does the impression come from, the real impression, ifit is
rn.:ilhcr from Lhc fulur·e nor Lhe past, and cvcu le~~ frum a. prcl;cul lhal
is re.rluc:e.rl to an i<le.al point? Hu'l.~e.rl wa.s not unaware of thi.s unavoid-
able difficulty; it gives rise to an extraordinary reversal in the text of the
l.P-t:lurr1: Tl is rw J,mger t:m;,w;iou.1"nfa1s of !.hr. now lhal give,1· the 1r.al imjnr..,.ri1m; it
is the real impresszon that gi·lles the now. That is the massive and unexpected
declaration: "a now beco111es constituted by meam of an impression:' (Hua X,
App. \-1, 114 / 118, our emphasi~). Here a.re lwo further fonnulalions,
which are just as clear: "Properly speaking, the now-point itself must be
defined by urigiual :,cm;aLiou"; "The t:uult:nl of Lhe origirnu-,· impres:<.ion
is what the wor<i 'nmv' signifies, taken in the most original scm1c" (Hua
X, §31, 67 / 69-70: translation modified). It is no longer intemiom,lity,
consciousness of the now, that defines the present instant-it is the "origi-
nary impression" that contains the reality of the now, or "what the word
'now' ~ignific~, taken in its mu~t origimil ~cnsc.''
Far fn nn being I houg+1 I. all I.he way throug'h, however, this ~ir1g-ul:-ir
exchange of roles benveen the consciousness of the now and the impres-
sion hec.om~s an immediate travesty. Intentional consciousness of the
now produces, as we have seen, only the idea of the now, the signification
of being there now, being present, the empty form of the now and the
present. withm1t there hcing anything yet. prcllcnt, any n:al content in
the flow. Husserl suddenly adds to this empty consciousness the real and
concrelt: nmLcnt that it lacks: the impression. \Vhcrc <lncs rhi;i c.om~
from? \-\ihat ckws its coming consist' inr itn.at is its appeari.n.rf. Became thir,
continues to be thought as the "outside itself" of the form otthe flow, he
demands from tl1ls form precisely whaL iL caunoL furnish, Ilic real impres-
sion that never shows itself in the flow. Then a series of slippages occurs
in Husserl's text: from the empty form of the flow, to the observation of a
conl.enl Lhat u; ~UJ-IJ..lOl!cd Lo sbow iL~df in it; from this ohscrval:ion (in it~df
fallacious), to the idea that this content, foreign to form, is external to it,
nevertheless is not external Lo iL, but couued.:d lo it, au<l is in wmc way
the re~nlt of it. and determined by it, even if this determination does not
suffice fully to give an accoui1t of it. )lotice this series of equivocations:
"\\That abides, above all, is the formal sLructure of ll1e flow, Lhc form uf
the flnw r... 1 bur f ... ] the constant form is unceasingly filled anew by
'content,' but the content is certain!), not somtthi-ngintroduced into the fmmj,om
willw-ul. On lh;: amlmry, it fr rlet,ennintd through th11f{Yf'm ofrf;g,1l.nri.ty-only in
.mr:h. a way that r.hi:s ref!:Ul<1rity does not alon.e determine the c-011.cretum.. The form
consists in this: that a now becomes constituted by means of an impres-
sion[ .. ,]" (Hua X, App. \-1, 114 / 118, Olli' emphasis). The cmpry form,
foreign to every conrent and as incapable of creating- it as of manifesting
it in its reality, by the wave of a magic ·wand becomes its own content, the
imprcs.~ion it.self: The empty form hears the impr1c~sion in.~ide ir, ,md the
impression belongs to it. There is no need to question the impression
on the basis of anything but the form of the flow-starting with iL an<l its
t:omiug, ils own mmk ofrcvclat.ion. The Gn:ck pnju<licc doses on th~
radical event that came to break. iL
Bul \'-'hen Lhc imprc:ssion Lhat was l!upposc<i to hdnng m rhc form
of the flow rhe-n comes into that form, it does so in an intentional con-
sciousness of the now, whose peculiarity is to destroy the impression by
Lhrowiug iL ouL~idc iL~clf. It j5 ,m use tying the consr:irm.mcss of t.hc now t.o
a retention that turns all reality into the non-being of the past; conscious-
ness of the now is already responsibl,e for doing that. For indeed that is
all il means fur Lhc impn;ssiun lo come in lo the flow of i:onsc:ioul!nc.-;.~: Tt
is to insert a gap into the impression whereby, separated from itself', and
cut in tvm-llke the infant over whom lh~ Lwu wom..:u fought before King
Solornon, \.,·ho u.ITen:d Lo cul him iu twu, am.I. give half of him l>a<.:k Lo each
11f lhcm-it 11111~ u11111:s 1m-donc, deprived of the 1ntcrna] CT)joyrncnt that
forever dilTerenliaLes il from all inert l.hing-;, from cver}'ihi11g: g-ivc11 lo w,;
in the world's appearing.
Husserl's description strains to avoid the ontological collapse of
the impression, and with it, of all reality and every eflective presence, by
m::iking rhc reality that it annihilates at each momem of the flow come
back to life without any diliiculty. Right where the impression was just put
to death, torn ::.part. in the "omsirle: it~df" of time:'s Rk-Ma~is, a new im-
pre:ssion from elsewlwre arise~ hut i.,; immediately rlestroye:d. This is what
gives Husserl's flow its hallucinating character, the continuous outpour-
ing of being over l11e abyss of a uoLhingness lhal nmsla.nlly open:. urnkr
i.r to .~wallow it-the suppoc,ed continuum of this flow is constantly bro-
ken, the so,called homogenous reality ofit left in splinters, in pieces of
bein~ aml IJun-hcing that swap places in a scarcely d1inkahk discontinu-
ity. The text just cited continues as follows: "The form consists in this, that
a now becomes cm1sl.it.ulcd hy means ofau imprc.~sion, and that.a trail of
retentions and a horizon of protentions are attached to the impression.
But this abiding form Lthe form of the flow] supports the consciousness
ofa conslalll chauge, whid1 is an original fan: The comciousncss of the
mutation of the impression in retention, while an impression continuously
makes its appearana:" (Hua X, App. VI, 114 / 118, uur t:mphasi:.,;; Lransla-
tion morlificd). The incoherent texr that pr~tenrls to imp11te to tht: empty
form of the flow the content it so cruelly lacks (the real impression that
it puts immediately in its tomb) can offer to our admiration only the res,
urrccLion, as miraculous as permanent., of an impre~sion that is always
new and ahvays and at every moment comes to save us from nothingness.
\Vhere does it actually come from? Howr How would it take hold of
11~? , 1Voulrl it hring m to life by pressing up against us?

§9. The Origin of lhe "Originary Impression." The Inevitable

Reference of the Phenomenology of the Impression to the-
Phenomenology of Life.

"Jam rnit of the world." ~'orrls that ,~ill resound through the centuries
a.nd beyond, which ,~ill not pass away when the world passes away, whether
the poore3t in1pression (prm-ided that it is one, and even tl10ugh we pay
il no allenlio11), lhc humhlcsl. dc~irc, I.he fir.~I fear, a naive aclrni~sion of
hunger or thirst, minute pleasures and unbearable pains-cud, of tht· muit
mdirw.ry rrwrlalilif.\ ,if 1111:r liff. aw. rlrlim to hr- thl' tlefiniti.on 11J ii., ,wi:ng. 1mleecl
none. of them i.~ of the worlrl, :=mrl none is emhraceci. where the "out~idc
itself" has already undone every embrace. Husserl calls an "originary im-
presi;;ion" (Ur-impression) each ofthe,i;;e impressiom that are "always there
anew," summoned to till in each moment of the empty void to which the
~k-~lc:1.li<.: form uf the Oow had aheady reduced each one of lhem.
"Originary" mm:t. th,:n he unrkrst.ood in sc::vcral senses. "Originary,"
as a qualif}'lng term that Husserl attributes to the impression, denotes the
imprcs">ion hc:forc it i.~ .mhjcc:ti:d ro the modification in retention, whic:h
shifts it from its present or current condition to that of "immediately
past" or 'just now passed." Before it is modified in retention, however, the
impression has already been ~ul!jcneil lo inlcnl.iona]iLy, a.1H.l uct:11 tfolo-
cated from its reality: It has already lost its ·'originary" sracus, if this musr
signify an impressianal n:aliry in the plwnmnenological effecrtiation of itI auta-
imj)re.uionality. Bccau:u:, as we have shown al knglh, corn;ciou~m:ss of Lhe
present-like all consciousness according to Husserl-as intentional and
as what makes visible, bears primiLive dis Lance within it, where, separated
from itself, every conceivable impression is already destroyed.
So "originary" can no longer denote anything but this: \i\11at comes
in il~df before every inl:enlionality and indcpemlcntly of il, before the
space of a %\Ze, and before rhe "outside ir.self'' for which intentionality is
itself only a name. What truly comes in the beginning, before the world,
;rn<l apart. from rhc. worlrl; what is forr.ign to cvr.ry rnnr.civahlc "worlrl,"
and a-cosmic. lhe "originary'' is not "before" in the sense of an initial yet
provisional situation, the beginning of a process, or something that, oc-
curring hefore rhe rlistance of rhe "ont.'ii<le in,df" wirlem, wnnki still he
destined to slip into and become lost in it. The originary is "before" in
the sense that it marks a permanent condition, an internal condition of
po.i;;sihility, an essence. And ,;o what comes hf·fore rh<c wnrlrl will never
come in it. lt will never come in it for a truly essential reason-in plin-
ciplc, as phcnomeuologisL~ :;<1.y. IL wilt never cume iu the world because
it can never ~how itself in t.he world, hut ran only rli~.ippcar there. So
this "disappearance" is still only a way of speaking, a kind of metaphor
1.hal.a'l.'iHmc:-. \·Ve kmiw in .~omc way what it: is tlrnJ we sa.y disappears in the
world"s appearing-. Otherwise, knuwing nothing about what disappears,
we have no idea of its "disappearance" either, and no means of knowing
lhat a. "disappcanmcc" has l.akc:u place.
Therefore we cannot follow Husserl in taking the "originary" im-
pre:;sion as a self-tviueul txi~km:e, <-1. simple pn:suppu~ilion whost inner
pos~ihiliiy remaim unqnc.~rioncrl. Anrl this is bc:causc we have nothing
else at our disposal to conceive the reality of the impression except the
procc<is of its rlcstructim1. So t.lu: problem ii-1 no longer for u.~ io under~
stand how the new impre.,;.~ion i~ endlessly rle:srrnye<l in the Rk-sta.~i.~ of
the flow, ,,.-hich by 8eparating it. from ir~elf make:s ir inc,ipahlc of feeling
itsel[ 1t is a question of knowing how, apart from the world and indepen-
dently of its appearing, before it and "in the beginning," a truly origi-
nary impression LuilJs ilsdf up within, su as lu c.:u1m: iii i~df, experienc-
ing undergoing itself and impressing upon illidf in iL:, uwu impre::,sional
flesh-so as to be an impression.
But the impression, however original it may be_. is precisely not ·what
pos.sesse s this power. No impre.:,sion brinrs itse(.f abou.t as such [s 'apport d 'f.llb-
mime en soiJ, no impression is self.grounding. In that case., does it not have
t11e capacity LO delennine the kind of impression that it would lik.e to be?
And also t.n n~main in such a .~rate, if that 11ui1.s iLr Don 'l all our impres-
sions pass, on the contrary, and are they not indeed constantly modified,
rwl inlu llw nun-being uf ihe irmrttdiately pust where they ·11anish, but into an-
other :mri alw::iys "new" impression-~icknc~s into well-being, dc:-1in; inlo
satisfaction, worry into rest, suffering into joy, and despair into beatitude?
Ko impression, whatever it may ht'., has chosen lo be lm impres5ion
(what it experiences in its ov"11. flesh, or in an impressional material that
Hu~~crl in a vcr·y equivocal way ~ave Lhc Creek name hJle) any more than
it h::is chose:n the kind of impression it is; nor, rnmequcntly, ha:- it cho-
sen to remain in its own state or to change it-to be this impression no
longer, or lo be 110 i111p1cs:;iou al all.
What is the ori~n of the impression, if it is not itself, and if no im-
pression has the power to bring itself into its own condition, a fragment
ofirnprc~siona1 flesh that is cnclks:sly mudifie<l aml d1a11~ec.l-not into
nothingness, but into a new and ever-presem modality of the same flesh?
Origin, in phenomenology, refers to the origin of being, its principle,
whal makes it lo be au<l Lo uc
what it is. The origin ofbelng is appearing.
The origin of the impre;;sion is its appearing-an :;ippearing such th:u
everything· that reveals itself in it occurs as an ever-pi.-esent and always real
fragmenr or moment.ofrhe impn:\~.~ional flesh we arc discm:;ing. ll is nm
the world's appearing, whose "outside itM'lf" eRdu<l<1.~ a pri.ori the w~ry
pos·sibility of every conceivable impression, but Life's appearing, which
is Life itself in it5 originary phenomenaliz.ation.
or the phenomenology oflife, to which the phenomenology of the
imµn:s:,;iou refers, we will note here ou1y a few essential characteristics,
specifically those for which the: irnprcs:;im1\ origimny appeariug lurns
out to be nothing other than life's ow"T1. Let us consider the most elemen-
tary imprr:ssion. Let us not con~idcr it the way Hus11crl docs, as au cut.ily
drifting by in the flow acrnrcling to th<" mocialirie:;t of in; thrccfolri ck-star.ic
structuration and showing itself in this, but in itself, in its originality, as it
immediately undergoes experiencing itself before any dehiscence, before
it differs from itself when the future or t.he past slips out of it-or even
rhe pre~ent, which gives it in an intentional givcunc~s of mt=auiug lhal
confers on it the meaning of being present.
Bcr:amc in ordi11ary appn:hi.:rnion a pain is ftr8l laken to be a
"physical" pain connected to the body, let us practice the reduction on
it and retain only its painful character, the ~painful as such," pure pain
without. refcn:ncc to whatever eke il mighl be. Pure pain precisely does
not refer to anything other than itself: it is given over to irself, irnmcn,crl
in itsdf, suhme1ged by itself, and crushed under its own weight. Pure
pain is pure s\1ffering, it is thi.~ mfforing'~ immanence to it~clf-a suffer-
ing with out horizon, with out hope, entirely occupied ·with i.tself he:nn 1se
iL filb lhe en lire place, so that tl1ere is no other place for it but the one it
occupie.~. lt. is impossihk for it to leave it~df, or lo <..:scape iu;df, or Lo get
ahead of itself-by thrmving itself outside like one su~jected to tomrre
lhrnw:, himself Lhroug'h the window to escape his persecutors-in order
to escape its torture, and its suffering. So this impossihility is not du<..: lo
the circumstances, or the layout of the surroundings, or the torturers; in.
thP. rod it ~f,pm,~fmm th& intP,Tnn.l str11,rturn of.m:fft1ing.
A.s soon as suffering is there, it is entirely there indeed, as a sort
of ab~olule. For lhe one who suffers, nothing infringes upon his suUer-
ing. S11ffrring h:as neither 1lnor~ nor wiwlow~, and no :,pao.: uuL:,;ide it or
within it that would allow it to escape. That is why it cannot flee behind
its;df in some way, sparing a plact:: in back of it where il might be at liberty
to withdraw, and to shrink hack from irs own heing an<l from what op-
presses it. There is no possible way out. Between suffering and suffering,
rJ1crc is nothing. For lhc one who suffers, for as long as he sullers, time
does not exist. To slip om of itself into t.hf': sah1t-.-Jry ~cparn1.ion thal woul<l
unburden it from itself, into a noematic unreality that would only be the
rcprcscnt',1,tion or though I. of a ~uffcring, is wmething that suflering, in
its suffering reality, can never do.
Suffering is driven back against itsel[ lt is not driven back against
it~df as one ii1 against a wall, frolii which a kin<l of limit (our skin) still
separates us, while the wall's pressure against it turns it into a hurning
partilion. In such a representation of things, the affection that suffer-
ing suffers must he called, in all rigor, a hP-f.i?rrJ-(Jjjer,twn, the affcclion by
something ·which, however dose it may be, is still other, so the hope still
1<..:maim lhal i l can ~te p aside and the painful pressure will stop. Suffering
is not affected by something· else, hut hy itst>lf; it. i~ a .w1lf-nfpr:tirm in the
radical sense that suffering is ,•.rhat is affected, but it is by suffering that
it is i10. It ix al once affecting· aml affected, \'Vhal makes it hurt and what
hurts, without distincrion. lt fa suffering that o.;uffc:rs. Tt docs not ding to
1.hc 11urfacc of a :;kin lhal il doc~ uut ha\'C, Suffering: feds nolhiug if feel-
ing is a.lw..iyi, opening up to 80mcthing d~c. Suffering fccll! nu thing other
rhan itse.lf. "Fe.t11ing its snffe.ring" is an improper expression. It implic~ a
relation to suffering, a way of "living" it that would be carried out in dif-
ferent ways, by giving it excessive attention, and thus with a sort of hyper-
sensitivity about it, with what Nietzsche calls ~sensitive nerves," or again
wil.h indifference, wiu1 a proud courage that stoicism holds up for our
arlmiration. ln all the..~ c.aM·~, a.~ t.ht1 con<lirion for all du: attitmlcs 1uwanl
suttering that are described in moral treatises, an exteriority is required,
anri this e.xte.riority presupposes feeling as rhc medium through which it
reaches everything it reaches, and feels everything it feels. It is a medium
of exte1iority in which, in the same ,·vay as every impression, a suffering
deprived of ils suffering 110 luugcr mffcrs; iL i:. reduced Lo an i.noITensive
intentional correlate, to an o~jecr-of-thouJi;ht.

§10. The Originary Passivity of the Impression, and !ts "Passion" in

Life's Transcendental Affectivity. The Living Present.

For rhi~ rca,~on rhc pa:-.!livity of suffering rnmt. be radically di!>tingui~hcd

from what we habimally understand by this term, a passir;/ty v..•ith respect
lo sowelhing other than il, LlfWard which ii then shows itself passive, and which
it experiences as a foreign presenre or as prior to it. V\ie know that, as it
advanced, phenomenology stopped considerin,I!.; as active syntheses of the
transcendenlal ego the set of intentionalities that constitute the world
hy c.onft1rring on ir rh<' meaning ir h~s for us. Orhcr s~T1thc!-!c~ have been
exposed that underlie these, are presupposed by them, and are not, prop-
erly speaklng, acts of the ego. They take place in it independently of it,
without heing a pro<luct nf its intcrvcnt.ion as an ego: These arc passive
syntheses, which will become one of the major themes in the last section
ofLhi.s book.
Tn truth, hec:ause the.~e passive syntheses arc alway.~ at work, Hus-
seri's extraordinary "ision had recognized them very early, in the admi-
rahle C.iittingcn r.F.r:t11,res, whic.h we have dwelt upon a_r length. ProrCT1tion,
consciousness of the present, and retention are the originary passive syn-
theses that constitute the internal consciousness of time. "Originally pas-
sive" docs nol mean only that, because Lhcy arc always already at work;
the phenomenologist discovers them only aposterion: The transcendental
ego iLsdf ouly uiscoveu; Lhern, aud Lhal is why iL finds itself fundamentally
passive "vith re~pcct. ro them. The future doc.s nor come from whal t.hc ego
throws toward it in an attitude of expectation or fear. On the contrary,
only became a future never sluµ:. grnwiug wider before its gaze in the
manner of a horizon can this ego turn toward i1 in cxpecla.tiun ur fear,
expecting or fearing ;it th1c ,qme, time, e,veryrhing that ,~ill show it.sdf iu
it, :1s whal is l.o come. The same goes for the past and the present. Only a
retention that always precedes it allows the ego to keep :m eye on the pa.~t
pha.~c and lo recognize il (as an unreal noematic correlate), and first of
all the ':just now past" phase of lhc imi>r(::ss.ional phase it just experienced.
Finally, only a passive, intentional. pre-comprehcrn1ion of tl1c "now," the
"cuncul," or lhe "present" allov.-s it to confer on the so-called current
impressional phase the signification or pre-signification of ueing Lhere
now, of being "present." But it is all these passive syntheses taking pl.tu:~ fYf'igi.-
rwlly in lh~ ego aml fr1dependently of it that have beaten the impressum. to ikath.
As originary, p::issivt1, anrl even prior to lhe ego as Lhey may be (in so far
as the ego itseli would be constituted by them), these ;iynthcsc~ arc TJO
less iul.enlioual; Lhcir phenomenological structure is incompatible with
that of the impre.~<1ion.
Husserl misjudged the most original essence of pas5iviry. There i;i
no rdation hctwccu a pa.'1:;i"ily that obtains its ultimate condition from
intentionality and another whose internal phenomenological prn~ihiliry
cxdudc~ il insuµcraLly. IL is even an important philosophical problem to
understand how two es;icnr.cs (and, moreover; lwu pure phenomenologi-
cal essences, irreducible to one another) can have the .~arnc name. Bul
thi~ paradox ka<l~ us deeper. The originally passive syntheses constitut-
ing the pure forms of future., past, :mrl prcscnr., which arc co-implicaled
in the ek-static structure of the flow, are them-;elves given ro thf'milf'lvcs
in a muc:h more original, invisible, and in-ecstatic passivity; only for this
reason can the event th:u opens 11.~ to the world borrow its force from
it, and pass its own passivity off ai, one that founds it. The:> founrlation of
every ck-staLic pas~ivity upon an older, non-ecstatic passivity explains the
ruinous confusion of two different phennmcnnlogfral rcalilics, or rather
lwu modes of becoming phenomenal, whose dissociation is the first ta<;k
of f'vtcry rarlir.:al phenomenology. TILi.s t:unfu.sion reaches its apex in the
Husserlian concept of .. pas,;.ive symhesis_""
The absence of every passive synthesis allov,:s the pas.si\.ity proper ro
every impression ro he rf'rngnizccl. \•Ve rcco~nizc<l ils firsL decisive char-
acte1istic: The powerlessness of every originary impres.~ion to rid irH:lf of
itsdf, Lu vscape itsdf in any way whatsoever. The pure impressional ele-
ment of an impre.:ision, th,: pure suffcri11t,; of a pain, as we put it, sufters

*On this decisive point, Lhc important work of Rolf Kuhn has cunulmrnleo.l thie fund,,,nen-
tal the,is of a phenomenology of life. Cf. K Kulm. Husserl< &g•iff d.er Pa....,i,;uri/., w., lfritil,. drrr
passivm !;\tithesis in d.er GmetiJchen Pharwmtr.r,lo,f;i• (Fn,iburt,l/Munic h: Alber, l 99R).
in such a way that it is nothing other than this pure suffering, undergoing
its suITering in and through its own suITering-----in its identity with itself.
Pure suffering is its passion. Its coming in itself is its suffering. So the
impossibility of suffe1ing cscapinlc{ it);df (or rda1i11g- l.o iL~df hy selling
ilsclfaparL in an observation or syn-thesis, however passive it may be, tl1at
would hold it together) is only the opposite of ;m ahsohite po~itivity: com-
ing- in itself in suffering in its passion, in thi~ idl"ntiry with it.,;elf th:.t is it.~
very substance. SuUering's passion is thus not only what prohibits it from
ever escaping itself and running away from it~df: it .~ig-11ific:s 1.hio,; prnhihi-
tion only because it is suJle1ing's coming in itself that first loads it wilh its
mvn content ancl connects il to lhis contcnl in au inclissulubk wa~. The
pa.'1.<.ion of :niffe.ring i.~ it<: gushing forth in itsdf, its bcing-!!n1.~pcd-hy-il.::!clf,
the adherence ofit to itself, the force in which it coheres with itself and in
Lhe iuviucible force of this coherence, of this absolute identity v.'ith itself
in ,....-hich it afflicts itself and is revealed to it.-.elf, it<: revelation-it~ P,1.rou-
sia. The passi\,ity of pain and the suffering of it is thus not the property of
a parlicular impressiuu, u1 a modaliLy of exh.tence occurring in adverse
circumstances, when it suddenly afflicts itself like a burden; it i.5 an es5en-
Lial prnpcny, ancl the unavoidable phenomenological presupposition of
every conceivable impression.
We said that no impression brings itself about as such. This is the
first meaning of the radical pas.shitf we are talking about. The impres-
~on, the pain in its suffering, feels itself passive in the depth of itself in
as much as it is not for nothing that it has come in itseu: in the power-
lcs~ncss that brands every impression, like a seal slampc<l UH au euvdope
that receives. in a singular way, its com:ent. '\,\,'hat is ar is.me herf': is a very
strange precondition indeed: a precondition immanent to that for which
it. is the precondition, which clues nut take place befon: Lhe impressi.on,
and never goes away, hm rem:.ins v-.,thin it-111hu:h rnnaim in it as that in
which it remains itse~f in itself: Of what does this coming in itself consist,
which evrry conrcivahk impn'.ssion in it. pn:ccdcs?
lt is life's coming in itself For lite is nothing other than what un-
dergoes experiencing itself without differing from itself in such a way
·tlrnt this trial is a trial of itself and nor. of somelhint,; ebc, a self-revelation
in a radical sense. How does the revelation operating within this self-
revelation come ahout and make il possible a.s ~ud1, as a radically im-
manent ~elf-:.ffection, t>xdm1iw~ of any hctcro-affcction? Life undergoes
experiencing itself in pathos; it is an originary and pure Affectivity, an
Affcctivity rhat \·Ve call transc:crnlcn I.al hccau.~c it i~ incke<l whal makes
possible experiencing undergoing itself without distance, in the inexo-
rable submission and the insurmountable passivity of a passion. Life's
sdf-rcvdalicm t:tkcs place in Affcctivity and as i\ffectivity. 01igina1y A.ffec-
ti1,ity is the phenumerwlogiud material of tlu: Jelfre-odation t.hat constitu.1£s life'.\'
essence. It makes this material d.11 impressional material, which is never
inert matter or thl'". <!earl idcrnity of a Lhing. IL i5 an imp1·es.sional material
undcrgoiug experiencing impressionally and doin~ ,,_o unceasingly, a liv-
ing auto--impressionality, This living auLo-impressionality is flesh. Every
r:onc:civahk impression can be what it is (an "impre,;;.~inn," a suIIering
anrl enjoying impn:s~iuual material in which it impre~se.~ in, impression
on itself) only became it hc:1ongs Lo fle5h, because it bears .~ithin i, this
paLbos-laden and living auto--irnpressionality.
The affective, "imprcs~ional" character of the impression is thlls
noLhing whose fucticity we would have to he coIJIJ.:nl merely to notice,
coming whu knows how, from who knows whe.rc, in whu know:, what.
This refers to it.s mosl. inLnnal possibility, the fact that it belongs to a
llesh, to the pathos-laden self-rew:lation of flesh in lile. And that is why,
consi<lcrcd in its material, the impression is nothing hlind cilhcr, why it
doesn't need to a.de intcntionaliLy to make it visible, or the ek-static 11tn1<:-
tu.re of the flow to show it to us, when rhi.~ rnn only destroy it. Because
in its very imprcssiouality, in the pure phenomenological material of its
seli~aJtection, and as affective material, ii. is itself, all the way through,
revelation.
In support of Hu,;;.\crl's thesb, we asked whether it was not tnie thar
every impression, as soon as ir arrives, clisappears. Each of our impres-
sions, the sllougesl as well as the weakest, those we did not no Liu:, w lo
speak, and on rhe rnnrrary those whose memory we keep forever-each
of the "moments" to which, like Goerhe.'s Faul!t, we wanted to say: ~Stay
a while, you an: so beautiful!" ---did not all these ephemeral cpiphanie:;
in fact slide into a p;i.<it. rhat is furlher and further away, and ultimarely
sink into the unconscious:' If life is shorr, it is noL because ol' the limits
of ohjcctivc Lime, but because it is in fact a flow, in which no impre:;sion
remains, whether happy or unhappy, and at every step nothingness eat~
away al il.
Tn rhe ,ipologuc cnlilled 'The ~ext Village," .K.Tfka tells the story of
an old man whose house i~ the lasL in I.he hamlet and who sits on his door-
step, watching those who are going to i:he neighboring village pass by. If
they suspected, ht>: reckons, how short life is, they would not even leave
for the next village, knowing thar thr.y wouldn't have time to get there.
This 8y~tcmat.ic unreality of time, the fact th::it no reality is ever built up
in it, is expressed in Eckhart\ inLuition, where what happened yesterday
is a~ far from me as what occurred thousands of years ag·o.
And yet do we not live in a j)e1petual present? I lave we ever left it? Huw
could we if we art>: lh,;ng hcings, iuvi11dbly joined to themselves in al .ifr
that never ceases being joined to itself-urnlcrgoing experiencing itself
in the crtioymcnr of in; life, amJ in the untcarn.hlc flesh of its orisrinary
Affec.tivity-inexor.-ihly weaving the flawless threa<l of it,; eternal prr~.,;ent?
I .ifr: 's eternc1I living present, the: Dwelling it. ha~ ai;isigned it~clf (the Dwell-
ing of Life in which everything is life, outside of which no life is possible}
is thus also our mvn, and that of all the living. That is why [here are so
1mmy plau:s i11 lhis Dwelling. Thal we alwa~s remain iu Lifo's elernal p1es-
cnt, that this is the conditiou of every curn;civaLlc liviug Leing and every
fragment of life, the fle.,;h ohhF. lf'a,Qt of our imprc~siom, which makcll up
the "no·w" and the "reality" of it, one can also recognize in the fact that
tve do not stand in anyfntu.-re. and v•e rumer wiU-"the fnnire," Jc:an Kahen
says, "is always foture." We will never stand in the past either, not even
the rnost inuoediale, because tl1e distance of unreality has already m.i.de
c:vny life impo,~,;ihlc there, and hct.:au.~c 110 liviug being, no particle of
life, can embrace itself anywhere other than where life embraces itself in
living, arriving in it.self, enclles.sly becoming and never coming undone.
Thar is why whar ha~ passccl, however slight. it may be, is entirely pasl, as
removed from us as the origin of the world, as far as the next village that
we will uevcr n:ad1. Proximity a.nd remotene.ss are categories of distance,
categories of the world, and if the essence of Life is identically the es-
sen<.:c of reality, lhcy <ldc1mim: I.he wurl<l u. prio1i as a milieu of absolute
nnreality-rhe empty place into which, in the carnal and imprcssicmal
reality of its life, no living being will ever venture.
According lo Hmserl, in the flow, no fragmenl of the non-How
e:idsts. That is why amid the universal flow only the form of the flow is
fixed. It is a form that is unfortunately as empty as the appearing of the
world whose phenomenological structure it constitutes. \\Tith all reality
then situated in the impression, bm the revelation of it entrnsterl tn the
form of the flow, it was through its very appearing that the impression
wa:,; hmled imo nolhingness. Is iL not so, we ask? Do all our impressions
leave anything in m hut i:he bitter rn~tf' of their regret?
The problem is that we speak rather badly about our impressions,
applying the language of the world to them, awl confusing them \-vith
these "states'' or "lived moment5'' that are only the o~jertivation of them
in the first Outside, tirelessly crossed by the ek-static form of the flow.
So they .are a \ready confmserl ,~ith the "sensory dfZta," or ".~cn~ihlc givens"
that according to Husserl make up the material content of the How. They
are an evanescent content, admittedly, emptied of substance, reduced to
phanta~rnatic appriritjons thar arc as llcparal.cd from Lhem:.dvc~ a:; from
all the others, pieces of the nothingness in to which they sink inexorabiy.
and from which they n:llurfacc inexplicably.
No disrrew :uu-1 ,-ep:=m~te<l impre.~.~ion.~ of this sort. have ever existed
in us . .lkcause the internal possibility of each impression is its coming to
life, which give~ it. to imprcs:; upon it.self, to be alive, real and present only
in life, in and by life's patho8-fi llcrl self-affect.ion_; this is what remains, one
am/ the ,ame self-trial contim1.ing through the contimwl modification ofwho.t it
feels, and lhat inrl.er.il does not sto,v undergoing itselff e.eling-beinK ahmlntely tlu
wme, one and the same life. That is whar -:uhsisi.:; in Lhc ''impression's" inces-
sant ch:mging: what is always already there before it and thus rr.maim in
it, what is required for its coming and in which this coming takes place-
not the empty form of the flow hut life's unfailing embrace in the pathos-
fillc,l ~clf-,dfccLion of its fo,ing-in its living Present.
The impression's refr:rf'ncc to life's living Present, from which it
draw:; the auto-impressionality constirntive of c.arm1.l rcalily-o[ which
the various "impn.:ssions" are only modalities, whose real continuity it
ensures ( the continuity of living fk:sh and not an unreal flow)-refers us
Lu a phenomenology of Flesh, which we ·will explain in the second sec-
tion of rhis hook. But all of this assumes that the originary appearing ou
which this phenomeno1 ogy \~i II be built is recognized in its opposition to
the t.nulilional intellectual horizon, in which thought ~Lrives Lo grasp the
being of our "scn'lalious.''
Two tasks are thus imposed on us for the moment. 'iNe must clarify
the nature of origimtry appearing, and ask in particular whether the es-
sential phenomenological cktcnninati.ons implied by it have ever been
foreseen in the history of philo5ophy. We musl abu respond to the inevi-
table ohjcn.ion of knowing how it would be possible for thought, for a
phenomenological investigation, for example, Lo know what escapes it by
mtlun:, uot some mysterious "metaphysical" prinr:iple, bul 4,uiLe simply
the flesh that. i~ ours in so far as it never appears any.,;here hut in life.

§11. The Question of Originary Appearing and Descartes's Cogito.

Three Fundamental Questions It Involves.

TI1ought's inability to know Jife: is an aporia whose power we will first

rccog11i£c in a paradoxical \\,·ay: by seeing it at work in Hu..,sc1l's phenom-
enology. For Hm.serl w;:is in no way una\va.re of life. Uoes he not call it
I.Jy name, exactly where Descartes situ::iterl the unshakable foundation
of all reality: in lhc wgito? This comes out a~ain in rhe. fonnulaLiou of
it offered in §46 of Idee.ri. l: "T am, Lhi~ life is, I am living: cogi.to~ (II ua III,
§4fi, 85 / 100). This life, which is my life, which i~ my T, and which is the
essence of t.hi'I f, defines ullimale reality in HtlSserl's eyes as well, the
originary region (Ur-regfo-n) to which every other region, every specific
domain of being, must be related (sensible, intclligihk, imaginary, signi-
f),ing, ruh1m11, aestht1tir, t1rhiral, t1tc.). Jn a r.omplt1tdy remarbhlc v.~.J.y,
this life is at once both a universal hfe and ;-ilso my own, :me! hec:,m~e it
defines the condition of pOs8ibility of every other c.onc:eivahle reality, ir. i~
constantly and rightly called "transcendental life."
Yet we cannot forget the radical phenomenolo,gical meaning that
the cogito takes on whc11 formulalcd in the firsL lwu "Me<lilal.iuns"-a
meaning thar wall immediately lost in the work of the great Ca1tcsians
(Malebranche, Spinoza, and Leihniz)-as well as in the i111hscq11cnt de-
velopment of modern philosophy, and in Hus.serl himself~
Descartes never says, as a premi5e, "Tam." He sayll, "T think." Tri.~
only because l think, and as long as 1 think, that l am. \'lie can identify
easily lhe priurily of Lhe "I lhink" over the "I am." It is the pciority of ap-
pearing over hcing. "T think" means T appear, T appear to my~df, and it
is only by the effect: of this self-appearing for me that I can then say in
human language, whid1 is also the language of thinking, "I am." But if
cogiro means "l appear," in the semc of thi~ primordial self-appearing
that is my own, then it is a question of knowing how this appearing ap-
pears, whal. its phcnomcnolog:ical mw,:rial is, and how it is that this ap-
pearing is mine-precisely, that it inescapably bears an "I" and a .. me··
witl1in it-that it ha.'! this relation lo Lhc ip~cily uf a Sdf, a relation that
seems as original ::i.11 ir rloes es.~ential.
The responses Descartes provides to these three fundamental ques-
Lim1s dcman<l our allcnl.ion. Willi regard to the third, Descartes is con-
tent with a simple observation, as insufficient as it is improperly formu-
lated: "The fact that it is I who am doubting and understanding and
willing i:; :;o l:vitkn l ll1at I see 110 wa.y of making i Lany clearer."* ½'hatever
the imponance of such an affirmation may he:, the absence of :;my proh-
lem aiming to legitimate it, to ground the fact that an "l" co-belongs to
I.he primordial i,elf-appearing, co-appears in it and is connected to it by
some essential reason, reveals a lacun~ whose c:nn~cquc:nc:cs will prow.:
catastrophic for modern thought. We ,.,ill see for ourselves how the phe-
nomenology of lnc:arnarion gives us possc~:-;ion of what should Le added
to the mere ob&ervation of this singular fan, tht' pre.~enr.e of :m "ego" in
p1;mordial appearing. What makes this intelligible, or arch-intelligible,
hut.Johannine Arch-intelligibility? The imm:mcm:c of t.lic Tpscil.y of the
Fil-st Self to the tt}fog process of Life's selt~generation, in whose lpseity
it uudergoe~ feeling itself, so that no life is possible that does not enclose
the ip.~f'it:y nf an ego within it., ancl nci r:ogiialu, l11al musl nul say cogito.
As for Descartes's second question, of knowing whether something

"'lkscartc~ ..,\T. IX. 28 /PW.II. l'J.

exist~ like what we. call pure. phenomenological malerial, '.>Olll.e "thing"
whose substance is nothing but appearing itself in the dfcnualion uf its
.i.ppt:aring_. I.he all too brief responi;;e is no le ....~ categorical. That it on:uni
the moment Descartes show1-1 no,; who he is and what he is-and that what
he is, what man is, is precisely appearing in the effectiveness of its i-1df-
appearing-does nor only advance, for Lhc first time in the history of
philosophy, a phenomenological definition uf the es:sence of man that is
a~ radical a~ it is explicit. Radical, because man is no longer some thing,
some thing thar appears, hut appearing itself. The material man is made
or is no longer the silt of the earth or some other material of this kind,
hut phenomcnalily iL':idf, pure phenomenological matter, as we put ir:
"Nothing else belongs tn my 11a.lurc ur essence except that l am a think-
ing thing" (.ATVU, p. 78 / PWII, p. 54). Now ift.hc matnial man i~ made
of ill pure pheuomenality, appearing as such, then ·we must ;;ay what thi.-:
phenomenahty comist~ in, how it IH.:comes phenomenal, and how ap-
pearing appears.
The fin;l and most decisive question potentially implicates the other
two and motivates Descarte.~'s entire sci. of problems surrounding the
rngilo. Unlike contemporary phenomenology, this is not limited to re-
ferring what appf'an m rn to it~ appca1·iug, as if it were an inescapable
condition. It is immediately 5itmited on the plane of appearing. AL the
hearl of appearing, considered in and for its.elf a line of separation i.~
traced, berween the ;;ippcaring of lhc world-everywhere challenged in
its ambition for autonomy and lmiversality-:md a more original appear-
ing of another sort, whose appearing is different, whose phenomenality
becomes phenomenal othcrwii;i:-arnl that appearing alone is the ulti-
mate and unshakable foundation.
The gramliose move is striking in its simplicity. The disqualifica-
tion of the ,•,;orlrl'~ appcarin1:r lakt:!; place in the form of a doubt that
i;t.rikes down the totality of sensible and intelligihle, rational, and "ele1~
nal" rniths, suc:h as 2 + 3 = 5. But the doubt can reach all these truths
without sparing any of them only he.came it first n:adw~ the appearing
in which they show themselves to me-in this case, the "i-ccing" in whid1
T sec them, the t.:vitlence in which this ''.seeing" achieves perfection. Be-
cause this seeing is reputedly deceptive in it'ldf cvcrytlii11g Lhat it makes
visible in Lun1 collapses under the stroke of doubt.
The prior anrl global disqualificalion of "seeing" is featured in the
dream, where everything that shows iu,elfin thii-1 seeing is false and does
not exist, so I.hat the entire visible universe and every possible "world"
is destroyed at once. Ancl here (in §26 of Pa~sium uf the So·ul), in the ah-
sence of "·world," in this radical a-cosmism, whc-:n rhc: visible universe has
disappeared because "isibility has been nullified, the ultimate foundation
Descartes Vl'aS looking for is discovered: sadness, any sentiment at aU, the
most modest impression. This is indeed the extraordinary and unshak-
able affirmation. IfI dream_. everything that Tsec in this 1in:a111 i~ only illu-
sim1. Rut ifin I.hi.~ dream f fed sadnc~s, or any olher sentiment, or "some
other passion," the text says, then even though it happen<: in a <lr~am, this
sadness is tn1e; it exists absolutely and as l experience. it."
But sadness, any other sentiment, or the most modest impression,
cannot appear as absolutely true-expe.rirm.r.irig 11.nd;-rw1ing itstlf (Js an abm-
lule existenw-wben the world and its appearing have been disqualified,
e.xr.~pl on one condition: on the conclition t.haL it;; appearing uol L~ the
appearing of the world and not owe anything tn ir. This appearing is a
seH~appearing whose phenomenological structure excludes the "ou t~id e
it.~clf," whose c~!>cncc is c:xpcricncin~ undergoing it.self, where sadness,
every sentiment, every passion, and every impression do he.come possihlc:,
and whose phenomenological material is a transcendental Affectivity-
thc pathos in which all life, arn.l every 1nodaJity oflife, arrives in it.sell and
embraces itself in this Ji\,ing Self. This is what a radical phenomenology
recognized all its nl~ccl and proper Iheme: pic:cisdy Life-the Life of
which.John speaks and that, grasping it immediately as the only life po5-
sible, a life that provides itself life in itself ls 'apporte soi-m&ne en soi], he
callll GrnL
Descartes. calls this life cogitatio. When the term we translate ai.
''lhoughl" denotes the appearing from which all thought, all seeing,
anrl all evidence, ii; cxdudcri in principle, and which fur I.his reason no
thought, no seeing, and no evidence can give us to 5ee., or m::ike knmvn
lo us in wme way however slight it may be, this is a textual difficulty that
philmophy rnuM resolve. The inncdibk bunk:11 uf conLrn<liclion con-
cerning Descartes's cogito, of which thP. famous circk of evidence is only
the most obvious, can be avoided only at this price. Having subjected evi-
dence to radical doubt in the hypothc~sis of t.hc in11lirim1.,· g,mi"-, hm" coul<l
Descartes entrust the ultimate foundation to this doubt in this instance?
-By making us :!>ee in a dear, distinct, and, as such, indubitable vision that
jf J dnuhr :mrl if T think, rhcn I mu.~I inckc:d be? The analysis of tJ1e cogi-
tatio pushes the objection aside, as do the majority of commentaries that
~tn1gglc to overcome it. The r:ugitaliu iUlclf (in which ncilher Jislance,

"'"Thu;; often when we sleep, and even sometimes when awake, we imagine certain things
m strongly th at we believe we see them in front of us . , , even though nothing is there; bui,
even ""hen we sleep or dream, we would not feel sad or moved from another passion, nnlcss
it where very true that the soul had this passion ·within it.
nor vision, nor e\-idence is possible) hringi, it~clf about in iu;df, and does
so on a.ccounl. ofils own essence, in so far as it resides in self~rcvcla.t:ion.''
·1·he ~e.conrl definition uf "Arguments P.-ovin~ the 1!'.xiMenc.e of God" calb
the essence of every cogi.tati.o, as self-revel,11ion, an Idea: ''By the term Idea,
I undersranrl rhi~ form of any g'iven thought, immediate perception of
which makes me a:ware of the thought" (AT \11, 160 / PW II, 113, our
emplrn.sisi. This "form," which the Iden. i~, in which each cogi11diu reveals
itself to itl'1clfin1111ew.aLd)', what is it other than life; Section 2fi nf the Pas-
sions recognizes this internal srnu:turc of Lhe wgitatio in its own phenom-
enological es~em:e, i~ seH~givenness in life, here designaterl under l11e
headin~ Idea (in a way rhat is as l!trauge as the cogitatw itself, admittedly):
its irreducibility to the world's ::ippt>:;uing, which is disqualilied by falling
under lhc :;ame category as a dream, on the one haml; on Lhc olher. its
phenomenological material, which is identified v.rith that of a sadness, or
of "some other passion" -,-.1th l .ifr 's patho,;.
TI1c imernal structure of the cogitatio ia;: unveilerl for the fo:.l Lime
in the "Second Mr>diration," in au analysis of demanding subtlety. At the
crucial point in his approach, constrained hy it~ very progress, Descartes
takes the unhe,mi of ri:-k of c:,lablishing, with regard to seeing itself,
that the cogitatio is irredlicible tn seeing, ,md therefore to all possible
cvitlenu.:.:. Seeing is made responsible for providing the proof of ii.;; own
incomperencc, and it i.~ in seeing that its bankruptcy must be deciphered.
One"l'J.11 observe that it is ·with the hdp nfa hypoLhe~is that Descartes
hq,.rim to signal tliaL he is taking leave of the world's appearing. Tf:rn evil
genie deceive.-, me whe.n l believe I :;ce thaL all the radii in a circle are equal,
tl1en this vision is fallacious in itself; :mrl all the suppo:;edly rational, evi-
rl ent., and eternal rei:llities that give themselves in the e-\-icl;cn ~t'. of a \-ision
like this are uncertain at the same time. The hypothesis hardly seems likely,
moreover, so the blow it <;trikes ar :.eeing seems superficial. v\!hatis decisive
ahom the hypmhesi:; of the evil genie, however (in spite ofit.~ cxtrav~aul
character or because of it}, is thar if. hohb before us the idea of a pombility-
tht:. pru~ibility tlu:,t a vision, and consequently a.ll m:~inn, and thu.1" vision a5 3·udi,
moy hP. fnllacim.u. Oucc a possibility of this sort has been poserl, n n \1 ~ion Ly
itself can exclude it. For ir could imkcd be false, and distort what it makes
vi~ibk lo lhe point of making us believe in an existenc:c where there is
nothing. There arc w mauy visiom of this sort (hallucinations, sensible or

"ln numerous ways that we uut po11ible ro analyu: here, De5cartes recognized or presup-
posed this essence of the c~~i/,,.1;,, r,, ,liic,,.,-~vdatfon. We refer readers interested in this
question to tht' fosl three chapre.-s of 0111· (;.f,ufafogie de ia p~yclianalyse (l'aris: Pn,sses Uni
vers;i.ain,s dt' F,.iorC': 19Fli, 2nd ed., 1990) / Gemalllf!J .,fP!.ychcanat)•si; (Stanfonl: $1,1 .. rnrrl
Uui,ersity Pn·ss, 1993) when~ 1hc mgito i~ the m~jcct of a :;ystcmati<.: analysis
ideological illusions, beliefawltl1outfoundation or allegedly founded) and
for cvtT}' kiud lhc probkm will in facL be lo dn;umst:riLt! c:1. ~ioglt: 0111;: uf
them that c:;capcs the :;uspicion lhal il is <lt:t:eltful, a suspicion that it now
carries in its very seeing, as an indelible possibility that is inscribed in it
One thing- .~1:cms ,:,'.rt.ain: ffwc had to :-Jl-i~nn: ounidvc'! ahoul a -;ccing- of
this sort, despite this possibility of deception that is inherent in it, it would
certainly not be by appealing to another seeing that is inevitably marked
wilh ll1c ~a.im.: su:;picion. Fink.'s affinnalion that a deceptive vision can only
be corrected by a new vision has lost all credibility.
Yd Dcsca..rtcs's approad1 rests upon seeing and its evidence, and at
the heightofradk;i\ douhr he has nothinge:lse: at his <lisposal. Before the
abyss of nothingness that engulfs the world, all that now remain.~ in hi~
hands, and which depends upon him to become the ultimate and unshak-
abl 1c frnmrl:-i.tion, i.~ rhc seeing that. has been dccimalcd by tloulJt, Ly the
possibility of being fallacious that inhabits his very vision.
If the seeing now remains when the manifestation that it accom-
plishes ::ind th<1T ronsistl-1 in seeing ha:-1 hccn di1~qualificcl iu prim:iplc, lhen
this can only be on one condition: that the seeing be _given to itself, that
it appear to irself someU1here nthn than in w1f:i.ng, and thrrm.gh arwth,,:rml!tms-
where "seeing" does not intervene, and where vision (_and then it hardly
matters 1.hat .i1. .is deemed falladous) has notl1ing more to do, quite pre-
ci.~dy norhing more ro sec:; aml when the c11Li1 c universe of Lhe visiLle has
been hurled into nothingness. lly disqualifying the world's appearing, the
dcv-.tstating doubt free~ the ~pace where originary rc\idalio11 fulgurales,
absolute Life's self-revelation in which every life anrl e:very morlality of life
is revealed to itself-including, notably, the modality of life that seeing is.
If seeing i:; certain, il i.:,; U1Us uul in tl1e operalion ofits seeing, in the
intentional surpas~ing thrn11gh which it t.hrm-1."S itself outside it~df toward.
what is shovm to it in the light of this outside. The light of rhe '.<mrlrl c.:rn
110 longer define Lrulh. On the contrary, the world's light has been dis-
qualified so that a truth of higher origin might be recognized, which we
al.so call certitude: the Truth of Life. Seeing is certain as wgitatio.
Bul tl1c disa~~ocialiun Lclween a seeing whose seeing is doubtful
(when considered only in its 8eeing, in the intcnt.ional ~urpa~sing of il
LOward what iL ~ees) and the seeing that is certain in its co(Iitatio presup-
poses a prior and essential dissociation henveen the appearing of the
world and the appearing of Life. In seeing's co![i.tati,(), T.ife',;; originary ,;;f')f.
revelation is substituted for intentional ..,.ision in the world's ''outside,"
and for this reason alone the \o\rild unleashing ofnihifom ~udrlcnly gives
way to an absolute of truth. TI1is substitution presupposes in turn the
J.ualiLy of appearing, and outside this duplicity, the set of problems sur-
ronn<ling Descartes'~ co~ito is no longer pos~iblc,
 This duplicity can be read in Descartes's text at the n;ioment of its
grealef;t ten1-;inn, al douht'~ limiL Whal does il rcsl upon? A deceptive
seeing. But how can this seeing subsist, po:;iting itself as the ultimate
foundation of all certainty, if it is deceptive, if it is in itself only illusion? At
r:erlt ,JWP'l'e ·vidr,1,r. At least, Dc.~c:art.cs s~y~, it is n:nain that Tseem to .~cc. Jn
this decisive proposition (because it is in fact here that nihilism changes
into an absolute truth that grounds and legitimates itself) all the terms
an.: phenomenological. EvcryLhing i;ignifics appearing, making appear;
and everything refers to phenomenaliry. Only a radical phenomenology
llrn.l has cst.aLli:.hc<l Lhe <luplicily uf appearing: uu1 give a meaning lo this.
V"id,re means seeing in rhe .<1ense th::11 we habitm1Uy understand it, as per-
ceiving outside, in front of oneself, what becomes visible in this outside
and by it. Vid~re denotes lhe appearing of the world. Videor designates
the ~,-:mhlanr.e, the appearing in which ~e.eing i.~ reve.aleri lo it~df. On.~)'
because the appearing in which seeing is re(Jea/ed to itself dijjers in principle_frorn
the appwring in which let-ing :.ee:. ull lhat ii stes w:tt the furrw:r be lr:rlain when
the latter is do11.b!fvl..
Thus the phenomenological content of this group of problems
r:nnccrning rhf' cogito i.~ such thar, at hmtom, thf' p,issage from ek-static
seeing to the immanent selt~revelation of Life rests on the duality of ap-
pearing. One ca.n finally unde.-stand very ·well I.hat ek-static seeing would
he deemed prohkrnat.ic, since it. is po8sihlc f.o imagine truths other than
those one sees-and also the possibility of seeing them differently, of no
longer inluit.ing· lhiugs in spal:e or lime, for cxamplc. God, according lo
the unfarhomed affirm::ition ofDesc;irtes, could have created orher eter-
nal truths, other rational systems, another reason, and thus, as in Liebniz,
other pus:;ibk: wurkb. World:; might be <liffcn:nl nOL only in l11eir cuulcnl
hut also in their way of becoming world, becoming vi8ihle, and "world-
ing"-the other worlds, and the series of "little worlds" that Kandinsky
simply began Lo paiuL. Ol11cr visible u11iveri;c~, othei way:-1 ofsceiug-, otln:r
"seeing. n other evidences. Before it will be led astray by nihilism, these
great themes will become the best modernity has to oITer.
Seeing can be made problematic. But it no longer hi:t!i ,my assign-
able phenomenological meaning to say that the one who experiences a
sadness, an anguish, or any kind of passion does nol ex.perience it, or
rloc~ not cxpnir.nr.e irjust :;is hf' expniences it. The. facr that ne.~carre~
recoiled before an explicit definition of the cogi.tatio as pathos follows
from tl1e connection he established between affeclivity and the body. Be-
cause:, following Galileo, he underscood the body as a material extended
thing-as res cxtmsa-the connection between aflectivity and the body,
which would confer on the former a doubtful origin, or at least an equivo-
c;.il .~tafHs, m:;irif' it difficult for thi8 to belong to the cogitatio in principle.
.4. fortiori, the decisive interpretation of Affectivity as the col{?tatio's own
internal condition of possibility, as the phenomenological mat<"rial ofit;.
self-revelation, seemed definitively ruled out. And yet hmv is it pos!-ihle.
to be unmvare of the parndigirrntic rnlc played hy passion in s26 of Pas-
sirms of lhe Su-u.l, wheu Lbe cogitr1,iiu alone emerges from the void? How can
one forget, in any event, the centnil theme of rhe first two JHeditatirrru?
Grasped in its origin;iry .5elf-revela1ion and thus in its sdf-lcgiti1m.uion,
the cogitatio sets evidence aside and does so in the very process thro11gh
which it becomes an ultimate frnmda.l.ion.

§ 12. Husserl's Misinterpretation of Descartes's Cogito and Its

Consequences: Denigrating Singular Life and Replacing It with Life's
"Essence" in the Phenomenological Method's Thematic Turn.

TltaL cvitlc11ce for Descartes delines the cogitatio's mode of originary

givenness, and that \.is.ion (clear and distinct vision in pmticular) opcm
mi to tliis t,l;ivc1111css an<l allows us Lo know it with a certain knowledge that
in itself can play the role of a founrlarion-this is Hm:-icrl';; massive 111i:1-
interpretation. We find the error formulated as early as 1907 in t.hP- five
le<.::Lures devoted to a ~ystematic presentation of the phenomenological
project and its method. "Descarte,5, you rf'c:i.11, after having cstalilishccl
lhe evidence of the cogitati.o l- .. J wondered: what will assure me of these
fundamental givens? Wdl, precisely dam el dislinaa pmeptio." v\11en this
foundation of the co{!j.totio (of its rf'ality and exist.en cc) lakes place in dear·
and distinct ellidence, it means that this dear and distinct vision makes
me certain of every existence and every reality. And when this dear and
di.stinrt ,:ision playi; this role: of fouudalion wilh regard to the cogitatio,
this implies that it can and must play it ·with regard to every m:her reality
and every r:xiMcncc. "v\.'ith Dcscarlcs, we cau now lake [ ... J the addi-
tional step: whatever is given by a dam et distint:tn pm:,ptin, as it. is in any
singular cogitatio, we are entitled to accept." So this is the meaning of the
rn~rito. "Ju cs~cuc<::, Lhis is lo say: seeing, gr.i.sping what is sel±~given [ ... ]
in so far as it is an actual seeing [ ... }, that is something ultimate" (Hua
II, 49, 50 / 37, 38). Thu:; .u1 extraordina.-y reversal occms, the complete
rlenaturing of the Carte:;ian cugilu. \-Vhcreas lhe wgilatio arises as the
arch-revelation of a self-revelation, which is as such a selfMkgitimat.ion
and thu~ the onlr conceivable foundation (a seH~revelation that one can
reach only in :mil rhrough it., in t.he phr:nomcnaliry proper LO il, aud al
the end of the process by which every of her form of man ifostat.ion, in Lhis
ca~e I.he darn et distincta pr-rceptio of evidence, has been disqualified), here,
on the contrary, this very evidence, by making ii.see dearly, is now n:spon-
si ble for revealing the 1:ogitalio lo us. By an unprecedented cot1.p d 'i:t,at, tha l
which has been ~cparatcd from the self-founding of the founrlat.ion, and
through ii., now simply takes its place.
This error nms rhrongh Hu~scrl'~ entire published work, and he of-
frH uumerous formulations ofit, which are ~.11 rhc more significant when
rhc capacity uf t.he gaze to unveil the cof!!tatio inrenrionally iu iLs originary
and real presenr.e is affirmed al the same time this cogitati,0 i~ irlcntificd
wi1J1 life. "The kind of being proper many men ral process is such that the
gaze of an intuitive pcrn:pli.on can be directed quite immediately to any
mental process as an origina.ry living prc:,;cul.'' "A~ soon as ! look at the
flowing life in its actual presence and, while rloing :;o, apprehend myself
as the pure .sul~cCL uf t11~ lile l- .. J l say unqualifierlly and necessarily:
lam, this life is, I am alive: rngito" (Hua Ill, ~115, 83 / 98; §46, 86 / lOO).
Viit.hin originary givenness, the revt>rsal of roles between evidence
and the r.ogitatio i~ certainly not innocent. Intentional vision, whoi1c fi-
nal form is evidence, belong~ t.o t.hrn.11,;hl and defines it. 'lo entrust to
,h011ght the uuveiling of the cogitatw in its reality (anrl thus llie unveiling
of all reality) is to identify thought. as Lhe way to access this reality, as the
mctl10d lo be followed by every consciomn~s.~ that is assured of itself and
capahle of at.t.aini11g reality in itself and as it is. In this way the marvelous
identity of the methorl mul ils o1~cct implied in the Greek title of phr>-
mimeuolugy is reconstituted. The method is intt'.nt.im1al thought, and the
o~ject i5 this ~amc t.hougln, tl1e cogitatio, whose revelation is entrusted lo
tl1e darn et distincta percepti.n anrl reduced lo iL Adequatio rei et inteUectus:
The a{kquation of consciousness and its o~ject. rcgai11s its pre-Socratic
depth. "Thought. a.nd being are the same."
t-.;ow, if life slips aV1ray from iJJtcntionality's vision in principle, then
the pbenomenological method will amonnt to a complete failure, to the
extent that it claims to he founded on such a vision, taken as an ":-n1 ulli-
mat.e." The method and object of phenomenology have become hetero-
geneous ag-.:1in, ineducible to one another, bec;uu~e their phcnumenality
differs to thr" point. of 1,cing mutually exclusive, because lifr rorncs in
itselt; sheltered from every g::izc, ,1nci in lhe absence of "world." D'rom
now on, in reflection (whether it's a matter of transcendental, phcnom-
enolo,gical reflection, or of simple nalural reflection), whenever thought
Lurm lo life, in an attempt to grasp it. an<l know iL in ils vision (in the sthen
u-n.dfa.wn thar hdong-s to it in principle), thought does not 11111:over the
reality of lite in its "origin::iry presence," hul only the empty place of its
ahsc11u:-ils blackout, its disappearance.
We have alrcii<ly encountered life's blackout un<ler the gaL.c of in-
tentionality. According to Hns:,icrl's the!.is. every retlection assumes a re-
tention. A g:l7e can look hack upon life in an arrf'mpt to see it :md grasp
it only if the phase of this life that hasjust sunken into the imme<liate pa.n
is held back by retention, in order to be offered to the vi.ew of thi., g2,:e
and fumillh ii. wi Lh 1hc given, withrn11 which il ~ecs nothing, v.'ithout which
no reflection is pos.sible. This first "ision of retention, the one that slides
into the fir~t gap hollowed out by tcmporality (by what Hmscrl calls lhc
internal c.onsciou~ncss of time or even the form of the flow) canicd uul
life's killing: In this separation from itself. the impression is destroyed. Tn
fact, in c:on:,.ciou~m:s.~ of Lhc now, bccaw;e this is itself an intentionality,
the impression is already torn apart, and the dispersed, dead shards are
prnjened everywhere. The temporal Dow of the 1905 Lectures was noth·
ing other than ll1c ramlum collc<.:1.iuu of I.hi:. unreal debris, inexorably
doomed to nothingness.
This is what Husserl him.self notices, and with extreme displeasure.
In the temporal flow of sulticnivc imprcs~ium, whose appearing wa::, en-
tmsted to the intentional vision of the form of the flow, life i;;elf-rle:nn1ctl\
instead of revealing itself; alter 1907, Husserl calls this by the more ap-
propriate name of"Heraditean flux," 2 panide of <YdTH~sccnt app:ui1.iorn1
where nothing remains, where all goes to naught-which forever mourns
reality. '-lot that thi;i ever diimppcarcrl, properly speaking, hut bcurnsc it
never arrived. Speaking of these "pure phenomen::i," whirh an~ ~ema-
tions reduced to their temporal subjective givenness, Husserl denies that
they constit1m' a specific rlimen<1ion nf hcing, what lie n1ll11 a ;'rq,,rion"
or "field." "We move in the field of pure phenomena. llut why do [ say
'fidd'-is il nol rather an eternal Heraclileanjlu.x of phenomena" (Hua
TT, 47 / 3fi).
This designation is repeated across all the work, notably in the
major texts. In a surprising way, ~20 of the Cartesian Meditations claims that
"the pos.~ibili 1y of a phenomenology of pun: consciousness seems higld:y
questionable," and this is becai1Se subjective phenomena are presented
to u,; as a "Hcraclil.can flux" where Lhcre can be no "final elements," so
one c::innot grasp them in fixe<I ronre.pr.s, as rhe ohjec.tive sciP.nccs, for
example, do for their ovm objects." Section 52 of the Kri.sls affirms that,
even for his own account, a philosopher cannot make any true observa·
tion concerning "this elusively flowing life, cannot repeat it with always
the same content, and become so certain of its quid and quod that he
multi clci;cribc it [. , .] in definitive slalemenls."t
The massive failure of the phenomenologic2l method, the impm·
sihility of reaching real life, ils origlnary presence, with the Yision of in-

"Edmund Husserl, Hua 1, s~U. 8ti / 4Y,

t.Edmund Husserl, Hua Vl, §52, li:ll / 178; translation modified.
t.cnt.ionality, explains lwo major events that will mark Husserl's phdos-
ophy. The first is the discredit it r.asti, upon lif~':,; rcalily, which it proves
incapable of grasping. We h:n-'f'. rcc.ognizcd the {kd:.ive llaits that belong
to life: the fact that every life, undergoing experiencing itself in an effec-
tive and thus singular self-trial, necessarily hear1-1 a singular .Self wiLhin it,
so that it i~ a siug:ular life of some particular ego. Consequently, the ~ame
goes for P-vcry modality uflife, for the most humble impression, ofwhkh
none, we said, could belong- to no one. Tts reality ior existence, as one
cm still call i L) 1c~ides precisely in this particularity oflife, in the &ingu Jar
ipseity of the ego in whkh it ff'el~ it~clf.
And here Husserl tells us that the sinf!."ulari.ry of thi., lifr. (nf the cogitaLio
and it.\ real e:J,,"i.\lerm::) have no importance. lor in the end phenomenology is
not a novel wanring to tell us the slury uf Pierre or Yvette. Whether he is
hungry or she is tilled with anxiety upon learning she has a snious illness
i~ of no intcn:st for lhc phenomenologist. Phenomenology ii; a ;;cienc.f'.
Singular facts, however sn~jer:tivc and ;'reduced," can have no meaning
fut it. On singularities of this kind, on what Pierre or Vvcrtc or experi-
ence., one nm crn1.hlish only :,;iugular propositions. Yet science does not
deal with singular judgments, but only with 1mivcr:-;al prnpo:-itious l11at
a.lone arc capable of expressing la\vs-·-·universal, and as such "scientific,"
truths. A~ .~oon as; hf' notices the dissoluli.on of subjective phenomena in
the Heraclitean flux, llu,;serl claims: "Vvnat i;t;itcmcnt~ can I make about
it? '\'Vhilc 1 am :-;eciug il, I can say: this herel·--it exists, indubitably[ .. T
llut he adds: "Thus we v.-ill not attribute: a11y partic.:ular value to such judg-
ments as 'This is here," and the like, ·which we m::i ke on the hasi~ of pure
seeing." And aga.in: "Phenomenal judgments, as singular judgments, are
not terribly instn1ctive" (Hua TT, 47, 48 / 36, 37),
v\'hen singulai.- judgments are disqualified hy a s.-:icncc whose ob-
jccti\-c validity implies universality, this cannot suppress an unavoirfahlc
philosophical question-abo11.t. thf, pnfsihility ,if.1u.r:hjudgmmls. That Pierre's
hunger ur Yvette's anxiety does not mean much for sciencf' (even when,
from another view, under thl: regard of the Cluist, for example, these
singular lives may well bf' es~entfal: "J was hw1gry and you gave me noth-
ing to eat," ~1 was thirsty," etc.) does not exemp, us from a-iking how il
happens that the mo<l::ilitics nf one':, owu life are revealed each time to
the one who experiences them, why and how thf'y::uc prcc:i11cly one's uwn,
in their sometimes overwhelming original presence, in t.heir r~al and
indeed singular existenr.e. On thcfr own, once their phenomenological
possibility as seH~revelation has been e~tablished., theiw "singular l:ogi.lativ-
nf..~'' r.an re111ul, it scem.s, in "singular judgments," however unintert>Ming
they may be. The same goe~ for the sul~cn of I.he cogitatio's real existence:
No more than its singularity, the reality of it cannot. he 'let a11iclc as lacking
interest. In the aforementioned texts, which entnist to the pme sight of
a gaze the ~this one" of the singular cogj,tatio, its existence at least seems
maintained: "this exists."' llut now it is no more than a ground Iese; presup-
pmitiorL an impossil,ilil.y perhaps. Doc.~n'i Ilic pun: sight of the mgilalio,
the intentional grasp of the impression in the internal consciousness of
time, always reel.net' this to a simple nocmatic c:orrclacc whos<.; unrcaliry
Hus.~erl everyw-hen• affirmi:;-in t.hi.~ ca.~c: to the cvanci;ccnt apparition'>
that the flux, in its inexorable flow, brings to nothingness?
Herc tlic ~cc:ond major cvclll \,.,t: 111cntio11cll is produced, and it
v-:i.ll modify little by little, thoug·h in a concealed.. way, the meaning of
the phenomenological rnelbod. After the denigration of what we can-
110L grasp, thi'I singular aml real life that elude~ vi..-;iuu (a~ if one has lo

behave toward it like rhe fox declaring bf'fore the grapes thar h<·'. cannot
catch them: ~They are too green"), we now \vitness the outright disquali-
fication oft.his singular life, which lacks a11y scientific inlcrc:.L lu iLs place
a new object arises. not this variable event of life, but its essence, the es-
sence of universal transcendental life. This is the thematic tum.
The subMitmion of life's essence for its singular cxistcnn: di.~plays
three characte1istics. The Hrst, already noted, is that it appears ru a wa.r to
mpr:, interv~ning in Hu.~serh prnhlcmatic at the very moment it notice~
the co~talio vanishing in the clara e.t distincta perceptio of evidence. Tn the
1905 Lectures, it is a matter of substituting the form of the How for the ±low
itself anrl itot r:vanc.~cr:nt. content. The pcrmancnc:c of thi)I form, the only
tixed point in the flo·w, is the pennanence of an essence, where the ni-
dimensioual ek-sLaLic slructure of the flow's form is opposed to the sen-
sihle contf'nt that flows hy anrl whose ckstiny it prescribes n fJ'nm-i.
ln the 1907 Lectures, where the question of temporality is absent,
the passage from the singular cogitatio to its essence becomes the explicit
sul~cc:t of the analysi~. If Ilic profound motivation for lhis p<.::r:sisls, Liie
reason invoked is the necessity for phenomenology to be constructed
like a science lhat is u:1.pahle of cxplicaling facls bf formulating their law-s
inste::id of limiting itself .~imply ro norking rhem. Tn rhe rlomain of tran-
scendental life, these laws have lost all inductive character; they ::ire \;:iws
of essences, which presuppose that those essences are brought to light.
From a gnosiological point of view, the contribution of a new object of
the melhod seems undeniable. To take in view the essence of the cogjtatio,
the core of inlclligibilit.y an<l being I.hat in ead1 wgilaliu always make:. it
what it is, determining the set of propercies that belong to it in principle,
and lo imtitULe in lhi8 way a rational apodictic di:,course that is capable
of pronouncing a prfrwi, the valirliry of suc:h propcTt.ic.~-t.his is what is
advantageously substituted for an uncertain reading of them rhat. is hase.rl
upon elusive facticities.
 These two characteristics of the method's thematic turn go rogerher
in the great texts: rhc phc110111enological and ontological collapse of
the singular wgi,tatio in the vil;iuu uf evidence, whose existence it had to
crn1urc, and Lhe replacement of this existence by its essence, by lifr's c.~-
sence, on the basis ofwhic:h all the cssculial properties of this life wi.11 be
able to be determined with certainty. Immediately after having <louhtcd
"the possibility of a phenomenology of pure consciousness," in other
words, of suhjerrivc phenomena carried away in the Heraditean flux,
§21 of the Gartnian Meditations proposes the solution. The 1:wmcsct:nce
of tht'. sn~cnivc mo1k~ au.:unliug lo which objects are given can be over-
come, because "these modes, no mat.t.f:r how fluid these may Le, and no
matter how inapprehensible as having ultimate elementli, still they arc Ly
no mean:; variable wilhout restriction. They are ahvays restricted to a set
of structural types, which is 'invariable', in\'iolably lhe ~ame: as long as the
objectivity remains intended as this one and of this kind" (Hna l, §21, 88 /
51). This is rhc case, a.-; we have seen, for the form of the flow when it is
a question of subjective, temporal phF:nomcna.
Similarly, after having noticed that the ''particular philosopher'' i~
incapable of acquiring any kind of ccrla.ini.y abuul lhe existence and the
nature of his own experiences, §52 of the Knsis adds: "P,11t thf! full con-
crete factici ty of universal transcendental su bjecti.vity can nevertheless be
scientifically grasped in another ~cn'-lc, prn:i:;dy Lecause, truly through
an eidetic method, the great task can and must be undertaken of invc~ti-
gari n g the 1',S.rnntio.lfinm of the Lrauscen<lental accomplishments [ ... ] that
is, i:he total essential form of rr:msc~nrlental ml~cctivity" (Hua v1, ~52,
181, 182 / 178, our emphasis). Thus the transcendental performances,
in other worrl:., the various opcratio11.s of a particular subjectivity, can
be known and analyzed only on the ha~is of 1hciT csscuce-their "es-
sential form.~ [n all the "regions" of being and even more in the ori6ri-
nary region ((fr-region) of u·ansc.:cmlcnt.al life, the properties of singu-
lar phenomena-here the properties of singular wgi,tn.tiones considered
in Lhcir c..:un:,cious operations-cannot be deciphered except upon r.he
arch-type of e;;scnccs, t.hc ;;cssculial forms" of the structural types these
phenomena always obey. The phenomenon, the "fact," is knowable only
by its cs~cncc, aml 011 that basis. "The factum is determinable here only
as factum of its own essenre :mrl hy its cs3cncc" (ibi!L). Thus we see the
concrete modes of subjective individual life slirling into rhc L~p! that
n~gulatcs them e\'cu within I.heir fleeting becoming. The thematic mrn
consis;s in this substimtion of eiderism for t.hc ~ingular r:ogilaliont::s, an<l it
will allow the phenomenological method to acquire a positive knmvlr:<lgc
of life despite its invi~iLility-in its absence.
§13. Analysis of the Thematic Turn. The Aporia of the
)hen ome nolog ica I Method.

fhis turn should be examined more closely. Al fin,l glance, it consists

n rcplaci11g one object-the concrete modalities of transcendental life,
;..,.hich are real and singular mgitationes-v.<id1 anothcr-Lhc :set. of es-
;ences and essential forms thar <let.ermine their properties a priuri. Bul,
lS we know, the object of phenomenology is precisely not objects, hut
,heir mode of givenness, their appearing. Co11sidcred from tl1e phenom-
~nological point of view, the meaning of the thematic turn changes c.om-
plct.cly. lt. i.~ no longer a maLLcr of replacing one object with another,
ro.~·itationes with t.hf'ir e.s.~cnt.ial tn1c~. 1t is I.he moue of revelation of these
:ibjects that is at stake; the phenomenologic::il method has replaced onc
mode of appearing wilh another. This is the third characteristic of the
mbsti.tution oflifr '.11 essence for irs singular cxisn.:m:c: IL subslilules abso-
lute lite 's originary mode of revelation, in which every life, e:very modality
:>f life, and every r:ogilalio h revealed to itself (a mode of revelation that
phenomenology ignores), ·with the only mode ofmanifcsla1ion it lrnuws,
the appcari11g- of the world where vision unfurls. The substitution of ob-
:ects is only the c.onsequen ce of the prior snh~timtion of mode~ of appea.i~
Lng. Because it failed to recognize life's originary mode ofrevdat.ion, the
[,hcnomcuologiul 1net.hod did not entrust this life (1-vhich it is forever
tncapable of seeing) to vision, but to a new nhjcc:r that is apprnprialc t.o
it, and can be seen by it.
For this is what is proper w au e~ence in general. As a noematic
correlate of the intentionality that aims at it., iris the ol<lcd of a po8slble
vision, not like a sensible object that is constructed on the basi~ of sensible
appearances, whose perceplion is complex, but in a higher degree of
vision-an intellectm1.l ,~sion, who.~c olticct is nol a cunlingent existence,
but a rational structure. We know the effort Husserl took rn undersranrl
the sphere oh~sinn, well hcyornl ~cusiblc cxpelience: Eveq-where a dara
et di.stincta perc.eptio is possible, it discover-: new domains of ol~c<:t'! (the
immense domain of essences, categories, meanings, kind.~. ideal o~jects,
etc), whn.~c existence amlslruclw-al Lype1, are established in and through
the evidence of this clara et distincta peraptio.
illi'ith rcspcn to l..ramcemlenlal life, in place of its existence, now the
essence ofir i~ prescntcrl for analysis, its ''<::ssenLial forms" and fundamen-
tal structures, which are intentionali1:y, the form of the flow, the c~st:nLial
forms of ca1:h type of inlcmionalily (perception, imagination, ideation,
signifying intentionality, im11ition of genera, and of essences, ell:.). If llie
clam et di.stinda pcrccptio proves to be inadequ:ue precisely where one had
thought to recognize it'l power for the fir:;l time wiLl1 r<::SJJl.'.:Cl to the sin-
gular cogitatio, how can this power be undere~timaterl wh~n it present:;. us
with rigorously rational contents, which emnor he other than they an.:,
as in the exemplary c-t~c of gcmnctriu:1.l ei;sences? Try, .Malebranche says,
to mak_e the radii of a circle unequal ...
Still, phc11omu1ology i~ a tnm~c<.::udenlal philosophy, and is con·
cerned to go hack to a phenomenon's fiual pu:;:;ibilily, rather than
limiting itself to the mere observation of it. The set of prohlcms pcr1ain-
ing to the inluitiou nf cs!icm:es cannot escape this exigency. How can
one be content ·with the factual existence of an inn1irion of life':,; csscucc
and characteristic structures---an intuition that after all must unveil for
m what. we arc in n;ality and truth, behind tl1e appearances and deep
·within ourselves-¾~rhout ::isking how ~m:h an imuilion i:s possible? For
Lhe essence of lite, the essence of its temporal or intentional strnctur<',
the: cssf'ncc of each type of inlcnlionalil}', etc., cannot come to occupy
our mind if some prior order h~d not. learl from the la ti.er to the funne1:
How can someone who has never seen a color intuit its essence? How can
an instance th;:it iR ir1 it~df forc:ign to life, which would be anything but
a living being, become aware of life's essence, or catch hold of its most
internal possihilily?
In addition, ;:is soon ::is hf' proposc11 to produce a theory uf e~sences,
as one of the centerpieces of the new method he has in view, Hm.~crl
knows that. the mere fa.dual Yision of a particular e:,sence does not suflice:
One must show how such a vision of an ideal g<"ncrality i11 formcd-;io
that it could occur in our experience. And one must also show why and
how it h;ippcns that I.his \'isiou is of this essence rather than another one,
of life, rather than of a circle or a horse. For rhf' fact of "11ccing," comid-
ered in ils intentional phenomenological strucmre, does not allow the
p:-nt.icular comenl ofwhaL i.-,; seen to be determined. The appearance of
the world, the "outside itself" in which seeing i~ rleployc<l, we daimcd,
can never at:cuunL for whal is unveiled in it.
The rheory of th~ inmition of essences lrcat.:; lhis problem. The in-
tuition of an essence is always constructed from i;ingnlar givens. Lcl iL be
lhc es!.ence of red-the genilli, the species, and the red. The process that
·will end up in the inmition of "red" :i.~ ~1Kh rlrn:s clcpcnd mi a ~cries of
particular perceptions which are always of particub.r oqjects: the rerl of
the blotting paper uu my r..lesk, the red of this dress, etc. Leaving to the
side the particular objects of these v;irious pcn:cpticm~ so as noL to con-
sider what lhete is in common between them, I fix my attention on this identical
nnit,1>rml that. vision ca11 dra\v from all uf these perceptions, and I then see
it, in a very clear view·. '"We see ir-th~re it i1,; there is what we mean, Lhis
species red" (Hua II, 5 7 / 1i). This is the process of idealizing- abstraction
that on the basis of singular givens rc.1.dies Lhe clear and distinct vision
of an identical element that i'l common lu lh<.::m, which is a new objert,
uf another order, an ideal ohjec:r that i~ itself given in an intuition of an-
other order, the i11 t uilion ol' an ideal generality perccivctl as such: the
inmi tiou of lhe essence.
Let ,1s now apply this Lhco.ry of the formation of the inmition of
essences to the inmition oflifo {a.nd, in the same way, to all the cs3cnccs
01 "essential forms" that are connected Lo it). For the essence (species,
genus, and gcncn1lily) to be seen in a clear vision, and as such to be
certain of itselt~ thus implies the prnccs'.-1 of idealizing abstraction that
neccs~arily lake~ it.s point of departure from singular and real giYens, ln
the case oflifc's cs:.cn<.:e (and all the essences that concern it). these giv"
ens are real, singular wg;.tationes. From a multiplicity of cogitatioru:.~ of this
kind, what they have in common can anrl rnm;t ue read-the identical
universal that. p.-opcdy <ldines their essence.
And yet when vision look..~ Lu rnL<.::h hold of them, the singular and
rc::-il r:ogilalilfttts vanish under its gaze, a long wilh all lhe actual modalities
of life (its hyletic as well a.~ i~ noetic content, in Husserl's lan~uat:>;e-
imprcllsiuns as well as intentional operations). That was ll1e hidden motif
of the themar.ic turn whcicuy tl1e phenomenological method soughl lo
substitute in place of t.hf'M' clu3ivc co!:!,ilatum,:s their ~essences," which :i.rc
ideal 04ie<.::1.ivities, external to the reality of cm1.~ciousness, "transcendent,"
offered to the ga7e ofimcutionality, and both visible and capahlc ofhcing
intuited in it. But the possibiliry rhat thcl!c c~scnces are capable of being
intuited in a clear and distinct vision collapses if it i.-. thl: result of a process
of ideation i:hat rest:. m1 :aingular and real cogi:ta.tiones tha.t arc inaccessible
lo vision. This is the aporia rhat hrcaks the phenomenological method.

§ 14. A Final Attempt to Overcome the Aporia_ The Question of

Invisible Lite "Given in Imagination."

Hus.~crl s111\·cs lo overcome the aporfa v.~.rh arhnirable patience. How

can one have a dear 1,,ision of the i:ogilalio's essence when the reality of it
is invisibk? Upon which of li±e's singular give.mi can the process of ide-
ation srill .-cst if they an1110 longer thosl! of its reaMy? Upon lhc given:, that at
least play the role of reprc~cnli11g these real invisible cogi,tatio,us: 11po11
their images. For Lhis is what an image is. the rcprc~cnLalion of a realiLy
in its absenre. Ry forming image:, of multiple perception.~, for cxampk:,
I would be able to recognize. on thdr images, the common structure of
all of thci;c perceptions: the essence of percept ion. And the same goes for
the essence of imagin;uion, memory, siguifyin~ thought, etc. Not only is
the frc1.: imagination of all possible cogitatione~ {for each ~pc of cugitaliu)
capable of supplying an indefinite multiplidi:y of singular gi\·c11~ fur tl1e
work of the act of idealizing abstraction, hut this free fiction is constitu·
tivc: of ~,u:h au acL and its operation. For it is by forming as many singular
givens as one likes (as m:rny singular pcn.:cptious, singular imaginations,
and singular memories)-hy ronfcning 011 Lhcm all possible, imaginable
c:hm·ac.:Lc1islic::,-that liction traces the dividing line between those lhaL
are necess~u-y for the internal r:onsti1ui1011 of the reality in question (the
n:alilyofan act of perception, an act ofimagination, etc.) and rhose with-
om which it is :;till po:;siblt:-between the characteristics necessary for it~
existence and the ::iccirlental or conlingcnt characteristics; only the for-
mer constitute its essence. "Fiction," Hu11serl daimx in a famous propo-
sition, "is an i::-scnLial clement for phenomenology as for every eidetic
science in g-eneral." Fiction in rhi.~ case mi_:an:; the .substitution for the giv-
em oflile's reality, which elude us, their imaginary rcprc~cnlauves-the
singular givcm "in imagimnion," of which the imagination can supply as
millly and as varied copies as the analysis Gm wi'-lh. The lheory of eidetic
analysis rc8ts upon the free fiction of properties and their variation; rhi.~
is the in,,;enious palliative Hus:;1crl put forwar<l in order to make possible,
by basing itself exclusively on the evidence of pure vi.~ion, a rigurnus and
prccixc:ly eidetic science of transcendental life, even when the reality of
it is hidden to every grasp of this sort.
But the diflicult}' is only displaced. Two crucial rpu~stions cannul
be a.voi<krl. The fin.L cum;ems the phenomenological value that one can
attribute to the image-dat.a f donni~t-en-image] of the singular cogitationcs,
which the fiction has substin.1 ted for their real-gi.r1e.-ri,t TnrlPcd, a fundamen-
tal prescription of the phenomenological method is in question. This
method posited dear and cfoninct. cvidcnu: as the absolute criterion of
validity: Only what is seen in this evidence is g-iven in itsf'lf as it is, "in per·
son," in its reality, so th.it it mcrili1 the Lille "absolute given.'' ls the image
of a wgitatio an absolute given of it, tht> gi"'cn of a ,:ogilulio in it:; 1-eality?
In u1e fiflh of the 1907 Lectures, where this prohlem emcrgci- in iill
its acufry, Husserl seems corn;l.rained to give vision such an extension
(suddenly holding as nothing the criteria of dear a.mi distinct evidence)
rhat it rhrcatcns al I.he same time all the phenomenological di.srinc:tion.~
that are based on it, the rli:-.tinclion bclween the real and the imagined,
between the given in itself and the "simply aimerl at" m "cmply inten-
tion," etc. l t. i~ c:n ough for some Lhi..ng to be seen-· however it may be seen,
and provided that one rnke~ ir a~ iris seen-fur il lo be able to function
as an indisputable given. So what is "aimed ar" v.~rhout bci11g given in
nenon frh~ :.iitrnificalio11 ~dO\/' when no doll is thereL even a fictive or
way, such that this appearance (providL:tl lhal one limits oneself to it) i,,;
sumclhing indisputable. In all of these situalions, vision, here t<1kt:n in
ill! fauing and crepuscular morle;i, remains the final criterion. As soon a:;;
something is seen, '\rn in inllional object is neverthele~s ohviously there"
(Hua TT, n / !i3).
This is notahly the case fur the image, the only case rhat. intcrcsls
us here in that the given in imagination must supply its .~uhstratc tu Liu:
vi~iou of essences. In every image. Mimcthing is indeed present to th('
mind. ''\,\Then I call forth a Ge lion in my imagination, so t.hat, ~ay, before
me SL. George the knight is killing a dragon, is it not evident that this
im::igine.rl phL:num<:uon represents precisely Sr. George [ ... ]?" (Hua 11,
72 / 53). A de.monsl.ration that the given in imagination um be used
lo support the intuition of ;rn c1,.-.;cucc is made ,-.ith respect to color. If I
consirlcr an imagined color, and not a sensed one, iL is still something
before my g:.ve. lt. suffices Lhen to "reduce" it, not to r.omrickr il as the
''imagined color" of a blotting paper or a dress, but in itself, in or<lcr to
be in the presence of the phenomenon "im:.gin<.'.U color," and to take
this just as it appears to me. "l 1. appears," Husserl says, "and it appears in
itself r''.w. n:~duri:nt und e,scheint selbst"] [... ] ; in an aLl of seeing it in its
re-presentation, l can make judgments about it and about rhf' momL:nts
Lhat constitute it, and their intcn:011nc;clions" (Hua 11, 70 / 51). Rm to
perceive the moments and their relatiom that constitute an imagined
color is to perceive the c~~e11cc of the color, which is nothing- other llian
this ncce:,;sary relation of these moment,;;. So llte intuition of the essence
of the color takt:s place in tl1e absence of any real color and of every con-
sideration having to do with ils existence.
The same goes for the intuition of Lhe essences of the w.~tationes,
of lifo and of all i ls modalities. On the basi~ of the image-data of singular
cogitation.es, in the ah!K'Iu:e of their real existence, it ii- pos:1ible to read
the properties of these cogi.tationrs a.~ well a!l the set of necessary rel;uions
that unite them and which constitute their typic::al sl:mcture (their es-
sences). For life, as for all othn l!Urts of "objects" or ''phenomena," the
inluilion of its essence is still pos~ihlc in Lhe absence of its reality. The
possibility of a phenomenology of transcendental life based on vision
seems guaranteed.
A difficulty remains, under which the aporia is uow hidden-the
entire aporia'. We will willingly concede that th~ image ha:; a content,
and that this constitutes an inconlc:~table given for as long as one holt.ls
to what actua11y appears in it (even while we re min some doubt about the
capacity of the imagf: to .mpply a dear and distinct content on which one
could perceive clearly and distinctly Llie properties or strucmn•:;i that \'v-ill
be thm,c of lhe essence). For it is rathl"r ::i ccrlain "haziness" that charac-
because everything that it gives, it gives in the absence of the rt'ahty of
what it givc:-1. As we 1:.now, ii. i!! impossible lo decipher how many columns
a temple ha8 from the image uf ii;; fa<,;ade.
But in the end, let us suppose that despite this "haziness" the mulii-
plication of the giv1·'.T1s in imagim1tion iIJ 1J1c free flu.ion makes it possible
lo obtain constant, inva1iable properties from them, whkh will rlefmc
Lhe e::,sence wught. It is the content of chis given in imagination tha.r
shonlc-1 he inve~rigatcd further. It i:; there, we see it in a certain way, and
·we can concede its existence-its imaginary existence. Rnt the quc-,tion i'I
whctJ1cr it is possihk for :;m:h a content in imagination to represent, not
anything· at aH, bm precisely a mgi.tatia. for as long as we refer Lu a factual
possibility, this seems to exist: l can indeed represent fright or sadnci,.\ in
ar1 image. \<Vith a11 oLser~ation like this, howe-.,-er, one no longer remains
within the domain ofphilmophy, any more lhar1 uue remains within the
domain of philosophy it one is satisfied to allege that 1 h~vf: the. power to
move my haml an<l lo grasp an object. It must be repeated: l'hilosophy
is essentially transcendental. Tt'I task is to umlcntan<l u. p1iu,i how a par-
ticular thing is possible, precisely its transcendental possibility. So beforf'
the most simple and self-e.virlc11t "plH:nomcnon," phenomenology asks
how such a phenomenon-every conceivable phenomenon-i.~ pn;;sihlc
in general. B)' virlue of it5 appearing. But in whar. does this appearing
itself con.~ist, whar is ir in il lhat alkms it tu appear, and of what is its phe-
nomenological material made? In ~hon, this is the set of q11e~timu whose
numcrnus i111pliu1liurn; lhe phenomenolog-y ofhle endeavors to explore.
If we look back at Hrn:.'lerl'i- theory of the iuluitiu11 of es::;ences, we
see that it breaks down into two distinct moment&, one of which is philo-
-~ophical and Lhe ot.her uf which b not. The first consists in inquiring
about the internal pmsihilit:y of an inluilion of "es~cncc" in general, and
the response consists in the analysis of a proces~ nf irlcalizing ahsl.rn<:-
t.ion that take'! iL'> poinl of departure from singular givens-with it being
understood that these initial givens h::ive no need ro deliver a real exis-
tence to us; the image-data of this existence can suffice. In this way, for
the \1sion of life'~ cs:;cncc, the image-data of the real cogitationes make
it possible to read upon them the charnct.crs l.hal arc common to every
cugilu.l-iu.
Hm hnw are thc. imagc-clata of Lhc real l·ogitaliu1u,~ themselves pos-
sible? How could one in fact see from :rn imagP- rhc ~pccific comcul lhat.
one calb a wgilaliu and whose property is to shy away from every possible
vision and thus from every im;ig~ that one woul[l form of iL-and do this
in some sense where one takes the word image (since: it's a mat.fer in
each ca:,;c of whal u1Ters it.self to the sight of a vision) from its objective or
noematic correl,ne? Hrn1scrl hen: ahanclons tJ1e transcendental inquiry
 n itself) of the formation of an image of lhe invisible cogitatio, in order
:o hold to the naive, pre-r.ritical, and also highly problematic al:I-irmation
:hat such an im:tge exi;1ts. That is how cl1c Lnu.1:scendental phenomenol-
>~y (which clai.L11S to be and wants to be transcendent.-11) of:ml!jcctivity (in
Jther words, of life and its cogi.tation.es) moves in a va~l circle-the circle
1f the phcnmncnulugical method: ,vanting to grasp these w{!;i,tationes in
l vision and being unauk Lo :,ee them, it substitutes their own essence
tor them-a transcendent, noemat.ic essence Lhat one can in fact see in
::kar aud distinct evidence. But the constn1ction of thi5 e.~~c11cc musl rer.t
Llpon these real cogitationeg hcing given in person, givens that do not exist.
One then substitutes, so to speak, image-data for these incxist.cul givens
,)f rca1 m!Jilaliune~-. This is the second substitution in which the aporia
l)ccurs: For how ancl on what basis can one form an image of what one
knows nothing about?
Let us comider givenness-in-image, in itself and as such. Tl is an im-
aging, putting out~irlc what comliLule~ as such the pure dimens.ion of the
imaginary--a milieu of universal and empty cxt.criorily, which still con-
tains no image, hut sketches a ptiari the form of every conceivable image,
Lhe possibility of it coming to appearance, in which it will give it.self to
vision as an image and .iIJ I.he form of an image. This appearing-, which
gives in an image, which effectuates this imaging, this milieu of pure ex~
teriority where every visible takes form ;mrl becomes visible in the form
of an image, and qua image, this is the appearing of the world. For the
world, grasped in the nu di ry of it.~ pure appearing, im.lependen tly of eveq1
cuIJlent, is an Imago, the originary and pure Im::ige, the pure lmag-inary-
en.1 imrzginariurn-iu which everything that will show itself in it ·will take
the form of an image.
We have recognized three decisive charartcristi<~~ of the world's ap-
pcanng:

1) The facl tl1at iL i~ impo3sible, on the basis ot it, to give an accoum of

what. appearn in it, of the particular cuntcnl that il unveils.
2) The fact that since rhis unveiling occun as an auto-cxlcrnali.z.tliun of
cxlcriorily that places everything outside itself, ~,ripping it of its own
reality, everi:thing tha.r. is unveiled in it i~ marked in principle with the
seal of unreality. The inte1v.-etation of the worl<l as Imago, as a pure
imaginary dimcnsiun in which everything that ~ how~ irne lf hears a
pricm the fonn of an image, in iu; own w·ay munes lhe process of un-
n;aliwLion I.hat makes up every ek-static appearan<:e.
3) The tact that, in this appearing whid1 l(ufurl5 as auto .. extem;ilh:ation,
somerhing likr: a rran.sr.endcnta.l lifc that rwthiug .:ver separates from
it.self is impossible in principle. That i~ aim why the reality of life, iLs
 These are tht> ch::iract~ristics inherent to the world's appearing
in which vision is deployed, and with which the phenomenological
method colludes in its aporetic attempt to see what one uevtT :;ees. Thus
the im1.hili1y of thG dam et distincta perce-ptio to grasp the cogitatio in its
reality is explained. And at the same time, its inabili Ly to cxplai, 1 the s, :t cif
prnpcnics that the mgdatio take,;; from this reality, from its self-revelation
in lifo (in particular its ipseity): and finally also its inability to produce,
for lack of the cogitatio's reality, at least its given in imaginalion-if il is
true lhal from I.he Imago of rhc world, in which every image takes form,
i:he fact that this has this particular content (that it is, for example, the
image ofa cogitalio) is never lq~ibk.
in Eugen Fink's Si.xth Cartesian ,'vfeditatwn, dedicated to a transcen-
dental theory of the phenomenological method, which he thought
should be added to Hus~erl's five Carle~ian 1.vledilalirms, the a.poria is fully
exposed. The gnal ofthf': met.hod is indeed to c;ee transcendental life, and
this ";sion is accomplished by putting this liie outside itself, in its division
from iu;elf, in its cleavage, \\'hen il dm.:s come oul,-idc itself :md in t.hi.~
division with itself, life gives irself to be seen by a possible spectator, in
this case the phenomenologi.sL hirm,elf. "lu the a.chicvcrncnt of the red ne-
t.ion, transcendental lifr is pllt mJ.fsidr. itself. by producing the Onlooker,
it deaves itself, and divides itself. llut this division is transcendenra.l sub-
jectivity's condition ojpmsibilit:yf(lr·readtingits,:lj."* Thw by lending lo life a
mode of appearing inrnmpat.ihle V1ri.th its essence, phenomenology claims
to ground this life's very seli~achievement, the access to itself that cousLi-
tutes precisely Lhe essence uf il.

§ 15. The Originary Self-Revelation of Life r.1s the Foundation ot the

Phenomenological Method. A Response to the General Philosophical
Problem Concerning the Possibility of Thinking Life.

llut what do ,•le ourselves say about this aporia? How does the radical µhe·
nomenology of life claim to ovuum1<..: il? Is not phcnomc:nology a phi-
losophy. and philosophy a thought. a thought that comes about through
vision? According to one of our µn:viuw; ub:,crvatitms, a work ofphilos-

* Eugen Fink, H. Ca.rte.,ir.ni.,d,,11 M~,ditc.tin·n. Tr,il 1. n;,, T,!.er, EinerTm·,,s,,l'nd,,•1111./en }vfel/,!)(!mld11F

(The Ilague: Kluwn, 199R'., / Si:,:ihu,• iW,,,/iJ.11lim1. 1.mt1hi1m:rw. L'frifr d'une lh1'on;, ran.und,mial.e
de la mith()(/e, F"rench trans. N. Depraz (f'aris: Ed.Jc'rom~ Millon, 19!H). p. 7fi ! s,:,,-;1, Cw/«
.Yian M,ditatiori; Tiu Idea (>j a Tmnscendmt,;l Th~ory rif Mt<tliod, trans. Ronald Tinl7ina (Bloom-
ington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 19%) {Fink's emphasi,).
::,phy is nothing other than a serie5 of inrnit.ion.~ or evidence.~ needing- Lo
be connected according to a chain ofnece55aryrea~orn, and to be formu-
lated in propositions whose givenness (rearling or writing) i,sclfluok::1 to
dsion, to the Orc,:k Log-os, for its possibility. lflife is invisible_. then, how
1s il possible to have access to it in thought, and how is a philosophy of
life still possib\6
There is no a,cess m life. that would take its puinl of departure
outside life, in the ~outside itself," or that would owt> ro this out~idc uf
selfir~ power m find its way Llw,ard life and to encourner it. ~\/o access to
life comes by taking it in v;ew in some way, whether directly as an abso-
lute given (pcn:dved in clear and distinct evidence); or indirectly (on
thi,o;; life's; image.-rlat.a); or again u11 il.'i essence (offered to the apodictic
vision of the intueri: of a pure undena:rnrling, or intuitus); or .in a superior
iuLdligibiliL~; or on some ideal archetype (seen by it and eluding fatf').
There is no ar.r.f'~s to life resting on any ol>ject, or any noematic corre-
lates, from 1,,.,hich it would be possible to .-er.over the inlcnliuualit.ies I.hat
"rnnsliluted" them; or on intentional objects that serve as a guide for
describing and analyzing the performances of lrnnscendental life that
c:onfcr 011 Lhcm the meaning they have for this life (of being of real
o~jects, imaginary, of eo;;senrP.~, of sense, of nonsense, eu.:.). There is no
access to lite resting outside it, and thus re.:ning on that whid1 i~ uul.'ii<le
it, on what is other, external, and different. lt is impossible to seek, in
the world, among th;c de.::i<l, what c:orm:s from life-a single living being.
There is no access to life except in it, by it, and from it. Jr is only
hc:cam;c already, before us, always, in the beginning and as this very He-
ginning, an ab-.olute 1.ifr (the unique an<l ab~ulule Life of God_. which
is none other than this unique and absolute Life) h::i,~ <'.Orne in it.self hy
undergoing- experiencing itself in the pathos-laden trial of the Fir&t liv"ing
Self (whi<'.h is iTs ,,voni): thaL in abwlute Life's arrival in itself, and in the
test that it makes of itself in its "\Vord, we arrived in mm1dvc~ in us, in such
a '¾~..iy that we an: livin~ beings. How do we have access to life? Dy having
access to ourselves, in this relation ro oneself in which every conceivable
Self, and each time a singular Self, is edified. Bur. this relation to oncsdf
(1J1is access Lo ourselves) precedes us; we are tl1e result of it. It is the trial
ot our generation, since we have arrived in ourselve~, hccoming- Lhc Self
that we arc, only iu lhe eternal proceeding in which absolute Life comes
in it~<>lf. Jn amt through tha.l trial alone, lhe lidng come to Life_
Living, we are bein_gs of the invisih\c. We an: intelligible only in
the invi.~ihlc, and ou the bas.is of it. Thus we cannot understand our tme
nature in the world on the hasis of its phcnomcnulo!5ical ~lructure~, from
which life is concealed. All the worldly <>xplanatiom of the human being,
which proliferate today, confer on the human being propenies taken
from things, forgetting its living reality. In the world, the human being
puts up its fr:-ibrilc and pn:c:arious si111011cllc, aml ouc uaivdy idenlifies
onesclfv.ith this silhouette, which one believes lo bt: Lhat. of um::\ Luu~,
whose posture one imagines explaining on the basis of the posture of
other bipeds, even qmidrnpeds, or from aquatic precur~or.<:. So the force:
that runs tluough this body, which makes this silhouette stand erect, is
Lhat of the physico-chemical processes that constitute the mate1ial of
,hi;; body, its rrne mhstanc~-a hndy horn from the silt. of Lhc ca.rl11,
decidedly. As if something lilw a force could exist somewhere other than where it
11.ndr,rgrie~ jf.eling it,.l"r.lf rL1· a fim:r.-whcn:, g,ivcn Lu iu;clf in palhos, in Life's
absolute se.lf-givenness, it feels the pathos. As if a human body could he
something other than a living flesh, an invisible tlesh, intelligible in the
invisihlc of life and only on Lhat basis.
Abandoned to its vision, thought cannot see any of this: Tm knowl-
edge has become a science of objects, which knows nothing about man.
The inldligihiliLy al it.-; di:sposal is l11uughL's \'ision, I.he visibility of the
horizon where its vision is deployed. It is an intelligibility th::it allows us
lruly lo understand things-not just because the:se things simply show
themselves in it in their opaque and incomprehensible facticity. Their
archetypes also give themselves to seeing, in this vision of a higher degree,
i11 lite supreme lnlclligibiliLy, which rnufruuts us witJt Iuudligibility itself,
opening- m to ics resp lend em light. The salvation of man, in of.her word~
his true reality, does not only reside in this higher Intelligibility (as all
t.hc Platonic: gnoscs v.;11 repeat.). lkcau,;;c these Archetypes arc ali;o Ll10sc
of things, and because the contemplation of them served as the model
for the creation of this world (which is our own, it seems), it contains
precisely the int<clligihilit.y of thili world. Not its mere obscrvaliou, but
precisely the seat of intelligibility that presided over its formation, and
because it is this possibility which is intelligible ( because we read the
Archerypes in fhc light that illumir1atcs fhcm), tbc po~sihility of a p,iuri
knowledge of the world and of everything that exists. The theories of
knowledge Lhal will charant:riLt: mo<lcrn philosophy wlll preserve the
rr::ice ofrhis amhit.ion, even if, ccntcrc1l on this world and having bccumc
prosaic, they will have abandoned every soteriological pretension.
An:h-i11lclligihilily dcnoLes au Imclligibility of another order, fun-
damentally foreign to the one that has just been in question, and whic.h
does indeed come about before it: before the vision ofthin:;l;S, before the
vi~io11 of Archcl.ypcs according; Lo which things are consLrncted, before
every vision, before the transcendental event from which every vision
gains its possibility, before the coming outside of the "outside itself'' of
the horizon of visibility of every conceivable visible, before the appear-
ance of the world-before irs creation. The Arch-intelligihilit:y is that
of Life-of the Tm-i~ihle. rn Life's Ard1-i11tdlig:ibilily life itself becomes
intelligible-the trial ofiTs ~If-generation as the gem:n.1.Lion within it of
the First Lh-ing Self in which it. unrkrgocs cxpnit:m.:ing itself and is thus
revealed to iL~eU:--the generation of its ,i\-'ord, which indeed comes in the
beginning, since life arrives in that generation and undergoc:~ experienc-
ing it~df only in its '\Von.l, which anives in it and undergoes experiencing
itself only in life. It is this trial uflife's self-generation as its selt~revebtion
in the Word that constimtes rhe Arc:h-intclligihilily of which John speaks.
Not. a grn,:;is, but (because it owes nothing to the contemplation of Intel-
ligibility, or to any kind of contemplation) an Ard1-g:nmis.
And this means in particular that in it5 Arch-intelligihility, Life
comes into il before every thought; it gains access to itself wir.hout
thought. And that is why no thought rau reach into it. ~o thought can
live. So Arch·intelligibility really means an Intelligihility that pn:cc<le.s
everything we ha11c uuden,tood by this term since the Greeks-precedes
all contemplation, anrl every opening: of a ".space" to which a 'ltision can
be open. 1'u1 Intelligibility that, as it reveals itself to iu;;dfbcfon: thought
and indepencfrntly ofit, owes it uoLhing, but owes revealing itself to itself
only to itself: An Arch..intelligibility that is an Auto-intelligihilit.y, a sdf-
revel:u.ion in r.his raclic.:al :;cnsc; Life.
In this book, however, arc we not tryiug lo "think" life? And yet it is
never life, it seems, that carries om the unveiling of what is said, in lhis
serieg of r.vi<lcru:cll a111l pmpositiom that make up its content. Proposi-
tions, intuitions, or e\idences can be given only to the view of a vision,
aw.1 if possible in a clear and distinct view. Thus we claim against Hrni:..crl
that it is never life's rcalily lhal is shown in this way, in any kind ofvi.sion,
and that, for example, the dam a ,1.i.~tin.r.ta pcra:pti<J ofa cugilal·io is simply
impossible. Is Husserl's aporia not our own?
Bul if nu thought enables us to reach life, our life, shoulrl we not
turn the question around, an<l a.~k: How does Lhought,just one thought,
reach il~dfr This was precisely the extraordinary intuirion of Descartc.:..:
lt is precisely not hy thought, or in thought, thal thought attains itself.
It is not in a vision that vision i,<; given to it:..df. TI1c appearing in which
vision is revealed to itself (the semblance in which it seems that I sec) i~
not the appearance in which vi:..ion secs what it sees. The cogitaiio is not
auained in the evidence of a dara. et di.stincta pe:rceptfo, hut in the absence
of it, after <lo ubl hru. disqualified all evidence. The w[!;itatio reveals itself
in itself. Its essence comisL~ i11 l11al: in Lhe fact of being revealed to itself
in lhe absence of the world and of everything that one secs in iL The
cogi.tafio i~ a sdf-rcvdation.
It is true that. De~c-i.rt.cs thought sclf-r~velation only in a speculative
·way, negatively throu.gh the immense pron~s'I of doulit, and positively
under tlie heading Idea, which is the form every cogitatio takes in the im-
mediate perception of whid1 we are conscious of this same cogitat-io. lt was
only a firsr. 1.tep, quickly forgotten, Wwanl c.:.1.lliug Creek presuppositions
radically into question. The task of a phenomenology of life is to think
self-revdation phenomenologically, not l.o grasp it as "' higher degree
of factuality, but in it most internal, transcendental possibility, in what
make:; il effective, in the phenomenological material of which every 5f"lf-
revelation c.onsi,;t~, in ,.,fod1 il take:. place and can take place-in lite's
pathos-filled flesh.
A.<1 soon a~ life replaces Lhc cogi,lalio as the site and theme of the medi-
tation, as soon as the Johan nine Arch-intr.lligihility Mands out hchiml a
Latin word, tl1e equivocations and terrible limitations of a prohlr.m that.
is :-;till suppo~t:<lly raLiuual (as lO its outcome in the intuitus of an intumi)
are swept aside. First, the ecp1ivocarimrn: The same lcrm-lhought,
cogitatio-cannot denote both the intentional vision that is thrmvn 011t-
si1lc itself toward a lramcendent object and the first self-revelation of this
thought in the absence of every vision. Consc:iowmcs:-1 camml. be "always
consciousness of sometl1ing," "having consciousness ofsomething, something
that I experience, or ,hat l think, or s1:n:-1c, or sec," in shorl, always pos-
sessing "its cogitatun{ (Hua VI, §iO, 84 / 82; translation modified) ann, ;n
the :.amc Lime, be pure hyl,;;, non-intentional material, pure, "originary"
impre5sion. fn thi.~ latter c;.1.sc:, om: mu:.t adllitlly ~ar what makes up the
revelation-the revelation of the impression when it is no longer the
work ofintcntionality-aml whel11e1 there is still one.
Next, the dreadful limitation'\ ,;urroun<ling this set of prnhk1m;:
Even when taken in its authentic Cartesian sense, as a self-revelation inde-
pr.nrknr nf all evidence, the cugitalio cannot be lefl to itself. That it reveals
itself to itself is not its own doing. 1t. i,; not wh:H h1ings il8df i11lu i1.:; own
condition: It is a wgitatio only in absolute Life's self-revelation. Ann, in
rhe .'lame way, if we dctci:I au ego iu i:very lOgilalio, it is only because, hav-
ing an-ived in itself in absolute Life's arrival in itse If in the Tp~ci ty of i L~
Wur<l, it is mc.U-ked at its bitth with this indelible lpseity, which belongs to
every arrival in om:sdf, as iL,; cowlitiou, every phenomenological accom-
plishment of which i5 a singular Self. Far from the cogito being a point of
departure arnl I.he cugilaliu a self-sullicient order on its own, they are both
only the result of a genennion. On this ~icic of ttH: cogitu (au<l uf it:; cugi-
tatio and its ego), before it, well before it as within i.t, 1.ife. arrnmpli~hcs
the eternal work in which, engendering itself on its own, it engenders
everyone alive. The most ordinary w{!j.tatirJ, the mmthurnhlc impression,
is intelligible only in Johannine Arch-intelligibility.
But is all lhis nul ~umel..hing we see? Is it not in a vision, in its clear
view, that we have reco?;11ized the trial of our hinh, what ani1-es before
us and that John places in the beginning-::, v\,'hat. then is lhis trial ofabso-
lule Life's self-generation in the first Self in v.:hic.h it. i~ undergone, ~df-
n:vcalcd, and becomes life, the implication of rhi.s trial in every life aml
every living Sdf, i11 every 1:ogilatio-what is this in our philosophical re·
flcc:t.imr if not tl1,; intuition of tlw e5sence of an absolute Life that brings itself
about in itself, the ,ntu.i.ti.(rn of thr. PR.wmr:e of irnma11e11ce, ils immanence in
everyone living, the intu.itinn in f'l}idenr:e of the e:.·sena uf ip:;t:i l}', of the essence
of an ego like ours, which is possible onJy in this ipscit.y that precedes it,
which uncea.singly says "L" ;'me," yet v,ithout being brought by itself into
lhis condition of being the ego it is, and without being ahlc to do l!o? But
how is all this knowledge, Lhe intuition of all these "essences," possible if
no vision and no thought ever secs lift:?
And yet this vision is a cogUatio. 1t. ii. n:vc:alcd to iLsdf, not in a "ision
aml a.~ llH.: obj eel of this vision, but like every co.'!itati.(): in ahsolutc life'!!
self-revelation in whic.h every modality of life ls given to itself, revealed
to itself, undergoes experiencing itself, foe]~ it1'1df, au<l ertjoys itself-in
the pathos-laden immediacy and certitude of this enjoyment of it1-1df.
As cogitatio-revealed to itself in lifr''I ~df-rcvclalion and being nothing
other rhan this pure trial of itself in its pathos-filled immediacr-thc
vision is at every point Hkt: a ;;arlncs;;, or like some olher passion, as Des-
cartes said-this sadness or passion rhat emerged <1.lone from nothing
when seeing and its evidence had been disqualified. the worlri anrl ils
appearance rendered void.
And certitude, which emerges as the ultimate found;;ition at the very
momr.nt. evidence i:; <lii;qualified, and in favor ofits disqualification, roust
be dearly understood. Tt is precisely 110La phenomenon of thought, some
judgment brought by thought with respect to sadne.1.s or any other pa:i-
sion, or T.o vision, iu;elf unden,tood as a cogitatio. The cert11.inty of a sac-lness
is the experience. ir has of itself; it rnusi~ls in the experience in which the
sadness consists, in such a way that it begins ,1nrl cnrls wilh il and I.he mate-
rial this certainty is made of is none other than the one sadness is made
of, its pathos. Certainty is life's cerrainty, thr. rcnaint.y il has of being alive,
I.he Lriumphal Parousia ofits pathos-filled self-rt'w~lat.ion enjoying iu;clf.
So we are now in the presence of phenomenology's reversal. thanks
to which these numerous aporias fall apan. This reversal has a prior con-
dition, the cnlargcmenL of tl1e concept of phenomenality on which the
entire phenomF.nological cntcrµri~c re::.t.s. By opposing a more originary
mode of manifestation (the immanent sclt:rcvclalion of life in its invis-
ible pathos} to the ck-stalic appearance of the ·world, which governs the
development of western thought. from Greece, Ille phenomenology of
life offers entirely new tasks for investigation. :'lot only tlic syslt:matic ex-
ploration of Lhe invisible, which determines the depth of our hcing and
::ipan from which it becomes impussiLle Lu understand anything of man,
or the set of problems that concern his true reality. Om: of Lhe~e prob-
lems, in particular, arises with urgency, hec:auRc it follows immcuialel~
from the duality ofappcaring·, 01\ as we put it, its duplicity. It is a question
of making intelligible the relation that obtains between these two decisive
mnrie.~ whereby phenomena.lily becomes phenomenal: the visible and the
invisible. This is precisely whuc Husserl's aporia stands, which ,ve must
in turn resolve. How is the phenomenological method sLill possible if it
is a riuc~tinn of thought following the analysis of something that escapes
it in principle, of grasping it in adequate': r.onccpt~, or formin~ 1-<1.rious
"c::1sc11<.:cs'' LhaL this mysterious invisible obeys?
The: rcvcrst.1.l of phenomenology is written as follows: lt is not tlwuf(ht
that gi,ves us access to life.; it i.s life tho.t n.llm11s thought /u a.~u::,s itself, to undergo
experiencing itself and at last to be what it alway~ is, thte sclf-rcvclatiuu
of a "mgi,tatia." Pn:cisd~ bcrnu.~e it is always and necessarily a cagitatio,
thought has come to denote innistinrt.ly, undc, Lhc same fallacious con·
ccpl, lwu appearnnces as diHerent as intentional vision and that which al-
lov.'S this vision to occur ro itself i11 Lhc absence of every vision: its pathos-
filled self-givenness in absolute Life.
Thrn; Arch-i11tdligibilily uoes not only come before every conceiv-
able intelligibility, ir fonnd~ intelligihility and makes il possible: \Vhat is
intelligible, comprehensible, and capable ofbein~ grasper! hy us i.~ what
we can see, in a dear view. luLdligible; that which is given to thought's
sight, things, and first of all essences, rhe ::irc.hcrypc~ withoul which we
woul<l unly ~ee without knowing what we see. Uefore that lntelligihili1y,
to which modernity limil.\ iu; knowledge, comes the Arch·intelli,gibility
in which absolute Life is re\'ealed to irse1f, and in this way, every life,
every modality oflife and every conceivable living. According to \.farx's
too-sek1om pondered wor<ls, lflu'Ught is a rrwde of life. There is no thought,
therefore, that is not given to itself in absolute life's sclf-givenuess. Only
hec:-m.~c, given to iL~clf in life, vision has been placed in itself, coinciding
with self in its immanf:nce m ir.sclf and in il.s palhos-filled embrace with
itself, is it a vision that is certain of itself, c:ertain of seeing anu uf seeing
1:vcry1.hing that il ~ees. It is only in \1.sion's certainty of being a vision, :-mri
thus of seeing what it sees, that evidenc:c is possihk. The certainty that
uwes nothing to evidence and that is foreign to it is the one t.hat. estah-
lishes ir. The one who says, "I do not believe what l'm seeing" formulates
an absurd proposition if there i.~ no vision thal doc:; 11ot owe being vision
(and lhus seeing and seeing everything it sees) to the invisible certainty
that Ii.fr, in its pathm-fillcd sclf-givermcss, has of being life---if there js no
\1.sion, and no fragment of the visible, that <locsn 't require Lhe invisible. If
then: is 110 Intelligibility, which men and women have always demamkd
of their knowktlgc and their science, that carries the omnipolent secret
one cannor ~ee within iL, Lht:: Arch-intellig-ibility of ;i hsolute life in which
every pow.-r is given to Lhem.
Now, if thought is possibk a:-1 a mode of lite, because 1he certaimy
of its vision is in reality lifr's own certainty, a question remaim, wl1ich is
our own: How can we gain in thought a knowledge of this life that gives
t.hi~ vi~iou Lo iu;elf, yet ·without showing itself to it? In uue sense, we have
set the aporia a.~illc..:. \Ve know that we can never :;itt.ain life in a vision, but
only where it attains itself (where we have always already arrived in our-
selves) in absolnrc Life, according to the Arch-intelligihilit.y of tJ1e trial
of i.ts seU:generation a.<; its se.lfMrcvdaLiuu. Neyer again will ,•,e appeal to
vision, lo any knowledge, for onr living cun<lilion.
Kcvcrthdess, we look to see this imi~ihlc life, wl1ich inhabits our
vision and make5 it pmsibk, and we look for it in a thought thal. marks
all kuuwledge, every philosophy, :rnrl not.ably phenomenology, with its de-
cisive charat:tcri~Lic. It was the ingenious ch;;irarteristic of Hus:serl's phe-
nomenological method in the gTips of the aporia (and despite the pre-
supposi l.i 011 always maintained about evi rl c'Tl cc: as or iginary givenness),
to understand that thi~ \~sion would st.ill be eH:ective only on one comli-
tion, which we have expounded at length: tn suh:,lilule for life's invisible
reality an nhjcctivc cqu.ivalent that one can see:, a "nocmaLic" co.-relate
that is lite's ··essence," a ;'transcendent" essence, offered to the gaze of
eicktic i111.uilion-objective indeed. And to nmlcr-:;land that this objec-
tive equivalent wnulri not be life's own, except by sacrificing it,;; 1nvisible
reality, by renouncing the preremion uf bearing it in itself; of offering it~
'\~xist.cm;c" Lo us-by gh,ing itself explicitly as au unreality, a noemaric
unreality, in thi.~ ca~c an "i<leality," an ideal essence.
It is only at the encl of this cxl.n1.ordinary tr~1ectory. colliding again
·with Lhe aporiahe thought he had gotten riu uf, that Husserl cannot fac<'
up to the fin:;il llifficully. How can this ideal essenc:c, or how can tl1ese
image-data from which such an es~cncc must be constructed, really he
those rif lip pnx:i~d)' and not something- else or norhing aL all; how could
the "isible Je:t rhc shallow of the invisible stand out against it, cvcu .in an
indigent form, in an imaginary or ideal form?
The response i:. Lhere for us. llecause in the Ard1-i11Ldligibility in
which absolute lite arrive~ in itself, we arrived in ourselves in our living
cum.lit.ion, in poHession of rh.e l1fe thn.t. has put us in po.1s(;jsion of"aurselves, th1u
knowinf{ it in th.r way ii fawws itself (in the Arch-intclligibil.ity of its pathos)
we can then form a re·presentation nfit, Lhrowing the image or "essence"
out.,;;idc us, in sud1 a way that in them real life in the rcalily of its pathos
is never given to us, bul only its double, a copy, or an irnagc-.some ob-
jective equivalent indeed, h111. cmply, fragile, and as incapable of living w·
of subsisting by ifself. And thi.s is in fac.t why we mil it an image. For what is
proper to every image is that it cannot exist unless supported by a perfor-
mance oflifo, (h1:: act of imagination that forms it and keeps it in front of
its gaze, without which it would immedi~rely nil\;.ipsc i1110 11othingness.
There is no Archetype of life, no visible basis on which we would
have the-leisure to conwmpl.ue in :m aclcquat.c vi~ion whatil "is," ils lrue
essence ..Fink's thesis. whereby life'i- oc.c.111-rence to it~clf consisls in put-
ting life uutsi<le itself, in the gaze of a spectator, is nonsense. The invisible
comes before every concei-...-.ihlc visihlc. Ju ils invincible certainty, in the
pathos of its :suflering Hesh or its Joy, it owes nothing to the visible. Tf in
him it i~ a question of Life, God is far more certain than the world. So are
we. A phenomenology of flesh i~ now possible.
Phenomenology of Flesh

§ 16_ Appearing and Content of the World: The Question at the

"Sensible World."

The reversal of phenomenology overcame the aporia Llta.L Lhought con-

~tamly comes up against in its effort to see and gra.~p our im'isibk lift. By
opposing ahmlutc Life':; ~elf-revelation to the world's ek-statir appear-
ance, where vision only ever sP.cs the visib!t:, the phenomenology of Life
has re cugnized in Life the originary essence of a11 revelation. Because life
originally reveah it.~df lo illldf in its pathos-tilled trial that owes nothing
to the world, every living being know.~ with an absolute knowledge (,.,.ith
the knowledge oflife lhat engenders it by giving it to undergo experienc-
ing itself and to live) what of this come~ from life and what from itself.
Rut in rclaliuu to life, thought turns out to be in the same 'lituat.ion as
this living being_ Tt rim:i; nol fir:.L tl.ii.nk, in order then to live. It is nev~r
thought, based on itself in some way, that ach~am::es toward life in order to
rlir-1<·.ovcr and kiww· it. Thought does not krww l~fe by th.ink.ing it. Knowing: life
is life's o·wn doing, and lifo'i; aloJJc. IL is only because life comes in itself,
in it:s pathos-filled a1Tival in itself (which alv.ffays take:,; precedence) that
something like vhion coming to oneself, for example, cm rn:cur-llraL
vision is possible, c.onscqucntly, along with eve1ything it sees. The reversal
of phenomenology is the recognition ofthi.~ prcn.:4uisite, which prohibits
11.~ from rclaling life to a thought that would be c::ipahle ofmakiug iLmani-
fest, but on the contr,iry refer.~ thought to the trial of life's self-givenncs;;,
uu1.,;ide of which there is nothing.
The reversal of phenomenology is the movement of thought. that
understands what c.omc.s hcforc it: tJ1e self-givenness of absolute I.ifr in
which it occurs to itself in itself. The reversal of phenomenology thinks
Life's precedence over thought. The thought of life's precedence over
thought can indeed be the work of a thought. (the one we are developing
now), ycl Lhis is possible only because, in th~ orrlcr of realily and con-
sequently alsn of philosophical reflection itself, life is alre::idy revealed
to it.sell: So in thinking the precedence of life over thought, it is lite, in
its actual phenomenological accomplishment, life alwa:y.'I already au:om-
plished. in which this thought .i~ given to itself; which allow~ thm1ghr: 1)
to be thought, a cogi-tati.o, and 2) to he, possibly, lhis particular thought,
however cs~cntial, which ensue~ from I.hi~ n.:vcr~al, which shows it~elI ca-
pable of thinking life's precedence over ,hou?;"ht, anrl ;i~ the inner um-
dition of this precedence. llecause given ro irself in life',- self-givenness,
thought heari-1 life wi1hi11 iL a..~ iLs ver~ substance and thus as an essential
gain, it can then represent this life by producing its image or essenr:e. The
entire phenomenological method that endeavors to think life rests upon
rhis prior givenness, which i.s the work ncilhcr of phc:uom~nology nor
ot' thought. lt is always life that makes its self-ol:*·ci:ific::ni.on possihlc in
though L, as the internal condition of this thought as well of as its object.
This radical phenomenological prect><-lcnce nf life i~ what lhought
com,tantly forgets when it takes itself as the principle of all knowledge,
of everything that we cau kuow, of everything that can exist for us. This
forgetting is p,1rticularly r::itastrnphir when ifo. a <1ucstion ofLhinking the
body, or what is connected to it according to an invisible relation, tht>
fh'.sh-nur flc8h. The pheuomcuology of life alone, whose possibilit:ywe
have just recalled, allows m to approach tht: question of the body and the
Oe~h in light of entirely new phenomenological presuppositions. Only
these prernppmirim1~ c:-JT1 c:la1ify a domain where lhc most extreme con-
fusion has always prevailed.
According lo the phcuomcuology of life, there exist. two funda-
mental and irreducible modes of appearing: that of the world, and Lhat
of life. So if it is a matter of treating the question of the body and the
flc~h in a phenomenological per:.pccti~e_. it becomes evident that two
ways are open for the investigation-two w;,y~ that are e.~st'.ntially phe-
nomenological since they are nothing but the two modes of appearing
we arc rlisc:w,sing.
The body's appearance in the world is confose<-1 ,\>ith the ordinary
experience of this body, to the point of becoming identical with it and
defining it. This worldly cxpcriem;c uf the body is what the u-aditional
knowledge of humanity expresses about it. ln the eyes of what we call
"common sense," which is, moreover, only anotl1er way of naming the
habitual reprr.~r.ntation thar human beings make of themselves a11d their
environment, the body is indeed that: an oqject of the worl<l that mon: or
less resembles other objects, and is accessible in the ·world as they are be-
cause it shows itself in it. The ordinary expericrn:c of the hody can ~t:cm
vague, approximate, and ·without value, if one relates it to the exigencies
of a true kuowlc<lgc. In a:, much as such a body shov-'S itself in the appear-
ing of the world, it receives by "irtue of that rcalit.y a f1henrimnwlogir:al and
ontulugi,cal determination that is as radiw.t as it is rigorous. So the banality of
the propr:rtic~ it. mmiifcst~ cannot hide their <lecisiv<:: characler. If, q-ua
"synopsis,~ qua unifying modes of 5howing, t.hP pure: phcnomc11ological
intuitions of time and space are, as we have noted, modes of the world's
 ppcariug Lhat are inherent to its phenomenological .~rructun.:, Lhen all
,orliP-~ that arc showu lo u~ because of this structure take on the dctcr-
1inar.ions (which arc imleed essential) of being spatial :met Temporal
,odies. If the categories of the undcr:.ianding, in so far a.s they are re-
iresentatiom, arc thcm:-;dves modes of presentation {precisely modes of
presenting-fa-front," "positing-in-front") that. co-belong lo the world's
1he11ornenological structure, then everything .~ubmittcd Lu Lhese cate-
;ories is cmmcclc<l according to the interplay of the correlations and
ules they prescribe, and notahly rnusaliLy.
The appearing of the world determines a ,priori the ph1~nomc11ologi-
.al structure of the worldly horly, ;el in ~udi a -mamier that still no real body
s posited that way, The existence of the real body, am! of Lhe collection of
mdics Lhal form the concrete content of thi.,~ worlrl, demands the inter-
·ention of se.mat.ion. Kanl's thesis, a.s we have seen, is only one illnstraticm
tmong others of what we have rf'c:ogni1.cd lo be a general and decisive
:haraclerislic of the appea1ing of the world: its ontological indigence,
ts inability to posit nn it.i; own Llw content that it makes appear ,~ithont
ieing able, for all that. to confer existenc:c on ii. (without being able to
create" it). \\lhP.n this indi~cnce in principle is now manifest rn us with
·egard to the body, it leads us to rhis paradoxical observation: It is pre--
:i~ely nol Ilic appearance of the world that can account fOT the body (a
lOdy of ;my 1-ort., our own as well as any other body), the body that by all
tccounts has its site in the world and hai, always seemed lo belong to it.
rhis is the parnilox; AL first glance, the phenomenological elucirlation
)f the worldly body tean it.~ existence away from the world, calling seri-
msly into question the approach cho~en for cin:umsuibing its nature
md carrying out lhe .:1.nalysis of it.
The real bony the worldly Ludy considered in its concrete
~xistence---the collection of borlie~ that "populate'' the universe, our
)Wn, a:-; well as the bodies of other men and women, animals, or even
:he inert bodies of "things~ -all r.hc~c Lo<lies are sensible bodies. They
,1ave culor:;, odors, and tastes, they are sonorous, or can be if we knock
:m them, they prc:;cul numerous tactile properties-soft ro the touch,
;mooth or rough, sharp, solid like a :;tone, languid lik.e mud, dry or hu-
-nirl, or even vanishing like water between our fingers, Tt i~ hy 1hi~ whole
;et of sensible properties rhat bodies in the universe have always been
defined in the eyes of men and women (in their eye:;, but also their ears,
t.hcir nose, their palate, their hands), since each of r.hc:sc bodies h, noth-
lng but a certain grouping of scmilile qualities that entirely determine
um Lchavior with respect to them, making the.m object.,; Lhal are agree-
~hk or dangerous, useful or not, within our grasp or e.~caping iL.
Yet none of these scmibk qualities, which constitute the OQjecrs
thal make up our environment. derives in any manner wfiat:mcvc1 fron1
the :-ippcaring of Lhc world. This is not to say that the world is not deter-
mining with respcc, to tlwm iu su far as it makes them spatial or tempo-
ral o~jects, or even (which is no less imporlanl.) coherent sets of sensible
properties an<l ohjccL~ each linked according to necessary connections,
whose correlative variations make our acrion on them possible. Thus the
world is 110L only an ordered collection, but ~1-~o a practical tulo.J.ily. l11e
world ·we an'. now speaking about is nothing more than this, however;
the world reduced to its appe<1r<1nrc, to the empty form of E.k-stasis; it is
rhe world cm1siderc<l in its connete content, the world of real olucns
where men and women live and act, the sensible ui<Jrld. And the world owes
I.his sensible content to sensation-to life. Thus lakiug: into account the
scmihlc characlcr of lhe world and its o~iects refers rhe phcnmm:uology
of the world to a phenomenology of life.

§ 17. The Radical Critique of the Sensible World. The Impact and
Limits of Galileo's Reduction.

P.cfnrc applying the phenomenology of life and undersr:m<ling the world

itself as life-worl<l (l R.h.mswelt, Lu use Husserl's expression, in which we ·will
recognize a more radical meaning than the nnc he gives il) it is worth
onr while to open a11 important historical parenthesis. At the beginning
of the seventeenth cenmry, the i1cmiblc world ls the object of a radical
criuque. In parallel with this, the traditional com:c:pLion of \J1e body is
overtnrneri. For it is noLhing less than the sensible nature of the worlrl a'l
well as of the bodies chat compose it. that :,ur..klenly is called into question
aml rejected. Cnlike the changes that affe-.c.t gfC'at civilizalions and extend
over long pt:riods, whid1 a.re the result of multiple and various came~, I.In;
decisive event that in the history of human lhoug'lll is the disintegration
of the am:eslral conception of the body is the res11lt of an inldkt:tual
decision. Taken hy Galiku al Lhe dawn of the modern era, we cm r~garcl
it a.s the proto-founding ;;ict of modern s<:icnce, and to the extent that it
will then ~uidc I.he \\oorld, of modernity as a whole.
Galileo's categorical assertion i:; thaL Lhe sensible body that we take
lo be tl1e real body-the body that. we-. c.an sec, touch, feel, hear, which
ha:. cnlms, odors, tactile and sonorous qualities, etc.-is only an illmion,
and that the real universe i~ not made up of bodies of this kind. That is
ahu why Lhe krwwledge of this real universe r.:m he a sensible knowledge,
,,vhich w::i.;i ;i]way~ cousickred, even by the scholastics, as the grounrl of all
human knowledge. In truth, the real 1mivcrxc is made up of extended
material bodies, and this extended maner ('ON,timres pre.cisdy the reality
vfLhese bodies, and, at the same time, ofthe universe. The properly ofa
rnatcri.:11 cxlr:nded substance is that it is potentially delimited by fi~nrn
<llsplaying certain forms. It is a question of kno.ving this 1m1JcriaL ex-
tended body thar is en<lowc<l v.<irh forms an<l figures. Yet a science of pure
forms and figures exist'i-a sdenr.c consequently auapled to the knm.,,-1,
edge of the material extended bodies that make up the real universe; it
is gi:ornclTy. Gcnmelry is a pure science, giving rise to a rational knowl-
edge of figures and forms, because instead of rlescrihing- them in tl1eir
factic:ity, ii pnKeells Lo conmuct them ideally, so that their properties
become pl a.inly compn~hcu~iulc, amJ. necessary ·with an a prfori necessity,
on the basis of this construcrion that in ead1 ca:,e plays the role of a seat
of i1nellig·ibilit:y. Thu.~ the rational knowledge in geometry nf the figures
and forms of the real extended ho<lies of the material universe comes
into conflict with the sensible knowledge of scmihk bodie~, which is to
say, of tl1eir sensible qualities. While the latter gives rise only to singular
propositions, :1nalogous ro those Husserl denounces as of little interest
wilh n.:~pect to the intuitive (and for that matter impossible) knowlcdgr
of singular co{;itation~s, the fonncr comlrucL~ necessary propositions of
universal and, as such, scientific validiry.
The Cali.lean decision to establish a geometric knm.,fodgc of the
material univer,w does not. merely fHt:ccde lhe founding of modem
science. On the plane of reality, and not of knowledge, ir suh:nitutc.s fm
the scmiblc body a l>ody unknown until then-the scientific body. For r.he
extended, material ho<ly, whose figure:; and forms are graspable geomet-
rically, is not only the inert body of "things," but also of men and women.
That is ·whal is new, and il opens a new em founded on an unprecedemt-ci
conception of rhe human body, arnl consequently of the human itself.
Thus is born the pretension that a geomerri,: science of material nature
c.:m now com Li lute the lrne knowledge of humanity. And, correlatively,
the pretension that a new technology that it.sdf is scientific and mate-
rial, and in itself foreign to the human, can furnish the true apprnach tu
humanity, all(l find man in the depth of his being-, even in his pleasure,
in the heart of his suffering or distress-of his lifi: m 1lca1h. But these
remarks arc prerm.tlure.
Ont> man alone of course dues nol have the power to accomplish
the extraordinary revolution, of which we arc all lhe children, whether
con'lciow1ly (ff uoL. The presuppositions put into effect by Galileo had
long been present. On the ont> hand, Dcmonilm':; a.tumism had resur--
Jaced in certain circles of the late Renaiso;:mr.f:; on the other lwrnl, ~eom-
etry had~ long hi ... tory. Galileo's gcnim, it has bccu said, was to apply the
latter to the former, to use geometry as the mo<le of knowledge ofmatler
inslca<l uflimiling- iu. field to ideal figures.
But it is not 011\y nn the plane of knowledge that Galileo's inven-
lion shows its extraordinary fecundity. The analysis of re::ifoy i~ even mon:
surprising, Tn imagining the fn;c Yarialion of properties of things that
must be determined essentially: it i.<; in every way like wlrnl Hus~erl's phe-
nomenology calls an "eidetic analysis." It is a quf'stinn ofkrmwing "what"
the ho<ly is while coulending· with the ordinary experience of a sensible
body, and on the other hand interpreting it ;i,c. a material cxLcrnlcJ sub-
~ranc:c, which Galileo wants to make the theme of the new physics. Even
though the imagination proves capable of making the diverse sensible
qualities -vary to the point of being ahlf' to com:cive a malerial, extended
suh.~l.am:e deprived of all these qualities, it is on the contrary incapable llf
conceiving this same s11hstancc withouL representing at the same time its
size, location, figure. and movemem. Semihle qualifjes do not belong to
rhc cs~enn: of material substance, which can exist without them; rhF.y are
inessential_ Limit, plan·, figure, .~izc, and movement, on the contrary, are
prnpenii.:s that are necessarily connected to it, and cannot be separated
from it: They comr.itute the imr,uiaut lhaL properly de lines its essence.
This is the essential analysis on which n:~ts at once both scientific
modernity and the radical modification of our conception of the hody
that is connected to ir. "T feel comirainc<l Ly necessity-,'' Galileo writes in
the Saggiatorr, "When l think of a physical materi:;i 1 or snh~tancc, I immc·
rliatc.ly have to <:<mt:eivc of itas bounded, and as having this or that shape,
as being large or small in n~lation to olhi.:r things, and in some specific
place and at any given time, as moving or at rest f, .. l l mnnot ,wtmrult il
frmn thr.w; r:onrlilioru b;,, uny iit-re«J~ of the imagination. llut whether it is whirt·
or red, bitter or ~weet, noisy or silent, auJ of a pleasing or unpleasant
colour, my mind does not feel compelled to bring this in order l.o appre-
hend ir [ ... l ." Thus it i~ pus~ible to know the being-true of Kature or,
as Galileo even says, of reading in rhe great Book of Lhc Universe-on
Lh.: condition of knowing its language, whose charactern arc "triangles,
circle~, anrl otlu:r geometric figu.res, without which it is humanly im.pos-
sible to understand a word of what is ;,ays.''~
The new iutclligibility promised by Galileo and consis.tin,e; in a geo-
metric reading of tht> univcnic rc~u; a.'! we have seen upon the eidetic anal-
ysis of the body. By substituting for the sensible hody a urn.Lcrial extended

*Galil,·o, Oj,m•, .-,rl. Ka.T.im:ale, respectively vol. \'l, p. 347, and Vol. VU, p. 129 / Sded,,!
W,-iling,, 1rans. William R. Shea and Mark Davie (Oxford: Oxford Univer,,L~ Press, 201:2),
pp I Hl, 11.> (our e:mpha~is).
object. flrnt. nm then he a.'l11imilated to tJ1e geomenic object, a reduction
is carried out. It is true that every .~rience is constituted in a rcducliun b)'
which it defunits its proper fie.Id and defines its objccls. Al Lhe .same time,
it disqualifies everything ·with which it is not preocrnpicd, and which,
because of these initial decisions, it will nc:vcr Llu:maLi,e. In this way the
history that purporl!i Lo be, for example, a "history of living individuals"
is hardly preoccupied with Ilic diemic.::al molecules that compose their
bodies, which are inst.earl the theme of chemistry. This determination of
a domain of competence, together with a determination of a clmm,in of
incompetence as it~ c:orrclatc (which is al.-;o infinitely broader), is inher-
ent in the constitution of any science.
Kevert.hdess, in Galileo's epoch, it is not a particular science rhar.
emf:rg-cs, and one lhal would be the eITect of a specific reduction. It is
a science that will reject all traditional knowledges of humaHity and will
lake lhcir place, understanding itself as the single form of all po5sible
knowledge.. This ~dcncc claiming univcr!ialily is also constituted by a re-
duction, but this reduction does not caiit it<cdf ar; the delimitation of a
specific rlomai.n of objects, but as the condition of all trnth. For this rea-
son, it is important to assess the magnitude of ir.
The n.:ductiou di:;;qualifies nothing less than all sensible qualities,
and at tht> .~ame. time. .~cn;.iblc bodies in ~u far as 1,he~e are al-ways only
an assembly of such qualities. a synrhesi.~ of them. Yet to Lht: cxle11l Lhat
thcac slaow themselves to us under the heading "sensible apparitions," or
"phenomena," they are not. nothing. Vvhat docl! (',...:1liko say about them?
Immediately after having declared that the imagination ran vr.ry wc11
concl:ivc real extended bodies independently of the sensible qualities
that they bear. he adds: "\-\,"hcrehy l am led lo t.hink lhal these flavors,
colors, odors, etc., as far as it concerns the su~ject in which it sccma lo us
that lh..:y re~ide, are nothing other than pure names and only n·.~ide in
the sensory body, so that if one lake~ away I.he animal, all these qualities
are taken away or annihilated."t These sensible apparitions, which arc
sensible qualities, arc thus only "apparenL" "Appearance" is opposed to
reality: 1n so far as these appat"itiom arc appearance~, lhcy du not belong
to real bodies as real properties. And this is what the variarional met.hod
has _j1m .~huwn, hy allowing tt.\ to conceive the existence of the former
independently of the latter.
The Galilean reduction does not, however, limit itself to ex-dueling
sensihlc fJUalitics; it offer~ lo explain them. They are attached to the bio-

* Ibid., vol. \1, p. '.~47. Fcdcrigo Enriquez remarks that the term "n,.me:," apptif·ol hy f";111ileo
to sensible qualities takes O\'Cr dv: tt'nn "convention~" by-which Demonitm dC':note, them.
t:±: "Dcscarccs et C,alil~e ." in Rimu d,, me!,ijJ1i).,i,pn rf d~· JMrr.lP, 1!H7.
logical structure of the particular animals we a1·e. It is the contingency of
thi~ ~tr111:1.ure Lhat determines the contingency of thcsc qualities. Other
specie~ hear other ~uuuds, see other colors, ami .~mell 0th.er udur~. Some
of them probably see nothing, rn· :-cc ·very poorly, and hear nothin~. m
are deprived of other senses. The decisive character of th c tlcLennination
of sensible qualities by the biolngind ~l..ructure of organisms is formulated
in a radical ·way when it is claimed rhat the suppression of the latter leads
ro the rlisappeara.nce of the former. Except rhat the delcnnination of
sensible qualit:ies by the org,mi~ms is nothing other than their <lctcnni-
natjon by 1eal bodies of which these organism,; an: t.:omposed. The new
geometrical sdenet: of the malerial universe does not only pfac.e off limit.-;
sensible qualities, sensible hodics, au<l tl1e sensible world; it takes tht>m
hack up and treats them as effects 1•,;hosf' cau'les iL tli:;plays. Thus form-
ing a system, giving account of material things, but a l!io of the mamu:, -in
which we Jtnse them, it offer~ itself in il~ proto-founding act as a universal
knmvlc<lgc (the only real one) from which nothing c~capes.
Vve v,:i.ll take the full measure of this reduction of every form of
knowledge to the geometric science of material nature if we add the
followin~ rt>marks. A.s the set of problems surroundin~ the irnp1<::ssion
has established, the sensihle riualitie~ of bodies, the colors spread over
their "uucmatic" surface, and in the same way their svnorous, tactile
qualitieR-all the properties related to them, perceived ancl ".~em<::d" on
them, which have the signifirntion ofheing tl1eir properties and belong-
ing to them, belonging to the material of which thc.~c ho<lies are made,
so that we beheve these bo<lies possess such qualities in themsel\'cll, arc
red or yellmav, sweet or bitter, c.old or hoL, of agreeable or disagreeable
orlor-all lhc:st: quali.ties attiibuted to bodies :ire only tltc projection in
them of sensarions and impressions, which never exist anywhere buL in
the place they sense themse1ve;i and unuergo experiencing themselves,
given ro Lhemselves in the pathos-filled self-givcnrn:ss ofli[e. TI1at is the
reason why these qualities po~st,s8 Lhis so poorly understood ch:uactcr of
being "sensible," v.rhich ultimately means affcclive, because their matter
is not the mall.er of material bodies, which in reality sense uuLliing and
have never senserl anythi11~, buL precisely the pure phenomenologit.:al
material oflife, this affective flesh of which they arc only modalities.
Yet if the rc:a1ily of sensible qualities does not reside in things hul iu
life, if their material i5 not what the uui~erse is made of but the impres-
sionable, phenomenological material of life, the meaning of the Galilean
reduction intemific:-1 vcrliginously. It does nol merely initiare a sorl. of
universal cleansing, tearing aw:iy from the universe its "sensible layer,"
paradoxically altributed to insensible bodiei;, aml discovering it in its nu-
di1y as :m external material substance finally opened to calculations and
measures, to objective parameter5 whose infinite determination is the
task of the new science. !'redsely because these sensible qualities are, at
bottom, modalities of our phenomenological. life, the reduction disquali-
fies them. At first, the impressional modalities of our life are classed as
mere "appcar,1ncc.s," to whic.h nothing in reality corrf';iponrl.~. All at.once
our ent.ire life, as we experienr.l"'. it., mms into an illusion-our ~en,'1:1.1.inn~,
our emotions, our feelings, our desires, our hopes, our renunciations,
and our loves.
But we have just seen that the Galilean reduction is not confined
to dismissing from the true science's new field of interest the qualities
and scn~ihlc impressions that at once make up the texture of the world
and of our Hves-rhe living- fle.~h with which we identify ourselves, which
determines our elementary behaviors, and through them our represent.a.-
lions and our culture. ll tloes not lake them mcrdy for illusory appear~
ances. By ,;e-eking their origin in the biological strucmre of organisms,
which ultimately means in the movements and processes that constitute
the reality <>f tltc 1111ivcrsc, it gives an acnmnt (Jf t.111:m. Two nmscquc11c:c,'I
follow, which we must now confront directly.
On the one hand, our lifo can no longn cope; it i:. no longer some-
thing autonomous that has its foundation, 1·easons, and laws in itself.
They are the laws of a foreign reality---a blind reality that feels nothing
aml cannot feel iL~df, that docs nm "think," and that ha.~ no rchtinn v-:ith
the reality of our life. And which nevertheless determines it, submitting
it to regulations ll know~ nothing about. And thus Lhe µriudple of iLs
action, in; mmla.liric;;, anrl the meaning it confcn: on them, escape it, a,;
do the meanings ofits pleasures, its anguish, or its sorrov,'S. The kiss lovers
exchange is only a bombardment of microphysical particles.
On the other hand, it is thi.~ world life withdraw.i from, lhc world
divested of every sensible quality, foreign to every impression, which we
must try to conceive :since now this is what defines botl1 our actual reality
::md destiny. C'.oncei\-ing this seems at first ,E;lance difficult. How can we
imagine this place that totally escapes our senses, and about which they
have nothing more to learn-vortices of particles, charges and discharges
of energy that know neither cold nor heat, neither light nor shadow, nei-
ther distance nor proximiLy, nor design of any son, nor g-ood nor evil,
which ha~ nunc uf om· bearings, with nu con la.cl bdwccu them, nor at-
traction nor repulsion in the seme we give to these words, so that every-
thing that we can say about it will never amount to anything but a web
of naive :ancl 1mc.allt".cl-for metaphors. Vv"hir.h ha~, for example, no "weight,"
no ''mas,;;," no "speed"-despite all the parameters by which we seek to
determine t.h~sc "primary qualities," if it is true, as has hccn :;aid, that
something like a weight ha:-1 never come into the hands th:n tt--y to lift. il.
"The eternal s.ilence of these infiuile spaces l ... J." We must there-
fore tmderstaml thaL this ''silence" has no relation 10 what we denote by
the term, the blessed state that takes liold of us when, ha.,ing arrived in
a place set apan, am.I crossed the enu·ance of a dni:-1tcr, we escape for a
moment the tum uh of the wurld. That silence support.~ an csscmial refer-
ence to the universe of sou nos, of which it is only a privileged vari:Hion-
this silence is <mdible. ln the universe of the new 11cicuce, no smmd is possible
It never had one and it nevn will. Prescribed by the phenomcnolobri.cal
rerluction, Lhe absence of every concei\~d.hlc noise i.s a structural condi-
tion of ,his "m1ivcrne," il penains to its definition, its slalus. That is why
one can say this sile-nc-:e is clt.:rual
Pascal himself attested to thP. terror iL brings. And rightly so. This
"eternal" sili~ncc is terrifying not because the author of the Pensee5 had
his sensibility tormente:rl; hut because it is inhuman. That. i.s, in the c.::nd,
a f-limplc name to designate what no longer has a name in any langu::ig-e,
that which, divf'st.cd of every human quality, every amiahilily, and every
affmily witl1 us, as a skeleton for it" flesh, is uo longer there for anyone.
It is the inhuman that is frightening.-~ frightening a.~ it may be, the in-
human, it is true, is ne:vcr <1uitc tl1at. It is for us, for human he:ings, that il
is so. In itself, having passed through Lhc Galilean sieve and rnmed into
this collection of insensible material bodies that arc nothing more than
the correlate of geometric: pn 1pc >si liun~, the "real~ universe of mnrlcrn i ty
is a.~ fordgu to terror as to sound, to light. a~ to "silence": it is so far from
us that the prnhkm is Lo know how we can stilJ form lhc inconceivable
concept ofit.
How can we rejoin it, recover it, and open ow·selves to it? Reec;tab-
lish a relation to that with which we apparently no long-er have one? The
Galilean reduction holds the response to the question it rai~c.~. These
extendccl rnalerial bodies foreign to our sensihility, Lo our needs, which
are indifferent to our dc8ircs. subsuata to our gaze as wel1 a.~ to our grasp,
literally inaudible, enclosed forever in their monstrous silence, a knowl-
erlgc 1:haL is itself foreign to all of these human detenninations leads
us straight to them: g-emrn:tric.:al knowledge, in perfect c.onfonnily and
aclcquaLion to their forms and fi~ire~. Arul it does this in the dear and
distinct evirlcncc uf lhe theorems that introduce us to Lhr.:: heart of what
remains hidden in the gn:al. Book until an ingenious d1sc:ovcrer deci-
phers it~ 1auguage. More terror indeed: the assurance of rationality, the
happy pathos of a tnuh t.hal cannot be other than whar it.10how!l U!i of itself
in the light of its evi.denr~.
§ 18. Descartes's Counter-Reduction_

Aml yd. gtometry is itself a problem. Let us follow for a moment the ex-
traordinary idca1im1al scqm:nn: I.hat follows Galileo's invention. Galileo's
it leas i1pread rapidly in the first half of the seventeenth century. Descartes
took them up and perceived immediately Wh:lt immen.~f' possihilitie~ rhcy
unlock for human knowledge. lle was fa~cinated hy the rlf'dsive. intuitjon
to make georne~:y the principle for knowledge of the material universe,
arid we find the proof ofthi.~ i11 Ilic famous analrsi~ of the piece of wax in
the "Second Meditation." How can we not recog11ize what we have called
rhe. e.i<let.ii: analyi,cis of the hody, which the Sc,ggiatuu: carried out? The
variations of the sensihle qua litie.,;; of a hocly, in this case the piece uf wax
Descartes imagines that he heats, manifest the inessential character of
iLs; prnperties, which can change and disappear, while the invariant that
constitutes the essence of this horly, namely it~ cxtcrnio11, subsisL\. "Bul
ev·en as I speak, l put the wax by the fire, and look: The residual mm• is
climim1.!nl, lhc smell gue~ away, the color changes, the shape is lost, the
size increases; it becomes liquid and hoi:; you can hardly touch it, and if
you str·ikc ii, it rm longer make~ a sound. But does the same wax remain?
lt must be admired that it does; no one denies it [ ... l" {AT Vll, ~O, 14-9 /
P\V II, 20). Descartes, however, is not content to take over the founding
intuilicm of Galikau phfsics; he proposes, by means of the system of
abscissas and ordinates, a mathematical fom,ulation nf the geometrical
deLi.:rminali.ons of bodies. The proto-founding act otmodern science, the
o~jenive, ge.nmetric:n-mathcmat.ical knowledge of I.he material wniverse
qiui correlate of such knowledge, is accomplisherl.
,-v11al is sLriking in this sequence of ideas, which will determine
morlcrn .science and, through il, will shape modernity, is that in acer-
tain manner Descartes immerliately takes the oppo'>itc view. Galileo ha~
reduced the real con tent of the world to these extended ma teria I bod ie8,
which physico-mathcmatical science makes its new object, and which it
knows in the e\1.dence ofits rational and universalizable propositions. As
for sensible appearances, bodies of the sensible universe, sensibility, and
.~nhjcnivity in gcm:ral, he places lhcm beyond Lhe field of investigation
of the new science, entrusting it all the more with the task of producing-
a c::msal explanatfon.
De.scartes carries out a connr.er-rcclucr.ion. Even tl10ugh he follows
Galileo in his work of founding the new science and perfect~ it wirh hi~
project of generalized mathcrnatiza1ion, i;Lill he Joes not consider subjec-
tive appearances. impressions, volitions, and affectivity a5 illusion.~. vVhar
would lt mean to take sadness for an illusion anyway? ln so fur as I fed
iL and such as I tee! it-morf' prec:iscly, in w far as it feels itself and ;i~ it
feels it-an original and incontestable revelatiou happens in it, one of
sadnes~. infinitely more certain than tht> appearance uf Lhe world. Has
§26 of I.he Passions of the Soul not 8how11 that this self-revelation of :iadnc-1:-,
is produced in the absence of the world and ics snpposcdlr misleading
evidence? This is the radical mPaning of Descartes's counter-red11r.rion:
E1Jt:rylhing Galileo s reduction had tnken awa} Jrum the mtional hnowledgp nj
the real 11,nil!ersf.·, a~ "upparent'' or "illusmJ_." as a "name" or "wnvention," the
iU'l_.mter-reduction gathers up, in rmlr,1· lo makt it -mow certain and more esw,nlial
than the rmlity 1Jj the univer.se: wg:itationes, cry,~tah of ab:.ulute certainty. Far
more than this, the~e rogitaliunes, which the Galilean rerluction claims
to exclude from the knowlerlgc of Lhc real universe, become through a
deci.~ivc rcvcr:;al the incontrovertible conrliticm aud foundation of this
knowled?;e.
The eidetic analysis of rhe hody tl1al is offered to us in the "Sr'rnml
~frriitarion," when Descartes heats hi<; piecc. of wax, doesn't simply repeat
the Galilean reduction; it differs from it through a nuanct· tf1at. modifies
it~ meaning to the point of inverting it. t,-alileo, a physicist, works rn de-
termine the o~jtcct ofhii; science, detaching it from the appearance that
conceals its true namre. Became this uaLUre, exposed by the elimina-
tion of :.eusible qualities, is an extended, material substance, geometry
is necessarily the adequate mode for knowing it. Galileo's analysis is an
uuLOlogical analysis of the bony. C:ouver:;dy, according to a pertinent
ob.5ervation by Ferdinand A.lquie," when the analysis of the piece ofvtax
occurs in the "Second McclitaLion," the set of bodies that m:-ikc up Lhe
world's content v.'as deemed douhtful, and ~o was eyerything I i;ee. Thrnc
it i~ not thc. nature uf Lhese bodies (which may not cxi~L) Lhal is in ques-
tion, il is the pos~ihili1y ofk.11owing them, the mode of kno\~;ng tli.cm-in
ca.:;e they do exist.
Desmrl.es'.~ m1al)~-iI is a phcnomenologi.cal ano.lysi1. l 1. can be understood
only back in its place amid the :-cl of problems concerning the rngito lo
which it belongs. Leaving things aside, wondering about the mode of
their app<'aring, au<l presupposing the duplicity ofit, Descanes's analysis
is situated immediately i11 1.l1e dimension of cogi,tationes·, it. wmb within
this. On the one hand 1:and this is where Dcsc::-i.rl.es follo¥-'S Galileo) sen-
sible qualities do not have their seat in the bod}~ they resirlc in Llw ~oul,
Lhey are cogitatimu..s. When, ~eparntcd fur this reason from knowl~rlgc of
the pi<-'cc of wax, tl1ey are replaced by the geometric intuition of exten-
sion and its figures, this int.uilion refers of course to an extniorit.y, it is

~ Descartes, Ornvm: phifo,j,1,.iqu.,, ~d. F. Alquie, vol. ll (.Paris: Callimmd, 19C.7), p. 425, notes
i and 3.
prccfacly the intuition of ll, of a res exlensa. But on the other hand, how
can one forget lhc 1110.!!l radical lheory of lh~ 4-:ugilo on which vve have in--
sisi:cd at length? Ilic inlttt1i-Lhc vision of Lhe understanding that knows
the res extensa and its properties, such as the property of receiving figure~
ad infinitum-is in itself a cogi.tatio; it is given to it.~df nol. in a vision 1ml.
in the same way a sensation, a sadness, or any other passion is, in the self--
gi vr::nness of absolute life. Sensation, sentirnen t, and the understanding's
intuitive vision c~lablisli only a h.ierarchy among Lhe cog-itationes, which
anyway are all relative since it is a question only of evaluating their :-ip-
t.itrnk with rcspct:t l.o knowing Lhi!i simple, particular nanll'e that is the
res extensa.
In Descartes we see that the certainty of the body-the body under-
i1Lood, following Galileo, as res ext.ensa-does not come from its worldli-
ness, but from rhe kn owler! gf' l havf' of it. Ttis cm ly because my peru.:pliuu
of the body-·---in other words, the intellectual in tuition of its extension-is
u:nain, Lhal il1is boJy can itself be posited as certain. But the intellec-
tual inmition of extension i5 itsf'lf nTrain only hcnum: il is a crigilalfo.
This is the meaning of the counter-reduction carried out by Descartes,
even though it takes over Galileo's invention: Far from it hcing the case
that the truth of the body eliminates the truth of the impression and of
subjectivity in general, on lhc c.:uutrary, il is the absolute certainty of tl1e
su qjective percepi:ion of the horly, as a r:ngitatw th:it. is certain, thal will be
capable of founding the certainty of the universe and its knowledge. The
ronoition~ for rr:vf'r.~ing the pcrspci:tivc opcm:d hy Galileo, which will
be that of modem science and modernity in its entirety, are alreaoy Rer.

§19. Husserl's Critique of Galileo's Reduction in the Krisis.

Husserl will take it upon himself to develop them fully, in his 1::m m~jor
publisln~d work, lhc Krisi.1. Hus~crl could slill observe Galileo's impres--
.~ive rf'~uhs rhrcc cr:nturics later, and so did uut doubl lhc fecun<lil~ of
his presupposition any more than Descartes din. l .ikc. Dc~carws, amt fol-
lowiu~ him in fact, he perceived that this presupposition implied others,
which would limit its scope radically. Yet the latter presuppositions, wirh-
out which Galileo's consu·uction of modern science would have been
impossible, are nevertheless never ta.ken into account by it. The phe-
nomenological critique of the Galilean reduction consists in thi.s: not in
<:unlc~Liug Ll,~ breadth or value of the knowledge that science continues
tn produce, bul in dcnuunc.:ing Lhe forgelfulness of its ultimate founda..
tion. Ifwe take this into account, we :-i.rc krl inclunahly to whal Galileo
had thought he could .:tvoid: Sensible qualities, sensibility, anrl sulticcliv-
ity in general.
Thus Husserl's reproa<:h of the Galikau universe of modern scienr.~
is that it posils iL~cH' as an absolute-a universe which would be true in
iLself in some way, and would draw ir.~ f.rulh only from itself. Yet one has
only to reflect upon the analysis of the 1.miver.s.e from which the reduc-
tion procee<l~ to rccognit.t: immediately why this claim to autonomy is
futile. The universe, Galileo tdls rn1, is a Book .nitten in a language \VhoM:
ch:-ir:-u:tcrn an: geometric figures. However, none of tln:sc characters exist
in the real world. In the re:-il world, lhere are neither lines, nor cirde;i,
nor lriangles, nor squares, but only wh::it i;,. round, vague traces like the
bank of a path or a stream, the section of a plank, the edge of a table,
and other approximate characl.cristics, which are all sensible appP-nm.nr:;,s,
murwul.:'1_; with "forms,, that am themstl1w., .mi.1ih/,e. Something like a line or a
circle, in the gcomct.ric sense, is an ideal entity who.~r. cxi.~tcncc, which
is never encountered in t.hc malerial universe, is always preceded hy a
rm:nlal operation-an operation thai: one rightly calls transcendental
in so far as it is nmhiu~ ulher than the condition of possihility for the
formation of this line or this circle, of any ideal ent.iL)' in general. The set
of these gcomelrical figures, and, similarly, the mathematical fonnula-
tions for them, premppmc a~ many "performances" of transcendent.al
consciousness, without which theywoulcl nol Le. But tl1ese performances
are seated in the suLjcLli~ity of transcendental life. of which they arc only
various modalities. The re<luct.ior1 lhal leads to modern science, to the
rlclincaliun of its domain and the definition ofit11 procedures, far from
being able m;,.kc an ab~t.raction of subjectivity, still hangll on lhis and
constantly presupposes it.
The idealities that form the content. of ~c:icnlific lheories not only
proceed from opcraliuns constitutive of transc<"'nrlental consciousness,
lhey cannot dispense with the scmihlc world that Galileo wanted to do
witho11t-~ccing in it at most a fabric of appearanr:c.11 of which science
would give account. Scientific i<lcaliLies certainly do not belong t.o thill
world, they arise from an intellectual acLiviLy of the mind from which thr.y
consequently drnw their nature as well as their cxislence. In what does
this activity consis.t? It is a prnu:i..~ uf ideation that we have already seen at
work iu Lhe theory of the constitution of esi-cnccs aml. uf lhe eidetic intu-
ition m who;ic apur-ia Lhe phenomenological m<"'tho<l fallll prey, seeking
its ultimate possibility. J .et 11s 1irn i l ourselves to recalling that the point <,f
clcparlme for the activity ofideation is singular givens, which a.re actually
the sensible forms of ordinary perception. On the basis of these, t.hc pro-
cess of ideation produce~ geometry's pure and ideal figures, and leavc:-i
aside lhcir sensible, singular, ,ague, and apprnximale character (for ex-
amplf', rhe thi,:knc.~s, color, or inegularities of a "straight line" traced on
the chalkboar<i hy thf' profo/\sor during a d.cmomtn.1.Lion), 1t::taining only
the intelle,tua l principle that presided over Lhe <:unslrucL.ion of such a
line-its geometric definition. Though they do nm belong· ro 1hc world
of sensibility, geometrical idealities still bt',ff an cs.~cnti,1) relation lo it as
the: place of Lhcir od~in.
Precisely uccamc geomd..1ic idealities intrinsically bear this refer-
ence to the semihk world from which Lhey come, Galileo's intuition of
their power ofintelligibility,\ith respect ro thi<; world w~s made possible.
That is also how this intuirion i11 ultimaldy fountled. Not only do the
idealities of Galilean science refer to the sensible worlrl on whose hasi11
Lhcy arc couslructed, they have meaning only in relation to it. ft is rhe.ir
referenc:c rot.hi~ worl1l as Lhe explanatory principles ofits reality, and also
oi'its sensible appearances, that.Justine.~ rhc whole of Galileo's sdent.i!i.c
thcurie/j.
Take for f'Xamplc the theory ufligh l. Does the p hysico-mathematical
substructure that it deploys have any other gmil than to 1:,rive au:ounl of
lmnirnms phenomena as sensible phenomena? And this is not at all be-
cause the mastery or manipulation of them woulrl prcsc111 an ohviom,
utility for humaniLy, uuL by reason of it.~ properly theoretical finality-of
the desire immanent. to every mind to cxphun and to know. On the theo-
retical plane itself, however, is the considf'rntinn of these luminow, phe--
nomc11a actually limiled lo a general interest of knowledge? Isn't their
intervention already implicated in thr: vr:ry r:onstruc:1jo11 of lhe theory, as
the ever-present moment of a ·verificatwn apart from whkh the rhcory ill
only a dream, however mathematical it may be? When the theory is pre-
sented as a coherent, ahstrar:r whole, docs its daim Lo Lruth draw from
anything other than a sensible phenomenon, ro rhe apparition or nol of
a lumiuuu~ Oil.sh on a screen? Thus the entire physico-mathemarira1 !'.nh-
stnicture of the theory ~ccms to ch:peml on a sensible order and finally
on the whole set of sensible phenomena that science claims ro explain .
.As if rhese phenomena were nol uuly the poinL of departure of science
but its insurmounrnhle reforenr:c, in, mcaniug and iL'i final legitimation.
So this is the nvofold limit of Galileo's reduction. On I.he one hand,
transcendent::il sul~jccrivity, whic:h cannol be eliminated, to the extent
that the new science draws its properly theoretical contem. from it. On
I.he other hand, the sensible world, to which this content inevitahly refrr~.
We haw: hinrcd ;it the inhuman character of a world deprived of every
semible quality, the frightening character of it. A world where the most
rencicr and the rnosl onlinary human gestures are reduced to inert mate-
rial proce.~,;es homogcneou.~ wiLh t.ho:.c I.hat physics studies·-··to bombard-
ments of particles. We now see that ,rnch ;i world of inMrnsiblr. particles,
whr.:n.: rl1r.:n:: would be neither coolness, nor odor, nor light, nor shadow,
nor sound, nor color, nor S\H:cl.ness, nor pleasure, nor charm, would not
be only ;m nnlivahle world-it is an impus~i/,,le world, .if it is true that a
world cannot exist for us unless it entertains a final rehition with us, even
though it would be reduce<l to a scnsililc cffiorescence, to a sensation. We
rnust therefore return from the scientific world, which is only an ahstract
·world incapable uf subsisting by itself, or, if one prefer~, ('"lCi!iring for us,
to the semihle world thal. the world-of-science presupposes and to which
it refers in all respects. The ontological analysi~ of the hociy in which the
Galilean rerlm:rion comists, whicl1 opened the space of modern science,
is inseparable from a phenomenolngic.a.1 analysis, for wliid1 t.he appear-
ance that had been taken for an illusion remain.~ rhe alpha aud omega,
;m inescapable foundation.
A final remark'\..,,;I] unrlen1corc the limiLs of Galileo's reduction. Let
us place ourselves one last time within its perspective, seeing only what it
sees, anrl suppose we have acquired, conversely, the totality of knowledge
that it makes possible. Galileo's omnisc:icnl Go<l_, \\-ho knows the whole
mal.erial universe and consequently the stnlCture (that we srill today call,
in an obsolete way, "biological") of clivcrsc :.pccies of animals-a suuc-
lure that according to Galileo follows from every series of semar.ion thaL
can he felt by it-thi.-; Gou would know none of this, would have no idea
of red, black, yellow, or any color, 110 i<lca of sound or music, of odor, or
perfumes, or what is agreeable or disagreeable, lovable or dett~~t-,ihk. He
wouldn't ha.\'C rhc lca.~t idea, 11ur could he. A foreign God, truthfully, and
that also means a foreign Science, whic.h is whal we arc offered loday in
sdwol as the one real knowledge, which in fact, at the en<l of it~ prmli-
gious nF:velopmc-nt, still knows far less lhan the most undeveloped child
or the most primitive primi rive. To pm it. a:. Dcsnutc:; Joes, there is a crea·-
liou of sensible u·uths of which a science limited to the fidrl of ma.Lt.:rial
nature can know nothing.

§20. A Return to the Analysis of the Worldly, Sensible Body. The

Reference of the Sensed Body to the Transcendental Body that
Senses It. The Ambivalence of the Concept "Sensible."

Let ns therefore close..: lhe Galllean parenthesis, the fallacious identifi.c;:1~

tion of the body in general (the "essencer, of the body) witli the material
cxlcn<lr.:c.l body, the res e.'4:ttnsa, and come back to the sensible worlrl \'lrhcrc
men ,mo women live. In the semible world there is the sensible body.
This point of deparmre for ou:r reflect.ion is not as ~imple as it :seems. The
reversal of phenomenology we have just advanced in the first part of this
book compels us now to de-compose the sensible body, which is immedi-
ately involved when the "sensible world" is decomposed. "World" signifies
an appearing-, the co111i11!-\ nuL~idc of I.he Ontside, the "oul,;;ide itself" of
the temporal horizon in which everything that shows itself to us in this way
becomes vi~ihle. The cont.-nr of rhe world, in rhi.~ c:i~.- rhe ~ensihle hody,
i.~ opposeci to the>: pure appearing oft.he work!, whkh has heen shown to
be incapable of positing its content by itself. It is precisely no longer to the
appearing of I.he worlcl 1J1at I.hi.~ crn1l.cnlowcs il-, existence, but Lo sensibil-
ity. This sensible body does offer itself at first as a sensed body, a body that
is seen, that Gill be l.uud1c<l, makes a sound if 0111;; sl.rikt:~ iL, Lhat has au
odor, the sweet smell of honey that the piece of wax has, lhal is :,mwulh
or rough, cold or hot, dry or damp, hard or soft. Common setHe ,rnd in
turn the majority of theories of the body hang on this sensed body, which
is ;.iho :m ohjcct of the worl<l. Tt. ir-1 prcci~cly in the world that. we sec thi:-1
body, it is in the world that we strike it, so we can see for example whether
il is made of glass or crystal; it is in the world that we hear the dull or faint
sound it makes,_just as it is in i:he world that the s1irface of a body appean
smooth or rough, and around it, al.so in the world, that itli odor drifts.
As long ::ii;; the .._ensihle horly i.-: ronsirlererl as ::i senserl ho<ly, it" vmrl<l-
liness is not dearly chaHenged. Just as it is in the world that the real sub-
stance of this body extends-in fact, this is the case for ordinary percep-
tion as well as for the ancients or moderns-it is also in the world, in a
sort of extension, that these "sen.sible qualities" are dis-posed, extend, or
rn<liatc. Du<:::sn 'l ll1c wuil<l-aml by ll1is we always 1rn;an il.s appearing:, the
Ek-stasis of its exteriority-take h::ick v.~rhin it anrl preci.~ly "mnr;iin" t.his
,;sensible content," which is spread over the objecrs and ex-poses itself
in tl1em, unfolding itself like them, with lhem, in the unfolding of the
horizon in whir:h the worlrl is c-xt.crnalizcd and appears to us?
The illusion t11at the sensible world would constitute an autono-
mous rcaliry-bcc:au.<,c in it 1:hc sc11sihlc <p1alit.y finds Lhc pht:uomeno-
logical condition of its appearing qua exterior sensible quality, and
thus has this appearance of exteriority-tltat is the paralogism ot what
should indeed be called a crude realism. But tl1is is not proper to com-
mon sense; it inhabits every thought, which, v.:hether explicitly or not,
cuu:si<lcn l11c budy as a ~ensibfr worldly object. 01, Lu put it <lilfcrcnll~, con-
.'li<lcrs the world'.~ scnsihlc content a8 an in-it'lclf. TI1erc is thus a pure Sen-
sible, something that at once possesses an impressional texture-which
is red, gloom)', 8011ornus, pai11ful, or 11au.scali11g-bul whose appearing
is nevertheless the "outside" of the world. Galileo's essenti::i.l :m::ily.~is (t.o
the extent that it is true and unalterable, and as Descartes takes it up in
the ~et of problems surrounding the cogito) has denounced this illusion.
A worldly Lody reduced to what it owes to tht> world, an cxtcrmtl bud?
reduced to its e1s"rcriority, au t:xlended body as such possesses no imprcs-
sional matter, in<leed no scnsibk quality; it is no more red tban painful,
rn-msc:11i,1g, en irate. The sensible, axiological, ~ffci:livc ~tratum of the
world does not come from it.s ck-slalic structure any more than the im-
prcs:;iunal content of the Husserlian flow ('Omes from its form as allow.
It i:. uu lunger possible to avoid this obvi.011.~ fact.. Every 1,:cmt:<l body
presupposes another hody thal :;cnses it; every body that is seen preimp-
poses a power of "ision and the implementation, operation, or, as we
would say, perfom1anct: of thi~ power; e-.,;er,' sonorous body, a power (lf
hearing, and the operation ;rn<l perfonnancc of such a power; every body
wuche<l, felt, and scanned by the hand rhat t.ouchc~ iL, the power to
touch, the applicaliou uf il, and also the po-wer to ?IWVI! this pow.:r t1J trntch-
presufrposes the hand that tmu:hr.,, (J.rtd cm,sr:qumtZr the application, ope:ration,
rlnd Jmflwmance of this second pm,•e:r as well as the first. The same holds true
for odor, for c~vcrything· Lhal is capable of being sensed, whmc hcing-
sensed always implies a power of scrn1ing wiLhuut which it would not be.
So we are inevitably referred from a sensible, worldly ho<ly, which
is an object of the world, to a hody of another order entirely: a transcen-
cknlal body endowed with the fundamemal powcr;1 of !lccing, :;ensing,
touching, hearing, moving, and being moved-and definerl hy t.hc-ic
powers. A "transcendenrnl" hody, hccause it is a condition of possibility
for Lhc worldly, sensed body. A sensing body, :mrl no lo11ger sensed; giv-
ing, and no longn given; a hudy that gives the world and all the brnfo-•;-1
sensed in it-and our mvn body thcrcforc, a~ a body that is also sensed
in the world, among other worldly bodies. A subj~o-hocly, as uppo~ed to
an o~ject-horly, whose condition it is. An a priori "subjective body" that i~
different from the object:ive horly, in the s<.:use Lhat it appears as its foun-
clation. A subjective, transcendental body, giving :rnd sensing Lhe body
given and sensed by it-every worldly, objective body. It is above all the
theory of this origina1,' and founding ho<ly t.hat ii1 required.
We arc thu~ confronted with di±hcnlt problems, each of which mu.~L
be clearly perceiw~<l arnl I.Icalctl for itself. TI1e ditticulty, however, rlocs
not only stem from the multiplicity of quc-ilions raised, such as those
pertaining m the essence of the originary body, its relation to the worldly
body, and the principle of rhc. <liffcrcncc Lhal is established amon:;1; the
worldly bodies between natural bodies ::in<l a hody likt: ours-our tran-
scendental hotly, in parlicular, in so far as it too appears, it seem:-;, mulcr
the aspect of a worldly body; or even t.hc relation between our own body
anrl thal of I.he other, whether it's a question of the relation bcl\-\'Ct:u ou.-
transcendenral hmlics m· our \~orldly bodies, etc. And to this we mmt. arld
the question of the relation between M:nsiblc qualities and impressions,
between these and fundamental powe:n ('-'i.~ion, hearing, etc.), which co-
constitute the 01iginarr body to which the ol'.!je.('.tive: hocly owe~ it.~ nature
and properties. The hst goes on.
The diffirnlly i~ fo.~l one of deciding the order in which these nu-
merous questions should be approached. With regard to this issue, it is
true that we alre::i<ly have rleci~ivc indications al our <li~posal. The order
of an investigation i'l also the method it must follow if iL is lo arrive at
its object. According to the presuppositiom of phenomc.nolngy, iil-i own
o~ject is wl1:-tt. found~ ill-i method; pure appearing is what constitutes, as
we said, the ·way of access that leads to it. These general pre'luppnsitions
ofphcnomcuulogy Lake on a rigororu; meaning when the analysis ofphe-
nomenality has shattered the illwury uriiLy of this concept. Thus we have
disassociated two fundamental mode.-: ac:corrling to wliid1 pure phenom-
euality becomes phenomenal: Against the monotonous interprl:'tation
of the Greek phmnom.nwn we have opposed tl1e fondamental duality of
appearing, its "duplicity." This is what must g11irle onr approach, working
out ihc onlcr of quesliom whose elaboration is now its task. Ilave we not
indeed recognized that rwo ways arc offered a /niori for the analysis of the
bo<ly, according to whether it entrusts the appearing of the bodr to the
world's Ek-st::isis or to lifo's pathos?
Follm\ing the tirst path, naturally, we have founcl th<" worldly body,
Llit: bo<ly lhal shows itself to us in the world and at the same time seems
to constimte the content of it The scmihlc characlLT of Lhe body (,,,.·hich
Galileo's reduction does not manage to eliminate) has given ri5e to a firsr
<liffir:ult:y: The ,11cusibk diarader of lhe body is inexplicable on the basis
of the world and its appearing. So we fouml ow·sdves unavoidably re-
ferred from the sensible body, in so far as it is a sen;;ed hody, to a. hody that
scmcs iL: a bvdy lhal is nu lunge, a·n o~ject of e.-r;pericnce, but its principle. This
body-principle of expr:ricncc, a con di Liou of i Ls possiblli ty-the u--anscen-
dental body-is composed, as we said, of a set of funrlamcnt.al power:..
These arc nothing other than the tnuliliunal senses. Yet the strncturc of each
of these senses is an ck-static structure. F,wh sense i:;i a "scrn1c at a dis Laun::."
Slght, for example, looks in the distance, beyond the firsr hon.<;r.~ along
the river, across Lhc field, to tl1e top of the hill, to the trees that cover it,
and even further, to the sky and to the furthest star. The closc:st olticns,
thc>.,;c thal surruun<l us, arc held in the same distance. The distance that
sep::irates us from them i~ not fin;L a ::;patial distance, which can indeed
be greater or less: it is the transcendental extcriority of the world whose
structure is 1.hc tri-tlimensional horizon of time that precedes (by making
it possible) the int1.1ition of spar.e, anrl cannot. depend on iL. Thh origi-
nary exteriority cannot be abolished ·w:irhout the very possihility of visiun
hcint:; ahofahcu at tl1e same time. The same is true for all of our sense-5:
They all lhrow us outside, in such a ,,.:ay that everything sensed hy ns is
already outside us, rliffcrcm from lhe power that senses in as much as this
power is one of rlisr.ancing, the Ek-::stasi:; uf lhe wol'id. Thus every sound
rc.~onalci; in lhe ,,vorld, the odor floats around the flower, the perfume
around the face, and around us. Can we uol, however, touch an object in
an inunediate contact, run our finger along its surface? Tt is rn1c, what we
t.ouch in tl1e La:,e of this contact, what is against us, wholly against., i.~ the
exterior itself-the woo<l of this tabk, Lhis wall, my own body in as much
~ I make it the object of one of my senses, but which, at the: same time,
become5 for mc. something cxlcrual.
But if a.II our senses are senses "at a <li~tance," if Lhe sLn.Kture of
each of the powers that make up our transcendenta 1 horly is an ck-slatic
~tructurc, such tlrn.L everything we sense is external to us, the following
paradoxical consequence cannot ci<capc us: Far from being incapable of
founding tJ1e body's sensible character and thus the cont.em it makes ap-
pear, the ::ippcanrnc:c of the world would on the contrary be its condition.
We would like to examine the su~jecrivity of this tramccndental body,
which is no longer an object of experience, but its principle. \.Vc rccog-
nizev,ithout difficulty the Trne name of this i;ubjcclivity, which bmTOVl'S its
phenomenality from the world's, with which it i~ identical: It i~ intention-
ality, pm,hing one\ limiLs uuLside oneself, seen in the light of the "ouuide
oneself," which is the world. At the .~ame time the sophism is unmasked
tJ1aL consists in attributing to the senses of the transcendental hocly the
sensible c.h:uactcr of whal they give us to sense as exterior to us. What
they explain in their transcendence i;i rhis external character, and in no
.
wav the sensible character of what is sensed: the felt material of red.. of
cold or heat, the :affective n.;verberat.ion of a sound or an odor-and we
do not even know whether these ,ire in us or in thiugs.
Whal is here required is an eidetic ana~~sis -not of thf. m.ntrm.al body, bu/
of sensibility, whme concept tradiLionally remains submerged in almost
total obscurit)'. Let us thus consider again the pcrfonnancc:. of the tran-
sccrnkntal Lu<ly which do indeed open us to things by giving them m ns
in this very particu Lu way, which c.:uusists in sensing them-which are the
performances of our senses, of sight, heari11g, or touch. In an incontest-
able w;:iy, thci-1c pcrfonmmce~ are intentional; they are drawn toward the
world. In the movement of passing mmirk, they niak.e visible that which
the "outside" ensures in its ,risibility. When thi.~ is a.rr.ompli~hcd ~ vision
properly speaking-, a,; hearing, as the act of smelling an odor, tasting a
dish, or touching an object, it is alw::iys in a.rrivi111:; ou1.s;irle lhat tl1e expe-
rience uf sensing becomes possible. Seeing, in the phenome.nologica.l
sense of rhe tenn, as a synonym of grnsping-sehen und ]assen-refers to
this transcendental clearing which i~ neither I.he ligliL of lhe sun nor that
or artificial lighting, things alrf'.ady appear to us. In llie <lark of my room,
l still "see" this darkness, [ touf'.'.h my he.cisi<lc table, and I hear llw sil~111;e
that sunwmds 11U'.
1f i-1ct:ing, I.ouching, and hearing always bear an intentionality in
them, it is no longer possible to explain them by strucnire8 ,md im:n
proce.s~s that in t.hcml;clvcs htck auy intentionaliry--the nrst by the eye,
the second hy touch, the third by 111..: ear. The set of transcendental per-
formances of our senses, our ;;en~atiom, ancl the sensible y_ualilies that
dicy allow u.~ Lo know, cannot result from the biological structure of the
kind of animal that we are. Galileo's l'!xplanat.io11 i~ dirn1i~se<l, and with
iL every form of materialism, whether it be that of common ;.en-.e or of
scientism. From lhc: philosophical point of view, it is alway;; absurd m
explain a condition of pmsibilily by what il makes possible-in this case,
the body that senses, on the basis of what is semt1<l.

§21. The Attempt to Overcome the Opposition between the Sensing

Body and the Sensed Body: The Issue Facing the later Merleau-Ponty
and the Absoiutization of the Sensible.

This insurmountable duality benveen the two bodies, one a principle of

experienr.c, the other its ol~ccl, confronls us for the f-:irst time with the
extreme ambiguity of the concept of semihili1y Jr actually assumes Lwo
lolally different meanings, when we speak, as we habitually do, of thc.
"s:ensihlc hody." Tt L~ a 11m:~liu11 ofihe sensed body. on the one hand, and
the body that senses it on the other: it. i;i the former hody, the inert body
of material nature-···which is in it.self opaque, blind, and clt>privcd prc-
c.isdy of the power uf ~cusing that defines the essence of the latter-thal
constitutes the condition of prn~ihiliry of I.he former and makes it what it
is. "Sen:;ible" thus denotes at once the capacity of sensing and that which
is forever deprive rl of this capacity. The t:xlruo,dirw.Ty fact that our own body
can be considered and desc:ribedfmm f.hf.ie two onginally different and incom-
patible points of view-and that it seems, mornover, to unite them within it, to
the point of being undetstood on thf hasi1 r!f thi~ finality-has in no small way
wntribuled to this confusion.
By laking uur uwn body into consideration instead of some n:nural
body, it is trne that the difficulty hcrnmcs lc~s obvious. Isn't our own body
jusL tl1is, a body that senses at the same time as it is sensed, and .~enserl hy
itself? Tt woulrl rhm be "scusiblc'' by virtue of the n...-o acceptations that
we .-..-anted to dissoci;:ite. vv·onl<ln't the "c:onfusiuu" of the sensible in this
case refer us to its true nature, allowing us finally to perceive it.? "Sensible"
;ioluhly. "Visible," in a scn:sc a:, rauiral a:, it i:, unexpected, would mean
bearing within it the Seeing that sees it, thf' St~eing ovcrwltdmcd uy what
it sees, taken up by it, illuminating whar hcrnmcs visible uuly by having
absorbed the Seeing within it, aml with which it is now one: the fluores-
cent matter that forms the texture of the world, appear.mn:s in seam-
less continuity; the ScusiLle and pure Visible, confused, so that they are
finally recognized in rhcmsdvc.s-Lhe fle~h of the world, the luminous
flesh whose light is the world's appe;:iring.
Arni all of Lhis-tl1e absurdity ofa flesh that is always already like one
who has been skinned alive, like l\farsyas the faun or SL Ba.rtl1ulomew-
lhis ek~latic nesh, torn from itself~ separated from itself, placed our.side
it.ie.lf, fleeing to lhc horizon, Lhis flesh forever at a distance, worldly, that
does not know the hurclf:n of hcing itself an<l being a Self inexorably
Lied to itself, under house arrest in itself, cnished agairnn itself i11 the
nntearahlc l'uffcri11g of ic,i infrangible pathos-that knows no suffering
and joy-the tram.lucent, transparent flcl'h, n:duu.:<l lo a film with no
thickness, which would not belong to anyone but the world-all of rhis,
the emire bundk of pimulcixcs lhat strip our ilesh of everything that
makes it flesh, would not be so absurd ifwe could discover it~ principle
and place in our hotly.
\ 1Ve can., as long as we rerlucc it ro the louching/louched (touching/

tangible) relation, which can also be ,,..Titten as seeing/vi:-1ihlc, ~incc

hehiml t.hcl'c clcsi1:,rr1alio11:s, which in lurn are referred to our different
senses, it is a question of the general relation hctwcen lhc power of sens-
ing and what it senses, of the transcendental body to the <:en serl horly. and
of the structnrc of scm,ihi]ily 1.hal has not yet been understood. lo reduce
our ovin body to such a relation i.5 to make it into an ahsolulc, Lo give an
account of the body that is ours, of its relation to the se1uihle world., and
of the world i11;df, wilhuul any need for recourse to another authority.
Let us make use of one such relation, as the lalcr Medeau-Ponty
docs in Tlu: Visibh· und lhelnvi5ibl£. My right hand (the touching) touches
my lefr. ha.n<l (the touched). In an incunl.l::,;i.able way, the structure of this
relation is an oppositional structure, hf'twccn a tran:,;cendt:nlal body ca-
pable of sensing (a constituting body), and that which is sensed only hy it
(constituted as such). Rut this relarion i.~ reversible. IL i~ lhe left hand now
that touches the right. At once its condition totally change.~, it. is raised t.o
the kind of sclf-<:uuuol that pertains to constituting-it has become rhe
touching, the power of sensing-while 1.hc righL hand is subjected to an
opposite destiny: Abandoning the self-control that constituting rerp1ircs,
ir has rakcn a pl.i.cc among whal is constituted, in other words, among-
things. ln this inversion of roles henvccn the t.wo hands, the (touching/
louched) structure it is produced within is not abolished, but maintained.
oppositional structure of consritming anrl constituted. And lhis is be-
:ause, in a surreptitious but also illegitim:H.e way, he f~xtended to the t·r.tin:
=rld the touching/touched relation thrit ch.arnr,tP.rize.~ onP-'.~ own body and occ;im;
nowhere but in it.
vVhen the right hand that touched loses its command of touching,
this now means nor simply that it h;;c; bcLume pa,t of one's own body that.
is touched, h11t part of the world in general, aml is comequently homo-
geneous with it. Thus it is the transcendental pow~r of sensing 1.hal, ur
being insert.eel 1nto iltc world, testifies to the permanent possibility that it
might become a thing among others, and like them. f'..om'cr.scly, whc11 the
right hand that i~ louche<l (situated in the world) is in tum made into the
hanrl th::i.r touches, iL is lhen the entire world (whose condition it shared
up to that point) that it install~ in the new rcgi:-tcr now ils own, that of a
transcendental, constituting, and touching body. This two-fold pos,~ihility
is inherent to the tramccmk11llil body and to the world: The form.er be-
comes world by turning the touching that it was into 1hc louche<l, while
lhc latter becomes the transcendental body by turning the tourherl ir
was into the touching. Ami from thi'! two-fold possibility Merleau-Ponty's
Scmiblc follows: Sensing/sensed, Touching/tangible, Seeing/visible, all
at once and r.omhinF:<l anrl interlaced, an cnt.iLy a::; eclectic as it is incon-
ceivable, fhat purports to define on!" single reality, the world's, appeai~
ing and content confused, the sensible world, and the flesh of the world.
And these are not two homogcncou'! momcut:,;, where tl1e Seeing
somehm'r "incan1ates itself" in the visible, which "t10W1nns ir~e.lf around
the Seeing," bul a single moment, which is reality, where from the start,
the being seeing thP. vi.sihlc and the bdng·-visible of the Seeing are one
and the same. "He who sees cannot possess the visihle 1mlr.ss he: i!I pos-
~cssed by i l, unless il is it, unless, in principle [ ... ] he i-; one of the vi~-
ihle, anrl r:apahh:, by a singular reversal, of seeing them, he who is one
of them." "The body unites us directly to things hy its ow11 onlogenesis,
hy wdcling one l.o anothcl' [ ... ] the sensible mass that it is and the mass
of the sensible where it i,; horn hy 11cgrcgation, and onlu which, as see-
ing, it remains open," ~such that when the seeing is gra~pcd in whal it
sec~, i I. is .still it.self Lhat it sees: There is a fundamental narcissism in every
vision." The body, finally, "is Visibility some,imes wamlcrin~, :mmctimes
gallicriug,''* -in other words, together, the parade of visible bodies, the
viii.bil,ia, and tl1c lrnnsceudental power that sees them. The transcenden-
tal power of constitution, whose sy.~tcrmi1ic elucidation Husserl's phe-
nomenology pursued and whose fundamental structures it had so much

*Maurin:- Mnk~u-Pnnty. r, ui.,;J;l,r,t l'Tmnsihle (Paris: Gallimard, 1964), pp. 177-8, j '7\J, 183,
181, resµe<:tively / The VL<ible o.nd th, lnDi<ible, tram. Alphonso Linl;i, (¥.vansron: Northw,;.-st-
trouble attaining, i~ in this way flatt~ncd into the cuuslilute<l, reduced to
it, rnnfuscd with it, and identified with it-lost and evack<l. And Lhis i~
nut by iH.:ci<lem, but for essential reasons: because r.he phenomenological
status of the power of constimtion rcrmiirn; 11111.hought. Absorbed in the
cons1hu1ctl, tl1e theory of constitution cedes place to a literary descrip-
tion that in a dangerom; way return.~ to naiv<.; realism. As with Bergson
before him, ,.,_.a.s Merleau-Ponty not. duped by his pn::sligious writing to
the poiulofn::pladng philosophical analysis with a syst:em of metaphors?

§22. Spiitting the Transcendental Body. ~inding in Life the Essence of

Originary, Immanent Corporeity.

Before showing why it is impo~sihlc to cx.tcml Lo l.he uniYerse the oppo-

silional Touching/touched structure-understood as reversible in prin-
ciple, ~- charnctrrisl.ic of um own body, which emerges and is exercised in
this body and in it alone (we have still never seen a slone lhat is touched
hy my haJ1d hcgin Lu Louch it, feel it, and caress it in tum ... )-we mmt
reflect farther upon;, srrnr.tnrc: of this son. How can we accept it naively,
simply by seeing it at work in the most ordin;,ry expc1icm:c, when one of
our hands really doe~ touch the other or is touched by it? Here as else-
where, just because we do something like thi:,; does not mean we have
given an account philosophically for the transcendental ;mrl a priori possi-
bihry of snr.h an acl. Ycl lhis possibility is not just about touching, bur ci1so
vision, hearing, taste, and ~mell-it is the possihiliLy of all our senses as a
whole, of our transcendental body itself.
Here t.hc qucsliou of t.hi~ transcendental possibility of m1r own
body, which we ourselveR have called a lrauscendental, miginary, and
conslituting body, splits strangely in two. Defined by the whole of our
senses, where its ::ictivity c-1.shcs oul in the multiple peiiormances of see-
ing, touching, hearing, and fef.'ling 11nrler all thc.~c form~, our own body
is I..Ii:111scen<lental, in the sense that it makes -possible everything lhat b
seen, heard, and touched by it, the set of sensible qualities and objects
that make up the reality of our world-a sensihk world indeed. If this
.~f'nsihlc rcalily is prcciselr lhat of a ·world, it is because these senses a.rf'
senses at a distance: fn the mode ofinlenlionulity they are led to fee.ling in ·uario·us
way.s, by making-it-appear in the light. of the ek-static hmiwn wlu:re tlu'.rq_',~- becmne
,n:sib!~, f,0ward wh.ir.h. inltnlurrwlily always thrcro.,'s itself
And yet the reversal of phenomenology ha.s Laughl us that intention-
ality-the intentionality of the transcendental horly that. makes lhe sen-
sible hoc:ly possihk, and as a result the sensible universe in general-
never constitutes by itself its own condition of possibility: Opening us
to the world, making it manifest, it is incapable of securing the work of
manifestation with regard to itself, of 1-evealing itself to itself. Thus we
are referred invincibly from the mmscendental possibility of the scmihk
world (whid1 resides in the i11tcnlio11al_. transcendental bo<lr Lhal leads
it to feeling) to the tran6cendental possihiliry of rhis int.enr.ional horly
itself-to thR selfrel.lelation. of" intentionality in l~fe.
This reference from one transcendental possibility to the other is
decisive bec;iuse it is the second that founds the first. Each of these ir1tcn-
tional, transcendental performances of our various senses can take place,
can g-ivt: us what it gives ( villi.on what is seen, hearing what is hean.1, tuud1-
ing what it. muches, taste what it taste;i, o<lor what it. smells) only if it iI
revealed m-igirially to it.selfin the plwnonumologi,cal completion ofthe gi,venness th.al
il arxumJ1lishei, qua giiiing. In this way, we would say following Descartes, a
vision that did not feel itself seeing• -i.n a 8elf-reve:1a.rion rhat is rlifferent
in nature from the appearing in which it discovers what it sees-would
he forever iHcapauk of seeing what it sees, This is true for each of the
intentionalities that are constitutive of our various senses. The transcen-
dental hody, which open:. us to the :;cmed body (whether il is a question
of our own or of things). rests upon a corporeity far more originary,
which is transcendental in a final, non-intentional, non-sensible sense,
lhe cs~cnce of which i:s life.
The new way opens here, a royal road, even ifit·was only rarely taken
by philosophy: to understand the body starting not from the world, but
from life. It i.-i a ,iuc;,;tion, fint, of prc:;crving lhe radical chi:il-,H.:l<:r uf lhis
new approach. The analyses of the body that we have conducted to this
point (most notably. the critique ofthe Galilean reduction, and the refer-
ence of the ~eusc<l bo<ly to the lnm:;c..:cmk:nlal bo<ly L11al s~uses it) belong
to rhe: ftrst. way, since horh remain 11n<ler the light of the world. This is
evident for the Galilean reduction, which in its own way substitutes the in-
tdligihlc for the scn~ihlc withm1t.q11c.-.tioning tlu: mmlc ofappcari11~ l.hal.
makes up the intelligibility of the intelligible-and of the sensible itself,
for that matter. The question that goes from the sensed body back to the
tran.~ccmicnt.al hoclv thaf ~cnscs it a.~ks imtcacl about lhe rclalion llrnt
I

arises between them·-.. ·such tl1at this relation is intentionality. If taken a5

sclf-cvicknt, this <loc~ not, as we kumv, inlluduce any new mmk of ap-

* •s,,,i-t,.,.,.,. ,., _, .
,,,:,i,,c· says the famon~ ldter lo Plemphu; frmn Octc:ihu fl, 16t,7, which pl.ires
our uwn 1,1lsluo. ;ls f:'.IT,ei:-llve plu:'JlOlftt:'J.'Jl)ktgi.c,d vi~i.00 r.o oppnr,,,hinn ro lh:n nr~rinlm~li::., who
1 1

pn,.-.isdy do not .sP.P.-whfr h i mpli<"s that an older feeling of another onier is immanent in
vision itsdf, a self-feeling that seeing would not see wilbout. AT- I, 413-36 / I'W IIJ, (j} ff.
Cf. Descartes. AT, IX, 28 / I'W II, I 9.
pearing other r.han that of the world. Quite the contrary: ln the Ek-stasis
of the world, everything that occurs in our experience, it makes visible
and felt as an object sensed o-utside us, vibrant and resonating iu a wodd.
Thus the sensible is split between a subject-body-a su~jectfoe bod) -and 1

an object-body.
Rather than holrfing to the traditional account of the body as a
mere ohject, modern phenomenology contributed to the discovery of
this subjective body. It is certainly not nothing to place at the origin of
our experience, not Kant's cmpry :mil fonnal "1 think," but a subject that
is a body, an incarnate subject, as the "tirst" Merleau-Ponty of the Phenom-
erwlogy of Ptn'tj)lion docs. The world to which we have a.cccsi1 ill indeed dif-
ferent. clcpcnrling on whethf':r it is known by ..n ideal geometry (as Galileo
believed), by the intellectual intuition of a pure understanding (as after
him Descartes and cla~ical philosoph~ LhoughL), or ifiL i:, on tlu.: contrary
a question of an originally sensible world at every moment resulting from
the concrete performances of our various senses.
The renewal of the qm::.lion of lhc body, and thcn:hy of the world,
in as much as it is the former that now fashions the latter, nevertheless
remains very relatiYe: Far from escaping from the pn;:mppmition~ tlrn.r
dct.cnninc rhc Greek concept of rhe phenomenon, the supposed renewal
remains within the horizon they outline and remains subject to them.
This happens in such a restrictive way that, far from being wcakcm:<l, Lhc
intcrprct.atinn oft.hf' ho<iy b;ised on the visibility of the world is on the
contrary reinforced, extended to the new transcendental body-to the
incarnate ~ubjecl that i~ n;~pon~iblc for our experience. This is inrkcd an
int1mtional ho<ly, subJtaed to the worhl in the originary sense that it open.~ us to
it. Precisely because the transcendental body that senses with all its senses
opens us to lhe world, everylliin~ il makes :;en:,iblc-a.nd thu~ it,clf a~ a
i,cn.~ing hody, hut c:apahle e.cp1ally ofhf':ing sF,nsed, hy iBelf-takes place
in this world as a sensed object. '"J 'he "outside itself" det,:rmincs both the body as
a nt:W rnlije1;l of lh~ wnsible world, r1,nrl thR t.m.ilitirm.r,l hody situoted in this world
as a.n. obJect and srnse.d in it. The new transcendental body is thus only the
condition of the old one, to the point of being able to slide itself into th.is
old posilion, as one see:. occur in the lalcr Mcrkau-Ponty. \•Vith the iden-
tification of the two bodies, old and new, with the myth of the Sensible
as Sensingi sensed, Seeing/vhible, we ar-c nul only confronlcd with an
aberration; more a.ccurat.cly, thi;i is a re.snit. of taking rhe presuppositions
of phenomenological monism to their limit, and it must be understood
as their ultimate consey_ueucc.
In a rigorous phenomenological analysis, the opposition ben...-een a
~subject-body" and an "object-body" thus comes down to an opposition
encountered by tl1is analysis at it.s fi.rsl slep: tl1e opposilion hctwcc11 ap-
10menological in the sense that it does not arise between two modes of
tppearing- that are different and thus uopposed" to each other. On the
:ontrary-, in the phenomenological stnteture that opposes appearing and
!ihat appears in it, ouc ,rnd the same appearing is at work and carries
me its power of manifestation. Precisely becau.~e Lhi:. single appcarillg· i:.
1
011T$irk irself," it places outfli<le, in a world, everyrhing i1' makes appear,
mrl an opposition ari.~s hetween rhis appearing and what appear~ in it.
l'hat is why the subject-body, the transcendental body that makes sensible
ml.~idc: it'lclf what i:; in this way i-:i:nsc:d hy iron the out,i,k, reign~ 11nc:hal~
enged over the sensed (but equally over itself as soon as it becomes for it
1 q uesli.on of appearing). IL <:au only <lu so by bringing it..,df ou~i<l1..: il.8clf,
,o as f.o be :;cnscd by it. The n:veri;ihility of tJ1c tom:hing and tl1c touched
neans nothing other than this reign of a single appearing, which in mm
msies itseu·with what it gives outside iti;elf (with the sensed) and then
\1th iri;clf, whirh gives this scnscrl hut is not given tn it~clf ex rcpt. in this
)utside itself, as also sensed. Such that there is al·ways only the sensed, and
he power of sensing, in order to always be displaced from one moment
.o the next, from one hand "CO the- other, is always presupposed anytJ.!h.ere, but
'n what comes lo appmr onry -under lhe form uf whul is ~en,1ed. Like Lhc ;':;ulJ-
c. rr" of da~sic.al philosophy, rhis el~ewhere remains "an eternal absentee."
,tripped of every phenomenological effectiveness. the performance of
:ach of its now-mysterious powers, the transcendental body that is sup-
m~crl ro open no; to the 'lemible world-to the sensed-body, whether our
wm or any other-is no more than a useless hypothesis. These are the
lfesupposit.i.ons of phenomenology that c.:ollapH: when lhe c_;on<lil.ion of
Lll phenomena m11.~r ir~elf rt>nonnr.e every c.faim to phenomena lily. The
)bject-body of the u-adition and common sense remains in fact what it
Jways was, truly an object-body, owing its manifestalion only Lo its status
LS an oL-jecl-to tht fact of being lhmwn-!lu:re-infrrmt-in-r,-world, in the ab-

:ence of every other legitimation, without any philosophical question

tbout iL~ kgiLimacy evcu m:ctliug l.o he posed.

i23. The Generation of Flesh in Absolute Life. The Originary

)henomenological Characteristics of Flesh that Arise from This
::ieneration.

[he conception of the body is compleLcly d1a11ged only wlien ils mode
1f appearing is c.allerl explic.irly inro qnestion, when the way of acces~
o the body (to our own, first of all) is no long·er the world's Ek-stasis,
mt life. Then all the phenomenological properties that the u-aditional
no longer present itself in the guise of an external body that is sensed by
us-a thing among things, and an object among objects: If it is a ques-
tion of thinking ow- body no longer as an object of experience but as a
principle of experience, as a power of givenness that makes manifest,
then the inlenli.onal Lranscendental body_. which senses all things (and
i,self ouuide itself as a sensed body), must also be disqualified. Neither
the sensing nor the sensed nor their oppositional structure is involved in
what must now be thought. Nor is the Touching/touched, Seeing/visible
chi..isma-whether it is still understood ::is ;.i chiasm,i, :-is ;m oppositional
structure, or, on the comrnry, as interlaced, as the inconceivable iden-
tification of constituting and constitmcd, and as their confusion. For if
life is responsible for the revelation of the body, then there i.~ precisely
,.,ithin it neither oppositional structure nor intentionality, nor Ek-stasis
ufany ~ml-nuLhiug vi:.iLle al all. A11<l lhe origiuary power of becoming
visible, the arrival of the world "outside oneself," rhF first e-xrernalizarion
of exterioiity, is no longer at work here either, in the revelation of our
origim1.ry corporcity, in so fat as Lhis is e11Lm~Lt:<l lo life. IL is an invisible,
origi.nary corparoit:y, therefore, stripped of every worldly characteristic. as
well a~ of lhe power of givenness in a world-and en<luwed, on tJ1e con-
rrary, ·with all the phenomenological propertie.~ that it inherits when it
becomes phenomenal in life.
\\/hat properties does our originary corporeity inherit from life?
This amounts masking: How does life reveal., and what: does it reveal,
such that what is re·ealed by it is in this case the entire set of properties
conslilulive of this oribr:inary cmporcily we're lalking- aboul aud which i~
our own? Our question thus refers to what we know. Life reveals in such
a v.ray that what it reveals never takes place outside it-since it is never
anyLhing cx.wrnal Lo iL, olhcr, or <liffcrcnl, buL prccbdy ilsdf. Su Lhat tl1e
revelation oflife i.l\ a .~elf-revelation, t.he originary a.nd pun, "ex-p<'ricm:ing
undergoing itself" in which what feels and what is ielt are one and the
same. Rut thill is pn~sihh~ only hcnmsc t.hc phcnorncnologir:al mode of
revelation in which life consists is a pathos, an embrace without distance
and without regard to a suffering and an enjoyment whose phenomeno·
logical malcri.al is imh:ccl pure affccliviLy, a pw·c impics~iuualily, Lhc rndi-
cally immanent self-affection that is nothing other than our flesh_
The complel.e upheaval of tl1e lra<lili.011al coiu:cptiou of Lhc body,
a;- i.oon as irn appearing is entrnMe<l rn lifr an<l nor to the worlrl, docs not
only consist in the substitution of one mode of appeaiing for another;
il c<p1ally affccl:-1 lln: co11Lc11t of what is n:vcalcd each lime: Thi~ is uol
the body rhat we always understand as an external body, but somerhing
totally diflerem-precisely a tlesh, a flesh like ours, which never occurs
anywhere but in life.
 Bul tl1is is the difforcnc:e: that. mmt he rho11ght through to the end .
.\~ won as the horlp1hows itst>lfto min r.he world; it owe,; to that mode of
ippcaring ce:rrain phenomenologkal characteristics, a.11 of which derive
lrom exteriority-but nevf.'r iLr exislti·ru:r.. Sn 011e 11111st. recognize lhal.all lhc
bodies that are uncovered in the world (whether it is an issue of our own
liody or any bo<ly a.l all) exi:sl before this u.nwvmng and 1ndepf.ndflntf;1 nj it..
11\i11e11 lift reveals flesh, 011 lhc c.:ontTal)', it i, not confincrl to rf'.vcal it a.~ if
tVe were still there in the presence of two terms, the one that reveals and
the other that is revealed. ,\.nd that is whv, we sav, lhc firsl i.~ not co11finccl
to reve::iling the.- se.-cond_. in the way the world unveils a body it does not
:reate. Li/e reoca/.5 fle5h by generating it, as what takes birth in ii, bt'ingfumied
r1,nd edified in it, and d-, awing il-) l'ub~ta:nu: ( if.s purr1 plu·,wrru:rwlo&ri<:al substance)
(rom the very mhstance of life. :\ n i1nprP..•.sional. and a[{er.t.i11e.fle.~h, whose impres-
fional character and ajfecti-vity ne,1er result from anJthing other than the impre.s-
iional characte, and a/J,x-iivity of lift il:,elf.
At finit glance, in facr, as soon ::is we encounrered flesh in terms
of the "impression," it could be described as an affective flesh-since
_hat's all it wa~, a. liviug fk~h, feeling it.;;df and 11ndergoin~ experiencing-
tself in an impressionality and an attecrivity that are con:substantial with
_u; essence. Bul Lhi~ imprc~siom1lity and affrctivit:y arc nor its own. The
'lcsh i~ imprcs~ional and affec.tive only because it arrives as such in an
original arrival by itself, which is not a characteristic of flesh, but of Life.
v\11ere every arrival ii!l sud1 and every conceivable life is accomplished hy
:he power of absolute Life, which brings itself about in itself this original
-1mvat in itself" is accomplished in the mitsi'nal palJwj of it:; pure e·r,juymmt of
itself~i-,i the Arch-Pathu.\ uf an ilrr;h-Fle.\h. On1:y for thi.1 mason, P.'flf.l"'jWh!rl'P and
nflr-Pssaril1, er.-'er-ywhere a l4fe will. arrive as such, lhi., arrival ·C).Jllt be identicaUy the
'Lrrival of ajlR5h-the a:rri:oal of this flesh as s-uch in the Arch-Resh oj Life. The
llesh is precisely the manner in which life is made Life. No Lift: wilhuul
i flesh, hut no fle.~h without Life. But this originarr connection and this

reciprocity (this reciprocal interiority of Flesh and Life) coucerns a life

,ikc oms only hcc.ausc, hefore time, hdore every conceivable world, it
.~ esuhli.sherl in absolute Life as the phenomenolo)?;ical mode accord-
.ng to which this Life arrives eternally in itself in the A.rch-Pathos of its
\rch-Flcsh.
Folio-wing the teaching· of Ch1ist:, John understands Cod as Life.
fhe Old Testament already said of the Cod of Abraham, Isaac, audJ«coL>
hat he is the God of the l .iving. With this T.ifr, it is a question of absolute
Life, which brings itself about in itself. As Cyril oi"Alexandria recognized
.n Lun1; "Of Cuu alone can il be said that he i~ Life by nature." ln what
loc!! this nature consist? \Ve call Arch-pass1hility r.he a priori possibility
of experiencing undergoing itself in the Arch-l'athos of an Arch-Flesh:
So we ~ce quile clearly that this _.\rch-passibility belongs to absolute 1 .ifr
as its very "namre,'' as the phenomenological material in which it.~ origi-
nary coming in ii:selfis accompli8hcd. IL h, not that God obeys some prior
derr>rmination, or '!omc Reason that he himself could not escape, but
because he is Life and thus the God of the living. No liviug: without Lile,
buL no Life wi1houL the .'\.rch-passibility of its _.\rch-revel::ttion. Bcc:am1c
all this musl be under.stood dynamically, the a pri:ori pos1:ibility of 1 .ifr: ii!
never a ~pure possibility": Always already life has come in itself, it is the
clcmal um1ing in itself in the Arch-passibility in which it undcrgoc:.1 ex-
periencing Hsdf11nce;asingly, and c1tiuy~ it~elfin the inlinite love in which
it loves itself eternally.
The Christian God is thus not the Greek god. The Farhcrs of lhe
Church, rlP.spitc how difficulL it was for them to think otherwise than
Greek, were not mistaken. They nev~r imagined thal lhe god they adored
could be:: an "impassible" god, a stranger to the affairs of humanity, indif-
ferent to their lot-indifferent Lo lhe adoration they brought him, and
who would not have, in return, or nrsr of all, loved them hirrn,elf. And
they thought this 110L out of some naive anthropomorphism, but for an
opposite reason. Phencnru.mol.oKf.mlly thrry experienr11d tht1mt-:fot1/i w living, th!!)'
experit·nud /.lu'ir own life pmsively as a life that arrived in thtm mithnut their
mntri.hu.tum. or romull, whid1 wal 1wi tltefr 1)W7! and which -ne·ue.rrheless became
theirs. A life in which they .mffered, rmdfmm which thi:y drew lhe irnmense joy of
living. C',iven lo llu:msebJts in this life, lo·oing themselves in it, they expmm1:11d
that i.t !,wed t.hmn 1ur:f;s.mrily, rmd that this i;; what its love was: giving them to
themselves in the exhilaration of its own Joy, m.nking it.wdf known iv ihem in this
Wtl!)•-lo those wlw txprrienced themselves in the exhilaration of if.s_j,J) in thnn. Sn
they prayed with T11rt11,llian, asking God not/01 tht·m to lcroe themselves in him, but
jor them to i<,oe him in thern-and him alrme. With furor the master Tertul-
lian denounces the Greek god as a distant, uninhabittxi g-ml, rcduu.;<l Lo
an empty concept. deprivcrl of all mr.:auing. A god who would not come
lo our knowledge where we come to his-separated from our life aml ils
dc11tiny. Dupci; uf tl1i:. bloodless God, a stranger to mankind and human
affairs, the he1·et.il"'.s imagined above I.he "true Cod l- .. J who has breathed
into us a breath of life [. , .] a great God that no one can kuow, who does
not communicate with I.he hwuan race and does not look over earthly
affairs: lt is certainly the God of F.picurus that ihey fouud, a God of no
use either to himself or to anyone else."~
\\Thar in ~hri.~tiani1.y slmul<l be under.stood by the term Transcendence
is now in vie.v. lt is not, as in contemporary phenomenology, I.he world's
coming outside, or lhe arrival of what is shown in Lhe worl<l-lht:: objec-
tive condalc in t.ho;; dirccliuu of which im<::ulionalily "surpasses itself.n
Kor is il Lhe Go<l of Lhc philo:;uphical Lradilion or Lhe Architect of the
universe. !\or is it even the Creator, who would have thrown his creation
outside himself. and us with it, in as much as we would be part of it, which
would leave us all the more the task of decipherin,e; the trace he ,•.:ould
have v.ranted to insc1ibe on his work. In a radical sense-and the only a.c-
c:cptahlc one, if il ili indeed a quc~lio11 of Ll1c absulule-Tm11.fft:mlma: rk-
,wtes the immanence of Life in each ii-u£ng being. Because this immanence con-
ccn1~ the sclf-rcvclat.ion of each living being in so far as il i8 ac.:complishc<l
in the ;wlf-revel.:irion of ab!'.olme life, the phenomenological posi11hility
of it and thus the concrete effectuation of it lies in the Arch-passibility in
which absolute Life reveals itself originally to itself. "Transcendence" is
only a still-undetermined word for rhi~ es~ence.
ln so far as it undergoes experiencing- itself only in absolute Life's
passiblliLy, in the Arch-Pathos of its Arch-Flesh, every living being has a
flesh, or, to be more precise, is flesh. This is why rhe d11ali;1m hcm-ccn the
soul and the body does not in any way concern it-does not in any ,-vay
concern man, understood originally as living: because in living, there i.s
no dualism of this sort, but only Life and itself, as given to itself in that
ve1r Life. The givenness of lhe living in Life i.s the work of Life alone-
the givenness in which rhe appearing of the world has no pan, 'luch tha.r
there is no outside within it, nor is there body in tl1e sense that we assign
to thi:; word. The givenness of the living in Life refers LO Lifc'.s clen1al
proceeding, which arrives in it&elf by undergoing experiencing itself in
the lpseity of tl1e First Ji-.,-ing Self in ,.,,-hich it originally reveals itself to
itself. Became Arc.:h-pa:1sihiliLy is the phcnomenolugical mO!k au;unling
to which the Arch-revelation off .ifr in its Arr.h-Sdf takes place, it hears
within it the Arch-Flesh in which every flesh from then on will be pos-
llihlc. The gcrn..:ra1jo11 of a flesh like our own becomes pos~ible only in its
relation to the eternal ,generation of the .'-\.rch-Flesh of the Arch-Self, in
lhe self-generation of Abwlute life il..S its self-revelation in A.rch-Passibility,
which bcluugs Lo i.:vcry conceivable living a.wJ firsl of all m absolute Life's
own li\ing. And at the same time it becomes intelligible too, in the Arch-
iutdligibility of Life aml in it alone.
This new evidenre rhen ~rrike~ rnir eyes. The generation of the
flesh that is ours is strictly parallel to that of our transcendental Self,
which in each case makes us lhe "me" or wego" that we are. Or rather,
it is here a. question of one and the same generation. The generation
of the !il,ing in Life is that of our transcendental Self in the Arch-Self of
absolule Life (in iLs Word) and, identically, of our own llesh in the Arch--
Flesh of this Word.
 The cvidt'nct', rhen, is this: Because it denotes the phenomenologi-
cal effecmation of Life's seffrevelation in the Ipsdty from which each
transcendental Self inherits its possibility, because it i:; uuLhiug ulht:r lfo:U1
the phenowno!.o!(;ical material of the self-reuel,ation that makes eoery Self a Self,
flesh is connected to it m, its mm,l irnerior pl1c1101111:nolo)c,<ical condition
of pmsihility, rn rhP poim of identifying with it. There is no .Self (no me,
no r:go, anrl no "m:m") without a flesh-but there is no flesh that does
not bear a Self within it. There is no Se If that in tl1e passibilil y uf i11; carnal,
plwnomc11ologi1:al effectuation would nor be this one or that one, yours
or mine. No flesh, consequently, that would not be I.hat of a particular Self
(the flesh ofno out:, of the world), an anonymomt aml imperson:d flesh,
u11u imcious, frc ling nothing :m d not feeling itself. an impassible flesh! As
if, br skinning Marsyas or Bartholomew, one would still not hurt a11yone,
but arouse only a mundane event, om: mmlifirn.tion oft.he Visihle ;imong
all tlie 11isibilia. rhat. rogerhPr compose this uninhabited spectacle we call
the world~an empty world, which is only the echo of silence.
The flesh is lints uol adticcl lo 1J1c ~elf a.~ a r.ontingent :rnd incom-
prehensible attribute, a sort of synthetic adjunct to our being, corning to
split it in to two op posed and incun I cila.bl e m cnncn t~- Rcca.1 m~ the flesh is
nothing other than rhe mnsr inrerior possibility of our Self, it is a unitary
Self. Man does not know dualism. The Self thinks where it acts, where it
desires, where it sullers, where it is a Self: i11 ils flesh. A.,; wai-t rh~ r.;.1se in
Jutlco--C;hri.~ri:mity, I and Flesh are one. Ifl and Flesh are one, it is because
they both come from Lite, and because they are noLhiug other t.han the
originary and essential phcnomc11ologi1:al morlalirin according to which
life arrive~ in itself and happens to be life.
·10 arrive in life as a transcendental liYing Self I.hat. m11lcrgut:~ expe-
riencing it.self in iLS flesh in the way every flc;1h experiences ir.self is to he
born. Being horn thu.~ <loe~ nm me;in, as one imagines naively, to come
into the world in the form ol'an object-body, because tl1c11 lhen; would be
no livi1tg individu.nl, at the mnsr rhe apparition of a thing, a worldly body
suhjPct to rhe laws of the world, inheriting its phenomenological proper-
ties (its spatiality, temporality, and relations of causalit.)' witl1 the culkc.:-
tion of other bodie~) from th c appcari n g of the world, l t would, however,
be deprived in principle of what happens only in life: the originary and
transcendental possibilily of umkrgoing the pat.ho~-filhxl. expnience of
itself iu a flesh. Such a pmsihility rakes pface in the Arch-passibility of ab-
solute Life. To be born means to come in a tlesh where every llesh comer.
in itself, in the Arch-Fk~h of Life. In this ·way tht> phenomenology of flesh
n:fcrs imincihly tn a phenomenology of Incarnation.
Since something like a "flesh" is comprehensible only starting from
its arrival in itself in absolulc Life'~ aITival in itJ,,clf-an<l this occi.m as
he phr:nomtenological mode according to wliid1 this origin:uy :=rrrival
n it~elf is produced-the phenomenology of Incarnation should logi-
ally precede that of the tlesh. Ifwe are following· Liu.: reverse order, it is
Dr two n:a.~omi. The first is that since the phenomenology of Incama-
Lon is connected to tJw Chrisl.ian concep,ion of salvation, whose found-
:1g pus~ibility it consrir.m.es, ,ve will treat these two que~tions together in
•u1· final section. The second reason is that the phenomenology uffksh
.oes nm only refer behind itself~ so to speak, lo lhc phenomenology of
ncarnaLin11 as l.n itll ultimau· presupposition; it makes possible tJ1e inl.i:n-
lonal, transcendental body that opens us to the worl<l through sensing
nd so to everythiu!:: Lhal is sensed-to tht> worldly bodies that serve as
l1e exclusive model for the way common sense ordinarily understands
he horly. The relation of flesh to body is thus an uuavoidahlc rpicst:ion.
,ut it is easier to approach by starting from the phenomenology of tlesh
lone, aml leaving provision;:illy to one side the more difficult thc:mc~ of
nc phenomenology of Incarnation. The latter~ the uuitirm nf ,1n:h-R.esh f.o
~sh recorded in John's wonl-"Anrl. the Word ·was made Hesh"-indeed
ikc,~ place in Life, far from the world, before it, and independently ofii:s
ppearing, which Lhou~hl ha~ so much difficulty overcoming as long as
1c n:versal of phenomenology has neither been carried ouL nor undcr-
1.ood.

24. From the Hellenic Conception of the Body to the

henomenology of Flesh. The Fundamental Problems of lrenaeus and
~rtullian.

'he phcuornc11oln6'Y of flesh has presented us with u-vo essential conda-

ons: that offlesh and Lite, on tl1e one lia.ncl, arnl that of flesh and birth
n the ulher. W,: :.ire going to follow the ·way this two-fold relation cltx:p-
ns the moment it emerges in the history of human thought with incred-
)le sin~uJarity. ls it so extraordinary to eslabli!!h a connenion between
esh and Life or, in 1.hc ~arnc way, benveen flesh and birth? Certainly not,
·one remains in a naive understanding oflifc, where it is identified with
particular beiug endowed ,~ith spedfic properties (motility, nutrition,
!prnductiun, etc.) and shrmm tons in the world. But when life is no longer
being, some thing, or what appears, but p-un <Jjljiearing it~clf (and an ap-
earing tl1aL is precisely not the world's, but excludes it in an iminciblc
ay), then the two-fold correlation of Life/flesh and fle~h/Lirl11 bi.:comcs
'ry original, and very difficult to think. Is it nol ncces!lary t.hr:n to rli,;;-
iciate what always _f!.oes l.o!-[c!hcr. tn Ief)arate the flesh from the bodv and wre.1t
from the grip of t.hri wnrld tht: idea of birth that ·we m,a.k.e Jar oursel111:s? The time
for ~uch radical disruptions, snc.h agonizing reassessment,;, w::i.~ pn:cbely
when.John's speech reverbernrcd through the antique worlrl and :;huok
iL to its foundations. These foundations support not only the theoretical
univer~c of kuowledge, but also the mn~t trivial and ordinary matters of
existence. whk.h r.oncr.:rn all the living, "the o;;implc": Birlh, flesh, and
what they them~elvf'.~ call life-their life.
TI1c violence of this confrontaliun between tlu Greek crnu.ejllifm uf
the bod_"/ and the ChristifJ.n n;nception oj flesh will rhu~ explode on the scene
from lite first propagation in rhe antique world of the new religion, whu:,;e
essential r.ontcnl ill the affirmation of tht: coming of God in the human
condition in tht> form of his incarnation. An- we nol here again brought
hack to the point where the phcnumenology of flesh is related Lu a theo-
logical prohlcm and contaminated by it? Tn 110 way, if it is true that in the
eyes of the Fathers the flc:;h of Chiist is like the flesh uf every man. Let
us recall that this is the thesis <lcfcnded relentlessly against die heretics.
Thus when the Falliers struggle to grasp the naLure of Christ's flesh, they
do not have in 'ltiew a flesh different from our own: It is a rhcmy of llesh in
general they cumtruct. Amid extraorrlinary tlifficulties, admittedly, since
for them it is a qucslion of explaining; the Judeo~hrislian intuition of
flc~h in light of ihe Greek rnnccplion of the body At least whal must be
thought a~ pmper to man-and conscqucntlr to the Christ himself in
taking the human r:ornliLiun-is already apprehended in a Hebrew and
not a Creek way-as a flesh. Thus Llic double and essential corrdaliun
that flesh mainlaim with Life, on the ont> hand, au<l birth, on the other,
comes to the foreground.
~There is no birth ,.,,,ithont flc,1h, and no flesh withollt hirth," Tcrlul-
lian says. From the philosophical point of view, we must recognize that
the correlation that is <.:aLcgorically the principle of analysis in De carne
Chri1ti, remains totally undetenninccl as long as one knows nf'ithcr whal
flesh nor birth arc. At most one can think tha.r rhc nature of' the one de-
pends upon the naturf' of the olher. Or, more radically, that both are con·
ncctcd in so far as they are cllt from the same horizon ofunderstan<ling,
in so far as one assigns the same foundation In l11em. TertuHian knows it
wdl. v\1iat he reproaches precisely as heresy (in this case that ofValen-
tinm aml thmt: who follow him), ,,..-ai, "rccogni.-:ing flesh and birth, hut
giving them anothl!r meaning" (CC 1, ~13, ollr emphasis).
Leaving here the debate: with t.he Valentinians in order Lo go di-
rectly ro i:he ci,;scntial, we ask: On the basis of what plterwrnmological, and in
tmn ontolo,:j,ca~ p1-e.rn.ppo.1·i/ion dues Tertu.llian understand biTth,jlesh, an.d thdr
nr.1:1;ssmy wrrelation? This is not to forgt:l that, in the historic.al horizon in
which tht> nmhlcrm; of the .Fathers ofi:he Chun:11 unfold, the flesh/birth
correlation awakens various subjects, on which the shadow of the Christ
of course falls. However, all of d1em have a meaning and an. undeniable
philosophical validity, and we will examine them from this point of view.
And they are all related to the central question of flesh.
The fi1,,t pn·~uppo.~ition claim~ the solirlarity of hirth and death:
To the fonner, the latter is necessarily connected. "l._\irth hJs a debt with
regard to death." lfthe Christ is born, it is because his mission was to die
for the salvation of the world. It was thus necessary that the tlesh that
he took on at his birth ·was a monal flesh. It is exactlv' in this wav, that it
is a ile~h like our:;, ''a Oc:::;h which is de~Lined to death." ·which Ile5h is
rl~stin<'rl to dcarh? \\'hich hirrh placr:s us in thi~ mortal flc8h? ft is a flesh
that is made from the silt of i:he e;:,rth, from the m:.tt~r of thF: worlrl,
an "earthly tlesh" (CC I, V, ::!37; Vl, ~-11; IX, ~53). And to be born, if it
is not a quc.~tion of being honi for death, (:::tTI mean only to uimc in au
earthly flesh, actually in the tlesh of a woman, in her womb. Rorn in rht>
womb of a woman, the Christ draws his ±lesh from her, an earthly and
h11man flesh, anrl that. i~ why ht: livccl in du: rn:-umcr of human being-.~,
needing to be nourished, teeling futigue, sleeping, in short sharing the
<lc~riny nf man-in onkr To he ahk ro au:omplish his own, whidt was
to be crucified, to die, to be buried, and then-and then alone-to be
resurrected.
P.y dcnoring it.~ origin, the corrchuion hct:wccn flesh and ii.~ birth
thus unequivocally reveals the true narnre of this flesh, an earthly flesh
like the wu1mrn':, from which every fie:,;h isrne~, of which iL is lnilially a
part. The two charac.teri.~rics thar int.ereH the. Farher~ follow from thiii: the
mortal character of flesh (in so far as the Christ must die), and its human
character (in so far as it is by laking on th.is flesh that the Christ assumes
the hum:m con<lit.ion). Thus the heresy is njcc1.cd that claim:; to as.~ign
the birth of the Christ to a place other than the womb of a woman, a flesh
ofa "celestial," "a~tral," "psychic," "spiritual," or other origin-and thus
to as.sign it a namre less unworthy of its divine condition.
The true motif of the rejection of heresy must now hold our atten-
lion. In lhe eyes ofTerlullia.n and the Fathers the reality of the incarna-
tion of Christ is in qnesrion, and crmsecp1cntly the reality of the flc.~h
he has assumed. If the origin and nature of the flesh of Christ are not
irlentic:al to the origin and nature of our mvn flesh, then by becoming
incarnate he has not actually a.'l.mmed our ovm conrlition, acfna11y sharerl
our existence, actually endured the weight of a finite tlesh like ours (thus
its needs, its ,hirst, i.ts hnnger, it.3 prec.ariousne:1,s, and the: rleath in.~c.rih~<l
in it from its birth); he has not actually died, nor been resurrected ei-
tl1er-in brief, the entire Christian process where the real identification
of the 'iNorrl V11th m;m :-t.i! the conclit.im1 for the real iclcnf.ificat.ion ofrmm
·with God is reduced to :i. ~erie~ of outward appcara.i1<.;e::s, and at the same
time tu a wrl of hoax.
The fact of Christ and all of his teaching would be even more of a
hoax-the one who invites us to accept injustice and the:: wrongs done
torn~ (including: our body's wounds), to endure them with patience and
humility, Y•,ith a sort. of naivety, like the mo<lcsl and simple of this world
do . As he endured them him.5elf, during hi:. fasl in I.he desert, amid his
rribulariom, am! in the course of his passion, while the brutes stmck him
and whipped him, driving the rrnwn of thorns into his bruised forehead,
piercing his flesh with nails and the spear. But, in on:ler to cmlure all
this, one nccrh prcci:-1cly a fle::sh, a real flesh that can be struck, whipped,
pierced, and ridiculed, while it enrlun:d hung:cr, thirst, cold, and fatigue
over ihe course ofits earthly existence. And if thi'l flesh ii; nol real, none
of that is either: It only looks like hunger----a hunger that isn't hungry,
a thirst that isn't thin;ty, a hurning that bums uothing, a rupture in the
flesh where there is neither rupture nor flesh. The Master of humilily
and gentlenes.~, the one ·who m:ver retaliated against his enemies, who
bore everything in silence, and who "suffereil hi1-1 passion," has not sui~
fererl or home :mylhiug ifhe had what only looks like flesh. The Master
is an imposter. Ile grmsly der.eivcrl hi~ contcmpuraries, but also all those
who were to believe in him through the centuries, prarricing the imila-
t.io Christi, giving thcm~clves to asceticism, refusing pleasure, overcom-
ing egoism, welcoming injmtice or e,1 lumnics hccau~c of Christ and his
name, cutering in turn into their passion, in one of the many forms of
passion of which the: world is pwdigious, and finally accepting s.'lcrifice
and martyTdom. The terrifying words nf Trcnacus reverberate to this day.
"A~ he deceived men by appearing to be what he ·was not, he dcu:ivcs us
too by exhorting w1 to hear whal he himself did not. \'\ie ,~ill even be above
the Master when we suffer anrl hr-:ar what Lhis ~o-called Master neither
rnffcrcd nor bore" (lrenaeus, op. cit., p. 365).
Echoed throughout the thoug-ht of the Fathers, the argument ad-
vanced against Gnosticism is everywhere the same and very dearly fonnu-
~r
1atcd: it iI the calego,ical affirmation of the reality ~f the.flesh (;hri~t. Yet such
an affirmarion cannot remain in thi:. state, as categorical as it may be. It
refers immediately to a decisive line of questioning, whir.h i~ precisely
our own: Tn what tlor,I the reality of the flesh consist, what alwws us to spe.a.k <?{ a
real flesh? llow can one not sec (even limiting ourselves provisionally to
Lhc tcxls oflrenaeus and 'Jenullian evoked on this point) the mod~fiwtiun
that is. in.exorab!y pmdw:,A in them and which is as radical as it is impe-rce-ptibk?
When, in his relentless polemic against Marci.on, Tcnullian analyses this
reality ufflesh and describes itat the moment of its hirth ::t)I hlunt.ly as po~-
sible. ::iclrl1n1T 1m rkt-,1.ih liahk Lo invoke dis=t when. in a ireneral wav.
still interpreting the flesh starting from its birth, he assigns it an origin
in the silt of the earth, the phenomenological and ontological ho1izon
that presides over this conception of ilesh, its birth, and its reality, is the
appearing of the world. This is true in a two-fold sense: On the one hand,
the flesh ix gra.'ipi:d as rhc cont.1:nt. of the world, a.~ it~ matter; on t.hc: nt.ht'.r
hand, it is pred.o;ely i.n the outside itself of the worlrl rhar. ~11rh a. c0menr
is shown to us, precisely as an exterior body, as a collection of o~jective,
contingent determinat..ions thal a.re foreign to the nature of our mind.
incomprehensible by it, and indeed more or less repulsive.
'We wlll not fail to notice that the melaphon, with whose help Ter-
t.ullian endeavors to c:nahli~h the reality of flesh again8t heresy arc of
Hebrew origin, re-ferring to the text of Genesis rather than to any Gref'k
treatise. But it is precisely not just a matter of metaphors. On the contrary,
Lhc far more pn;ci:.c a.ml almrn;l oltin:Livc clescripl.iou of d1ilubirt.h ad-
dressed to Marcion is based on Greek medicine, Greek knowledge, and
the Greek heritage. A text of Tertullian--"the muscles similar to clods
of glchc" (f:('; T, V, 2.f:i.~)-al_~o indicatcll clearly the :-J..'l.~imilaf.ion made
in his mind ben'ieen the Greek heritage, with its objective pre-scientific
knowledge.~, ancl the hihlical mctaphon;: Roth rcfrr to rhc content.of this
world, and this content refers to its appearance, to the primitive exteri-
ority of nature and the creation in which the earth and its silt, and tl1e
cli~gust.ing proccs!lc~ thar.comc about. in the wornhll of women, arc llhown
to us, outside us. Thus the collection of bodies that make up the reality
of I.he \~orld unfold Lefore Lhc eyes of men, su tlial, by seeing Lhal alone,
they do percr.ive it a,-. rhe "ite an<l source of all reality.
In the universe of objective material bodies (which make up its real
contelll), there is earth (which is only another name for this content);
day and mnrl, an<l everything that can be fahricatcd v.~th them; the cnti,c
set of processes and phenomena that we preoccu pr ourselves ¾rith know-
ing better, and upon which we act (the processes of childbirth, notably)-
t.he:re is ne.-oer t.hefeRlinf( they inspire_for Te.rtnlliaii or .'\,:forcion, and nofeeling in
general, .for that matter; no -impre.ssion either. neither hunger, nor fatigue, nor
pity, nor anguish, nor joy, nor suITering. )lo suffering, actually, none of the
si~ffering hy which Irenae11,1 and Tertullian alike will d.efi.ne the ren.lit:y rif r:hri.,t\
}Lesh, cmd the reality of om own flesh too.
Herc the decisive turn occurs in the 1houghr of the Fathers, whereby
the o~jerrive dewrminarlons of the material horly that are ,,;hown rn m
in the world give way to impressional and aflective dete1minations reveal·
ing themselves in the pathos of life. Yet these are the impression al aml
affective determinations that constitute the phenomenological material.
flesh is made of, the flesh of this J-lesh, its true substance, and its reality.
Tl is indccrl true that. the nature of the flc~h depends on it~ hirlh. Bul
what doe~ birth signify? To be born, we have :.t:cu, mearn; lo cumc inlu
appcari111:;. Bcc:ausc appcanmc:c is rlnuhk, thcrf' arr: two ways of coming
into it: In the "out.;;idc it~elf" ofrhe worki, an<l in rhe parho.s of lifo. Jn r.he
outside itself of pure exteriority, nothing touches itself, leels itself, or ex-
pcri crn:c~ i t.~clf in any way. To come in to the world means to be shown in
the manner of an external insensible body. Jn the world, there is no ilesh
and no birth, if being born means coming into a fie:,h. It i~ uni~ in lifo
that a flesh is pm~ihlc, a rP.a! flesh whme reality i.~ the phenomenologi-
cal, impressional, and pathos-filled materiality of life itself. ~Hum impres-
:.iorwl dtlerminalimu (],rt .mbstituted for obj,.cti11f- mu,.~, the {',hri~t.in:n prohltm.n.tir.
inw.rmml'nttl-b!y dissociates body and_ftesh (and th:uJ makes it impo.Hible w wnfi1se
the.m~thtjonnera-rngiven /Jach to the worl.d in such a wa_'i that it is-never a flesh,
lhe luun· rejlon:d lo life in .such a way ilwl, in itself, it is 1u:uf:r a body.
Tn T~rnilli:;in, rhe dissociation is so brutal that it leads to no explicit
awareness. lt is a question, in the enumeration or the properties of the
fiesh, of a spunt.ancuu.,; passage from llic olticctivc dct:cnninationi; of the
material body to the pathos-filled su~jective properties of flesh, and to
the most significant among them, suffering. For, let it now be said, ~uffe1'-
ing i11 not a given th::n one must limit oneself to noticing \~;thout under-
standing, a contingent, "empirical" content, according to the language
of classical philosophy. luheriling iL~ primiLivc possibility from the ~uffer-
ing- !hat rnarh t.hc pme trial of li\-ing, where pathos and Ipseity happen
jointly as its originary phenomenological elfectuation, suffering defines
one of Lhe fumlamcutal affective 1:onalitic:,; hy whir.h lifr tour.he~ ir.~ mvn
Depth. Tr i.s not an ;:iccident that in the affirmation of the reality of flesh,
its suffering is ranked first. In its suffering, the flesh does not express
wme kiuJ of afkcLivc modality of our life; it~ truth is not. r~yc.hologir.::i 1;
and it does not depend only on what is incontestable in such a modal-
ity, on the fact that suffering is a cogitatio. It refers to absolute trnth, to
l11e hitldcu Lrial i11 which lifr occurs immediately in it~clfin its prirnitiw~
suffering, in the Arch-Flesh and the Arch-Pathos of its Arch-revelation.
And thus it is no longer an acd<leHL if l11e 1ealiLy of flesh is estaL-
fohed :,;lart.ing from :-:uffcring'~ own reality. Rcnmsr. this, Wf: r.l2irn, i~ nor
an ordinary reality, a sort of facticity affecting the human condition for
who knows what reason. Beuu.u;c it Ldong!l lo Ilic interior crlification of
every reality, to rhe absolute re::ility from which it proceeds and in which it
i.s inscribed for some essential reason. llecause flesh and pathos, the Arch-
Hesh and Arch-pathos they imply in cvny c.:asc arc consuhlltaulial wi t.h Ilic
trying process in which absolute life comes in itself as the originary phe-
nomenological material in which this Arch-revelation Lake:, place.
Il u; 110 acciJenl, finally, if the cmmcc:tion between reality, flesh,
and suffering refers immediately, in Tertullian and the other Fathers,
Passion tJial lca<ls lhcm who aw.iii :-.ah~.dtion to refle~t inrlefinitdy on this
im:onccivahlc paradox, ::mrl on the ahyssal '}llestions th::it it raises. Can ;m
impas3iblc Goel suffer? r::an an int.e.lligihle God h::ive a iwni;ihle flesh? lf he
does, can this flesh be like ours? Can an eternal God die-and die pre-
cisely becam1e he has taken on an earthly body destined for corruption?
Since this line of que~Lioning is unintelligible in a Greek horizon,
thi.s horizon is condenme<l Lo c.lealh. At firsl, Tcnulliau-who atlempt~
dc8pcralt:ly t.c1 dcmomrrnt.f• the. reality of the flesh., a reality without which
the incarnation and passion of Christ have no meaning-must dispose
of a flc8h who~c rc~lil)• is t>vi<lent, of a body whose concept he borrows
from the ordinary experience that underlies Greek thought as well as
our ov.'11.. In addition, the flesh is assimilated to the material bodies that
are shown in the wo.-I<l, whose propc1tics and olticctivc structures pre-
sented in evidence are indubitable-'·A flesh like ours, irrigated by b!ood,
constructed fry bones, traversed by veins" (CC I, \~ 220, our emphasis). IL is
wilhom philosophical tramlt.inn :mrl v,.;thont any ronceptual ju.11tifka-
rion that to this conception of the objective body (whose reality is the
world's matter) the presupposition of a radically 1liffrn:m flesh (of an-
other order) is juxtaposed-a suffering.flesh that draws the reality ofits mj.fi:r
ingfrom its pathos-jilled phmumenulizuliurt in life. TI1c incarnation ofChri~r.
aml in a.r1 exemplary way his pa~sion, now have their reality and truth
from a flesh that is defined by its su±lering.
This decisive modificalion of the conccpLion of the hody (of an
ohjcctivc material hody i:hat has become a suffering flesh) explodes in
the polemic against Marcion. By denying the true reality of the body of
Christ, :Marcion attacks this flesh: ll b lhe reality uf :mfforing, aml of I.he
pa.~sion, that he rake.~ for an outward appearance. It is the being-of Christ,
defined by this suffe1i11g flesh, that he empties of its reality, reducing it to
a phantom. This is what the conlext in<licales with incn:<liblc violt:m:c:
"Woulcl you not have precisely neglecred to eliminate the sufferings of
Ch1ist because his phantom wa$ too hollow to ji:r:l them L, .• J Has God not
really uccII crucified? Oh most hcinou." of men [ ... l yon who exonerate
the murdt'ren of Gori. For the Chrisr suffered nothing at their hands if'
none of these sufferin~ were rear (CC 1, V, ~~9, our empha.sis.L

§25. The Radical Interpretation of Flesh as the Phenomenological

fv1ateria! of Life and as Its Self~Revelation. lrenaeus's Christian Cagito.

The explicit theme of the fnnrlamenta1 prohlemarir Trenaeus a<ldres.;;e;;

is the definition of the reality of flesh, not through the material of the
material. \Vhal make~ so deci~ivc lhi~ :;ul.Jstitution uf life for LIH~ world
a~ the site: of the flesh's Tt'!Vf'lation (1mderstood from now on starting
from this reve.lation) i.~ that. t.hr. lift': he.rt> in ciue..~rion is no longer the:
one knov,n to the Greeks, the bim of their biology: lt is transcendental
phenomenological life, the pathos-filled self-revelation from which the
flesh dr.rws its pathos, its reality qua pure phenomenological reality·; as a
palhus-f11lt:d realily.
This is wh::it the context of Trenaeus'-. thought and rhatofrhf' other
Fathers demonstrates. What must be thought, according to them, is
t.hc Tnc:arnation of the V\ionl in it~Joh:mnine formulation. 1t is th11s thP
original corre.1£1.tion betweenfl.esh, the coming into flesh, and the selfre,1tlation
of absolute life in its Wo1d, And that this flesh, this flesh that comes in the
paLho~ of life, is not ihe fle:,;h of heresy {for example the a:-1Lrnl flesh of
Apelles, which comes straight from stoicism), but precisely our own flesh,
the real 1lesh indeed that undergoes experiencing itself in each of our
most humble or mo!!t. elementary imprc.~sions, this is what we already
know. What then has the problematic of the impression shown if not
that, thrown in Lo the world in lhe Ek-stasis of time, having l,ecomc ':iust
now past," that is, entirely past, reduced to the noematic correlate of an
intentionality, every impression falls into unreality, and al lhe same time
losL:s it.~ impn:ssional phcnomcnolo~ical completion, it.~ real flesh, and
its condirion as an Impression?
We are now witnesses to the true reversal of Lhe Gnosi.lc positions.
Gno~ticism clid nor want a real fl~ilh likF- mrrs for the Christ, :m earthly,
material flesh, which was too trivial to its liking. lt prekrred it to be less
opaque, lighte1~ and transparent to the mind: intelligible. Bu.Lil is precisely
in the worlrl rhat every fle.sh i.~ an unreality (an ide::i \iry) ,h:u merely looks
like flesh. ff it is a disincarnate flesh that responds to these wishes, Gnosti-
cism would indeed have been able to leave it iu the world. That is where,
thnrwn out.~ic:l~ itself, reli~ed of it.iielf in some V>'ll}', dischar~ed from its
own weight, from the weight of suffering or fatigue, deprived finally of the
phcnomcuolugical po'l.~ibility of suffering and cr~oying that arc constit11-
tive of it.~ rrne suhstam:e, it h::is indee.rl lost this suhst;:in,e. We mlJSt thus
ask in all phenomenological rigor: Where is the Hesh only apparent? ln
the world. The: world\ appearing :-1nips every flc~h ofir.~ reality. Ano rhii;.
concerns our flesh as well as that of Christ, as well as that ot the Word.
lrenaeus deepens in an extraordinary w--a.y the unconditional assig-
n a Lion offlc~h to Life, from which it. draw.• it~ patho.~-fillcd dfrctin:m:ss.
The entire context of the problematic proves in the tirst place that the
life in que:;Liou is imlc:e<l aL~oluL..:: µhcnumcnolugirnl Life. IL i~ lhal lift:,
the 1.ifr ofC.orl self-revf'ale.rl in its \Vord, rhat,-1;::is marle flesh. To rhe gnoo.-
tic question of knowing whence Christ's flesh proceeds-a question to
which, having grasped its principle in the phenomenological essence of
Life il~df, Lhc.;y rcspuml in au alealor~ v. ay by giving free course to their
0

imagination which is nourished from lhe culture of Greek concepts-

Irenaeus knows the response in.scribed in the Word Iha.I fascimttcs him
more th:-m any other. The flc~h in which lhe '\ford comes comes from the
Word itself~ in other words, from Life.
Iftlesh thus comes from Lite, it is a question of understanding how
this comiug is made. A.s we know, Life comes in a tlesh by coming in
itself-in "undergoing experiencing i,sel.f" who~e pure phenomenologi-
cal malcrialily is a palho~. Irenaeus approaches the question ditferently.
He ::isks if flr>.~h is ca.p::ihlf: of ffr.~iving life-the only Life Lha,L cxisl::I. Why
examine the possibility of flesh rer.t>iving T.ife rathf:r than that of Life
being made flesh? Because the horizon of his thought is dependent in
parr upon the Greeks. "vVc an; a body pulled from the earth." Thus the
Christ had a body of this sort, ~if not he would not have taken nutrients
drawn from the earth to noucish his body dra-wn from the earth." We have
snggesterl rhat it is ca.~icr to rnaiull:lin thc~c lliescs because of tl1eir at least
apparent agreement with the texts of Genesis. The material and worldly
hody of the Gn:ck~ is like 1hi~ piece of earlh liial become~ flesh under
the divine breath, which is the breath of Life. Ilut when the body is mms-
formed into flesh by the operation of Life, it draws its fleshly condition
only from Life, which srivc.~ it lo undergo cxpcrie11c.:i11g iLself in it ,and to
become flesh in this way-which is in no way like a material body that in
it:-1clf has no power Lu fed ur experience anything at all, that is forever
incapable of being fle:;:.h.
The reversal of Gnosticism maintains two fundamental propositions
that wc will ex pres:; as fulluws: fur_fnnn btiing incapable of taking on jle5h, life
is its mnrlitfon ~f pm.~hil1ry. Po.rfrmn being incapable of receiving life, lhe fl1:~h is
its phenomenological e/(ectuatimi. In Irenaeus\ l::ingnage, "Gorl r.an vivify the
flesh" (Cod alone, we will add). "The flesh can be \.ivified by God" (and
can be vivified on./!1• by him, we ,.,ill add), "If he <lirl nor v1\1fj.· what i11 dcatl,
Cod would cease to be powerful." What is dead is the inert body, which
God makes inlu flesh uy communicating Ufe in it (his Lile, the only one
that exists). And thig i.~ why the givenness of the fm,l flesh to t11e fir:.L man
prefigurei:i his salvation. "ffhe wants, the one who made in the beginning
[... l what was not, ·will reestablish in lifr whar cxistcd"-will rcrnnc.:cl
the flesh that never gets it5 c.arn::il r.onrlirion unless from it~ own life, his.
De1ived from the tirst, the second proposition is more than intel-
ligible-it is arch-intelligible. Precisely hccausc: Tifr i:- the umciitiou of
possibility of flesh, flesh (every flesh) is possible in it, and is possible only
in iL The fle!.h can receive Life as exactly what makes it tlesh, and with-
om thi8 ir would not. he-a.~ ju~L what il i.~. "TI1e flesh," Irenaeus says, in
a nmdamental proposition, "can receive and contain the power ufGod"
(lrenaeus, op. cit., pp. 383, 384, 576, 577,577).
Life':; iwmaucucc in the flci;h docs not only make up the phenom-
enological substance of every conceivable flesh and thus its reality; it
makes po~siblc al the same t.imc that of f'.ach of the fundamental phe-
nomenological structures of what we have called our originai,• corporeity.
Thus we pick up again the critique of contemporary phenomenology at
the point we had left iL. The rcfcn:m:c of the scnscrl ho<ly to rhe tr:rnscen-
rlental body that senses it had unfolded in that body the structures we
are speaking of and which were ~Lill penxivcd only in their intcntinmil-
ity: vi.~ion rclatcci t.n what. it sees, hearing to what it hears, etc. In this ·way
the problem of the phenomenological status of these intentional perfor-
mances of our various senses arises, in so far as, giYcu Lo lhcmsdvc~ i11 the
sclf-g·ivenncs~ 1if life, rhc p h f'nom ena.1 i t:y of their immanent accomplish-
ment is foreign to the phenomenality of E-k-stasis.
It is remarkable that Irenaem. reLognizes immcdialdy in each of
these transccn<lental ,nrnctures the immanence of absolute life as con-
stitutive of its phenomenological reality, and, at the same time, of the
possibility for it to cxcn:ii-.c it.s power. P.ecause the capacity of flesh to
receive life appears as the definition of its reality, it extends at the same
time to the various elemenls lhaL compose iL Rcmlcrcd in it~ entirety,
Lhe prnpo:.ition previously cited rcacls: ;'The flt>sh is capable of receiving
and containing the power of God since in the beginning it received the
art of God and thus a pan of i11,df became Lhc eye that sees, another the
car which hear.~, another the hand which palpates and works [, , ,] . Yet
that which participates in the art and the wisdom of God abo parlicipales
in his power. The flesh is lhus nol cxdu~ivc of the arr, the wisnom, and
1.hc power of Gorl, hut the power of God, which procures life, deploying
itself in the weakness of the fle.shr. (ibid., p. 377). That the power of flesh
is also called weakness mean:.: The life where our flc.~h <l.rnws it,; reality,
in which it is given to itself and made able to act-this lite is nothing by
itself. It does not take from itself the reality of it.s uwu flcsh-siucc it is
given to ilself only in the :;df-givcm1css of absoluter .ifr, in the Arrh-f1esh
of the Arch-Self.
With the immanence in Hesh of Life, which constitute~ it~ reality,
the An:h-intdligihilit:y nf 1.ife i~ communicated to it. Ilere one of the
most astonishing theses formulated by human thought is offered, the inter-
pretation ojj{d1, as ineludably bearing an Arch-intelligibility within i!..1·,,,lf. Life\
own, in which it. is given IO itself, and in which it is made flesh. There is
no flesh that is not selt~a±lirming and self-legitimating as to it.s exi~tcnn:
through exactly whal makes iL flesh (m rnthcr living flcsh)-no fleilh
that does not bear Life witl1in it and the Arch-intelligibility that makes it
an unshakable foundation. Irenaeus's astonishing affirmation-implied
ebcwheie in John's Word-is the cogito of Ilesh or, if one prefers, the
Christian cogito.
J\aturally, an affirmation like Lhis mu.,;I. he umlcrslood approprl-
ately, since it is different in principle from the propo&it1ons fonn<l in
philosophical texts: it is m;;t thought that formulates it but precisely flfsh; it
Jormulales ii in itiflt1sh, in 1. Spee.di Otal is the speech ofjlesh, marr frrecise{y of
Life. If the flesh never lies, it is because it is given rn itself in the Pammi a
of I.he absolute, because the Parousia of the absolute takes place in an
Arr.h-F1e.~h from v.rhir.h no flesh is ~cparatcd.
ln lrenaeus's text (as in every philosophka.1 rext), rhe i;ipccch of
flesh cedes place to the speech of thought, which takes everything it says,
hnwc.vcr, only from the speech of Lifo, in lhis ca.-;e from lhe speech of
flesh, which is here the original co[[itati.(). This is what fornish~s rhe prem-
ises that Irenaeus will develop: J.Vothing tha,t is living jails to attest in its bfe
that it is li1Jing. lVothing that isflesh fail1 UJ aUest in il.1flw}1, /hat it is flesh. The
thesis of Gnosticism is reversed in the light of the carnal cogitatio. Th.at the-
sis claim~ that thP._fl.esh i~ inr:af1ohle of rer:ti11i11,g life-Lhc only Life lhat exists,
absolute Litie. From now on those who claim that flesh is incapable of re-
ceiving Lhe life immanent in every flesh, that gives it to itself and makes it
flc.i;ih, mn'lt say that they arc not Jiving, lhal th9 <lu uol have flesh-and
do this while they live and accomplish all the activities of flesh. The living
musl i;ay l.haL Lht:y are rwl living, the flesh that lt is not a flesh.
"\\/hat they are ~aying tom, thos~ who claim that t.hc flesh is inca-
pable of receiving the life that God gives, either they affirm all of this
whik adualty living awl hm·ing parl in llfe, or they admit to having abso-
lurely nothing of life, m he presently cica<i. But if they m·e dt:a<l, how can
they move themselves, speak and accomplish all thf' othe.r actions, which
are the accomplishment not of the dead but of the living? And if they are
living presently, if their entire, body has pm1 in l(fP., how do they dare say Lhat
the Hesh is incapable of having part in lite while they admit to having life
right nuw?" (i~id., p. 578, our emphasis).
Vle would he ;1-Ton g t.n think that t.hc.~c ~c 'I ucnce~ of aL~ urdi Lies lhat
Irenaeu.s denounces are proper to Gnosticism and to its specific theses.
\Ve recognize: them every-where the revelation of Lhc flesh i~ uul attrib-
uted to the revelation oflife, and when~ the revelation of life is notallrib--
uted to life itself, understood as its self-revelation. Thus everywhere the
appearing of flesh and life is rcduc:cd to the worlct's appcari11g, confused
and identified with it. This affirmation of lleidegger, for example, is ab-
surd: "Life is a particular kind of being, but essentially it is accessible only
in Dasein" (SZ, !jlO, 50 / 16; translation modifitd). Wt: can see lhal the
0

horizon of phenomenological monism, within which almmt all philoso-

phies of the body and rhe flesh are consrrucrerl, must ht".re he rlismisse<l.
In Irenaeus, the polemical denunciation of the contradictions
proper to the gnostic rhcscs rhat. he has in view-"[ ... ] these people
guarantee that they live, boasting of bearing life in their members; then,
contradicting themselves, they claim Llrn.l thdr membcfl; arc incapable
of receiving lifr~ -i.s only rhc invi~rsc of a positivt> phenomenology. Th,H
Life is present in every flesh as what reveals it to itself, makes it a flesh
and gives iL Life-in evc.;ry fle:,h, Life attests ro this in the rnrlical sP.lf-
attem1.t.ion of its ahsolu te self-revelation. This is the extraordinary content
of the cogito of flesh proper to Christianity, which Irenaeus formulates
in a too-dense proposition: "Thal the flesh j:, capable of receiving Life,
{hi.{ i.s pr.mt?d by thiI 11r«y f,1:(efrom which it [the flesh] already lives right now"
(Irenaeus, op. cit., our emphasis}.

§26. Anaiytic of the "I Can." The Power-to-Move as Condition of

the Power-to-Touch, and of Every Power Attributed to the Body.
Condillac and Maine de Biran.

It is now a question of perceiving all that this phenomenology of llesh,

as an essenLial piece ofa ph<.:nomenologr ofLifr, Mill a11ows u~ ro unrler-
stanrl, on tht> one h::ind, concerning flesh itself, and, on the other, its
relation to the body. We find that precisely this relation offlesh io the body
i~ inlelligibk only starlingfrornflesh (J,,id not swrtingfrmn the hndy. 1t is here
that the ;ie.rnnrl v,;::iy (the interpretation of flesh starting from the appear-
ing of Life) aflirms its p1imacy over the first, which is limited only to the
appearing of the world. Thia primacy is decisive 11ot only twcamc it. is im-
po'lsible to understand flesh starting from the worldly body. Contrary to
traditional interpretations, which here indu<lc thus<.: of contemporary
phenomt:nulugy, it is here cstahlishc<l that. the worl.dly body i.i pi:miUe on1y
nnct'1 me hrwe presupposed a fl,esh already re.vealed to 1rse.lJ' as /i-oing_fle5h in the
pathos-ftl/,ed seffn:velation of life, Thus it is indee<l anotlicr mode of givcn-
nc8s than the wnrln's thar here must be rhought, if something- like a flesh,
like our flesh, is not to remain an un·warranted presupposition.
Let us look again at the transcendemal body thal opem us to lhc
worlrl, which senses the 5ensed body by relating itself intentionally to it
so as to be able to see it, hear it, touch it . .. -where seming u1 gt:ncnJ.
is identified witl1 this inteuliunal rdaLion. with these ck-i-natjc senses all
"senses at a di.~ranre." T.et 11s examine with doser attention the touching/
t.ourhc<l c:hiasma on whic:h it ~e.e.med one cmild read the structure of 011r
ori ginary flesh. Instead of po~iting this stru cmre as a self-sufficient total-
ity, kt us question forther each of the terms that it puts in pl;:iy. 'We know
that the possibility of touching is in no war exhausted in its intentional
relation to the touched. It is precisely the radical phenomenological
_µo~sibility uf inlcnuonalily thal is in c1ucslion-thi,; possibilitr for which
intentionality it.~df m.-vcr give~ account hccaui-c it resides in an csi1cm:c
that is fundamentally foreign to its own: its pathos-filled self-affection
in lite. This originary and fundamental possibility is sidestepped when
touching is now considered only in its relation co what it touches, when
the chiasma is raised to the level of an absolute.
There is more. To beha"e like a "wu<.:hin1s," "Lo lou<.:h" in the sense
of an an thar touches, h;i.~ prcci.~cly nothing to rio ¾;th a "hch;ivior," or
some kind of facticity, even if it is active rather than passive. To touch in
the seme of an e.ITe<.:tive action necelisarily comes within t.he cornpelence
nf a power, a pnwer-tcHcmc:h of which the "r.ouching" (the. fact of tnur.h-
ing) is only the operation, or actualization. llut tl1is power-to-touch is not
in Lurn a simpk: fat:ticiLy, en in some way the 1p1ali1.y of a being- l.hal i~ en-
dowed with such a property. Power to touch meansfinding oneselfin possession
of lhis puwe,; /Jeing JJlat:er.l in it bfforehand, rniru.,itling with it, heing identifier! with
it, and in th.ii ma:y and thi~ r,,ay 11,wne being able. to do u,h.at ii. can. F.very power
pertains to an essential immanence; in this immanence it deploys its force
and is au e.ITccLivc powe1, 1ml simply Ilic cm1ccpl of a power.
,1\inere and how is every power's immanence to itself accomplished?
In Life, in the way Life comes with pathos in itself. The possibility of every
power i~ iLs arrival in itsdf in the form of flc~h. If corporeily is the en Lin;
set of our powers. it is in flesh and as flesh that this corporeity is possible.
The flesh is not the result of the touching/touched chiasma and cannot
be rnrreclly described by iL. The .flesh comes before tl1e chia:r.ma as the
condition of the power-to-touch and thm of tour.hing al'! ~uch. Tt comes
before the poweno-touch itself as that which installs this power in itself,
making a.n effec:tive power nf it.. Rut ai;; we have .-wen (anrl we will cnmt:
back to this), flesh arrives in itself only in absolute Life's arrival in itself,
in the Arch-.Flesh of an Arch-Power.
T.ife',,s immarn~nce in every power, which make~ a carnal corporeity
of the originary corporeity in which these powers are gathered, stands
out more obviously if, among each of these powers, we retain one to
which only a hricfallmion has hccn made. For tom:hing doe1-1n'1juxl hear
,\oithin ita power-to-touch whose phenomenological possibility resides in
iL~ flc:;h; another power inhabits it tha.t must he analyzed in its distinctive-
ness. Tt i;i a question of the power to move. in which rhe power-to-tonch
is self~moved so that it can touch all that it is capable of touching For as
long a.s the puwcr-lu-luuch was comidered only in its relation to what it
allows one m touch, the fleshly innmmcm:e lhaL put.:, iL in possession of
itself beforeh;md is e,~ily ohi;c.nn'.d. It is no longer pu.ssibk Lo t:va<l;;: Ille
rnmlition orevery power if the power-to-move is not related originally
and in itself to any intentional corre.late., if it remains within Lht: power-
lo-Luud1, and belongs as it does to the carnal immanence from which it
draws it;; force. Scp,tralcd frum thi~ originary power to move itself; in the
sense of what moves and i.~ movP.o inciissoluhly, incapaLlc of moving itself,
the power-to-touch would touch almost nothing-like lofty characters
invited out on some official hunt who, while .seal.ell on their armchair,
shoot only the prey thrnst out before them by diligP.nt toute.rs.
The demonsu·ation that the power to moi-'e is immanent to the powe,--
to-f.ouch {without which it would he dislucale<l from every power) ,,,as the
quickly forgotten achievement of a sequence of mo<lc.rn thought l11al was
as brief as il was decisive. It is a question of the critique .lvlaine de Biran
add ressecl to <;on<li 11 :K. H c was one of lhc firs l lo pose explicitly the q ues-
tion of the knowledge of one's one body. To resolve it, he prm:ccclt:d in
a .~cries of Lhc moi;t remarkable phenomenological reductions. First, he
reduced our subjecti-1-ity to itself and to its pure imprc•,siom. C.ondillac
calb l11i.:; r·educed impressional subjectivity· a statue. The impressions it
experit>nces c.omc mus from thc~c :;cnst:s, from the world, but ( this is the
first reduction) it knows nothing about it, :mci is limited to cxpc1icm:iug
lhem a~ iL experiences them, since it is nothing else. "lfwe present it with
a rose, to m it ,viii he a .~tatue that smell~ a rn~i.:: bul lo it.self, it will only
be the very smell oithis flower. lt will thus be the smell of a ro~e., a cuna-
1ion, ajam1i11c, ur a violet [... J. In short, the smells are for it only its own
modifications or states; anci ir cannot. rhink ofii.sdfas anything else, since
these are the only sensations of which it is capable."•
,-vc have nevertheless left the sense of smell (though it kn01'1.'S noth-
ing about it) to the pure, impn:i-11ional !!ul~cctivity reduced to i~ olfac-
tory impressions. Condillac then proceeds to a new series of intersectin~
phenome.nologic.al reductions that in lurn envisage the statue as ~Jim·
ited" to the impressions th;n c:orresponci to each of l11i.;sc ~enses taken in
isolation---to the associations of several senses, in arc.orciancc with the
variom conc:dvahk comhinaliom (laslcjoined to sight, to smell, seeing
joined to smell , . , J. In each of these phenomenologic.al ~imat.iom, which
arc frcdy imagined through the operation of a genuine "eidetic. analysi;;,"
an impressional •ml~cctivil.y thal. is reduced to its pure impressions can-
not (despite their diversity) be made into the least idea of an external

" fraiii des sensation, (Paris: h,yard. I !JS1), p. 15 / Philru~/1hiud W,i1,,.g, nJr.:1fom,.P- flnmwt Abl,,i
dr Condi/lac (Hill~d...l,;:, J\.'}: La.w1-e1Kt' Edu.Lllm Asso.:i~k,. 1982), p. 17.''t.
body. Hence Condillac's qucsliuu; How do we go from our scnsatior1s to
tJ1e knowk:<lgc of bodies, whether it is a question of an external body or
om own?
A man of the eighteenth century, Condillac entrusted the task of
resolving- the problem to "nature," which is here only another name for
lite.* As the impressions are not indifferent (some are plt::asanl, olhen,
disagreeable), movements sponlaneously arise in lhe statue, whereby il
engages in lht: .~c11salion il enjoys and refuses t.hc one that hurti; it. Tn
the course of these more or less disorderly and "mechanical" movements
(~Lill in Lin.: cighlt:t:11tl1 ce11 lury scmc of movement.~ accomplishcci ,~pon·
taneously in the absence of reflective thoug-ht), the statue happens to
put its hand on its own body: It then feels a sensation of solidity. But it is
different from other sem,ations Lhat tl1e slatuc pcn:eivcs as i1.:; own uw<li·
fic:atiom :me! whf're "it fmrls only itself," became the sensation of solidity
gives it the idea that the body it touches is impenetrable, so it perceives
this as a differem body. Thus a firsL <lii;tiucliuu arises b<:Lwccu Ilic pure
sn~jenivity of rhe o;tatue and the reality of the bodies external to it.
Yet, while the experience ru1.fokb; when a body situated beyond pure
sensation is touched, a second decisive split ,.,;n take place according to
whether the touched body belongs to the statue or noL. Vvhen the ~Lc.1.LUe'~
hand encounter:; il~ own Lody, when it touches ir.~ chest for example, thr:
sr:nsation of solidity th::it the hand and the chest "refer mutually to each
other [... ] puts them necessarily outside one another." At the very mo-
ment the st.atuc dist.ingui~hf's it~ rhest from its hand, however, ic "redis--
covers itself in one and in the other, because it teels itself equally in both."
Asimilar relation, where the statue's hand is distinguished from its chcsl
all tl1c while it still irlcnt.ifics with it, holcis ohviously for e::irh part of it.~
own body on which it is brought to bear.
Let us now suppose the hand encounters a foreign body, the self
[rnui] tl1al inhabils the ha11cl, aml feds iL~df modified in the sensation of
solidity it experiences in contact ,.,ith this body, does not experience itself
and doe~ nol i<leutify itself in the hulcr; it "docs not fee] itself modified
in it." Or, a..~ Condillac again /iays, "the sf:lf thar amrwP.rerl to it, cease.~ to
ansv-:er.'' Thus the second differentiation we are discussing takes place,
,•.-here one's own body is ckcisivdy .~cparatcd from 1.lu: foreign hody. C.011·
dillac expresses this in a text of rare density; "When several distinct and
co-existing sensations are circumscribed by touching ·within the limits
where the self answers to itself, it [Lhe statue] is aware of it.:; bod)'; whcu
several distinct and coexisting sensations are circumscribed by the touch-

* A, Pm,1 .Audi lm~ prn[ouudly ,howu wilh n,sp<"'-1 lu Roussem1. Cf Ro,inea1,, EIJ1igy-" d Pas
''"" {Paris: Pr~ss.,-.~ Pniver~itaires de France, 1997).
ing within limits in which the self does not ans,-..·er, it has the idea of a
body different. from its own. lu Llte first Ca!ie, these sensations continue to
he iti; own <JUaliries; in the second, they become Lhe qualiLit:s ofa wholly
different object."
As remarkable ::is C:nnrlillar:'s problcmal.ic may be hen: in Lhe Tn:a-
ti5e, frori1 the phenomenological point of view it presents several unc.er-
Laiuties lhal should ue noted. Is it not strange to call pure subjectivity a
stanie, and thus identify it. \Vilh a foreign o~cdive body, whose knowledge
it is precisely a question of establishing? The image of the st:.tm: wa.~
un<louht.cdly chosen in unlcr lu signify the absence of every relation
to any exteriority. "\Ve supposed f... l that t11<rerinr entirely of marLk
would prohibit the usage of any of these senses" (Tre.atise, respectively,
pp. 104, 105, 106, 11). The isolaLe<l statue of the world is a figure of the
phenomenological reduction, it delimit~ a sphere of ahsolule immanence
·where one restricts oneself to the impressions as they undergo experienc-
ing t.hcmsclvcs, imkpcndcntly of any idea or any interpretation from
elsewhere. Nevertheless an initial and seriom rlifficnlty ariilc:1: "\t\i11c11 Ilic
plea!;ure or tl1e disagreeability of the sensations fdt arouses spontaneous
movements destined to ma.ke the former arrive and 1.o rcjccl lhe lalter,
where does the ability to acwrnplish such m,:rocments reside? In the impres;;ions
fhcnm:lvcs? This mu.:,t be demonslrale<l, which hardly seems possible as
long as the sensarions are viewed as p.~ychological given~, as passive mo-
dalities of our soul whose arrival it has nothing to do ,\oith.
Yer it. proves decisive lhat Lhc paSliivc !iphere of subjective impres-
sions is weakened by the emergence of .s.pontan<>ou~ movements wilhin
it. On the one hand, these movements ensure the interior equilibrium
an<l rhe entire affective economy of Lhc :sLaluc, guarnnleeing its pleasure_.
and sparing it the weight of inrolernhle pains. Rut, on the other hand,
these are what must explain the pass..,ge from the suqjective sensations m
The awarenc~s of exterior bodics-n:solving tl1e issue of awareness in the
problematic of the 'l'reatise. Ilow then can one not notice theg<_~ apnria~ nr
gaping lacunae in it?
The stamc was only a figure for pure :mbjeclivity. But this is what is
in question. Its movements have become those of it.~ harnt, of an ol~ec-
tivc OJ"!f.d.11 thal hcarii on oLher external, objective bodies, touches tl1em,
and feds in this contact a serie8 of sensations. The movcmcnl born in
the sphere of sensations, in some way produced by them, i.~ now ·what
pro<luccs 1hc111, aml awakens them as and when the hand thus moved
touches the body that it meets and runs along i_rs form~. Since it. appi:arc1l
in lhe sphere of pure, reduced subjecti,,ity, the movement should be
equally sul?jci:tivc, in a radical scn:,ie, Since it has become the movement
of an objective organ, the hand for it!I part ~hould he ol~ct:tivc Loo. For
that matter, this is the only way it would it he able to fulfill the role Con-
<lillac eutrn:;U; to it: To put the hand in contact. ·wfrh external horlie~. to
aiuu::,c :,cnsaliom; of solidity through this contact-rhe iw.ns:uions he f'X-
pects will give the statue the idea of an impenetrable body that is external
l.o it. TI1c sensation of solidity that must produce the idea of exteriority
depends on this, on the prior exteriority of an oLjt:clivc ham.l in objective
contact with objective bodies.
How i~ tin.: :;ubjectivc movement that is horn in rerlnced, impres-
sional subjectivity related to the objective displacement of the hand? How
are we in a position lO implement them hot.hr Anrl, ::ihove all, the first:
'Who rli~pbr.e,; the sul'.!jective movement, since this is what ·moves the statue's
fw..nd? The unthough t presupposition of Condillac 's entire analysis is here
uncovered. The displacemelll of I.he hand over the diffcrcn t part11 of t.lu~
body reveals the rcalil)· of this body and it5 forms to us through the sen-
sation of solidity. llut our originary co,poreitJ is not this body whose parl:; an:
circumscribed when the hand shifls ove, it. It is this h(lnd itself (JS it shif!s itse(f oue,-
our own body i.n order to touch. it and rnark au.tits contours. Uere Condillac's
problematic shatters against two unfathomed quc~tiorn;. The baud is the:
in:,;m1mcnt. for our knowledge of the body, "But," Maine de !Jiran asks,
"lun,_,, is this instrument known -in theJirsl plaar' So lhat it can be moved ,rnd
directed a~ il nee1.h lo Le: "How h(ls any ki,nd rif numnhlf! organ he11n r:nn.~tnnt!:y
rlirer;t.etl without bnng knoron? ,,.
As a radical elucidation or
this two-fold presuppusilion, Lhc phc-
nu11H;nology of Life allow.~ m to offer ::i S}'5tematic critique that, beyond
the thought of C:ondillac, concerns every worldly theory of the body. The
follm.,,-ing remarks thU5 have a general scope.
Cunsi<lcn:d as an otticctive organ, as part of the worldly body, the
han<l is incapable of touching and sensing anything at all, no more the
"other hand" thai1 another part of the body or any other kind of body. To
touch and to sense-the ~ulijcctivc power of Louc:hing alcmc can <lo this.
On the one hand, this power is related intentionally to what it touches.
On the other han<l, this intcutional relation i:,; prn,sihle only heca.m.e it
is giv.:11 tu itself in Lifc'8 pathm-filkn .~e:lf-givenness. Thi.~ i~ the only way
that, ha\ing been placed in itself beforehand and thus in possession of
itself, it is able (in Life and qno living- power) tn deploy itself and to act,
to ronc:h wh;:n is never touched except by it, by a power like this.
But we claimed that, in this intentional relation to what it touches,
the power-to-touch is only ever perceived, so 1.0 speak, in whaf makes it a
power, in this pathos-filled immanence to itself outside of which no power

* l\,J ;\~n~ fl~ Ri ra 11, 1Vf,~nJt•~·.r~ _._..,,.,, la, rii:nJm/Ju~·i.i'ft,,,, Ur t,1. p'!ft5i'v.:~ ed. Tisseri:!nd (P'dris: 1\lc~u1. 1932).
1

vnl. TV, pp. fi, 7.

h possible. From this radical immanence of Life, put in possession ofitself
hy 11, the powcr-10-l.ouc:h 1101 m1 ly chaw:; Ilic possibiliLy uf it5 own power;
th~ power of moving also and first of all resides in it-apart from which,
incapable of moving itself, me power-to-touch would be powerless. Be-
cause it remains in J .ife, rhf' "moving-" of the: powcr-tn-t.ouch is an imma-
nent movement-it is the movement thatrrmains in it,elj'in its vc-ry· mo-oeme,it,
and it cu:nit:J it:.elf wilh ihe~f, which moves itself-in itself--thc self-moi•tment that
does not upnratP. itselffrom if.~elf tmd 1u;vi,;r !nwes il.w:lf, letiing no Jiarl ,,f ilst:lf bt:
detached from it or lost outside it in some exterwrity, in the cxteriori.ty of the worl.d.
Thus in going beyond touching inlemionally wwanl whal il luud1es, the
intentionality of this beyond never take~ place anywhere b11t where it is
given to itself in life's self,givenness.
Let w; affirm lhis on a very general level. "\'\lliat philosophy calls the
process of o~jectification, which play.~ so great a rolf' in many of its dc-
velopmenl!i, is never possible in t11e sense that philosophy understands
it. Wl1cthcr it is a question of "Mind," "Rca:,;on," subjeclivity, conscious-
ness, or any other fundamental moment, this process of o~jecrificarion
is interpreted as if the power that operates the objectification objectifies
itself in the process, posits itself before it, and thus it;idf he comes the
other, the external, the diflerent---·the "in front" or the "ob-ject.~ The
analysis of the mosl simple anJ most t:om:rcl.c corporeal activity suffices
to e;;tablish rhat nothing like thi.~ happen.~, that ohje.-:tifiration i.~ nc\·cr a
seU~objectilication. The "objectification" completed in each of our senses
,-vhcn sighr.s falh at. a distance, when toud1ing touches an o1~cct, wlit:11
smell breathes in the scent of a flower, when hearing perceives a sound
that resonates in the world, this objectification always signifies the com-
ing out~i<le of an out~irle, an intentionality that goes hcyond tcrn~<1.rd thc:,c
horizons of transcendence. But this movement of going beyond remains
in itself and is moved in itsel(: it is Life's self-movement that carries it with
iti;;elf in the p::tthm-fillerl sclf~;iffrction of iLo; untcarnhk flesh.
Here we are presented ·with a decisive connection between Affec-
tivily and Power. If LlllTC i.:; nu puwn exu:pl I.hat which is giwn to itself
in [ .ife's parhos-nlle<l sclf-gi\•cnness, then every power is affective, nol a~
the effect of circumstances that would be foreign to its own essence, but
because it resides in Lhis pai.ho::.-filkd sdf-affccliou that, by installing it in
itself_. gives it the ability to exert itself-to be the power that it is. Thus, rhe.
prior power of a transcendental Afkcti11ity reigns in every power of our
hmly, the power of AffecliviLy t.o be given lo it.self and thus to give to itself
everything that is given to itself only in it-in that which is the essence of
Life. ll is lherefore not po:ssible to refer to the power of Affectivi.t:y that
place~ every corporeal performance in it.sdfunlc:,~ ba5ed un this founda-
tion; every force in itself is full of pathos, and at bottom that is what the
 Yet in thP- p::uhm--Rlle:d immanence of every power, it is not only
gi\'<"n to irself:md thus capable of acting. ilecause in such an immanence
nothing go<"s out of itself or differs from itselt; the power situated in it is
not only given to it~elr, h11L coml:-mtly given, without any discontinuity.
Moreover, it is not only continuously given, but also iL cannol. be made
not Lo Le, or uol w be ,my longer. From r.his follows one of the most
remarkable Lrail!i of our originary c:orporr:ity, \n which all rhe powers
that compose it are gathered and unified. As a self~givenness of each of
them in pathos, it is properly Liu; flesh of each Dnc. And thi~ is how it
ran implement it when it wants to, since it is placed in it as its innermost
possibility. This possibility is not abstract, however. Bc(;ausc it is a flesh,
and thw; al·ways delermined iu pal.ho~, whaL bri11gs it into play is this very
determination in pathm in F:ach of our powers. Here the unfounded
presupposition of each of Condillac's analyses is easily recognized and
becomes intelligible: All llu: ·r,wvem1:;nt.1· uf the stflt1.1.e urigfrw.tf. in it., pure impres-
Iimui1 .mhjer:tiriity ararrdinK to the jJ/.(ly of fh,;,se impressions.
At the same time, the second unfounded presupposition of Cou-
uillac'.~ ,malysi~ aho hccomcs transparent. Maine de Biran asks Con-
dillac how a movable organ can be constantly directed withoul being
known. By it.sdf Lhc phenomenological pre:mpposirion initially assumed
by Conciillac, hut quickly lost (rhe reduction to a radically immanent,
impressional subjectivity), allows the problem to be posed in a way Lhal
avoids tht apmia. The "movahlc organ" that must constantly be directed
and known is precisely not the hand qua objective part of our objec-
tive body----any more than its movement is an oLjccLivc <lisplat.:cm<.:nt in
space. Descrilx:d iu its pure :mlticctivit:y an<l rerluced to rhis, the "hand~
i~ nothing bm the su~jective power of touching and grasping, where this
power is given to itself and put in possession of itself in lhe pal.hos-filktl
seH~givenness of which we arc speaking. For each ofit.~ power~, the flesh
en doses within it both the ability to act and its revelation; the phenom-
enological completion of each of tJ1i.:sc power~ takes place in flc.~h. This
is also the ca~c for the mm·ement of thi.s "movable organ~ that is the
"h:rn<l" of rhe "!Starue": the "moving" of this subjective power of grasping
is the movement moving in itself and remaining in possession of iLsdr iu
the imm:mence of our originary corporeity-Life's self-movement in its
carnal self-revelation.
"I can" does not signify that now I am in a posiliun lo make this
11111vcmcm. The reality of a movement is not exhausted in its singular
phenomenological eilectuation: It resides in lhc power to a.ccomplish it.
Thi~ power in Lurn is not reduced to rhe sum of irs porf'nri::i.J ac.nrn.hza-
tions. It i~ an in princ.ipl<" ;m<l fl priori possibility that prevails over each
of its "actualizations," which controls past, present, and future, and tJiat
of my body. All of t.hci;c power;; arc in fin it.Ply rf:peuahle. All of t.hcm arf:,
because there is not one of them that does not remain in possession of
itself in Lite's selt:givenness. There is nor one that does not belong to me,
because, in ,he self-givenness that give.5 it to itself, the ip~t:it.y of this sin-
gular Self that J am is already edified in such a way that it is given only in
me, a!! a pmvcr that is my own. In such a way that all these: powers arc in
mf: a.~ a single borly, t.hat. is to say, a .~ingk flf:.~h-in me who has the power
to exercise them all in so far as it is in me, revealed to self in my own
flesh, I.ha! each of 111cm arc dispmcil !.o acL 111 us f know !.hem before all
thought and independently ofit, before every conceivable world, where
I occur to rnysdf and in the same way thal I occur lO myself. This is how
I act.: in the: pathos-filled innnam:ncc ofmy flesh.

§27. Flesh: Immemorial Memory of the World.

Because all of its powers are immanent in my flesh, it is the site of an

original memory. In classical thought, for man to be a memory means
that memory is a thought, the ahility of consciou~ncsil to represent to
itself events or feelings that have disappeared. Thus it is representation,
an intentionality, which gives these to us by conferring on them the mean-
ing of having pa.~.~cd. Tf 1 nnn: put on my rlcsk a statuette that ha<l hccn
offered as a gift, and if sometimes 1 take it in my hands in order to experi-
ence .iu. beauty again, I am able to represent io myself each of these acts,
or at lcaM some nf them if they stand ont. againilt the uniformity of time.
Each memory, with its clatity and its lacunae, hides another one that is
deeper. fl is the memory of a body thal alwa_-,,;s remembers how to take the slatttetle
and mnTJe toward it tn grnsp it. Thi,~ movement is not the displacement ofan
objective organ; it is given neither to any "memory" properly speaking,
nor lo any rcpn:senla.liou, uor Lo au:,, thoughL: ll i~ lhc sclf-movcmcnl of
a powl"r of gTasping reveakd to itself in the pathos-filled self-givenness of
my original corporeity. Thus it bears it and guards it in its flesh as a first
possibility from which it is never separated, and whose memory it never
loses, since it is nothing other than this memory.
'When memory shifts from the field of tl10ught to tlrnt of flesh (the
corporeal mcmmy of which Maine de Biran had ti1l: a~Lonishiug inlu-
ition), it doubles. depending on ,,.:hether we consider it at work in the per-
formances of our senses or in its inunanence, before every intenention oJ
intcntjonaliry. ln thr:! first case, that of touching, for P.Xamplc, car.h move-
ment that had joined me ·with a particular body, whose contours it fol-
lowed and to whose forms it molded (and th us in and through movement
alone, it allows me to know it); wheu I.his same movement. i.~ rt'pe;:ited,
and applies itself to the same solid, to il8 fonns and various qm1liries, ii"
allows me to know it, where tJJ..i.s n::cugniliou has no other cnnrlition than
this very movement, of which it will nevertheless be the "sign." 'Thus
there will be a I.Jui: memory of tangible forms.""
Thi,; memory is inscribed in my original corporeiLy as Ll1t.: abilily in
principle to deploy each of these powers, and from lhis follows a ueci~ivc
feature of the world of thiugs, Lo which these pow1:rs lt>::id 118. Because, as
constantly given to itself in my flesh, each of these powers is infinitely re-
producible; the access tu Lhc sensihk worlri t.hat. it prepares is an a priori.
The things of the worlrl are never presented to our body in an experience
thar ha.~ the character of needing to be unique; they are always offered to
u.s as what we ·will see twice, as the solid whose forms we will always be able
to follow, and will he able to finri again as they are, and whose memory
we retain-the memory that is nothing other than the ability, cousul,-
stantial ·with my tlesh, to move up to lhcm. If Lhc worlcl rloes nor give V.'3Y
auywhcrc, if t.hc weft of the sensible is continuous, ·with neither defect
nor lacuna nor tear at any point, if each fiber or grai 11 LI I al. t:< >m poses it is
indefinild~· cvocahk, it. is hecause each of the powers that brings me to
them is a power of a flesh that nothing separales from itsdf, lhaL is alway~
present to itself in its memory, withuul any di!lt.anc.c, wit.hollf thought.
without pasl, and without mPmory-in its immemorial memory..My tlesh
is v.:hat cannot be torn.
The unity of lhe world is thu.~ an imm;:int"nt unity, and it is held in
the Paromi:-i of my flesh. The ultimate possibility of the expe1ience of the
world, perceived in accordance with the decisive characleri~lic Llrn.t it can
be infinitely iterated. re4 uire~ a consciomn c~s with rm t world, an a-cosmic
flesh; Lhis agck:.s truth ·"tands om: in a passage from Maine de Biran's
F.ssny, which takes Condillac's analysis back to its initial un-thought pht:-
nomenological presuppusiLiun: ~Each of the movements executed by the
lrnnd, e~ch of the positions that it has taken in traveling along the solld,
can be repeated 1.10/unrarily in the absr:me of this solid" (ibid., our emphasis).
FTom this immemorial memory ofa flesh r.hat kc.F.ps all ofirs powers
wiLhi11 it, we should distin,iJ;ui.sh memory in the ordinary sense, which con-
sists in the capacity to form n:prcscnl...ttiom hnth of the<;e powers and of
lhe tJ1ing~ to which they 1rnit.e 11s. Hec:n1se there is a relation of depen-
dence hetween tht" latter and the former, the recall of things is invincibly
connected for us to the recall of the pathways that led m ro them, to the
n:call of our ~fforts to take them or avoid them, or raise them up, to mod-

,Ee Ess1i sur /cs for,rimm~, de fo 1'-'Fho1'/;,gi" ,,t .(,,-r -''" rapt,,,,h av;,c /'iil,a/e d-, /u na.itire, ,:d. Tisscrand,
op. cit., vol. \TIT, p. 4DF,.
il'y lln:ir fouus, urLo work 1/\'i.th them in mmc. manner. And this recollec-
tion is itself only what happens when the possibilities we say lie dormant
·within it are freely awakened to thought, though they are of an entirely
diffcrc11t order, r}rnJ is actm111y fon:i;,rn to thou~ht, to all representation,
and to all recollection-they are immemorial powers ofmy pathos-filled
fle~h. "The rccolleclion ufan acl," says Maine de Birnn in a text.of infinite
dcpLh, "coutain.s Lhc feeling of the power to repeat it" (ihid., p. fi0.'l, note).

§28. Flesh: Site of Givenness of an Unknown Body, Given before

Sensation and before World. Structuration and Properties of the
"OrgcJnic Body."

IT Lhc: unity of Lhe world refers Lo the fu11clamc11tal abiliry imcrihcd in my

fle~h, to accomplish all ,he movemems I can, then upon what do these
movements act? Our first response i:s that these movements act upon
tl1e111.sdvcs. They arc not movement.-< whrnw progress it would only be a
matter of naively noticing, but each of them is a self-mm,-ement, placed
in itself in our flesh an<l auk in thi.,; way to be cxcrci:-icd at every moment.
'\,\,'hen thi~ movement is no longer considered in the immanence of its
final possibility, when, as a memory of the tar.1.gible forms of things, for
example, il gives them lo w;, how docl\ it give them? Tn it~ movement. anrl
hy it, of course. But doesn't this movement novv deliver us something
other than itself? How does it do so, how does it act upon what (otJ1er
Lhan iLself) iL ~ive.s Lu u.s?
The urgency and acuity of the question appears ifwe recognize here
the aporia on which the majority of theories of human action have run
ag·round; Huw cuukl a ~uLje<.:livc aulhoritr that a.~ :-iuch i.~ un-cxt.cndcd
("soul,'' ''consciousne">S," "psyche" or any other name one would like to
give it) act upon an extended body and put ll into motion? Once Lhcy
rccosrriizcd the ma.~siw~ ronrra<liction of Desr::i.rt.es's ''pint>al gland," the
great Canesians. could only avoid the aporia by entrusting the possibility
of the soul's action on the body to wanton speculative comtructions-
Malr.hranche's occ;:isionalism, Spinoza's parallelism, Leibniz's pre-
established harmony-without being able to found that possibility ln any
way-withou.l asking whelht:r Lhc supposed cunespornkncc bclwcen lhc
.~uhjerrive series of volitions and desires, on the one hand, and extended,
mate1ial processes, on the other, has only one meaning.
Maim: <le Biran'.s geniu~ was to radicali7.c f:on<lill:u:'s inirial phe-
nomenologir;;il reduction, to never place himself outside the stame in
order to describe ti-om the outside the movements of its hand, that have
situated in the space of a world. He uudcrstoo<l r.hat the Cartesian v,ay
of posin.~ the question makc:s it unsolvahk, rhar this question is a false
question, and that the soul <locs not art upon the extended body. An ex-
perience that happens only to it must be cirnunsuihcd ,,vithin the move-
ment undergoing: cxpcri,~ncing itself and moving in itself: I.he expcricrn:t:
of something ir. vtill come up against, a term lilcl.L rc:sisLs its effort, whic.h
~fainc de P,iran calls the "resisting continuum." IL is a CJIICstion of "some
thing" being given only in movcmcm, and thus in the absence of every
repn:sc:nt.arive intentionality, in the absence of each of the traditional
senses as well (sight, hearing-, Louch, smell, or taste).
In Lhc abi1cm:c of t.m1rh? Here the distinction establisheu Lt:Lwccn
Lhc spccificiry of each of our senses and the self-movemenL in whic:h it;1
exercise consists allows its decisive characln to :,;how through. \.\'hen one
entrusts to touch Lhe Lask of making us know the reality of exterior bod-
ici1, om: r.onfw,es the two, the sensations owed to Louchi11g-an impres-
sion of coarseness, hardness, suppleness, mft.nrss, or warmth-and, on
the other hau<l, entirely different, the feeling of resistance experienced
through the succession of these tactile irnprc.,,siom. The former do per-
tain to the sense of tc >1u :h, hm the ierm that resists, resists only moveme11 L
Conciill::i~'s "feeling of solidity" describes in full clarity this confusion,
which is also characteristic of nearly all rhe.ories that place touch at the
heart of our experience oft.he world.
The importance of this sort of confusion (hcnvcen ,he sensations
proper to each sense au<l lhc movement that allov.'S them to unfold) musl
be measured at its conserpiences. 'factile sensations .:w:e apprehended as
l>donging to exterior bodies, ,-i5ual sensations Lo a thing tfon one sees,
,onorous sensations lo whal one hears (:md that one can possibly per-
ceive al Liu.: same time). Similarly, sensations of odor are ideni.ifietl wilh
Ilic seem of a flower, or with the bad odor of a pig farm. And. t.hf' hnrly,
the external body to which Lhese scmat.iom relate, is a body of the world,
c>f I.his \·vm-lcl th;:ir common sense spontaneously idenlifici; as reality. The
iame is true ifit is a question of our own body, its odor, the smoothness of
l skin, or the coloration in a face. Thu:-1 our own body (or that of another
man or woma11} take~ place immediately in the world where all i.hc oh-
ects, whatever they may be, appear to 1is. Our different senses, thrnugh
:helr various ~cmmt.ion~, cio indeed open us to this world of buuic:s. And
lhis happens, we Rhonld not forget, in so far as an intenLionalily inhahit~
:hem, and always makes their specific scmat.inns "representative" sensa-
fons, aud in the fim1l account, "sensible qualities," thal bdoug lo ol~cc.t<t
(t.o our o~ject-body as well as to others). The sul~e<:t-horly that i.s the
)rinciple of this experience-the seat of scnsat.ions that we experience
1s well as Lhe i11t.c11f.iorrnl act.~ that "animate" them---is related direnlv Lo
 On the contrary, if within our original corpon:.ily an<l iLli .i..innram:nL
accompfo;}mu:nt. self-movement comci-1 up against a Term rhat. continu-
omly rc.~ists it, then reality hn..~ chn.n~d. This resisring continuum is ,•;hat
manifests it, what defines the first opposition, the lirst exteriority we en-
ccmnrcrcci in the internal deployment of our powers-a n.ew bod)' discht.J-
ered in this way and only in this way. So it is this body, until now unexplored,
tlrnt Maine de Biran called an "organic body." It:; analysis is precisdy
what we: have just r:arrie<l ont_ lt r:omisrn in the rigorrn1s phenomenologi-
cal description of its mode of givenness. llecause such a mode excludes
l11c l.ra.ditional 8enscs-thc ~cnsat.ions they procure for us ail well a.~ the
representative intentionality that permeates them-the body it reveals
to us owes nothing either to the former nor to the latter: it is a bod_y before
:,e-malirm, und bt:firre lhe world. •1 n invi.1·ible burly ju.ii likt: our origi,rwry wrjmrdly,
whose mm1ement comes era.shin{{ into it, into this continuum that constantly
resists our effort even while tl1is effort, resting and, so to speak, buttressed
againsl iL'lclf, ~eeks aml fimls i1~ grcarcst fon:c.
Sin_g-ular properties can thus already be recognized in the organic
body. Because it escapes our senses, it can neilher be touched nor seen
nor heard, it ha5 neither odor nor taste-in so far as it is indeed a ques-
tion of the organic body. For it is truly nothing other than that: TI1at
whid1 rcsisl.s the "I can" of my originary coqJOrcity, which reveals it~clf
m it ;md to it alone, and whose manner of doing this is just to resist it.
The entire being of what resists is then in the force it resists. The way it
rcsi~l!! is the way thi8 force i.~ trstc<l. ThP- way it reveals itself is the way ir
reveals itself to its elf as hindered. inhibited, unable to deploy its.elf freely
according to its own wishes. The resisting continuum is to the force what
the ~pat.ial figure is ro spar.e.Jmr :;is t.he spatial figure ~tands out in space
and never exists anywhere else, the resisting continuum remains within
the ''1 can" whose power it mea:mres. If one still wants to speak here of
cxt.crimity, it. ir-1 an cxteriority fund amen ta 11y foreign ro that of the ,.,,orkl
in so far as the experience in which it occurs excludes from itself every
repn:senlali.ve dcmenl, every lheuria., every a Jniuri inluilion of ;,;pace in
the sense of Kant's "Tninsr.r:miental AeMhnic," or even of time, or every
ek-static: horizon that makes possible something like a "seeing." lt is a
problem of knowing whether tlu: rdafom of the "l can'' tn the term that
continuously re.i;ists it can .,;till be described in teri:ns of intentionality, a
motor intentionality, for example . .'\.nd this is because all intentionality in
Lhc phcno11H.:11olog1<:al scusc is a Sinngr.lmng, a givcnm:.~s nf scnr.ic, while
in this pure experience of the resisting continuum in the immanent self-
movement of the "I can," no significalion, no idealiL~, inlervenes.
·we shouM therefore analr7-.c thi~ cxpcricnrc in a more precise 1'1.'ay.
Vvllile it takes place, a differentiation appears, which is as decisive as it is
incontestable. Sometimes the resisting continuum puts up an absolute
resistance to the operation of our powers, not gi\'ing in to them anywhere
at any point-in such a way that no rift or passage opens up in the wall the
movement breaks against. Sometimes on rhe contrary the resisting con-
tinuum gives in to the dl'orl of our movc111c11 I.. Thi.~ way of giving in nm-
not he signifie<l excepr in these: tenn.s, so all our experience is reducible
to a force under whose drive something folds, bends, and indeed gives
way, relinquishing to the power of this drive a sort of "internal exlension,"
ofwhid1 tlu:rc i:-c, we would daim, no intuii:ion, sensible or otherwise-
which is nothing other than that which folds ·under lht' effed uf lhu.l _(ura, and
is drivm back by il.
Thm the decisive rliffc.rcnriat.ion we are ,;;pt>aking of is estabfoshed:
\Nhen the resisting continuum puts up an absolute resistance to the
01iginal powers of our original corporeiLr, Lhis umliuuum tlcfim:s 1hc
reality of the ho<liei1 that. m;:ikf' up rhe "real" universe. v\'hen on the con-
trary it gives in to these powers, the reality of our organic body is revealed
in it. The organic body is <lesigualcd as our own, as hdonging to us, when
it submits to the powers that together make up our carnal "1 can," in con-
trast to bodies thaL a.re aLsoluldt resistant. lo us anci an: foreign bnrlics. fn
eaf'.h f'.::ue, however, whether it is a question of a real body ot the universe
or of our m•m organic body- the reality of the body has nothing to do with
what we habitually represeuL lo uursdvt:~ by thii; l.crm. v\'c imlc:cd call real
the body that appears to us in the exteriority of the world-of this world,
whose appearing is exteriority as such. Becau~e, aL Lht: ~ame time as our
own 01ga11ic body, lhe bodies of the universe arc given originally only ro
the immanent powers of our corporeity, and are experienced by them
according to the modalities of" the resistance tJ1e~· oppose Lo them, :;u we
must say, as :.lrauge as it seem~: The reality of these bodies (ours a.<1 well
a'! foreign hodic'-l) is a rc.ali1y fore,ign rn the world and irs appearing, an
invisible reality, just as the realit}' of our flesh is.
Let u:-1 corn,idcr mon: dnsdy the rt>ality of our organic body-the
body before sensation., and before the world, which is ditterent from bod-
ies of the universe, in the sense that it puts up only a relative resistance lo
Lhe "I can." This phc110111cnologic:al rnndirion (which i.,; its O\~TI) defines
a homogeneous milieu whose homogeneity neYertheless allo¾'S new dif-
ferent.iatiom lo appt:ar wil11i11 it, and these ,~ill prove to he essential. Tht?J
1:xprt.IS lht different ways it yie!,fr ln my r:jfnrt.. T,ct. m rnppose, for example, th ~r
under the direction of a physiotherapist, 1 voluntarily inhale: Something
swells up in me Lhat. l call my chc8t. hut whid1 origin:-i lly h;:is nothing to do
"~rh :-i p:-irt of the o~jective body. I'or ifwe limit ourselves to what is really
given, it is a question only of something that gives way within my effort,
that arises within me up LO a sort of limiL Lha.l I slrnggk in vain lo over-
come; it falls back when this effort slop=,, aml I am then ai;kr.d t.o exhale. ln
this way an "organic cxpamc" opc:ns out, which makes up the continuity
of the resi:<;tiug: continuum. And onr: can see that this expanse is not the
space of the world, or of the perception of exterior oltlccts, in the sense
that tltest limil:, are pm:isdy nnt spa1.i.al limits, hut limits of our ejfort, pra.:tical
limits, defying every representation, and notably tliaLufan intui6vc space.
Yet what is said of our "respiraLion" ahu applic~ for all of the powers
that constiLute of our miginal i:orporeiry. A kind of internal deployment
corresponds to the implementation of each one; it will go a~ far a..~ it nm
and once it attains the limiL'i ofit~ power a.n<l its effort stops, it comes back
Lu whal we ·will call. in ;:i still-metaphorical way, its "point of deparlure."
This is no point in space, and no point of the organic cxpamc, which
is itself foreign to space. Thr point of dllj}{lrture is our fle.~h, tht? fm.mitive self
gi:vt·tme~sfmm whu:h wr,h ~f these powers draws its ability to act.
Because these powers are diflerent, a parlicular way of being rlc-
ployed between its Heshly "poiuL of cicpartnn:" and the moving term of
il!i effort corn:i;ponrl~ to each of them. Thus pure phenomenological systems
are constnteted, spans of resistance that immedia.1dy ohcy our move-
ments and of whid, each of them is an organ. Our organic body is the
whole of our organs thus extended. And such organs me different from rhe
anatomical structures that sciem:e !akl'.s for its ohjf'<".l. They are neither
dis-pm,ed nor ex-po.~cd pn.rte., 1?.xtra partes, but are held together and are
as thrnigh held up out of nothing by the ~1 can" of our miginal corp~
reity. This is also why Lhe uni Ly of all thc;ie organs, the unity of our or-
ganic.: body·, is not. a unity situated outside us: It is the unity of power!> lO
which these organs are submitted and whose limiLs I.hey mark each time.
This unity of all Lhe µuwcrs resides in rhecir self-givenness in pathos. This
means Lhcy an: norhing other than our flesh.

§29. The Original Possibility of Action as a Carnal Drive of the

Organic Body. The Invisible Practical ReJlity of the World's Content.
Constitution and Status of One's Own Objective Booy.

The aporia iu which the dassic;:il theories of htiman action end up-
which uniformly understand it as an action of the soul upon lhc body,
a5 going from the "inside" to Lhe "uull1itic," as "ohjcctification,~ and as
a process al. rhc cnrl of which our transcendental lite would turn i~elf
into a thing-this aporia is i11deed removed. If our ,KLion ncvc.- opcrat~s
upon a worldly body, the result of Lhis action woul<l nof ht> a modification
of a worldly hody, or :mme objective phenomenon or displacement. Otu
action is llie udirm vf uur original crHpuu:i.ly and its puuie,:~; it is thrf dnve moving
in ilsdf und bmding the "urgam" that give way tu ifa puwl!r. Ou:r adiun upon the
wurld is pwduced al t!w end ,fthis organic dq,loyrru:nl, where, diret;lly allaintd by
it as its own de,j)th, the world put.I up an absolute reJistance against it. Fw that is
whe.r-e the reo.fity of 1/s content is drawn, not in its appearance but ai this limit of
niy effort, gi1.1en in this way to my life's ·movement. Because, in my flesh, I am
the life of my organic body, I am also that of the world. rn this original,
rac.J.il:al sense, the worlct is 1l1c world-of-life, a/ .eben.mwll.
llut does our hand not cross an objective space to grasp the book
re:;Ling on the desk, ami open the pa.gc:s with its fingers? On our feet,
~oliclly pbntecl on the earth. or moving ;:ilong the path, not collide with
the stones-the stones ,itualed next to each other, in this rr-.s exten.w Galileo
and Descartes speak of? Far from restraining phenomenology's domain
nf cnmpctF.m:f', these rem::irks help 11.~ to explore its expanse. Tfit is tme,
according to the presuppositions of a phenomenology of life, that there
are for things two original and fun<lamenLal modes of manifestation,
then a single reality, our body in rhi.5 case, mma he able to appear ro m ln
two difterent ways. Uur body ofj"r:rs us the crucial experience in which the duality
f'!f n.ppea:ri.ng is dedsiuely conftrm.ed. This alone allows us rn understand hmv
the body truly is a double reality, manifesting itself on the outside, in the
outside ilsdf of the woilu, on tlie uuc ha.ml. aml live<l iutcrnally by us,
on the othP.r, in T.ife',;; pathos-fil1ed self-revelation. Thus our own body,
in its duplicity, is at once the effect of the duplicity of appearing, and
iL~ incfulahlc proof. This paradoxical ~it.nation, whir.h ha~ ncvcrt.he.kss
herome de::irly intelligible-arch-intelligible-legitimates the method-
ological choice of the two w--a.ys followed by the problematic_. the world,
au<l lik. IL~ result is that the cxist.c:nn: ofnvo hociics 11; dcmonstratc:d, one
pertaining to the reign of the visible, the oi-her to rhe invisible. ls such
a distinction enough to account for the relation necessarily established.
beLween lhem?
Let ns consider the final difficulty evoked, r,•here wr hand shifts over
the objective bod:_~· in the :,par.e of the wwld: One can ask whether the difficulty
k lruly removed. Conforming lo the duplicity of appearing, there arc in-
deed i:wo bodies, the one living, the other worldly, but how does the first
join Lhe second iu ~ud1 a way 1J1al iL grasps it, move~ along it., and pu.,sihly
mo<lifies its forms, posirion, or qmilitie;;-in brief "ar.t,.;" 11pon it? 'Where,
in all rigor, is such a shift simated? ls this not always the classical aporia?
No, not if action is taken for what it is, entirely subjective: this living force
bending rhe organic body under its effort and deploying it up to the limit
,•,:here it no longer giYes way, which resis~ it absolutelJ; which is the real
conlenl of lhe wodd. frl ii ~ lhis entin: pwcess-whtr11 oitrrudically immaruml
ar.tion hold~~ within it both ou.r organic bod.y and the rml bodry of the universe-
thn.t i.1 frerr.eivedfrom the ou.tside in the world's appmring. Then; arc rhus nor
t'l'i'Oprocesses, but only one, Lhc problem of nur carnal corporeity. This
is the one and vuly proccs~ that appears to u,~ orherwiM\ in another ap-
pearing, and is then discovered by us in the "outside" of the worlrl in
the form of an objccliYc procc11s. Our action thus does not take place
fir.Qt in min order to then arise suddenly outside us. Because iL is living,
it has always belonged to life and never leaves il. It has abu always been
objective, from the augk of the ol~c<:tivc <lispl::icement of our hand, for
example-a hand that is itself objective like the objective body of which it
is a part. Living corporeity an<l ubjcclivc worldly horlies ::ire a p,iori. They
arc two a/niori ofrhc experience of our body that are themselves only the
cxpre.ssion of the duplicity of appearing, which is an Arch-fact, and whid1
nothing explains but is to be undersLOo<l un ils ow11 ha.~i.~, ac:corrling to
the rule impusetl 1,y the phenomenology oflife.
This question cannot be evaded however. Ir conforming to the du-
plicity of appearing our body duplit;alcs iLsdf, is it truly the re.::i.lity of this
body tlrnl appears to us under a double appearance? Does our worltt(y body
carry this reality within it JUSt tihe our pathos-fi1ledjtesh Jor::1?Ha11e we 1101. seen
that the appearing of the wnrlrl strips all reality of its own substance? ls
thi~ <leci.~ive phenomenological situation not discovered pret;i.-;dy with
respect to life? Yet all of the cha.raeltristics of our own horly re.for to life:
)Jone of them owe being what they are to ,he appearing of the world.
Constituted by the entirety of our senses, our own body offers w1 specific
sensations. But all of these sensations, im:lu<ling those that connect us to
objeds, arc, as we have ~een, only SllQjective impressions projected upon
them. The furthest away as well as the closest, all of them are iu actual fact
experienced only in life. Tin; imprcssimial material of Buch impressions
and :;emaLions i:. life·~ pure phenomenological material; they are modali-
tie,; of ir~ flesh. And intentionality itself. which throws them ouu;ide, aml
allows each of our seme~ to opcu us 1.0 the worl<l, is given possession of
itself only in life. Thus in the depth of our corporeity, it is the original
power to move oneself and everything tliat gi11r.;s ilsdf in it, the organic
continuum with its internal diffc:rcnt.iation .._, that elude the world's ap-
pearing. Is our ol~crtiw hody_jusi: an empty shell?
The most ordinary experience shows the contrary. T.et 11s consider
the objective Ludy of rhc other. ff in our opinion this is opposed to the
inc.rt horl ie.~ of the ma ter:ral universe, it is bee ause we pem:ive thal u flesh
inhabits it. Jo be inhabited by flesh means Lo fed .~cnsat.ions other than
those which, n:h1Jcd to thing.s, appear as their own objective qualities,
surh as the color of a fabric or the brightnes:s of a lamp, Of course the
objective body of the other is also auornc<l with such qm1lities: Tt. has blue
eyes, black hair, a pale: complexion, etc. But it is equally smsib/.e in an
entirely diffen::nl ~cmc: l:nlikc foreign hodies., I apprehend it as feeling
inLen1ally and in a cnntinuou~ way a .~uccession of sensations that form
th(; ~uLslancc ofit~ uwn flesh ;mcL in this way, I perceive it as unceasing!~,
modified by such sensations.
Yd the other';; body is not only inhabited by an impressional flesh
that resembles nw own, it is enr.luwc<l with the same ~emes a.c; me. That is
how its body seems lo be a lio<ly capable of scrning, :mrl which through
the cxcrdsc of it~ variou.~ senses is open to the world, and to the same
world a.,; mine. Its hand is never an object properly speaking, a "bio-
logical" urg-,m tlc~c:rihcrl hy the ;:inatomist or examined by the doctor. :t\'or
are its eye,; or ears. These eyes, as Husserl says, are "eye~-Lhal-scc." ll1csc
hands are "hands-that-touch." The other's boJy i~ Lhus run through hy
multiple intentionaliLic~; iL i.~ U1c :-cat of cnrlless movements that I appre-
hend nor only, or <:>ven first, as objective displacements, but as movements
lived by him, subjecti-1,-e just like my own. IL i~ in thi~ way that, ar.r.ording
to Schele.-':; remarkable aualy!!cs, * when Tlook at the face of the other, 1
ncvPr llf-:e :m eye, but its look, I see that he looks at me and possibly 1.hal
he looks at me in a way that I do 1101 M:c that he looks at me, I see that
he divert.~ bis look, or even that my 0\\'11 look bothers him, elc. Prcl:isdy
because these movemenl.'i an: pcn:civcd a.~ felt or w:mted by him., their
affective cuuLelll, the affcct.ivc tonalities in in which they are given to
lhcm~dves ::mcl which thus preside over their accomplishment-eifmL,
weariness, desire, pleasure, displcallw·c, discmnfort-are there, in acer-
Laiu way, for me. far from being inen, insensible, and so identifiable w.ilh
any material at aU, the body of the other, despite it~ objecLivily, uffcr8 iL~df
to me as a living body, since all I.he cha.racl.cristic:.~ that we have just men-
lioucJ (anti that pertain to a flesh) are recognizable in him.
·would the reality of the flesh then be able to appear lo ui; in Lhc
world? llas the set of problems surrounding Lh~ impression not .~hown
that as soon as it i,~ separated from it.~elf in the first gap of time its reality
disappears, giving way to a fundamental unreality? Is LI 1is incH ,c:ahl c clc :s-
tiny of the impres~iun nuL lifc'8 ovm, whit"'.h never remains in itself except
in I.he inummcncc of it,;; im,jsihle pathos, from which every exteriority is
forever banished) ·what is proper to r;Jery conceivable jiesh is lu be emptiiid of
its substancr. in the exleri.mity nf an "outsid.e." Like my own, the other's ob;ectfrie
bndy is jmt /hot: the dere.aliwtion of" a flesh in and by lhe ap,tJ1xuing uf /ht· world.
How the appearing of the world derealizes, 1..hal we k11ow. The cru-
cial experience of language ha:. taught wi this. Trakl's poem gives things

,icCf_ p,Hlirnlrnly J\,fax &hde:r: Weser. imdN;rmm der Sympathie {Bonn: 1'. Cohen, l92'l) /
NnI11·1~ Ml Fm,,,,,,_. ,le .1,, symj1u../J1.i,· ( Paiisc Pl:irot. .! <J7 1) / 1'he Nature o{ ~:~mpat.h, trans. Peter
lT<eath (I\' <eW Rru nswi< h., ~: Trnus<1ction P ubb~lu:rs, 2008).
in their ah.vrna. Tr signifies the snow that we see fall across the \vimluwpam:
when there is neither window nor snow, the souucl of 1.hc hell \·vhcn rhere
is neither sound nor bell. Thi~ is the <:ssencc of a significat.ion in gent>:ral:
Produced in an i1111:ntionality's givenness of sense, it gives a content-of~
thought (a ''noema"), but without giving Lhc reality sig-nified by it. Thus
the signification "dog" is pronounced in the absence of any real dog. The
objective ho<ly of the other, or my own, is constituted by Lhe whole set
of significations that aim at a flesh and <ldiuc il.s reality-in it.1 ahsena,
howeve,; in tht ab.w:ru:e of any 1ro.lflesh.
Ifl look at my face in the mirror, for example, I do 11ot :;cc a name.-
less thing, of course, some ma..~s of i111:rr mattt':r. Tsee precii;ely a face, my
own; I sec a look, a look t.har look;; at me and perhaps says to me, "How
.~aci rhis lookst" I try to smile and it is not the deformaLion of sumt:Lhing
deprived of sense-it i.s precisely a ~mik: I sec. 1\cwTtheless. t,ihere. this look
luuh ai me, where its sadness appears to 1ne_. where this smile nniks at me, on the
.~mnnrh sw:fate of the mirror, th<;r-e is no real -vision, no ·rral sadness, no movement
moi.·ing in itself, no Jlc:,h imjlres.~ing 11/mn it.ml[ in the e[fectti.ation of a sin,~lw
life. So if my mvn body that r observe in the mirror, or the other's own
objective body, which I see ju~L a~ well, arc c:onstinned of significations
such <LS "Lu look," "to snfft-r, ·• and "to move itself," it is only because these
signifirarions are borrowed from a living ilesh. This alone makes pos~ih!P.
the constitution in our experience uf so11u:l.hing like a hodr "inhabited
by a Ilesh."
Here we discover in blinding dat·ity the paialogi:,;m that comist.'- in
giving an account of our own body, and firM of all our living body, starting
from a prnccs'l of intentional constitution and as the product ofit-when
only an original and living corporeity that is 01·iginally revealed to itself i.n
lite can found this process. TI1is parnlogism ('.]aims to give account of our
flesh 1.hrough a phenomenology of constitution, which means in the end,
through the appearing of the world. Descriptions of the cons!j twcd body
have nothing original, they <1.rc i:vcn hlind with respect to ,•.-hat is original.
Ami thry anc 50 because they are blind to the original esscm:c of revela-
tion-in other words, to life.
The significalions lhat comtitutc one's own objective body refer to
a rc:ality that never ex-poses itself in objecti1,ity, and Lhal b nol lou1.li1.c<L
While 1 look at myself in the minor and sec the look rhat looks at me, its
saduc:;s, de, this look, t.his sadne~s, never stops embracing in my night.
And the intentionality that takes hold of them to produce from them 1hc:
significations constitutive of Ilic olticcrivc hody is also embraced, other-
wis~ this hotly woulil no longer be a human body, not e1,·en a cadaver. My
flt>sh is thus not only the principle for the conslilutiou ofmy own objec-
tive body-it hides its invisible suhslann: in it.. Such is the strange con-
;rimrion of rhe object we call our body: ln no way does it consist in the
n.sible species to which we have always reduced it; in its 1·eality, pred.:,ely,
.tis invisible. No one has eve1- seen a man, but no one has ever i;een his
)ody eiLl1cr, al lc:.:isl if hy "hotly" we mean hi,i real body.
The question thus arises of how one can know whal. come.~ from
:he con~rimtion of the ohjecrive body of the other. to the extent that the
ifr thar rnpport~ it is no longer my own ..Must l not first have access di-
-ectly to his own life, to his own flesh, in the singular effectuation of ils
Jatl1m-iilletl aulo-impn:ssionaliry, so :-is to 11ndc-rmmd the expressions of
1i;; body on which I struggle to read his joy, his pleasure, his boredom,
Jr his shame?
v\lc can recognize the general problem of rhe f:xperience of the
)ther, <'uriously neglected by classical thought. When in twentieth-century
)henomenology it becomes the theme of an explicit invci;tigalion, it ,toes
ml seem to have o\'crcome :-ill th~ <liffkuhie.;; it en<'ounters (which are
:rn]y extraordinary), despite the admirable eflorts of Husserl and Scheler.
~efore taking it up in light of the presuppositions of a phenomenology
iflifr in our third section., in connection ·with the Christian problematic
)f salvation, some .supplementary rema1 b arc 11cu:s11ary.

330. The Theory of the Constitution of One's Own Body in Chapter

3 ot fdeen II. The Threefold Concealment of the Transcendentai
)ossibility of the "I Can," of the Existence of the Organic Body, and
)f the LoG1lizcJtion of Our Impressions upon It.

CT1e first is that a theor-y of Lhc con~liLulion of one':1 mvn hocly mmn rake
nlo view not two clcmcnrs (rhc. c.orn;titnting ho<ly and the constituted
)ody), but in fact three; the third is the origina:ry tlesh on which our
~ntire reflecLion i:. co11cc11tral.cd. C,om1iclcrcd. i11 it.~ orig-inality, ach1ally,
mr fle~h is neither constituting nor constituted; it is foreign to every in-
entional element, and pure hyle in the sense we understand il, not as a
Jrute given, but as Life's arch-rcvelaLio11. Hcrn:c I.lie immcn.~c lacuna of
L theory of the constitution of one's own body interpreted from the out-
1et ill! the producl of o:1 cou~tilulion: The; originally non-const.it.ut.e.d fle~h
;ludcs iL. Thi~ lacuna i.~ completely conccakrl when rhe eluri<lat.ion of r.he
:onstituring body/constituted body correlation is reduced to a descrip·
ion of tl1e lauer. Before it 1lctcr111im:s Ilic ~ct of prohlc:ms in the fater
~forkan-Ponty, we ::ire faced ,\ith this situation in chapter :1 ofld,3enJJ.*

'.Edmund Hu.,.,crl, Hu~ IV, 135--4:i!, 143ff. / 15lff.

 The meaning of the <lil;tinction, whic.h ph~nomenology takes to be
essential, hc1wc:cn the body of a thin.~, the "thing!y body," and the "/leshly
body," very quickly appears limited: .Just like the former, the latter is pe1~
ceived from the outside. They arc: hoil1 worldly bodies. For this reason,
our own ho<ly too presents visible parts and tangible parts. Some of lhc:st:
parts, it is true, escape my sig-hL, Lut they n~main ar.r.e.<1sible to touch.
Stemming from a lung Lra<lition, the t.hingly hody ii; differentiated from
ouc'x own horly in the experience in which my hand touches eilher lhe
body of a thing, or its own body.
Iu Lhc first ca~c, if 1 nm my hand over a table, l feel sensations that
::ire either related to the table and apprehended as ii.,; ph)1sical proper-
ties, such as smoothness, rouglmc:;~, harcl11c~.,, ctr.. Or 1 bring attention
to the scmalionx felt hy thr: hand while it slides over the table, sensations
rhat a.re then related to the hand as its own, and thal pcrla.in lo one's
own body. The hand's sensat.iom default. to the physic::il (thin_g;ly) body
and Lhus Lu one's own hody comidered as a physical thing. On the con-
rrary, they are sensations of one's own body, of lhe ~lhing Illar ill one',,;
own body."
Quite correctly, Ilusserl remarks that the localitaLiun of Lhc.~c two
types of sensations is dilfereul. The lhingly scnsarions are extended over
the spalial surface of the thing, of which they appear as material determi-
nation.~. The hand's sensations are "propagated" on the hand, in virLuc of
which they are given as proper Lo Lhc hand. Thr:re i.~ still the fact that the
sernaLion apprchcnrled as a material quality of the thing, the color of the
"hand-thing," changes if 1 turn the hand over, expose it f.o the light, ere.,
such that these luminous 111odifi<:a1-ions a.nnrnmce an objective property
of lhc thing, anci thus -function as so many "outlines" of" this objective
ri11a1lry. Conversely, the hand·s sensations are "nulhiug which would he
given in sketches,~ tJ1ey an: .impn:S1;ions that arise from my wnl.
V\-'la:Lhcr these~ sensations are referred to the body of the thing or to
our ovm body (to our hand), it is an imentionalill I.hat confers on them
thk, meaniug, l11al pcrc:civcs rhr:m as qualities of the thing or as qualities
uf one':,; mm horly, of our "fleshly body." The "'soul" itself and the fleshly
hody (the flesh) are not grasped in themselves, but i;l!i c.:orn;•jtutcd too,
they are perceived a-. a mul, as ,he "psychic," as a flesh that belongs to an
ego, to ~omething that itself has the sense of beuig- an <:go arnl my ov.'Tl.
Soul, flesh, and ego, as they are originally rc.."Vcalcci in lifo's imm::inence,
independeutly of every inrcnrionality, and every signification, indepen-
denrly of our senses-this is not a problem.
TI1e same silualiun is rcprodur.c<l in rhe-. second case, when the
han<l 110 long-er touchf's a thing but another part of one's own body-
when the right hand, for example, touches the left hand. The scnsationx
frh hy rhe hand that touches are separated into two seiies, some related
to the touched hand considered as a thing, and perceived consequently
as objective qualities of this thing (the hand is smooth, cold, etc.), others
an: 1ch.11nl l.o 1l1c 11,md drnt louchcs ,md apprehended as its own ~en-
sations (as sensations of movement, in particular). As for the louchcd
hand, it too frds tac.tile sensations thar are localized on it not as a mate-
rial horly, hnr on pre:dsely what senses 1·hem, which it apprehends as its
own, as sensations of its own body. Here again everything is constituted;
a duslcr of i11tc11limrnlil.ics governs all these apprehensions, and alv.".:iys
confers a meaning on what is ''perceived as," or "taken as" a property of
the hand Lhal touches, or of lhal which is Luuchc<l, or of Lhe ham.I con-
3ickrcd as a thing.
Nor only does the phenomenological status of the impression
before its intentional grn5p (before this strange "animation" that throws
it ouL~idc life in unreality) remain in smpcn.~c (notjnst the intentionality
always given over to its anon~mity), bl1t a final presupposition (the same
one that supported Condillac's thesis) also remains unthought in all
these analyse~, even when it equally founds rhem all. It is a question of
the ability of an originary flesh to move itself in itself, to move il8 orgam
from the imi<lc, anrl where they rlo no longer cede, to have direct hold
over a real body given to its practice, lifted, ·wrought, and worked by
it--···-in the imisible. Here, on the contrary, as in classical thought, every-
thing i~ cntrn.stc<l to represemation: The hand is treated as a visible thing
bearing sensations whose final possibility is evaded-sensations that are
derealized in Lhe object.ivily uf l11c hand, but that (as au objective organ
of its (>wn hnrly whir. h i~ itM~ If o~j F.ctivF.) allo¥.~ its elf to be ac ced upon by a
transcendental ego, which attains it and moves it and no one knows how.
'ii\'ith res peel to one's own boJ.y comiuen.c:u as a fid<l wh<.:rc my :;cn-
satiom ar<.: localized, §38 tkclarcs that ;'it i~ an organ of thr, wil~ the mu and
onl·y ob;e.ct which, for the will of my pure ego, is moveable immediately and
spontaneously." A.nd again, ~,m rcganli11g t.his hoc Ly proper to a sulticcl~
ego, that it "has the 'faculty' {the '1 can') to freely move this body-that
is, the organ in which it is articulated-and to perceive an exterior world
by means of them" (Hua N, !f38, 152 / El), lGO). The immense prnblem
of the transcendental, phenomenological possibility of the action of an
"ego" on ils own body aud "com;cqucnlly" un th<.: exlcrnal world becomes
au objective dc~ignation that is it,;df external, where everything is sclf-
evident, and reduced to a srntement of common sense.
This denaturation of one's own liody idemificd willi a constil.u!cd
ho<ly, myst~riously unden.too<l as an ~organ of the will" and "support of
free movement," leads to a series of consequences. lt is tirst the reduc-
tion of the organ our originary flesh moves within (that is movable by
its very condition, which is to suffenJcr lu Lhis immanent. movement) to
an organ that is part of tl1c cxtcndc<l hody, which is equally represented
01 1 epn.:scntablc, and which no snhje<:tivt": motion can th.en encounter

and move.
YeL lhis rl:dunio11 nor only conceals our own body in so far as it is
:m organic body, a sort of internal, pracLical l:unlinuum folrling under
the push of our invisible drive au<l 11l:vc1 being given cxcepr in it; it ;:ilso
prohibits us from umkr~tanrling the actuc1l conditions the process of
lm:;.i.lizing sensations upon one's own body obeys. \Ve should recall here
the distinction made bclwcl:n the specific sens::1tions that correspond to
l:ach of our sense~ (indeed, sensations that are visual, taclik, auJiLlc,
nc.), and on the other hand the impressions relalivl: Lo Lhc movcmcnrs
of our original corporeity. This i.~ not to forget rhe fact that the exercise
of our ~crnc;; always implies i:hat these movements are implemented-
movements that orient the senses, for example. Tims irnprcssinm of
movements are connected in prim:ipk to the sensations of our various
sc11scs-t.hc impressions of movements of our "ocular globes," for ex-
ample-to visual sensations. This occurs in such a way that we can, it
seems, give ourselves the btter on the basis of the fonner, on the basi~ of
mJr "kinesthesis." But this is a ti.,;o-fold illusion. On the one hand, these
kinestheses are localiLed iu ll1c organic horly ancl not in one's m\n objec-
tive body; 011 tl1l: other hanrl, these kinesthetic, constituted sensations are
not what provoke our visual sensations ( Lhey accompany them ;it most)-
the originary .impressions do, in which the originary movements of our
fk:;h impress 11pon themselves as they are canied out.
Viewed in themselves, these divcr:sc impn:8sinm thm belong
entirely Lo our miginary flt:lih, prior ro every intentional process of con-
:slilulion or localization. Nor do they present differences stemming from
their own phenomenolo,~ical content, an .imJJn~:ssioual colm; or a flavor
being distingui~hcd m1 ils own from an "impress.ion of movement." This
is whr, when these always different impressions are submiltcd l.o a rnmti-
tuting intentionality, Lhe s.ignifa:ation they have \\ill be only the "empty"
aim of the phc11u111l:nological c:ontent proper to each one: it will be a
qui.:stio11 of the signification "color," or "taste," or again of "movemenl."
Thus a decisive thesis of I.he phcrmmc:nnlogy of life is confirmed. It is
nol iull:11tfonality that is rhe principle of our experience, it is nol an
intentional field that confers meaning and status on Ll1c imprc8sion~ of
our flesh; they, in their original sdf-rcvdarion, precede, regulate, and
<ldcrrninc rhe. proces5 in which they are inserted and disposed in one's
own body.
Is it not then eviJenl Lh<1.t thi:-1 pmct-ss of <'On&titution and localiza-
tio11 is slill nc:ccssarily submitted to what precedes it, to the nature of
originary impressions on the uuc han<l, aml to the nature of one'!'. own
body, 011 Lhe uLhcr? On Lhc side of the imprcs.~iom, we have dist.inguishr.rl
Liu:: :;cusaliuus uf lhc :.cni;c:; and the impressions of our movcmcnrs. On
the side of one's own body, one's own objective body to which the tradi-
tion holcfa, cm tht· one hand, Ihe organic body, foreign to every objectiv-
ity and depending upon movement alone, on the other. The semurial
impressions are inserted in one's own objecli~e body (wilh Llw cxu:plion
of Lhosc rdalcd tu lhc phy~ical thing), the imprc~sions ofmovc.mcnts in
the organic body. The ~localization" of the impressions of movements
is thus depcm.lcut on a moving organi7.atinn, which i'I rigorously deter-
minr.cl as it immediately submits to the powers of our flesh. Thtt.s these
impressions are originally nothin,g other than the phenomenological
reality of our movement:<. disposing lhem!>elvcs iu our mg,mic hody as a
function of their practical stmcruration. This is what their constitution
consists of, the meaning attributed to them as the expression of their
own pathos. And also of their <lynamkm, tu the extent l11al il1c organic
anrl non-sp::iri:;i l way these impressions (now apprehended as "kinesthetic
sensations") are inserted conforms to the differem modes au;onlint,; Lo
which rhis dyn::imism unfolds-to the practical structuration of the resist-
ing continuum.

§31 . Return to the C hiasma. What "Being-Touched" Means.

Phenomenology of Skin as Achievement of the Theory of Lhe
Constitution of One's Own Body.

I.et m reflecrag::iin on the touching/touched chiasma. We have ju.st elu-

cidated everything that is implicated in the "touching" and that is passed
over in silence when this is lakcn as sdf-cvidcm. How can one: not. oh-
serve now that the superimposed strata that are implicated as essential
conditions of possibiliLy for "Luud1ing" -Life, origiuary flcih, affcctivity,
sln:ngl.h, movement, organic body, nnn-nhjccrivc rr.al horly-are premp-
pnserl in the ~::ime way if something like "being-touched," in the phenom-
enological sense of an effcciivc cxpc1icm:c:, must he ;.i.hlc to happen to,
ancl in, our flesh?
Our earlier analyses present us with this apparent paradox: The
original "touched" ("being-touched") is nol Louchcd by I.he sc:mc of
touch. by the "touching" understood as the exercise of this sense. The
"touched" is the resisting continuum at the 111ume11L when, in Lhc effec-
tuation of the power Lhal moves il, it bc<:umcs smhlcnly impossihk to
move. This is the mom~nt. in m.e when my own Ol'.!Janic body bee.onus a thing;l,•
bndy. Tn my own flesh and by it, the pradical frontier rhat st>parates it
from its own body as something- in ir:.dfforeign to all flesh (frorn its own
thingly L>u<ly) is lrau:d here. This is r.he point, in fan, in a way that is as
w1-rcprcsentable as it is incontestable, where the ilesh acls upon it. and
still moYes it, no longl!r as a part of i,self in which it inserts its o-wn sensa-
tions (for example, sensations of its own move,ncnl), hut a.~ an opacp1e
anrl inert mass in which there is no longer auyLhing of it.self, anrl norhing
more u..ing.
Om: th en sees how this interior practical relation of my /Lesh lo ils m1m
thingly bod_} defines its ,,eluliun lo an_\ f:rmr:ei11ahlf- thi?;gly body, to any kind of
body in the unfr)erse (1.~ well as f.o the thir.gf) body of the other. If I would like Lo
exert a pressure as strong as possible on the body of anulhcr man, for
example, like a doctor does in the course of an cxamin:H.ion, or a tor~
turer in the mi<lsL of a tormrc ~e8sion, this pressure, within its cm.n1 push-
ing, wo11lcl rome up against what it no longer inhabiLs auy more than it'I
own sensations do, but precisely a "tl1i11g" that in it.i;;elf is foreign to the
drive as well as to 1hcHc sensations. A "real" thing, a "thingly body," on
which it can no longer act by remaining v1:ithin il arnl clcploying it from
the inside, bul can act on ir only from the outside. "From the outside"
doc~ not rhe.n me;:in that this bodvI remains within the cxtc1ioritv' of rh~
world, where our flesh would never have a11y c:onrn.rr with it, and where
no lived phenomerwlugical crmtru:t as sur.h i<. possible. The flesh acts "from
the outside':" upon its own thingly body within lhe jJt<-1h llw.t it f..'(.PrL, u.pnn its
own organic bod_}, when it no longer sivcs w,1y to it, and it comes up against
it as an imurmount.ahk wall, hhnd and without cracks-against the .i.m-
pcnctrahle body into which it will neverpenctratt bt:cause it luu no insidR. and
neo1~; will. This is why lhe aclion of the fle.~h npon its own thingly body
is the paradigm for all human action-for man's primordial relation to
the unive.r.~f'. This is not an ek-static relation to lhe world but a prac:tic:al
relation to the content of this world (a relation shielded from the v,·orld's
appearing); it takes place and is revealed to itself only in our iuvisihlc
fir.sh. Because this action deals only wilh Lhc impcnct.rahlt':, f'V<"O when it
strives to build and to edify, i l ucc.:e:;sari ly ha~ the form of violence, and is
limited lo mu<lifying, breaking, crushing, beating, and destroying, or al
least altering, what no longer obeys it, is no longer ilubmirted to it in any
v.'<ly, and remain:, for it., in a rarlir.al sense . foreign.
v\lhat. is touched in me by me at the limit of my effml as a con-
tinuously resisting thingly body is so loud1cd m1ly as the powers of my
flesh are dcplo>'cd.Jnst ;i.~ the "touching" does, the "touched" (the fa<.:t.
ofheing rouched) pertains only to flesh. We sec lhen very clearly tha.r the
possibility of "being-touched" rq.Jruducc:; that nflwing "touching" to the
point of being· itlc11tic:al \<,ith i,. Jn the case of my own thingly body, it is
precisely the same process that moves the resisting conlinuum, or LhaL
is touched by it, or, in otht:l· wunls, Lhal immcdialcl)' feels its resistance.
Thus Lhe re~isling cominuum is tuud1<:u uuly U)' a. flc~h, as il muv<.:s il
from within, or more precisely, as it can no longer move it. In i,self,just
as with a foreign thingly body or I.he othct')' 1l1in!{ly hoity, my uwn thingly
body is no more touched than touching.
Let us now consider ,.,,ith greater attention the case in which I touch
my own body. \'\J11at is touched is not reduced to a thingly body lhal fed,
norhin~. My ol!jcctivc thingly body, which feels nmhing, :is only rhe ex-
terncJ.l apparition of the resisting continuum m~· ilc~h altain:. from within
as the limit of it.~ power. My fir.sh alone (hr whi~h we mean the auto-
imprr.ssionality of it;. self-movement) is and ran be touched. The same
originary tlesh is touching and touched at the same time. lt is thus com-
plelely inexacl lo affirm wilh :Me1kau-Po11ty Lha.l when my right h:rncl
that was rouching my left hand lets itself on the contrary be touched it, it
abandons its mastery at the same time, with it.'5 touching condition now
abw1bctl in Lhe louchcd (umkrsl:ood in thi: scm,c of~omcthing t;mgihlc,
or of something sensible analogous -.vi.th all the thingly bodies in the uni-
ver~e). Exaclly the opposite is true: \\11cn the rouching hanrl allows itself
to be touched by the other hand and becomes a hand that is touched, it
he(ps its condition as origi-n.ary jle.~h within it, the auto-impresslonalily that
can alone be impressed upo11, or "l:ouchcd" hy, whatcvc:r ir may he. And
the Viray it is tow:hed or impressed upon has nothing to do ,~ith the naive
representation of thb phenomenon in Lhc form of au olticctivc c:onract
with two t.hingly horliP-s that an': a~ incapable of .. touching'· as of .. being
touched."
How then i~ a flesh "!.ouched" a.ml nu longer "louching"? fl i:-\
''louchcd" where it i~ "t.ouc:hing" anrl in rhe .~ame way. vVilh rhe follow-
ing exception: Even though the resisting continuum cedes right up to
the point it immobilizes as a thing under the push of the original)' flesh,
it is thi~ org-.1.nir, practical continuum that now stops me or now pushes
back against the drive, thus changing into the pathos ofa comtrninl lhat
it suffers. From the actiun of the original powcrs of um '\oud1iug" flesh,
a /Jmsivily fo1low:1, the "hcing-t.mu:hcrl" whrnw pnrr phr.nomenologic:il
material is the same as that of action. Since activity and passiviLy are lwo
different. phcnomcnologiral morlalities of a. single flesh, their phenom-
enological sranu; i;; rhe same, rh::.t of flesh precisely: of a flesh that experi-
ences itself in the happiness offreely deploying its powers as well as in the
constraint. it feel:- ·when they gi:op. These affective tonalities proper to rhe
dynamism of our originary flesh (active or passive) are thus equally those
of our own organic body; they define the phenomenological modalitie~
in which ow· own orga11ic: hocly i~ livccl hy 11.~.
 Numerous irnprc~s~ions ::ire constituted on the organic body's rc-
sii,;lin~ continuum. We should maintain here the cs~cnLial ,li~t.im:t.ion
between originary impression~ and cvrn,tilutcd impressions. Only rhe. first
are real. \,\I hen they arc cn11:-1Litutcd, referred to our own objective body,
::ind have for example the signification ofueiug- sensations ofrhe face or
the foot, it is uuly a nocnrnric ,;;~ns;ition that is actually reduced to tl1is
signification; it is an unre.;il, represented s.ens,ttion, which is locali:t.eu iu
a way, apprehended as a sensation of the foot, while iu it~ imprcs~ional
reality it does not stop auto-impn:s.~ing itself in life.
Rut we want to speak about tl1e constituLion of our irnprcs.~ions
on the organic body. This is where lhc duality of ;;ippearing should be
invoked bet:ausc it plap a <lcci.,;1ve role in this constitution. The thingly
body into which rhe organic continuum. is changed when it assume~ Lh<.:
role of an absolute obstacle to the force uf lh<.: flesh i.s ~rill only an invis-
ible, practical tklcnninat.ion in it. Tl i.s this same in.mnnountable "wall" that
aJipmrs rn u., in the afrpeamnce of the world a.s an objective thingly budy, r1,nalo-
gous to the other bodies of the ·tmivem-:. The only riifforence is that it appears
Lo us a.s bt.:ing ours, a.s 011r own thingly body, in opposition to tl1e thingl);
bodies that are foreign to us. This significalim1 ofhcing mir,3 i.,; not taken
from its wor!Jly appa1ition hut from our originary flesh, which feels its
own tl1ingly body within it as the limit of its power. Bul I.his ~ignification
of having a flesh live within it is precisely whal it n:ccivc.s anrl he::irs ·within
it-it is constilutcd a..~ such, ns n, worldy, thingly hod)' ne,Jertlieless endowed with
an "in.~id.e. ~This signification of having an inside, ofbd11g "inhahitcrl" hy
a flesh, makes it what it i.<; fo1 w; in I.he glohal experience we have of it, a
body douLk indeed; thi.s iii demonstrated to me from the outside in the
world, yet Jh.-ed from the inside as my own fle~hly bvdy, opposer! to all the
others. We see then very clearly how Lhc comtimtion of one's own body,
which cunkrs on it the .signifkation of bearing a tlesh 1,~ithin it, presup-
poses ,he reality of this flesh, its originary auto-impn::;sionali1.y in life's
pathos-filled Ipseity; i.L i:s far from hdng ahle to explain it.
Let w1 c.0n1in11e the study of the constitution of our impressions in
the organic body. The preceding analyses show Lhal Lhi~ i.11 acnially <iif-
ferentiated into three elemenls: I) our own nrgani.-- body submitted to
LIH: interior force of our origina1--y flesh; ~) this organic body oppmi11~
itself to it, becoming a thingly Locly <il Ilic limit of this fore<>; 3) this same
thingly bo<ly no longer fall as .m.r,h in itsfleshl)'force but shown to us from the
rml.sidR, int.he world. This threefold differentiation, which conforms lo lhc
duplicity of appearing and is <l<::l<.:rn1i11c<l hy it, is the principle for the
couslitulion of the whole of our impressions.
Tt is thus a question of constituted sensations, evt:11 if we alwayi;;
presuppose a corresponding originary irnprc:-1.sion. Thus we are in the
)resence of a two-fold series of impressions, the one belonging to our
Jesh, and the other to our body-with the mode of lhi.-; <1.ppt:i:lring dif-
:ering fundamentally since it is a question of a real belonging in lhe fi1sl
·:allc, arnl an 1mrcal 1mc in the second. Thus, to the pathos-laden mo-
ialities of our originary flesh, so many ..-.ensaLin11s of our hrnly n:sponcl,
m<l signify them as empty. To these originary motions, "kinesthetic sen-
:~tions" or "kinestheses" respond. The former are referred globally to
:he organic body, representing its dynamism according to the two active
-ir pas~ivc modalities in which ir occurs. The latter are related m the
.imit of this organic body when they are opposed to tl1e .fleshly for<.:e;
.hey furu: it back, and ir. is trnnsformerl into our own rhingly ho<ly. Yer.
tvc know that t.hi.~ is not. only felt in 11s 21, the limit of our power; it also
lppear;; to us from the outside, in the world. On the outside face of
mr own thingly body anal.her group of sem;alious comes Lo bi.: graflcd,
,vhich come from our sense;;. ,,v-e call this frontier bet,-veen the invisible
miverse of our flesh (to which our own thingly body belongs) and this
;ame body pen.:ci\.'t:U from the ouLsidc, our skin-rhi:-1 visihlc and im,is...
ble line on which our kinesthetic sensations ai1d those that come from
ml' senses are builL up. Thu.~ we arc ahlc LO offer a rigorous phcnom"
~nologic;,J an;,Jysis of this.
Let us examine first the sensations of our sen~es. In themsdves
J-i.ese are origirnil)' impn:~sions. BuL lhcy an: cm1st:itutc:d, rclatc<l ro our
)Wn rhingly body as a thingly body appearing to us from the outside
n the world. They are thus extended on it.s smface in I.he same ,~ay a,;
1pon any thingly hody. It. i11 a quelltlon of appP.arances rhai are sensible,
risible, t.ictile. odorous, etc., serving as an outline for the constitution
)f the sensible objective qualities of the thing-of Lhe "hand-Lhing" j us l
1:; well a:; for the "tabk-1.hing." But as we have jrnn rcr.alle.rl, anrl in con-
·ormiry wirh rhe duplicity of appearing, our thingly body is nvo·faced. It
ioes not only ex--pose on the outside this sur-face on which the sensible
1ppcaram:c,._ arc spread 011t a" 80 many propenie'> or sensible qualities
Jf this thing, from which angle it very e,:idently appears-it aLso has an
'inside," it!i dynamic revelation in our flesh. ThiY n1dicul p}mw'rr1t11ulv~iwl
luplicily uf ,;u1· own lhingly body is the duf1li1:il) of 011.r skin. 1t. i.~ cHl an:oun t. of
his duplicity that the impressions otour senses are not only arranged on
Jn.: visible surface of our thingly borly (as tracks of c.olors, sen8ih1P. tactile
iones, or erogenous or even o<'loron~ 'l'.one~, for example, giving ·w,iy to
he sensible qualities of the thing, like those of Descartes's wax). Because
.his duplicily i~ an a frri.rwi., and thm, hy its effect, such impressions relate
o this imide that belongs to our skin as a practua.l limit of'our or,[Janic: bod)'·
l'hus, to the constitution of our sensible impressions over the external
~ace of our lhingly IJo<ly, a second con~1.itulio11 is added, tl1al of rhcsc
same imprcssiom imide rhe "organs," that this thingly bod,- hi<lcs within
it as it5 dynamic and living reality, as its flesh.
The sensible imp1e:;siou:; inside the skin arc then like so many rep-
licas of thingly •w11s;itions. To the cold of the table, the cold of my hand
corresponds; with the rugged character of il:s !>urfaJ:c, :m impression of
ruggedness i.~ felt in the h::md. That these impressions felt by the hand
arc situated in if.:..~ its own means that instead of offering Lherm;clvcs on
the skin in the light (changing along wil11 iL) they arc rcfcrrt>d to it5 invis-
ible, internal side, aL lhc limitofrhe organic body. This is the reason their
organic disposition differs, as Husserl had noted, from their extension
over the skin. Such a disposilion wouln not he described as a propagation,
however, ur a "diffwiinn," a di[fere,n.e in the ·way of/Jeing extended. It refers to
an m"i.gi.nary difference in the way of appearing; to its dupliciLy. Thl: ccmstim·
tion of our impressions "in lhe hand,'' or "under rhe i.kin, ~ presupposes
that, in a way thal is ai-i incontestable as it is enigmatic, its invisible reve--
hrion in our flesh is opposed to its ek-static ex-posilion.
"1n" the hand, "un<lcr" lhc skin, :mother group ofkinesthetic sensa--
tious arc :1imatr.c-J in rhe same ·way, and they mark the limlt5 of our move-
ments, Thus two series of sensations arc united, no longer on both sides
of the skin. I.ml within ir, in~ide our organs-the sensations of the sense:;
c:onstifrned in ma;; the counterpart of sensible qualities of thingly hnciies
on the one hand, kinesthetic se11satiurn1 on the nth er. Our skin is thus the
site where multiple sensarions interlace, are exchanged and constantly
morlified, and despite their multiplicity an<l their changes, always have a
signification and a rigorous localization in the general process of consti-
Lut.i.011 of our (>WTl hn<ly. Tn th is way the pure phenomenological s tructurl:~
that we have recognized as belonging LO our original rnrporeity-flesh,
organic body, one's own thi11gly bony in its opposition to the foreign
Lhingly bodr-appear "filled" by a flux of diverse and changing sensa-
tions. Only the process of their constitution allows us to establish ben.veen
them a rigorous order. This is not only a temporal order-it is the hier-
archic:a 1 onier of pure phenomenological structures Lhal is dcmomtraterl
in the phenomenology of flesh that we have just rcc:allr:<l. Tr is in their
reference to these ~t.rm:LUrcs that our ~ensations occupy the place they
do in 011r body and at the same time have the meaning they have for it.
The theory of their comLitution is nothing other than the theory of ret~
erenc::e. '\i\.'c thus mark the point at which the constitution of one':!> own
hody proves m be dependent on the prior phenomenological analysis of
our originary flesh, and cvcu conc:cals or denatures it.
This lasr point ralls for a final remark. In the process uf their con-
sritution. some of our impressions are refcne<l to our originary flesh,
others to the organic bo<ly, others m our own rhingly body. As all these
impressions are consliLulcd, the ferms ro which they are related are m,
well. Our originary flc~h rlonhles i.nto a constituted flesh, our oq~auit:
body iulo a constituted organic body, our own thingly body inlo uur
own constituted thingly body. \l'v'e must he can:ful not to confound these
diITen::nL realities-for example, our constituted organic bocly with the
originary organic body. ,-v11en we ~peak of a "qu:u:i-exrension" of the or-
ganic body, of the "diffusion" ur l11c "propagarion" of our sensations in
it, it is the cunsliLutcd organic body that is aimed at. That is why we have
heen so careful to conceiYe the originary mg,rnic: clement in the primor-
dial experienn: of mlT' flesh. The constimted organic body is alrea<lr a
rcprcllcntc<l hody. The same goes for the relation of our originary flesh
tot.he flesh that we say "inhabits" our owu I.Judy (as T.rihkrirprr), And for
our skin, and the "im,ide," whose limit it i.~.
,-v11c11 these origin.iry realities are thought by phenomenulogical
reflection, as we are doing now, we eviJcmly ha\'c norhing to do with
contents-of-thoughL, wilh signific:;itions essentially different from the
originary realities they aim at, even if that i5 their provcnam:c. The rela-
tion of these contents-of-Lhoug-111. t.o rhc originary reality of the flesh is
only a particular c:;ise of the general relation of thought and life as wc.
have elucidated it in the fi.rsl pi:1.rl of Lliis hook. Here as evel)"<;here it is
not thought Lhal allows us t.o attain life-it is life that attains itself in itself,
and is nothing or her than this originary movement of eternally attain-
ing itself. ..\s for thought, we have ~ufficicnrly demonstrated that it owes
attaining iuidf anrl heing a co{(i.t.atio only to lite. The most deci;ivc reve-
lation of rhis phenomenological situation is i11 Lhc flesh. Nm only rloes
no flesh-the entirety of its slruclun:s and originary modalities-attain
itself except in lift:, lmt. :-L~ p::ithos and in its effectuation, flesh defines Lhc
phenomenological mode according to which life's ani\~.:1.I in itself takes
place. As if it were a thought that prec<.:ucd thi~ p1imiti1Je in.,tallation in our-
~elves, which ·is uur flr-.~h, dccirling in some ·way the existence of our Self as
Nell as the phenomenological substance il is made of-tht· theory of an
intentional conslilulion of our flesh i~ :;i form of insanity.

§32. A Return to Condillac's Thesis. The Statue's Auto-Eroticism:

=lesh as the Site of Perdition. The Necessary Transition from a
'henorneriology of Flesh to a Phenomenology of Incarnation.

Ne now have the mean:, lo rclurn to C::onrlilfac's initial thesis for which
:he statue acls upon im:lf cicpP.nrling on the impressions that it feels, so
1~ 1.o avoirl those chat hurt it, and to ,·,:elcome and favor those it cnjoyll.
We are m•,;are of tl1e importance of this analysis, and the breadth of the
Held opened by it. It is a queslion indeed of noLhing less than human
act.ion in general. ,'Vncthcr this hears upon the world or directly upon
the body proper to the individual, it is always in view of arousing certain
:;cnsat.ions dial this actiou is prntluccd, slartiug from Ilic sc11salio11s liial
it already feels, and doing so with a view to modif-ying them, increasing
their intensity, or suppressing them. It is in order to satis.ry· his hunger, or
his lhiral, or lo prnlcct himself frum the cold, de., that for a8 long as he is
on earth, man attacks another in order m take from him all the goods he
needs, with Lhe u!Li.male ain1 of arousing agreeable or satisfied sensations
that must ~11bsrimte everywhere for his initi;;il or unht>::irahle 1me;;ise. All
economic and social acth,ity, the formation of civilizations and their cul-
tures, have as motive the emotional phenomenological equilibrium of
the .st.atuc and ir.~ inescapable ch:marnk
As for the action of the statue upon its own body-when its hand
shifts over the various parts in order to encounter their forms and [eel
rheir solidity-ir rakes a lot for it to ohey ~ simple interest ofknowlcrigc.
Precisely because these are specific sensible impressions of pleasure or
clisplca.~urc at the origin of these movement.~, ii remains incviiahly suh-
.iected to a sensible, sensual teleology. 1f one of them, moving itself over
the statue's own body, encounters pleasure, that is what it will fixate upon;
it is in view ofprodw:ing iL or rcproclucing it that it will reproduce ilsdf.
Isn't the principle of erotic behavior (in this case of autoerotic man,
and humanity in its entirely-it.:, original sin, the :;in of 011a11) presup-
pmerl in Conrlil1ac's uncomdous statue? \Vouldn 'r thi.~ de.~rrihe not only
its initial autoerotic behavior, but hetero-erotic behavior a5 weH, and all
possible crnlk behavi01; if iL seem~ lhaL lhc nol.icism lhal filb thi.: lawJ-
~rapt> of contemporary "civili:,.ation," for ex;;implt>, i~ only ,in ;;iurot>roti-
cism for two?
The mo.-e tl1e fable of the statue proves to be significant for us (in
so far as it covers the entire field of man's exploitation of namre c1s well
as of the sensibility or erotic possibilities of his own body), the more se-
rious ils lai.:una apptar. Has I.he phc11u111euolugy of ile~h ~ucu:c<lcc.l iu
s;;i,i.~fying rht>m?
In its effort to match the essence of an originary Hesh, or in other
\Vonl~, its final pos;;ihility, the phenomt>nology of flesh h;;i!'l consrn.nrly
borrowed what belongs to a phenomenology of Jncarnarion, whose sys-
tematic elaboration was put off only for propaedeutic reasons. An impres-
si onal flesh c::innot indeed he m;;ide the o~ject of ;;i i;imple obsery,ition.
From the beginning of our i1westigations, it was obvious that an arrival in
Lhe ile:sh precede~ auy conceivable ile:.h. ll is HOL a question of a formal
pr{'.c:~<lence, hut of the generation nf :.t s11h'ltancc. The phcnmncnology
1f the impression, a part of the reversal of phcnomcnnlogy', had already
le1-suaded us lhat tl1e mosl humble impre'lsion hears within it a revela-
ion of Llie Absoluw. The entire critique of Maine <le Riran against Con-
lillac refer.,; to an "imideM of sensation, of which sensualism never gives
1ccount. ReganliIJg the Hw,r,crlian impression that is eternally reborn
rom its a5hes, we have shown that this stupefying diameter is only the.
mter layer of an absolute prempposition, the self-generation of Lifo.
Our final allusion lo Cumlillac:'s dc~cription of :m impressional sub-
::i:ti\~ry 'ltriving to produce sensations of pleasure on its body meeu, witJ1
he first fa.ct of autoeroucism, immediately interpreted in the Old Testa-
ncm as iclolatry anrt rhus as sin. In the New· testament, tlesh has this same
ignific.a1ion of being sin, in a way that is so constant thal lht cunlcrnpt
1f the flesh and the body will become a cum111011 ~itc for rhc c:riticpie of
;hristianity an<l, beginning \\,ith Nietzsche, the most vehement reproach
h;;it ,viii be addressed to it.
ln being made flesh, l10wcvcr-according to John'.,; \'ford, which
ascinatccl the Fathers, and tore them from the horizon of thought sur-
ounding the antique world--the Word brings salvation to men. Taking-
. He8h likt their~ and b1:ing rhus identified with them, it will allow them
D be identified with him, to become God like him. How nm rhe fle~h he
.t once the site of perdiLi.un and of salvarion? Since. the phenomenoloITT'
1f fle:;h cumc.s up against it.~ limit here, only a phenomenology of lncar-
1ation is capable of illmninating us.
Phenomenology of Incarnation:
Salvation in the Christian Sense

§33. Recapitulation of Results Obtained from the Rever~al of

Phenomenology and the Phenomenological Analysis of Flesh.

The reversal of phen omen ol ngy has laken away from thought's intention-
ali Ly (and, more fundamentally, from the world's Rk-slasis) the capacity
to reveal The sirnplcsl modality oflife: the impression. In the first gap of
temporality, the impres~ion 's rcalily is abolished. The revelation of the
impn:sl!iun can nevertheless be entrusted to rhc. imprcs:;iun itselt the
revelation of pain to pain, ouly ifLhe impression bears life's self-revelation
wilhin il. Because this self~revelation takes place as a paLhos, in the auto·
impresi;.iom1lity of flesh, all life takes on an impres.sional form. Thus the
phenomenology of the imprc!lsion referred us to a phenomenoloITT of
flesh, which draws its possibility from life. Thi" is the final meaning of the
reversal: For t.hc appearing of lhe ,•.rorld, ,,..-here bodies are shown to 11~,
it substitutes life's appearing, in rhc rranoccmlcnlal aUectiv:ity in which
all flesh .i~ pos8ible.
Thus our owr1 flesh ca.nnot bring itself about as such any more:
Lhan the impression can. If flesh i;1 conc.civahk uul~ in life's pathos-tilled
sclf-rcvdaLion, and as the pure phenomenological material uf it.:, auto-
impre,'!.~innality (siucc iL is nothing but this), then it is now a question of
continuing the analysis of life. Yet Thi.~ arrnlyi;is compels us to make a final
reference. F.vc11 wl1en interpreted in its radical phenomenological mean-
ing, as the original mode whereby pheuomenality becomes phenomenal,
lhe life revealed in the amo-impressionalit.y of its µathos-laden flesh still
h~s a decisive characteristic. The life that arrives by itself in experiencing
itself in its flesh is precisely not what. bring-; about this arrival. If it streams
Lhrough us and makes us living without our h:u,;ng aJ1ything Lo do with
ir, :m<l independently uf our power and will, then it is in<lee.d a (1ucstiuu
of this life, which precedes 11.~ at t.hc very heart of our being, and which is
not solely om· own-because always and already, before a single moment
allowed \lS ro turn toward it to welcome or reject it, or say yes or no t.o it,
life is in us and we are in it, in the radical passivity that strikes the impres-
~inn, 1ml our entire lite as well.
 Thu.~ all the characteristics we n;cogni:ted in Ll:1c imp1essiou-Lhal
its materi;:il is a phenomenolog:ica.l nrntcrial cn<lowc<l. wilh Lht power Lo
impress upon it.ilelf :mrl thn'I t.o reveal itself in its very impressionality;
1.hal. it can thus define reality in contrast to every worldly, noematic ap-
pearance; that it belongs to someone by right, and thus that an "I" i:-.
inconLcsLaLly "presenl'' in it-did not appeal to the simple existence of
a faclual lik, eveu if I.his were understood in its pure and specific phe-
nomenality. From the outser, the phcnorncnolo1:,ry of flesh Lonowed each
of its characteristics from an absolute life, and only on this basis did it
struggle to undersrand them. Dot>s the most. :-1ignifinml of lhcm, Lhe fact
that a new impression is unceasingly born in us, such that "an impression
is continually there ane-.....-," express anything other than this Life'5 eternal
arriv.al in itself?
And yet absolute Life's eternal arriv::il in it~elf, in the procccdi11~
in which it generates itself by revealing itself in its Parousia without be-
ginning or cn<l, not. cmly cxplaim Lht: cuig;malic iteration and unending
repetition of ori,ginary impressions in our flesh, it fint. giv,~s an ar:counl.
nf this flesh. It i~ lhr. way absufale Life anives in itself in an Arch-passibHity
proper to the pathos-filled self-affection of every conceivable "living";
it is lhc ,\.ich-p,nho~ of tl1is Arch-flesh that is presupposed in every phe-
nom~nalization of life, and thus iu nt:ry living being-in so far a:; it
precisely does not have the capacity to bring it~elf into life cm it~ own. Jn
spite of iL;; fi11itw.l.e, or ml.her because of it, must not every living being
go through life's con di ti om? The fact that it rlncs not iN:lfpo:,sc:,:, A..rch-
passibility-thc &riginal capacity to bring itself ahout as such. in the modt of a
/Htlhos-jillf!fl plurrwmtrwlo[;iwl ef[eduation-keeps it from separating from
this at any moment. In the Arch-pa.ssihility of ah.solute life all flesh is
passible_ And only there is it possible_ Flesh in fact is norhing other r.han
that: The passibility of a_finite life drawing its possibility from the A.rch.-passihilit.y
of infinite bfe. Tf .something like flesh i:-1 couu:ivable only on the basis of
this original arrival in tlesh, an arrival that flesh itself has nothing to do
,~;r.h, it is because the phcnomenulugy uf Desb does refer to a phenom-
enology ofln-c;;imation.
ln its reference to the Before of In-carnation, and thus m T.ifr'~
Arch-passibility, flesh manifest:-1 a. str:-mgc a.ffinil.y wil.h tlic olher essenlial
determinations of the living being_ lt stops being propos~rl as a c.omin-
gent addition to its living condition, a sort of empiric.ii appendix, in
order tn he imcgr:d.c<l in a field of properties arising from an a prwri
more ancient than that of knowledge. Ilow can we not notice that the
situation of flc~h a:, ~t:LOudary in relation to Life's Arch-passibility is
stricrly p:uallel to that of the ego, aml uf the living being in general? In
all cases, understandin,~ what is in question-the li.-ing-, it.-, ip~city, and
its flesh-implies that one places oneself in some way befrire them, in an
origi11al climc:n.~ion. fl i.1· /mr:iwdy tru. .1·arne /01 ttu:h of lhe nnlilieI ,:1m:i-irleml. IL
removes from earh of them rhe prerension iI usually has of being a prin-
ciple or beginning, or some autonomous or specific entity.
Thns then· is ::i "Refore-the-ego" rhat. prohihits it. from ~,:ttfr1g it.~clf
up as ai1 ultimate foundation, an ultimate naturing, or the "absolute ego
<l:i I.he ultimalely unique cenler of function" (Hua VI, ~!JG, 190 / 186).
P,efore the ego (seen ::is the m11rr.e-po1nt for the transcendental perfor-
mances in which the vmrld is constituted as well as the ego itself), what
operates ultimately is precisely not Lhc ego, bul lhc ahwluLcly origiua.ry
lpseity in which absolute Life comes in itself in the Self of its Word. Simi-
larly, before the flesh, where it is joined to itself in Lite 's pathos, there is
Arch-flc.~h, the An:h-pas:,;iLiliLy without which no "living" h conceivable.
That is why the "Before-ego" and "Before-the-flesh" arf' really only one:
It is a single pathos-filled embrace that makes the tlesh a Hesh and the
ego an ego, lht: 1mto-irnJm;ssi.onalil_, of lhr, firmu:r and lhe lpieily of Ott-: latte,;
Thus it becomes intelligible, arch-intelligible, that an ego bdong.s
to every flesh, and Hesh lo every ego. Thus the decisive progress accom-
plished by the phenomenology of In-carnation asserts itself when the
ipseity/Hesh correlation is no longer deciphered from a feigned lite, but
within the trying prm:c11s of life's sdf-gcncra.Lion. In Lhis lr)'ing pruc.:cs:.,
the "P,efore-ego" and ~Refore-flesh" togerher con,;;titute rhe prcrr:cp1i.~it1:
of all living, and endow it a Jniori V\,jth the fundamental phenomeno-
logical determinations that make it the a:.rnal living Sill{ Llml. defines om
condition.
This reference from the phenomenological structures of the li,..ing
Se.lfm J .ife.'s original arrival lc.ach us hack to the question posed in our in-
troduction about the compossibility of two Johannine utterances, which
then determlne the dogmatic content of Ch1istianity. The first-"in the
ht~ginning wa.~ the \Vorcl"-rdatcs prcc:i'lcly l.o this imma11c11L procet:d-
ing of absolute Life . .For John, it is a question of God's essence. Here we
discover the ori.giualiL)' uf Chri~tian muuothci:.m, which caunoL be rt:-
dncerl to the formal and conceptual affirmathm of one Gori. It is a formaJ
affirmation to the extent that the affirmation of this God is posited-a
Goel of \vhom one knows nmhi11g cxccpt thal he exisls. BuL if one knows
nothing else about him, how can one even know that he exists? noes the
a.ilirmation of this existence not become totally arbitrary? Initiated by the
Christ, 011 the c:m11rary,Jolu1 ~ar~ whal Cud is: Life. Yet Life b not a mere
concept, ,t is posited as an absolute existence in as much as a smgle livi-ng bein;;
lives, in as ·r,i:i,d, UJ I rnyie{j l-ive.
'Because 1 who live did not hring myself iut.o life mysdf (uur intu
the Self I am, nor into my flesh, bein~ given to myself only in flesh), this
iv.ing being, Lhis Sdf, and t.his flesh <lo not arrive in themselves except
11 lhc proceeding of ahsolmt> life, which arrives in itself in its Word,
nd experiences itself in thi<1 Word_, which experiences itself in it, in the
eciprocal phenomenological interiority of 1lici1 c:o11111Hm Spirit. Thu~
r1 contrast to the formal God of monotheism, the Trinitarian God of
:hristianity is the real Cud whu live~ in each living St>lf, without which
10 living bdni:s wuul<l live, and t.o which every living being bears witness
r1 iN very condition as living.
Life's proceeding in it5 pathos-filled an::h-revda1im1 in the 'Nord-so
l1is is what John's fi rsr proposition pronounces. Uec ause in the Arch-
1assibility of its Arch-flesh this proceeding holds lhe pus~iuiliLy uf every
lesh within it, the secon<ljohannine prnpusilion-"And the \Vorrl was
::iade ile:;h"-is conm:ctc<l to rhc fir,;t. Roth .~peak of the Word, the first
,y rf'l:uing- i, to Life. the second by relating it to the flesh. l\ow if every
lesh comes in lite, then the secowl prnµo~ilion, v.:hich tn~at<1 <'Xplicitly
:1c coming of the "\1Vorrl. in flesh, seems to be a consequence of the first.
Vhat kind of implication is here in play the phenomenologr of Incarna-
1on proposes rigorou:ily Lo csl.ahlish.
The question of In-carnation is one of the heaviest if it calls iulo
uestion at once the ualun.: of the rclatjon of man to God, the nature of
:hri~l, and finally rh<" prn~ihility of salvation. But in addition, we claimed,
1e possibility of sin and perdition. The first Christian thinkers noted and
xplicitly formulated Lhe ambiguity of a flesh that can mean salvation
n- man a;; well as perdition. With force and a singular clarity, Irenaeus
ffirms this double potentiality: "Thus in these members in which we
'ere perishing and in which we accompli~hc<l the ,•mrks of corruption,
-i the~e r1ery -mem,bers we are vivified as soon as we accomplish the works
f the Spirit." \\/hat follows immediately in tlie Lexl is uu !es~ calcgorical:
For, as the flesh is capable of corrupli.on, ilis aho ofincorrupt.ihility, anrl
s iL i11 capahlc: of death, it i-: also of life" (op. cit., p. 599, our emphasis).
et these are not isolated propositions related only to ln:nacu.,')I 1111:rlit;i-
ons. On the c:011t.rary, rhey helong to what one can call a tradition, and
> it~ initial source, which we can see from the fact that the reason for this
mbivalence is presented in one of the first redactions that has come
own Lo 11.~, which was addressed precisely to those vv"ho were the least
repared to receive it--- the Greeks! "Do you nut kuuw? Your body is the
!'lnple of the Holy Spirit [ ... ]" (I Corinlhiaus 6:19). It is in the Letter
) lhe Roma11s Lha!. Paul explains, in terms i:aken up again by Irenaeus in
is polemic against the Gnostics, li1e's immanence in every flc~h. which
lso explaim why e.u:h phcnomcnnlogical srruct11re of flesh, each of its
uwcrs-c:ach "mcmher of the hodyn-is capable of bearing -.,..,ithin it
tolatrous aims as well as the possibility of ~alvation. "Ko longer pre~enl
your members to sin as inslruments uf wi<.:ke<lncss, but present your:selve.~
to Cod r... land present your mcmhen; to Goo ::is instniments of righ-
teousness {Roman& 6: 13).
Thus we should go back to what comes in the beginning, before
flesh-to the prc~t>m:e of this rwo-fold potentiality inscribed in each
of the members of our body. If the destiny of flesh, which is also Lhat of
humanity, mu.sL be loru from au uulJt.=arablc ubscurily, it is a quc.~rion of
n:.~tori11g to it_~ an:h-inrf'lligihility rhe speech that proclaims the coming
of the ,i\.oTord in flesh, its In-carnation.
Ilic urdcr of analy.~is i11 this thir<l .~cction will thus he the following:
l) rhe original possibility of sin; 2) the nature of the Christ understood
as the Incarnation of the \i\,'ord; and 3) salvation in the Chrislian :sense.

§34. The Question of the "I can" in a Phenomenology of

Incarnation.

The ph~nomenology of flesh led us from our opening to the world

through the transcendental performances of our various senses, back
to their aulu-impres~iunalily in life's flesh. Our .~cmt'~ hdong to a fle.~h
only hccam1c of thi.,; parhrn:..filled ~elf-givenness; and because of this alone
everything given in our senses (the sensible content of our experience
thaL we relal<.; lo Lhings as their own f)Haliries) is originally and in itself
made of "1mpressions." Yet our senses' pathos-filled self-givenness in life
has another decisive meaning: It makes each of lhen1 a power. This power
is nul limited to the prndurtion in 11.~ of a continuum of originary impres-
sion-; ecsi:aticallv related to things, it isfi,nt the. power to beexerted. l can open
my eyes to the .spectacle of the universe, give ear to a distant noi.M::, put
my hand onto a i;11molli surface or curved form-"T c:m" do all this and
far more. But all these differentiated and specific powers, to whose im-
mediate an<l continuous <.;xcn:isc our daily life givci; voin~, r.arry a more
am:icnl power in !hem a."- an inr.onr~~tahle presupposition-the power
to put themselves in play, to become an action, and to be able to do so
constantly. Thus we rnusL ru:ognizc i11 each of them (:.i.~ implied by it,
even thm1gh immaterial to its specificity) the reign of this original "l can,~
·without which no power in general and none of the powers of ou.r bod~
would be pos~ible.
On the one hand, this "I can~ appears as an absolute "l can'': It is
power a5 such, the fact of power, and the ubili Ly uf power to a Ucs t to i tJo1clf
and kg;ilimalc iL-,df in it~ \·cry exercise. Thm on tht> fmmrlat1on of this
origimil-and, one might say, unique-"! can," each power of our senses
 and our original corporeity in general is il~dflivccl a.~ an "J c::in,~ as the
ahiliry in principle to open one's eyes, fed, w.kc, etc. Ami rhus it is also
lived as the possibility of bringing out 1.hese series of impressions, which
make up Lhe d1:-n1g-ing and seamless substance of our llesh.
On the other hand, die retro-reference of a phenomenology of
fie.sh lo a phenomenology of In-carnation leads back Lu a ''Before-flesh,"
which prcccrlP-.~, hy generating them, each of these essential phcnomt>no-
· 1ogical determinations ofilesh: its aulu-imprc;;sinnality, its ipseity, and ul-
timately tl1e power we arc f!lWStioning ourselves about now. 0 nly be c:at.1.~,:
it has pos&ession of itself through this ori~inal "T can" rloes each specific
·. corporeal powe .. then become capable of being exerted, and become a
. power-in and through iH flesh. But just as this tlesh (which in ilsclf is
only an amo-impressional setting and is in po::.sesi;iuu of it.-;clf in rhis way)
has nothing to do with thi:; auto-i111prcs:-1inn::ility (since it is only ever a
natured. au<l nor a naturing amo-impressionality), the same goes for the
original "[ can'· we are discussing. Itself it b only an impression lived in
its auto-impressionalily; iL\df it is only a modality of a flesh. It does not
have Lhc power to bring itself about as such any more Llrn.r1 flc.~h does.
· Boery power collides in ·il:.elf wiih that about ·o.'hich and against which it can du
rwlhing, with an ab.tolute. non-power. Every power bears ll1c stigmata of a
ra<lic.al powerlessness.
A phenomenology of Iu-carnarion inexorably leads to this decisive
intuiliou ofa nnn-powermore ancient than, and inben:111. in, every power.
And yet a "phenomenology of In-cam ation" is srill only av.ray of denoting
in the conceplual language of philosophy what is implied in every effec-
tive aml 1ral power: Jr is precisely not a concept, buL Life's absolute self-
givenness in the pathos-laden eITeduation of it~ Tpseity in the Arch-Self
of the First Living. ll is Lhus no ac:c:idem if the Christ takes it upon himself
to say whaL human power comes from, and political power in panicula1,
arni rloes so at the very moment when in on.kr to induce him to speak
Pilate tlaunls his power tn ruin him or save him: "Uo you nol know thal.
I have power to release you and power to <.:rucify your~ Chri.~t.'s brutal
response-"You ,•.-ould have no power over me unks~ ir had been ¢.ven
you from above" (John 10: 10-11 )-disqualifies in a radical way not only
th c id ea we spontaneously have of "power,~ !ml ;iho every real power, and
·our ovm in partkuhu; emptying ir of ir.s substance, of the capacity th<1.l
defines it, pnx:i:,.dy it.~ ability (what.ever may be its specificity, its objec.:L,
or ii.~ manner of exertion). "No power" . , . :,lo power af. alt, for it is 011.ly
an actual power if it gel.~ its powerfrom. itself. and it Is a power only in this re:.pecl.
'~,\ fool who rakes himself for a king is a fool," Lacan said. "A king
who takt>s himself for a king is too." But the pow<..T of a king, an P.mperor,
or a Roman prefect is not iu yucsi.ion here; all power in general is, and
fin;t of all the elementary powers that the phenomenology of tlesh recog-
nized as constituti.,,-e of our original corporeity, and whose repeated exer-
ci:se as:.mes lhe mai1nem:u1Ce and uevelop1ueul of all humu.u i;;::xi~Li;;::Jil;e.
To condemn a man to cmcifixion presupposes other men, henchmen,
soldiers, executioner~, assassins, and in ead1 of lhcm lhc abilil~ lo lake,
to grasp :m 0~1ect or body, to strike it, to knock it down or pick it up-an
ability without which no crucifixion would ever have taken place. lt is
all these powers without distinction, despite ihe hierarchy, contempt, or
prc:-1rigc thar i.~ ,nt:u:hcd to them in ,he eyes of men that have no actual
power, to the extent that none of them has his power from himself, but
only from a 1:,rivcm1c:;s wiLh respect to which he ha.~ no power-not. even,
a.~ we: h:we seen, to acc<:'pt or refuse ic.
Where does this givenness come from? .From above, the Christ says.
And thi8 means .flr:;L tl1al uu ma.11 adually holds any kiud of power ~im:e
he never g:Ns thi'> power from himself. Ko power on earrh, no kingdom
of this world, and no actual reign, if what rules extends its rule on its
owu \Ja.~is and owes jjJol rule only lo it~clf. P.111. i I. i11 a qucMion of 6rrasping
this decisive situation in its depth. lVhy is no po-u.•er possible in the world?
TI1is is whaL the phcnomc11ology of flc~h, bcnm1ing- i11 i I:; very prosrc:-1s
a phenomenology of In-carnation, has shown. Because the most elemen-
tary power of our original corporeity- -whether it be intentional, like
the power of a sense, or radically immane11L, like lhe power of "moviug-
it~elf," which belongs to it in principle-is ,Q;iven to itself only in absolute
life's self givenness: once it is placed in itself by tl1is, lt is in possession of
ilsdf au<l able to at:t. TI1is is givenness from ahovc, prc.~cnr in what is
lowest, whether the act of denchin~ one's fist, drfring a nail, or spitting.
No power is from tl1e world: Because, placed oulside il!.elf in the
"ouLsi<le il'>df" of Lhis world, and :scparatc1l from itself like rhc soul is
from ir.<1 hody when ir· i.c, redured to an o~jf:ct in traditional dualism, it
would be unable to rejoin itseu: to move itself in itself, and, thus, to exert
it<1clf. Rut 1Jiis i~ the case first of all for the more original reason indicned
by the Christ: because this immanent power, which alone is capable of
acting, must first be placed within itself, and thh occurs only in life.
\\ihal dues the givc1111cs:- from above consist in? \\Tho giv1:s it?
And howr What does it give? And to whom? The phenomenology of
In-carnalion has n.:spumlc<l to Lhcsc <1ucst.ions. Every givcnncs.~ in the
sense of sdf-givennt>ss, thus every givenness of a living Self, t;:ikes place
in Life's original arrival in the Jpseity of the .First Seit'; this is implied in
evuy g·ivcm1c~s, thus also in the givcm1c:-1s of any power. So it i8 nor only
"in Life," it is in the Ipseity of the l 1'irst Self in which it is joined to itself,
that every power in tmn is possible, and given to itself in the Self·whose
power it becomes. This .is whaL lln: Clni~l ~a.rs l.o Pila Le in a veiled way:
 "Pilate asked him, 'Su you arc a king?' r... l-'You say that I am a king'
[ ... ]" Arnl, directly, to his disciples: "apart from me y011 can do nothing-
[ ... ]" (n.:spectivdy,John 18:~fi-.17, anti IS:5). And this does not mean,
• ''you can do nothing good," but "you can do nothing at all."
Tht> reference Christ affirms from every po·wer to "givenness from
above" is thus not at all limite<l lo the ethical field, even if it. play!'. ::i. tic>-
cisive role there, as we will see in a moment. Even ks~ wouln it. aim ;:it
.· poli LiGtl power a8 1-uch. ff "t>very power comes from God,'' then political
power can also rely on a metaphysical intuition, which Hevcrlhclcss doc'l
not establish a11y hierarchy ht>t:ween the different possible types of power
:m<l confers on none of them any privilege. In this respect, the use LhaL
·will be made of the thesis of the divine origin of <111 puwt:r by lhe theo-
rists of the divine righl of kings in the sc\'cnt.f'f'mh century is not only
an arbitrary s::i.lvage effort, it is the complete denaturing of foundational
utterances that have no more to do with kings 01 emperors lha.r1 constitu•
. ent or legislath,e <lemocralic as11cmhlics. What they posit is a mii-oersal
dPfinHi.on off.he. hum.an condition grasped in its original pmsihility, name~~ abso-
· lute Life. The only power that c.xi~ls, the hyper-power to bring oneself
into T.ife :rnd thus to live, belongs only to this unique Life, so every living
being inherits from it all the µowns it has rcccivcrl ar the same time a5
·life. The fau thal the Royalty from whkh rhey proceed "does not come
from the vmrlrl" is highlighted by the immediate context affirming that
these powers have nothing to do with a political authority. So it i& not the
powcr1- of the po-wP.rfnl, rhe "great of this world," but the least, tl10se who
ar the limit have nothing other than their own body and its mo:;L Lrivial
powers, whose possibility neverlhdess refers us back to ahy.~.~al 'l"esrions.
Because the mosT ordinary of these powers are given in absolute
J .ife, r.heir gift is of a .singular character. In a gift as we understa.o<l il haLil-
tially, there is the one who gives, the gift, and lhe uue w whom it i:; given,
So that a sorl uf cxlcriority i:. c.~tahlisht>d at the omset between three
terms. Ifit is a question of a present, the one who receives il become.~ llu:
·_possessor, aw.I ht: uu1 keep it for himself or m::ike it a present again. Thus
iu Japan one finds "floating pre,o;ents." Thanks to changes in packaging
and lahels they circulate indefinitely in such a way that an individual can
tome into po1;scs:;ior1 of an o~jcct that he himself offered several months
ht>fore. Bot the present that Life gives to the living-of it.s lifo, it.s Sdf, il~
)lesh, and each of the powers that compose it-is uothiug from which
.it could separate itself. Tl1is imprn;sihility is two-fold. Inscribed in given-
ness, given to itself in absolute life ·s self-givenness, generated in iL~ Self
•in its .'\rch-lpseity, and pa:s:sibk iu il::1An:h-pai!sihility, whP.re e:lch of these
powers j~ exerted iu Lhc heart of an Arch-power, rhe gift oflife that is in-
ternally huilr up in the latrer only subsists within it.
 Hi.~ thi~ original inability of the living to be separaLe<l fru111 life that
founds its own inability to be separnlcd from il.~clf. Thm the living cannot
cut itself away from ilsdf, from its Self, its pain, or it~ .mffering. If in the
"omside itself" of the world that is the site of separation our own body sl.ill
cannot be placed outside iL~cJf, ,:vcn when iT is extended and its parts are
external to each other. it is because that body, far from definiug our ac-
u ial hody (our invisible and indivisible flesh) is only i Ls external rcprc8cn-
tation. ]n an analogous w;iy, 011 Hie ,:connmic plane where ".alienation"
reigns, where the worker hires out and sells his work like the prostitute
her body, turning it into "merchandise" that goes from hancl to h,md, it
i:r, himself he hires out.and sells-not his o~jective body hm its acti\ity, its
"real, gu~jective, individual, and living work." As Marx says, "the worker
goes to the factory" just like the prosliluLe gucs lo bed.
The puwerlc~snes.~ of every power \~i th respect to the absolute power
tfou placed i{ in itself and against which it can do nothing, tl1e resu!Ling
inability of it to get rid of itself, tltiJ duuUe impotence is r,xtraordinary her.awe
it bl',Yluw.1· rm 1;11Kry prm!f'ff that which makes it a. power. Thus a singular reversal
takes place, as a result oh,·hich the non-power, which carries every powcT
within it and upuu which every power dashes to pieces, is discovered to be
it.~ own condition of possibility. ''Cum impotem tun..: jJolem sum," Paul ~ays
("'Whenever lam weak, then I am strung"}. And ag-<1i11: "We hoast. in our
sufferings" (2 Co1inLliiam 12:10 and Romans 5:3, respectively).
This paradoxical relation between powerlessness and power mcam
that the former is, if not tJ1e cause of lhc latter, th1'n at least the oppor-
tunily for it to break forth: and most frequently 1-'aul offers an ethical
interpretation of it. The weakness of man that manife~ts i lself iu sin and
of which he is acutely and painfully aware proves tha.r since he is nothing
by himself except. this .~1nfnl rn;m, his salvation can only come from the
intr.rvenf.ion ofa superior and sovereign power. By a gratuitous giftil will
bestow confidence on him, and fin;t the strength of\\.-hif'.h hy himself he
is :-o clcprivcd. Such a situation is open to various interpretations, one
of which proves to be decisive for under:;Lamliug LIH: Lcmporality of our
existence: From his de:,tilutiun and clislrc.o;.,; against which he is precisely
powerle~s, man will escape nnlyhyan abnipt rupture-what Kierkegaard
calls the "leap." lt is a question or the leap of failh. Henceforth the leap
cannot be umkr-:slood a~ the ~imple fr;msition from one psychological
sr.H.c to another; it is a condition always in play of a man lost in sin and
determined by it, followed by an entirely new UJ11tli I.ion, which in a provi-
sional aucl gl ii lial way we ,vi 11 denote as salvation. So it is indeed a question
of a.n erhk:il or more precisely religious problem or process.
And yet, ethical or religiou.<,, a leap musL be possible. That it i~ in-
explicable by psyd1ology or hy :my other theoretical discipline, or that as
the cp1e.<;tion ofits final possibility. Foreign to t.heo:retical know-ledge an<l
its domain, would this question not. imte.ad le,id m back to reality. to the
paradoxical relation whereby every power collides ·with a powerkswcss
i11 it~elf, from which it nevertJ1eless n:ccivcs at each moment what makes
it a power? By :.howing him the nothingness of his own conrlition, sin at
the 8ame. time. shows the sinner that no living being r.oulcl live from a life
that i'l norhing; that, silently, always, lltis Life ;irreams forth in him and
inakes him liye, despite his nothingness; and that the possibility of salva-
tion, for the sinner himself and for him nHnc llrn.n anyone else, rests on
this unique and absolute Life.
A life Lhat is nothing, that by itself would not be alive, that is inca-
pable of providing life to itself dep.-ived of tJ1is original power and of
every actual power at the same Li1m:-this i~ a finite life. Life that brings
itself about in itself iu t.hc First Living Self, in which it underg-ocs iL~ nwn
trial anrljoy-this is the inhnite Life of Go<l. No finite life exists as such.
It is alive only because it is g·iveu Lo i ri;clf in the self-givenness of in!J.ni le
Life, For the same reason., it has no power if it is forever unahk to give
it to ii:self. In sin, the one who commit:-1 it has the tragic experience of
powerlessnes~ which strikes at the root ot his entire life Lo the extent that,
dcpriverl of all ac:rnal power, it is at the same rime <leprived of the power
to do what it want">. It wants what is goocl and does what is evil.
\'\r11en in lln: experience of its error a finite life discovers thar i.t has
neither the power to do what it waut:., nor t-'.ven the power to live, then
it must be the case lhal, ifit lives, a Llfe is in it which gives it tu live even
in its siu. TI1c unlimited emotion of the prodigal sun in hi.~ mg.~, it is the
ahmpt revelation that he is aliYe only in Life, an<l this revelation is infinite
Llfe's self~revelati.011 revealing itself rn him in his emotion. ,'\..II finiludc
is wm--en of the infinite, hlended with it, inseparable from it, and draws
from it all that it is, has been. and will be. Tl1c most. elementary power,
the most preca1ious gesl, rcsL11 in the Arch-power. As Paul says, "[n him
we live, move, and have our being" (Act.s 17:28).
Thus the one who had ucilhcr right nor power over it, and was
begging; for his part of Lhc inheritance, has re-claimed as his own pos~es-
,ion thi~ Life in which everything is given. Only when he wali stripped of
everything did he experience it suddenly ,.,;thin him as what, in his very
destitmion, W<l.8 unceasingly giving him the gift of lift:. H was then that,
ove1whdmcd hy it, he collapsed., and uttered tl1e wmd of C:hri.~t: "Abba!"
for the one that has none of them, \.,-here doe;; the illusion of possessing
life aud exhausting all its powers come from? Before determining eth-
ic~, this line of questioning concerns lht reality of our living condition.
Thi.sis what .Paul again says: "Whal Jo you have that you did not receive?
<\.nd if you reccivccl it whv do vou boast as if it were nni a Pifl?" (l C:nr-
§35. !l!usion and Reality of the "I Can."

·1·he ambivalence of the "l can" plunges us into uncertainty: It posits both
it:,; il\1miry d1arartcr :mrl it~ reality. If it is ,given to itself only in absolute
Life's self-givenness, as tl1e phenomenology of IncarnaLio11 has c:-1.ah-
lishe<l and as Paul, following C.hri1,t., has jusr reminrle<l n.~, it ::iri~e.~ from
Lhi:s one and absolute Life and from rhis alone. Rut since each power of
our flesh is capable of moving itself in itself, and acting, only to the ex-
tent that it bears this "I call" wit.bin it (which is itself given to itself only
in I .ife), we must say that none of them in reality is a power. They tend
to appear a5 the exclusive properties of Lhe Life Lhal rum through cveI")'
lhing being, which is no mure lh:.m a nwde of it.. 1n other wonfa, it i.~ ,'!Ome-
thing that has no rnnsisrency by it.~elf, but only as a manifestation, modifi-
cation, or peripeteia of a reality that is other than it, and without \'lhid1
.it falls inlo nut.hiugucss. IL ii; not just. the nipacity of each of its powers to
he rleployerl and exerted that is unable to constitute itselt, and through
itself an effective and autonomous existence-it is the flesh iL~df in iL~
~i11tsularit.y tlrnr is unable ro do so.
But does this ruinous result not strike agalrn,l every thuughl of im-
manence, since it calb iulo quc11Lion every ~ingular reality and takes a\\-ay
its capac:iry to snhsiM hy irself (:md allo-ws this only in atio, in something
else, which operates ·within it as a foundation that allows iL both lo be
underswo<l au<l Lo exist)? h the phenomenology of Life not an interpre-
tation of rhis kind? Is not the immanence of lite in every living being ils
main argument? Jf a Liie is in it that il would vauish wilhout, is the living
being noL LlH.:n hcn:fl of wha.r a.'ii-cigns a price ro it5 living c.ondition-
rhf' freling of having one's own, free, and independent life-a life of
one's ovm that does nm belong to anyone else? The joy of lifo, of hrcath-
ing, walking, go.iug where ~cems good, thiukin,g- a:-1 yoll will, lP-tting your
im.1gination drift like a ship cruising at its own speed, or like Rousseau
abandoning himself to his reverie, <.:a.sting a vague glan~f' rhrough his
myopia at the planIB he. makes our along the path-do all these epipha-
nie~, which are resplendent in their irrefutable appearance, not lose their
brilliance when the suspicious theory cam its sad glam:..: their way, and
denies them the right to be sufficient in themselves?
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, af1.e1 il had been Ion!;
suppressed, life invade<l the fidtls uf philosophy, litcrnt.urc, poetry, and
art in g,~nf':Tal. ft;; presence ,~ithin every living being led to pantheism
and this introduced a new sensibility into Eu.rnpca11 cuhurc. C:omcsting
the narrow vision uf a rationali~m that cxhanst.f'<l it~elf in the O(!jective
consciousnP..~-~ of m:nerial enrities and enclosed man within their limited
ho1izon, life opened man to the infinite. After t11e abstract aud com:cn-
 tual universality of science au<l iL~ indifferent t.mths, a oniverse of con-
crete forces followed, and these forces arc all one. Everything outside us
.and within us diange<l: Outside us, in pb1ce of a collection of discrete
.and inert objects, grand cosmic forces unfold. And wi 1.hi11 U!s, hcc;mse the
1;i11gk drive that moves them, and that they express in various appear-
ances, also runs through us. lifts us up, an.u c<lnic:; us, a great rrcmor from
.Which nothing distinguishes us, a river without banks, in whose torrent,
: like a rite of baptismal immersion, a hounrlless experience submerges us
and merges into us.
The rigorous phenomenological sratus of such an experience must
ncvcrthclci,;s he prorlnce<I. fn the romanticism of the nineteenth century
as in rhat of other epochs, in pantheism but also in the varioru. founs uf
experience that claimed to unite u.s wilh the ahsolutc, the irlentin,,ing fu-
sion is accompanicrl hy the dissolution of individuality. This is precisely
what must be destroyed for the opening to Lhe auwlul.c to lake place .
.Jt must be destroyed because individuality ix thought srarting from its
•."limil~." vVhy rlo limir.~ pertain to indi1,iduality in principle and thus to
every individual? Because the principk tha1 i111livid11arc.~-the principium
individ1mtioni.1-is the world itself, understood phenomenologically as
:·constituted by its phenomenological Slruclurcs, which arc span:, timt>,
.and the concept. Each thing- i:s sLampcd ..-..ith the seal of individuality to
the exlcnl. l11at it i.~ 'litrnued here or there in space, with every space of
space around it-and HO.\.', or eadie1; 01 !al.er in time, alway,;; lost in rhe
immensity uf !.his lime-whet.her it is finally this or that, a tree, an arm-
.chair, or a man-a particular thing- to the exclusion of all others. In so far
as the possibility of the individual takes place iu lhc worlcl (in rh" worlrl's
appearing), Lhi:s iu<lividual is limited from the very way it becomes an
individual-from this "way" that is its appearing in a world.
· \i\-'here, when, and how ,~ill the apparent individual part wilh its
.limits if thev are coml.itu1.ivc of her individualitv? In life. one will sav;
' ~ ~ • J

in the river of life that is indifferent to the individuab iL run:, llirnugh,

.''to the nature of the wheels Liial iL lurm," according to He.ge.1'.~ expres-
.sion. "Indifferelll" is saying mo lit.de or too much. Tf life is foreign to the
world :md to the phenomenological categories of the world from which
. every conceivable individuality follow~, then life i~ not only indifferent to
individuals-it. is fore.ign ro them, and radically so. In life, no individual
is pmsihle. So the very possibility for the individual to be open to Life,
understood as the absolule, is a prnhlcm. \-Vh:.Jt doe.~ the experience of
.the All mt>:rn if ii: must do without the individual? ,-v11at momeut i.-,; slill
there to test- Thus is not the experience of th~ aLsolulc thal of no one?
U in the end it is a ques tlon of being au nihilai.cd in the A11, what is the phe-
·1unn1tnol,,.!fiml re.11/i.l."1 of this "annihilation"? Ifit has none. is the ornoosition
that formulates it anything Lul aflat·u.s vvcis ?The fu..~inn of the inciivirlm1.l
....,;th rhe ahsol11te i.n rhe sense of its dissolution and dissipation in it can
in<lcc.rl he affirmed speculatively, but from the phenomenological point
ofyicw il i11 ,m:aninglcss.
Bm what about the phenomenality of Life itself then? How is it
phenomenalized if il is irreducible lo t:vcry pu~siLlc imlividua.tion? Herc
one of the crucial eveul~ rn.:cun; lhaL will nmrk the moclcrn worlrl and
cl.ett':rmine it entirely. 'iNith Schopenhauer and his grandiose rejection of
classical thought at the beginning of Lhc nim:l.ccnth c:cntury, life return.~
to the F.nrnpean scene_, our culture is invaded by it, and it ·will furnish
our culture with other bearings, or more precisely will remove from iL
all those it had laboriously acquired. On the one hancl, Schopenhauer
rcactiv.:1 Les the pri,ru:ipi11,in indivuhuztirm.i.~ of the tradition by referring it to
the phenomenological structures ot the world, grasped, following Kant,
as "representation." On the olhcr ham.I, he opposes lo thi~, and perceives
in iLo.i unitary phi'nomenologicaI strucmre that is acrnally irreducible to
it, what he calls the Will or the ,~ill-to-live, which is only another name
for life. To the t-xlrmi lhat th,: will-to-li11P. esm,pp,s the world, the {Jfinci-ple of in-
dividuation ts not in play in it; the new and essential metajJhysical dim.e-nsion
operud !:,y the VVill is an a·rwnymvus and. imp1:rwnal dirnension. Before rlcfln-
ing (a..~ in th c Roman tfr:ism thar is con temporary ·with it) a sort of ethical
program, it is prescribed. by its nature that the individual will dissolve in
the unlimited stream of the will, lo tlic extent. that, hccamc. it i~ in ir.~elf
forci~n to th<" world, it is at the same time foreign lo the principle that
individualizes.
Contesllng Lhe Lont.:cption of lhc cxpc1icnc:c nf rhe ahmlure as a
<li.~solution nf the individual in life-because then, for the individual
in any case, this dissolution is phenomenologically nothing, and thus
is nothing-we would ask: Bul what about life and its phcnomcnality
then? F.swping indfr•idualizing ,-epre.sentation, having become im:personat and
anon:,:mom, tye is dej,rived ofphenorm:nality at the :surru: time; it lakes pla.a in the
um:onsciuus. An impersonal, anonymous, unc:onsdorn., and blind life-
hlinrl anrl 1mc:onsciom because impersonal, and separated. from what
makes up the individuality of the individual-this is Schopenhauer's dev-
a.slaling intuition, whirh will indeed flatten modern culture and give it a
tragic destiny. For life is a movement; it is not first a movement ahead of
consciousness, "which alwa,~ goes from a nuw lo auulhcr 110w ahead of
it," as Ht1.~scrl says, a lif~ whrnw illumination would come from the inten-
tionality of a protention, but the original lite that owes its revelat.iou 011I~
to itself. From lhen on, <leprivc<l of all phcnomcnality, life's movement
ii1 only a hlinrl forr~, a "<lrive" ahour which one does not very well know,
~sin li'reudianism, whether it is a question of a "psychic" notion or of a
biological-or, in other words, material-and ultimately chemical, pro-
cess. Still, this diflerence between what is properly psychical and purely
biological tends to fade for modem thought, to the extent that, in over-
\'iriting. the former by Lhc !au.er, the p~ychic: hy the hiDlngic:al, it offt>rs :m
explanation of human reality rhar will irtentify ir. (a~ in rognirivism) ,~irh
its neuronal and genetic potential. The time of the Kazi doctors is not
fa.r away.
Schopenhauer's devastating intuition reintroduces life into Western
thought, and as a foundation_. but only by taking away its phenomenality
at l11e ~ame Lime ~ i1.:, in<liviclualiLy, and for this rca:mn it is only a late
dfec:r of the Greek presuppmirion that .~ves the work of phenomen::il-
ify; its "light," for the exteriority of the world. lt is clear in this case that
everything that does not owe its appearing to Lhis wurltl is aln:a<ly Lhc
prey of rhe unc:onsr.irnis. It is in c.omr..st with this horiwn that we must
gauge the identity between Truth and Life in Christianity. When radically
ducidalcd, lhis idcnlily c.lc110Le~ Life\ iwlf-rcvclation (= the Revelation
of God) in the lpseity of an Original Self and as the phenomenological
mode in whid1 it is at.:t.:omplilihc<l. Such a11 IpsciLy happcrn in prirn:iplc
\li•hen 1 ife comes in itself, and that is what dismisses the concept of an
u:nconscious, blind, anonymous, and impersonal life-and makes it ab-
surd a p,iuri. *
Life's immanence in every living being thus does not mean that the
reality of the human being is dissolved al Lhe ~rune lime as il~ im..liviclual-
it~·, whik (in a phenomenological interpretation that is a~ rl~c.isivr: as it is
novel) the immanent process of absolute Life generates in its elf the lpseity
of an original Self as the internal condition of its self-revelation-as the
ii1tcrmtl cum.litiou of iL;; own life and thus of every conc:ch~a.blc life. Thus
a Self belongs to every living bein~: every living being i.s built up in the
manner of an "individual." It is nothing by itself-neither a living being
nor an inrlivi<lual-:-mcl lives only in thi$ pi-ocess ofl .ifr '5 .<wlf-gener~tion,
and that is what,farfrom tahing the ejjectiveness ofa singularnatity away from
1t, on the contrary tndows it with reality. Given to itselfin tl1e lpseity of abso-

*We must. r~pea1. tlut s11ch ~n inr-,ry,rFtatinn is nnt at ,ill tlJ,it nf ~ci,,iwe: ft ~.-i~eo frum
~udo-philosophkal analyses that constantly graft themselves onto science to the ext~nt
that they never arrive at the ( Galilean:, ;.ori~in" and thus at an actual understandin~ of this
science itself. 'l urned O\'Cr to philosophy, Galileo's intuition, which opem modem ,;cience,
is in the end that of Descartes: That no "subjective" determination belong, to a material
ptocc~s as such, that the wall is no more "white~ than "painful" or "perverse." Nothing
more, nochin)I; less: How much nonsense would we a"oid ifwc were attuned to these basic
proposition~-
lute Lifr, joinerl ro irself and undergoing experiencing itself in it, in thb
absolute life's trial of itself and in tJ1e Ipseil~ of iu,; original Self: iL ill itself
generated as a Self, as the singular Self il fOl ever is.
To be a Self is indeed nothing other than this: to be given to oneself·
without this seli~givenne~s being uuc's own doing. To thr.ext,mt that ohsol1tte
I.ife'., se~{-giriennr?~s (in which i.t i,1 ,&.ven to itself) takes place 1i/ixtively within it,
;mery Se[f is 11t the same time a real Self: lt undergoes the trying experience of·
itself in the certainty and ineduc.ibility oflhi~ :.df-Lrfal thatjoim it. to itself
and rmikc.~ it the Self it i~. Undergoing experiencing itself, it possesses.•·
itself, it has taken place within it, it rests in itself as upon a ground il can •·
lean on; il has Li:tkL:n fuuudation in itself, so to ~pt>ak. Have r::iken place
in it, it in hahitil an Abode that, though not built with human hands, is no
less its o·w!1, and from now on no one can rob it of tl1is.
But the problemalic has ~how11 lhat the generation of the. tran- ·
sccnrlcntal Self in ab.;;olute Life is identically the generation of a tlesh ·.
that belongs to it in principle. And this is because Life's self-givenae~s, in.·•
which lhe Sdf is given Lo iL'lclf, draws itr.; phcnomicnologkal material from
a pathos whose auto·impressionality is nothing other than the Uesh that
joins it to itself. In the flesh, however, cvciy power is 1:,,ivcn-6,iven impres-- .•
sionally to it.r.;df, place<l in possession of itself, and thus able to be exerted •
and to act. Life's immanence in every living being does not only be~tow il •
with the original and essential pheumm;nologic:al dctcnninat.ion ofheing
a canrnl Self, it makes it a real and effective''] can." The "l can" that can
implement itself and move itself in itself, thai inhauils every power of our
ilesh, and in turn makes it a rc<1.l power capahle of ht>ing exerred when
;md for as long ;:15 it wants: free. For freedom is not a "liberation," or who •
knows what subjective derivative of our thought~, images, ur fauta..-.ies at•
the mercy of unknown forces, our desire.~. or our unconscious drives-.••
even less is it a liheration oft.he individual i-..ith respect to its own being,
or a dissolution of every singular reality, which can lead only Lo uolhiug-
ness. Fn:cdom i~ a pmvcr, a power thai: alway11 posses;;e.s its.elf and thus·
has access to itself-it is a pennanent, incontestable, irreducible, and
invincible power, to which our original corporeiLy U<::ar:s wiLues~ in ci:lch ·.
of its acts or muvc111c11t~, from rhc most hnmhlc :rnd elementary to the ·.
most complex and difficult.
Flesh does not lie. And Lhis docs not only mean that t>ach of it~
impression.~ is "true," anrl experi~n,es it<.elf as it is. That flesh does not
Iie-ne.:ier lies to itself-again means that with respect to each of its powers •·
everything in iL ii; real, actual, aml truthfol, which it exerts from itself, .
from an origimi1 Power that lives in it and gives it to itself constantly, such ·•
that it exens it when it v.•,mts and as often as it wants, so it is free inJecd. •·
tis thus not merely that it undergoes experiencing itself in its action as it
infolds, much as a pain is experienced in its pain, or as a COKitatio. At the
1ame time as its action, it experiences this action as being in its po'ltJtr--·-it
,i,ndergoes expe1'i1mcing itse{f as this radical, incontestable, and in a certain way
iu,wluli:: pvw1:rr, ·,wt (J'!dy tu lll'l'll'mpli,l'h it, lmt lo be ablf: lo acunn/Jli.sh ii and lkus
/'I h~ nhl, tn ru;rmnplish i.t again.
Freedom is not a metaphysical, 5pec.ulative ::iffirm:nion, whirh i~
LIV1>ays contestable and always comested--.--today more than ever by
.dence, it is s::ii<l. Freedom h-is a phf'nomennlogical meaning; it. is the
eeling of an incumbent power undergoing expetiencing itself in its exer-
:bc, arn.1 as such i:; irrcfuLable. From t11e plit:uomeuulugirnl µoiuL uf
ricw, however, such a rlcfinit.ion docs not. suffice. One can always claim
hat the subjective experience of freedom is only the o't!iective uncon-
dousness of a determinism. But freedom is in no way reducible to the
irtifirial order nf an unfolrling movc:m<>nt-f:vcn if it were un<lcr:1r.ood
nits pathos-filled givenness and thus as a sentiment. Preedom is a.feeling ~l
hr: Sdf tu bt abl.e lo i'fflplt:menl euch uf ll,t powers that bd,mg:. lo it~-Jtesh. Yet this
:.riginal power tha, inhabits and makes possible every concrete power is
rnl adventitious. ideally separable from the Self iu.elI: It i5 parl of the way
h.e Self come., in it~ ownftesh; and it is gene:mtP.d in this coin.in![ a.t the same f.im.e
'/wse powers are, and is co-nsubstantial with theni. lt is an "l can;' consubstanrial
\Tith the carnal and living Self, established in its own power and so free
.o deploy i, from it.3elf-a5 incontesrable in this power and its freedom
ts the Self and its Hesh to which it belongs.
"Ifyuu knew the s>ift of God": Life's givcnuess Lu the living as a givcn-
1ess of irs Self, i.ts fle~h and it,3 power, is nor a pseudo-givenne%, nor it is
:he gi"-enness of an alleged Self, an apparent tlesh, or an illusory power.
['he rcilt:ralcd ullcram:e that cktenniucJ J u<laism am.I w<1.~ fulfillt<l in
";hri.~tianity-"Gorl created man in his imagc"-finds a raclica1 cxphma-
ion in the phenomenology of life. l'or one indeed sees here, first, what
l means "Lo crcal:c," when ii i~ nol. a 1p1c:dion of the wodd, 1ml of ma11
tnd his life. To create does not then mean to place an exterior entity out-
:ide oneself, enjoying a separated and thus autonomous existence. Freed
)f Lhe ideas of exterioiiLy, exlcrnalit.aliun, and objecLificalion-of lhe
.,,orld-the concept of creation now means generation, and the genera-
ion in absolute Life's sdf-gt:11cral.iu11 uf Lhal whid1 happens Lu uucsclI
mly by coming in that sclf-gc:ncration_. and fm a:; Jong as it keeps t:oming
n it. Freedom, autonomy, movement, being, power, ipseity, singularity:
~xlc1 iorily docs uot t,;ivc Lhc.~c; Life's iuurnmc.:rnx to iL,df <loes, vViLh
ht> f'1lristian concept of immanence :ois J.if~'s imm;in~nr.~ in ~ach living
)eing, every form of pantheism is stmck. dead.
§36. Forgettmg Life and Recalling It in the Pathos of Everyday Praxis.

If, in r.he -.ame. way as our Self and its Oesh, lhe "1 i.:au" fa given to itscl
only in absolute life's sdf-g:ivcnr1c:-1s, then our question is suddenly re
vivcd: How can it forget this original givenness thal by putting it in pos
session of itself gives iL lhc capacity to he. freely deployed from itself; anc
makes il an adual power rlr::i.wing ire; o.vn power from itself---a power t(
he ahk? Yet it is precisely because file's givenness is a real aud dfcctiw
one, because life is given lotally and witl101it division, because its gift is th,
:,elfgivtnnf..H in mhich eoery pmcer reeei-ves itself and hence is Jelfempowr-ml, rh<
"J can~ ha.s come to forget the mosl o.-ig:inal 6rift of life. Hen· the inver
sion we have spoken abuul 1.:ikci1 place phmr,menologi.cally, the inversior
of powcrlcs.rncs!! into power: the fact that the non-power of every powei
with respect to itself changes into the constanl aml incfutahlc cxperienc(
of its free exerci.8e.
The most. remarkable characteristic of our entire practical life ii1 k
act in every circumstance vl'ith such ease, in a freedom w great rhat it pay~
no attention Lo Lhc lnu1sc:cndcnt.al condition of the numerous actions ii
constantly accomplishes spontaneously. i~nd Lhis is hcca11.~c rht>se actioru
indeed pose no problem for it. Thns, T get up and walk, 1 take an object
and look in the diric:c:tion of an unexpected noise; I breathe in the murn-
ing air, I go to work, and eat, and I execute a hosl of extremely preci.~
gestures, each of Lhcm adapted :md effecrive-v.'i.thout thinking of it.
lu Lhc event thar one represents the most banal and quoLitfom activity,
and thus refers it to the objective body, one lhcn attrihut.t>s ro that bod)
all these varying muvcmcn!.~ and rlisplacements, which are now grasped
a'! it:-1 own. One identifies this sort of half~light in whid1 Lhcy take plare
(even when they appear in the world':, light) with the unronscious char-
acter ol" physlologirnl, uiulo1,rical, anrl ulrim::i.tely material processes tha1
arc prrnlun:rl in the organs. This multiform activity is now theirs, au<l i~
facility, its instinctive perfection, and ihc silence of its accomplishment,
is whal om; calls hcalth-;'the silence of the organs." Health ls forgelful,
a'! forgetful ::i~ life.
When a concept as decisive as forg-cLl.ing intervene~ in this set oj
problems, om: who \\~shes to offer a radical elucidation of it musl bring
it hark to fundamental phenomenological rnLcgoric.~. ~ Fr,rgettingm,ust t.hw
be understood 5larting/Mn t!tt duj;lil'ity of appm.ring. On the plane of thought,

*Thus we ha"c constantly proceeded-"•ith ri,sp.,ct to l,,ngie,,ge. for example, ;,nd more
11,.-uernll)' v.ith respect to me bod~ and the flesh that are th-, th"m" nf l hi, wu, k ·· ··with re-
sulls tlml tl,e reader 'I-ill appreciate in accordance with !he phe1rnmt,nr,hagic.al in1f"'T.tli~e:
in reh,lin~ lhem Ii> tlie ().'inwmaw o/his own /i/il as tiwy are girm, to hi·m i:n nnd Ir:,• tb:i._1 liµ.
:,· ..
.'·:··.·

ftJrgcttjng r.onsim precisely in no longer thinking sometl1ing, which in

<this way is "forgotten." This changes in the case of an uncon~cious mi;:m-
/Ory. Tn principle, and despite numerous obstacles, what one no longer
thinks can become the olticcL of au :c1<:1.ual t.l1011ght ag-.-lin; then "recall-
fog a memory" occurs. Every thought, every represcnlalion in I.he most
\genernl ;;cu~c l.hu.~ carries within ir the two-fold possibility of forgettin)l;
}autl 1Tmcmbcring. Yet what a c.ontrast. het:ween these twn possibilities'.
\Vhereas nearly all of the content of our representations remains in the
so-called unconscious :=.talc, only a minute part of this virtually infinite
Content takes place under the gaze of consciousne5s, and mo:=,t often in
<amarginal zone of it for that maller; lu Lhc mo~l fayora.blc hut also the
. least ti~equent case, it become::s Ilic object of a "dear and dist.inc.t vision;·
a1ul Lh us sh ow~ i tscW'in it.~e 1fan d cJ.5 it is," "in the plain light of evidence,"
according to the wish of Husserl's phenomenology, which i~ also, as we
__have seen, iLS melhodolo6rical telns.
· Yet thi~ fmitm:le-this extraordinary and indeed unlikely finitude
that would reduce our existence to scraps of reality, Lo discontinuous and
insignificaut fragmcnl.~ cifhcing, nt>arly all of which permanently escape
_us-this fmitude pertains to thought only in a secoudary way. \Vlrn.1 i~
finite is lhe phc11omcnological milieu in which thoug"ht moves, the tran-
-;iccndcntal horizon ecsrntically hollowed-out, structured, and limited by
t,ime: it is this empty light that is finite. Only a frnitude like lliis, which is
phenomenological in principle, explains why the indeterminate totality
of being overflows on all sides this circumscribed and closed siLc of Lhc
>world's bright interval, the "clearing" losL in lhe obscurity of the fon~~t.
Tirn:=. the :-plil occur8 hdwccn th{'. prt>cariousness of an always-derisory
>pre;;ence and the immensity of a forgetting that strikes almmt everyLhiug:
•- - that is.
i i When it is telalt<l tu lifo and not to the appearing oft.hf' work!, the
ti1,:aning of the concept of forgetting totally changes, to the point that
new
terminology is here necessary. It i.~ cmly in 1.cnns of thought that
Jifc can he cal\ecl "forgotten." It is "forgotten" to the extent that, since
_ no .,;pan: ope:ns in its radical immanence, and no dehiscence breaks it,
•-• there is no place for any thought in it. Hence everytl1iug that pert.aim
Jn rhougfo has disappeared: No forgetting, which means precisely no
_.:-:_thought turns away from its comenL in un.kr tu abandon it to the c:ondi-
_: tion of an "unconsciou.s memory.'' Nu calling thi~ back to mind eirher,
.)iuce recalling it:,clf is an act of thought. No forgetting, no recalling, no
memory in the sense of a representative facu!Ly, and rm memory of rl1t'
r,~orl<l Lha.t relics on and prc:mpposes its unveiling.
_ Since it~ n~ality excludes the very possibility of a memory and thus
of
a memory concerning it, lite escapes memory in principle. AL Lotlom,
Husserl's entin:: problematic of the phenome-nologicaJ method, which
\\las analyzed at length in our first section, faces the question of whether .·
it is pos~ihle to me:mori7e the tr,1nscendental life that is initially lost in its
anonymity.1t was a question of knowing how Ilic forgdting of transcen- •. •
dcnr-..il life ,hat characterizes natural existence, which is intentionally mi->
ented toward tl1e world and aLsorlicd in it:,i ohjects, c011ld be overcome by··.
an act of Lhis :same ll10ught, which woul<l allow it m find itself in the com-•·•·
plcx and 1mcea~ingly re"ised process of phenomenological reduction. ··
\,1,'e understand better now t11e failure of the 111cil1ml, anr:l the apo- i
ria Lhat it 3trugglc<l in vain To circumvent: lloth teach us what forgetting
signifies when it is related to Life. Because it gives way Ldurc lhc gaze of •· .
thought, it is capable neither of forgclliug (in the sense of hcing ah:,m->
doned Lo Lhc Sheol of rnm-phenomenality) nor of being recalled, by ·
\\ITenc.hin~ it away from the nothingness of the unconscious, awl rclurn- i
ing it to existence: No possible memory imlcc1I. J .ifo hathes in a radical
ForgetLiug thal grips it~ very e~sence. This for~etting is thus not an acci-
dental or provisional state, which would be followed by a pos~iblc recall- • •
that would take a mislaid co11 Len I. th al wa1, un <l~term ined for a while, in a ·•·
sort of cosmic night, and return it to consciousness in the happy lighL of .
the world. if life escapes all ·,rwmU1y /;()/!'fl. when it iu!1,er lP-ar1P..~ m, it is because a
memory wiuwul mcmoT}' has alway~ nnited us to it and ahv·ays will. Always .•. •
already, it ha~ accomplished its work; always and already it has placed us . ·•.
in our living condition. It is I.his immemorial memory of life alone that<
can join us to Life; it is life itself in its pathos: it is our tlesh.
In light of this decisive phenomenological prnpusiliun alom:, the
question of forgetting-by the ''I cau" of the T.ifc that gives it its power-
can be cluci<iatcd. This forgetting is thought's own doing, and in no v.ray i
r.har of the "I can" itself. That is why nothing chan8;es wilh regar<l to its ·
condition, its phenomenological ~Lalus, or the power ir has from rhi'I .·•·
s lalus. If though r forgets the 5eJf-givenne .ss that edifies the "1 can," this .· .·.
shows only that thought is foreign to it, and that tlH: ahscrn:c of1hought, •··
far from keepiug 1.he "I can" (and thus each power of our flesh) :from •··
bciug cleploycrt, is instead its condition. This is the reason why our entire
pr.:i,tical life is carried out with the ease, facility, and freedom Lhal om: ..
.
attl"ibule~ Lu a mvslcrious "in~rinrt.." . or to i:he mechanism of unconscious
phyi,;inlogic~I processes. The "silence of the organs" is only a uamc for
the radical immanence from which lhe "] can'' tlraw:; iti1 firsr. powcr-thP. ·•·•
power to be alilc-whic:h activatt>:s every power of our flesh, whether its .·
movements are slow or rapid, with the suddenness of a lighL11i11g- fla..,;h.
The phenomenological ~ilcnce of our living praxis in i1~ immediate
accomplishment ii; irTcrlncihle to the mmeness of things, and one real-
izes this because, being the silence ofpatlws, it is heavy to bear; Even whcu our
haracterizes all forms of sponlaneity, il .is however nc\'cr q11.a activity,
pontaneity, freedom, or "auion" Lhal il should IJl: described. In as much
s every human action bears wilhin il a~ il~ musl irw.:riur possihiliLy an
r can" that is given passively to itself in the pathos-filled self-givenness
,flife, it is afer,lingof(J.(:tirm thar is always in question. But it would still be
~uperficial view to interpret the pleasure that the simple fact of acting
ften brings us as one modality of feeling among other possible modali-
.es, such as p.:un or suffering-. Because the adiu11 of any kind of power
i"esuppo.se11 the action of the "I can," this original capacity of power
mst 1irst be at work on its owu U<l!!li:1, buttressed against irsc~lf as irs own
ruun<l, wresting it'(clf away from the r:uiica.l passivity in which it is given
1 ahsol II tc life's ~elf-givf'nness: allfeelinp; of action is in reality, according to
faine de lliran's extraordinary intuition, a feeling of efforl, and Lhi.s effurl
i precii;cly 110L some nmrlality of our :;iffectivity. F,ffort in its specific pa-
105 marks how the "I can,'' with its original capacity to act shovm back to
.s source, in the place of its generation in absolute life, an<l here brivcn
) itself in pallios, is in ancl hy this pathm capable of deploying freely-
:self, starting from itself, by its own strength, and at its own expeme in
)me way-the pnwcr an<l st.rengch with which it has_just been invested.
bis original pathos, which releases a strength and endows it with Lhe
trength to be exerted from itself and according tu its uwn :mc11gth-t.o
e more exact, whc11 ihc tc:st. nf this force is exercised in these conditions
nd in this way-this is the feeling of effort.
So it is clear Lhal I.he aff,xlivity of this feeling i.~ not rhat. of ~ome
mdality of our life. Tt is erlified where transcendental Affectivity and
trength intersect, where, by joining it to itself: the former endows Lhe
Ltter with the abilily lo apply iL~dfstalling from itself, whir.h alone makes
, an aclual force, immanent ro it.self in and through this AffectiYity. The
·ansn~n<lenral f\ffectivity that precedes every conceivable feeling is life's
wn. Before founding the abundance of our feeling~, c11mlio11s, and scn-
ttiom, it amo-affects itself according to the two phenomenological to·
alities of suffering and joy in which every life arrivt:s iu il:idf. IL is this
jlectivity, this original AfJecLivity iu its fumlamculal and no longer r.on-
ngcnt plu:nomnmlo[.;ic;il tonaliTies, that generates every strength within
, communicating to it the pure tonalitie:; iH which it reveals it.'lclfincvita~
ly as a ~ uffcring or happy force, an rl r:;iise.~ from it.~ suffering- in the effort
1 which ir i~ necessarily deployed, ,vi th out which no force is set in motion.
So we see how lite escapes lorgetting, in ils most denH.:ntary and
uoticlian praxis, in our simplest, mmt habitual, and humblest gestures:
ecause none of them is capable of being accomplished ,.,·ithout recour:,e
) the "1 can," any more than it is in a position to begin aH)'Whcrc bul in
1e origimi.1 phcnmncnolo!-,rin1l ton alirie.5 of 1111ffering and joy in which it
 Let. us nmv consider this everyday human aclivily as we carry ir out
habitually: in the world and in iLs lighL It is th<-~n th:nt \\'e discover the im-
mense field of social activity, "~uLial pm.xis," a fif'lrl which is nothing other
than the <'Ontent of society-its economic conlenl. Ptci:iscly he('ause it
shows itself in the world, iL is in l.crprctPd from the outset as an objective
corilcnl compose<l of a plurality of"economic objeclf:>," wliu~c propcrtie~
aud law.~ one s.eek& to determine with the help of more or ks~ :;irhirr:nry
parameters. But one cannul make it. w th:;it ::ill of these "o~jects'" do not
reler ( lhcir oljcctivity or ideality notwithstanding) to the \~ork of men
:;ind women, which, according to Marx\ affirmation already cited, is a
"real, subjective, imlividu.a1, and living-work." t<o theory, no ideology; and
no I.bought nm muffle the voice of this carnal, effort-ni.akiug, aml ~uffcr-
ing "T can." So in its r-ucryda}' Jmi::,,-i.~ lift due.~ not look tn thm1.ght to overr:om.e its
}or-getting; it is re:.punsible for i.lself, 1n it, own pathos.
TI1i~ pathos rloes not assume only the expression of wffcring or sad-
ness, as it does through the great social {i.e., individual) phenomena of
hunge1~ mfaery, lhc c.:ynical cxploit::nion oflabor, and human distress ln all
ii~ forms. For whoever endeavors to go back to Lhc Lra11:1ccndental possi-
bility of all action, rather Lhan st.icking naively to its mere etlectuat.ion-
an<l even more n:;iivdy to objective behavior, from which angle this ef-
ferJ11:ntion is displayed in the world-il is prcci~i:ly this transcendental
possibility, the power to L,e ahk of the carnal "I can," which must be ana-
lyzed. To accomplish any movement, as we do constarnlr in everyday cxi~
tence by hadng the feeling that we wn aa:om/Jlish it, this i& rather reassuring.
'l'hi.s is undoubtedly the sourc.~ of the pleasure that according to Aristotle
accornpanic~ every act naturally. Nevertheless, a wholly olhcr tonalhy is
connected to this capacity for power inherent in every power, and it is as
essential to life, perhaps, a.~ the mffering or enjo~1nent ofits self:revelatiou,
awl <Cl capahfo a~ they are of wrenching it from forgetfulness: anxiety.

§37. Forgetting Life and Recalling It with Pathos in Anxiety.

Kierkegaard's genius is to have from the hcgiuning- connected the con-

cept of anxiety to lhal of possihiliry or power.* In making use of such a
conucction, it is not only a fundamental affective tonal.iL)'-as ti1at of

'"S0ren Kierl:.egaar<l, S~m. Kin~,guar,L1· Sltr',Jter, Vol. 4, ed. Niels J£Jr[!Cl1 Cappel,jm, ~t a[
(Copenhagen: Gads Forlag, l!l9i} / '" C(rn«f•I d,, l',.mg&isse. French trans. K. ferlo,, and
.J. Gateau (Paris: Gallimard, 193.i) / Tl.e G(m.u1,1 ofArr:xfrty. eel. >rnd trans. Reidar Thomte
(l'rinccton: l'onceton U niverliit.y Priess, HlilO),
 Suffe1ing or Joy, or even, staying within the framework of Kierkegaard's
set of problems, Despair-that is brought to the center of philosophical
reflection. At the same time, it is pathos in general that receives in this
reflection a place it had never occupied. Recognizing this precedence in
Aff1:c1.ivil.y docs nnt. isola!J: it. in any way, rmwc\·cr. C:onm:ct.cll to power, Af-
fecti"ity is interpreted as the principle of action. so that this action can no
longer be understood except in its real motivation, \v"hich is precisely an
affc<:Live mulivaliou. Mon:o~cr, Affetlivily nol only provides action witJ1
.its actual motivation, but also constitutes properly its essence, and this is
because Affectivity constitutes the essence of reality itself. By connecting
anxicry,· and pos~ihility, Kierkegaard invite.~ ,L~ to test our own thesis, ac-
tording to which transcendental Affectivity constitme5 the internal possi-
bility of every conceivable force and all power, because in this Attecthit:y
alone it. is pm in pos.~cssion ofitsdf, and 1.hus becomes an a.cl.ui:il force.
This relation between anxiety and possibility must therefore be ex-
plained. It ,~ill no longer surprise us if it is first of all a relation in thought,
.in light of its mvn conccprions. For t11ought, po~~ihility i., of courw n:lalcd
to action, but it precedes action, and in some1vay pertains first to thought
itself. Thoug11t. pro-;icct.s acfjou before iri;clf, it cl is-pose~ anion before iL-1
gaze in the two-fold form of a pr~ject precisely, that at the same time
presents itself as a potential objective behavior. This is then the object of
a reflection whose goal if: scls and whrnc means it evaluate .... In short, it is
a question of a mpresentation of action, where this prior representation, but
also tJic behavior mcaul lu realize il, buLh oLey the laws ufn::prescutalio11,
,•lhir.h is rn s<1y in the encl th<' constiturive phenomenologic::i 1.~rrnrture!'. of
the world's appearing. We face questions like these: 11ow can this task be
accomplished? 1,vliai tools ~houkl be used? Wl1ere should they be applied?
For how longr, f't.c:. Thus, for calr.ulating and for-;w.eing thought, the pm1-
sible always pertains to its own field and competence: By projecting itself
.toward the possible, thought gives rise to it,just ru; thought is also what re-
sponds to the que5tions th;it prompt the o~jective presentation of the pm-
sible, whether it is a question of "realizing" it, or perhaps of dismissing it.
· But hen:: is auothe1 :.oil uf acliu11. Haviug ldt will1 hi~ friends for a
dimh who.~e c:lifficnltyrhe.yunrlnn,timatcxL :-i m~rn come~ to a halt.on the
ridge separating tvvo chasms, struck ·with vertigo. The possibility of falling
paralp:eit him, and anxiery overcomes him. \Vhere. does thi.~ possihility
tttke place? P.eside him) At the bottom of the chasm ro which hrc fe,.Js ir-
resistibly attracted and from which he strives to turn away? Where is the
anxiety that grips him? In what do both consistr Another man (or is it. the
same oner) waits on the subway plat±orm. The train anives, and a similar
anxiety comes over him. ~ot without intense effort, he tears himself av.'.ly
from the gaping pmsihility open before him, takes refuge 1111 I.he hc11ch
in tbc 1't',ition, and holds onto .tl, dosing hi.~ eyes. These are "psydwlogi-
cally fragile" beings. .
Here ai·e Lwu other~ that arr more normal. He kfl Lhe danc:e h3ll, >
and on a lar~c :.-i,~joining balcony he contemplates the night. Later one .• ·.
of his partners arrives, and like him, has put her hand 011 lhc ha lustrade. •··
Are lhey lhcrc to escape the suffocaling b(:at nf the room, the din of the . ·.·
music., or all the commotion? Or was it some anxiety for them Luu? It.···.
overtakes them on U1e Lalc:ony and doesn't let go. .··.•.
Kierkegaard's decisive intuition, which make:/. him, like Descartes •. •
or Maine de l!.iran, the ln veu lor of a rn die al phenomenology, was to cross
out in a single :;lmkc a.11 these objective circwnslanccs tmvard which our i\
explamtlions stray. Kierkegaard elimi.nale~ all ohjecti\ity from the starl, ·. •
in a reduction that is not al all partial hnt complete, and he carries thi.~ >
out by beginning his analysis of anxiety with an analysis ofinnocence. For
"innoccrn:c is ignorance," he says (SKS 4, T, §~. ~43 / 37). lt is total igno-
r:rnre that does not just strike lhc knowledge of external cir~umstanceg
(though these <lo not ar.mally disappear, but now count for nothing). ...
Let ns observe in passing chat it is ~ctring- aside the objective comli- i
tions for anxiety thal prompts the decisive and now famous distinction ·
in ~5 uclwccn anxiety and fear, with which it i~ most often confused. In
fear, all the similar feelings refer to a precise fact, to something menacing,
whose approach or al ka;ir probability is perceptible. Bccau11c innocence
is in it:,df ignorance, and remains in au imrne<k1te unity ·with itself a:; .
if it. were absorbed in this innncciiary, innocence is deprived of rli~cern-
ment not only vis--.1-vis the world of causes and dfccL11, hut even more with
respecl lo ethics and to its fundamental dctcnninations, good and evil.
That is why Kierkegaard ~ay,.., thar Adam, because he is st.ill i11 this stare of ii
innocence when the prohibition is addressed LO him, understands noth·
ing about ir.
It is true that many thi11g:,; have happened since Adam, a.ml it is no .·.
longer preci~dy irmncence that reigns in our sut:icl.ic.11. \Vhatever the mo- >
Live~ may be that droYe the man and woman just mentioned lo rnccr on ·
rhe balcony neither is aLsolurclyignorant of them. They Lolli "went out,"
like the young girl in Pavese's The JJeautiful Summer who al.~o slipped out
imo the srreet simply to get some fresh air, take a walk, and unwin<l. A.~ for
them, they undoublcdly know a bit more aboul lhis cnc.rnmter. If the
meeting occurrerl because at bottom i.t was more or le,<:.S sought, this com-
plies V>'ith the ordinary course of111nmm affairs and intrigue ralhcr tfom
serendipity.
And c:an it also happen now? The pnssihle in suspense-is it 11ul
t.ho11ghr that weighs this? That cval11ares in a glance the lru)y narrow
space thatseparalc~ llu: hands placed side by side on lhc railing? It could
ic LhaL, aS they ooth ::ire thinking, barely mo-ving bis hand the man pface~
t m1 the young woman's. \.Vould she pull hers away? ,'V-ould shCJUSt "ni-
lilatc" it, like a. S::irtrean heroine pretending this hau<l was nothing, an<l
elt nothing. since it was no1 licrs-lcaving open the v.,ay that leads to the
;reat game Of pleasure, the game of Lhc possihk•?
And yel Lin; po'!sihle rhar. rlriw·s this game improperly calle<l lovc is
ri no way iucutical wi.th :;i t'.ontent displayed before thought's gaLe, which
s.mrc<lly <loe5 not escape the protagonists of Lhi:. prc-programme<l ad-
enture. This is the meaning of die reduction of objectivity Kierkegaard
arrics out when he makes innocence the prerequisiLL: for the :m:llysis of
nxiety: lo situate the pom'.ble, which will beanl'I.I! th!? prinriple ?/anxiety, no /Jm-
-er in the field of tlwughl, [l'u.l in lifP-'.~ rrzdi.M.l im.numence. an immanence whose
ruwctmce .m.PfJlies rm fx.emp!ary pathos. llefore measuring Lhe importance
,f 5Uch a shift for understanding the possible rhat. is proper to anxiety,
remark aboul Lhc lllalus of innocence in Kierkegaard's problematk is
ieccss.:1.ry.
Precisely because its patho:r, lakes on an exemplary (in other words,
niversal) mea11ing, innocence is a state that no human existence tall clo
ithout. "1 low sin came into the world," Kicrk,~gaard says in a very serious
roposition, "each man unrlP.rstands solely by himself" (SKS 'l, I, ~6. 356 /
1). A.ml rct ~in is r:h:=rracterized in the first place by the lo~ ofi1moccncr..
?e mu.sr thus translate it such that each of u.~ learn~ for himself how he
as lost innoceucL:. Before iris lost_, it is true, innocence knows nothing of
:.elf. It is only when it is lost that it become:; cuuscious of what ir was. As
henomenologists oflife, ,.,e understand imme<l.iardy how such proposi--
ons must be imcrprctcd. When we say that before sin innocence knows
orhing of itself, the knowledge of which it is Jeprivcd i8 t.hat of thought.
1nocence does not perceive itsdf a:,· innvcem:e. The knowkdge of innocence
1at occurs only when iL is lost is that of an impression that has toppled
1io Lhc pa'>t, whose reality is destroyed and reduced to a noemaLic un-
~ality. llut there is nothing uun:al or unconscious about innocence in
self; iL is n:fcrrerl tn this way only by the thought that believe:; cvcrytliing
1at. escape.~ it.~ current representation is abandone<l Lo nothingncs~ anrl
:tually lost. l!:scaping thought.'~ k1mwlcdgc, innocence in reality never
ops having the experience of itself in its own pathos. Something like i1i-
()Ce:nc.e is possible, moroove1; only in lhis way, giv,m in ifs patho.Ffi1led immedi.o.cy
nd unconcern.£d with st'eing c•r bring seen.
Thi:. immccnce absorbed in itself, which no glance troubles, is Ilic:
mocence of tlesh, for ex.ampk:-anrl, more importantly, this is what
:akes it flnh. All flesh is innoc.em. Thus, we said, the eyeryday gesLures
tal spuutancou,;ly rleploy its powers v,rithout it paying them auy allcn-
on unroll "\-\>ith such ease that common reprcscnl.arion takes rhem clum-
 -:.=

sily for "imtinct.iVf~." hHnd acts, like inert prot:c~sc:;. Tn iu immediacy, >
in;wccncc seems to forget itself, just like flesh precisely. For this illusio'n i\
t.o cf'.ase. howeveT, it i5 enough that 1hc mosr. constant characteristic of ;
pra.'{iS is felt by ll.~: effort, the feeling of effort, what is hard ahour it, and ·•
all tht> degrees in which it intemifics right up to the point of becoming <
unbearable. ·
Tht: phcnomt>nology otflesh rests on the essential di~r.innion it has i
cstahlished between the pretend powen. whose spontaneous develop- )
mem everyday life expn:sscs (s<'eing, hearing, moving) and, 011 I.he: other/
hand, the transcendental possibility of a.pplying- them in an "1 can" that ii
is capable of being exerted sLart.ing from itself-the possibility of power i/
identical to our freedom. Kierkegaard's dazzling intuiliou i:. that ih;.S?
1adiw,l fm.rsihility of power is brutally ,·evealt:d tu u.1 in tw.xi.l!t.y: ",he anguishing . •·
possibility of power" (SKS 4, I, §5, 350 / 44; transbtion modified). ·
Became thi:. profound po~ibility supports each dcmcnrary power
of our flc.'ih-t>ach sequence of our mo~l habiLual acti";ry,-, the most naive
act-the pleasure connecLed lo iris not a;; simple as the ease of its unfold-
ing would make one rhink. A.s innocent as innoarm: muy hf., a secret anxiety ·.
inhabit.s it. Whether it be innocc11t hcc:m~e it is ignorance and knows C
nothing about the world, or whether the anxiety conm:clccl to the possi- {
bilily ufpowcr is, ::iccording to another ofK.ierkcgaanl 's decisive insights, <•
an anxiety before "nothing.'' it Ci:l!I c:;capc n1cirher the fact tl1at this possi-
bility of power is pre:-;cnt in it, nor the anxiety in which ii i:-1 frlr. Quite •/
the contrary. Knm~ing nothing about whaL it c::rn <lo only exacerbates the.····
possibility of power; anxicLy pcnctrares innocence entirely. It cn<lows it
·with the patho~ proper to it-this mix of attraction au<l repulsion hefore .·
lhc unkno·wn: this unstable state that is still not culpable because it still .
h;i..~n 't done anything and knows not.hingofwhatit can do (whei.her good i •
or evil)-it h already overwhelmed by the possibility of <loiug if., anci snh- \>
jeered l.o ii., and engulfed by the anxiety of this "11crti!{inous freedom." .•....
vVe say a secret anxiety bcc.iuse it is shielded from the ga,c-/
becau~t: the ~ccr<cr i~ rhe domain of patho~ .•\.µan from the world, in this
surl of incognito that is consubstantial wilh it, the feeling is expe1ienced ··
more strongly and increases of it:-iclf; it grows. Handed over to itself, lhc
possibility of power is anxious about itself. Innocc:nn: had first felt its
anguish as a new feeling, as au i:idvcntnresome quest, with a sort of com-
plaisance like chil<lrcu have. P,ecause. Kierkegaard says, "anxiety
so essenlially to the': child that he cannot do \villiout it. Though it causes ·
him anxiety, it captivates him hy it~ plnsing anxiousness."
There j:,; a plcasnrf> in anxiety, but in this vt:ry plca.1111re anxiety is·
or
subject at the s.ime time to the law palliu~ amt t.hf' vt':rti.go of freedom.
It. is responsible for itself and hem under it.5 O¾'Il burden to the poinl
 1s no lunger able to hear it.. Fleeing itself. getting rid of itself this is
bw what. it. projec.r.~-at the heart of its anxiety, which burns in it like a
:>il.suming fire. The in:ihility tog-et rid ofitself exacerbates it at the mo-
lellt the possibility of power conic~ 11p ,1g-:-i.i11s1 tl1c non-power in itself
1at is older than it and that gives it to itself-against the powcrkssricss
iatwe have shown Lu be Lhc source oft.his power. Thi.~ is when anxiety is
roughL lo ils pa.ruxyi;m and increases veniginomly: Wanting to Hee itself
~rl rnming up agairn;t its inability to do it, cornered by itself, the possi-
ility of power is thrown back on ilself, wlu'.1:h rnerms lh11t at thR same time it is
irown hack on thll power that makes it possible. So it throws itself into it, as if it
ere the only way out, the only possibility thal 1emaim, and takes action.
This strange and trying prnccss of anxiety that unfolrls in human
:Lion-which will ahvays riifferentiate it from every material process, so
1at.1t is absurd to confuse them-takes place on the dizzying crestofll1c
tountain, on the platform in the slalion, and ,m our rianc.ers' balcony.
ine will objecl lhar., ~incP they alrtcady lost their innocence, the dancers
ndoubtedly did not go through the trance we are describing. They only
tme looking for Lhc plca.~un: of a nig-ht out, an encounter, or an adven-
ire. An.d if this pleasure were that of anxiety-which in our world, 1lcscrrc1i
Lits anonymity, could aluue break its un hear::i hle ennui-mstoring the Self
, if:,df? For anxicl)· is only the paroxysmal expression of the essence of
~lf, of the pathos in which, joined to itseu· and haYing thus become lhc
~lfit is, it will always Le imc~tcd with thii- po8sibility of power that is its
1finite freeclom.
Kierkegaard was in no way mistaken al.Juul lhc evolution of socie-
~s.: he o.ITered a powerfully original conl":f'ption of hi.~tory as a history
~ gcnerarions, and at the same time of the relation of the individual lo
tis history. l"rom one generation to the nexl, am! owing lo it.~ indefinite
1)Ctition, anxiety accumulalt:s (!UanLilativdy ('\>l~cctivc anxiety"}, thus
mravati11g I.he rnmliriom in which sin becomes possible. Between these
mditions and sin itself, no "transition" can be clci1crihcd or ;ma]y7ed,
~cause actually there isn't one, but only a "leap," the absolute position
0 a new "qm=tlity," which is irreducible to any condition and thus to any

i:planation. This leap is sin, the act it5elf. Hence this <leci.~ivc proposi-
:rn already cited, according to which, "sin presupposes itself" (SKS 1,
~3, 380, 349, 3::S8 / 1~, 77, 13, 32). So the act proceeds from a rarliral
eedom conferred on the individual in tl1c very procc.s"> of irn genera-
::m in absolulc Lifr, :ci.,; the tran.~cendental Self whose freedom is thus
msubstantia1 '1-vith it.
111h is why each gcner.:1t.ion (in rhe ~en~e of;:i natural and not tran-
crn.lcnlal generation, in rhe hio;torical sense) is confronted with the
me task-each individual begins again the history of the world, in other
words, that of Adam. Evny phenomenological determination conslilulivc
of the u-an:;cc111lcntal St1lfpercains to it and could nol be <li:,;sociatc<l from
it. On tht>: halr.ony, our dancers also knew in11uu:ncc, and also lo~r it.. The
age ar which an indi\idual lose!. inrmu:ncc depends only on the degree ·.
of corruption of ,he society to which he belongs. ~or nm anxiety itself
be forgotten. On the bakouy, mn two dancers who lost their innocence .·
still did nol parl with anxicr:y. Perh:1ps they are there to frnd ilagaiu. ·.
lu the rnost.<lepraved societies, when all moral ruks and all "tahoos")
are abolished, and when various forn1:- of perversion are welcomed with<
immense favor, whc.re skepticism or cynicism are the only Lopics c:apahle/
of awakening the last trace of inlere:;l, anxiety has not o;o much disap-/
peared as put itself in charge. IL shows it~e:lf through two series of appar-
ently contradictory phenomena. On the one hand, a systemali{; n:<luc- .
lion to o':jectivity by means of the objective scicuccs, rhe technologies
they propose, and the interpretations that they impose (for example,· .• ·.·
the reducliun of flesh to the body, or of our transcendent.al life lo mat.c,•)
ria.l proresses, etc.)-and one waits uncomcio11.~ly for this objectivity to·..
diminish or eclipse everything tfon i.5 properly human in humanity, anxi-
cLy in partic11lar, and the phenomena conucctcd wirh it, ~mch as death,
for example. Correspom.liug- ~ynnncrrically to this, on the other hand,
the systemalic fabrication of objects, conditions, and condur.:l rnpahlc of
producing ir-of producing violence, indignity, infamy; anrl ignominy in
all its forms, right up to t.hc kind ofpro.5titution that one might call ani-
lidal lo lhe extent th::it it is no longer a question of pro:-tiluting one.~elf
for money, but for the pleasure of pros Li luting- one~f':lf-for the anxiety .
that every form of self-alJa~cmcnt purveys. ]f anxiety confirms in every ··
man aml woman that they are this transcendent.al Self that. is inc::ipahle
as such of doing away with itselC how do Lhcy get rid of iT?
The reader of Kinkcga..ird'.s extr;wrc:linary essay-a few lines of.
which arc crmugh to rout all Ilegelianism, and beyond il whole sect.ors .•· ·
of modem objectivist thought-camml rnnc:cal his surprise. I'rom §5 on, ..·
a compleLely different. "explanation'' of anxiety is aclvanet:<l, which no ·
longer rcfcni it ro the internal phenomenological slruclurc of thP. tr:m- · ·
sccnnent;,J Self: Suddenly the world ilsdf seems to he its provenance.

§38. The Duplicty of Appearing and the Reduplication of Anxiety.

Jmmediately after di:;qualifying all exrerioriry and all consciousnes:; ofan )

object in the reduction to innocence and its ignorance lhal prt:u:tles thP.
aualysi.s of :mxiety, it is now up to exterioril)' to rai~c anxiety in m. This
, ~ ' . . - ~
1f soul and body" Since this synthesis is said to be "unimaginable,'' one
an see that the body in question here is lht: ex.l<:.Tu.tl body of the tradi-
ion in its opposition to the soul (an opposition Llmt consisls in this 11cry
:xteriority). In other lt:r1m, 1hc syn llicsis of the soul and the body is, as
Uerkegaard denotes else,fhere, a "paradox" liial. hc:longss on the same
1lanc a.\ the relation of time and eternity, and in a similar ,.,-ay suggests
.n enigmatic. c.0nreption of the human condition.
However, to the extent that anxiety arises from the synlhcsis of the
oul and body, such a ~ynllu:si~. however unimaginable and paradoxical it
ciay be, must be possible. Kierkegaard entrusts thfa po~sibilil~ 10 a third in
thich the two demenls an.: u11ited, and ''rhis thir<l i~ the spirit." Upon one
uch ~ilualiuu, for which t.hc spirlr (the: synthesis of two in·econcilable
1:rrns) is ito;;elf the paradox, The Concept ofAnxiety constrncts a dialectic in
rhich none of the terms can subsisL in ils uwn slau.:-ncithcr rhe horly as
simple body, a;1 hrnt.c animality, nor the <;pirit resting and remaining in
};elf ("being left to itself," "grasping itself') for as long as "it has it.self oul-
lde itself." by \irtue of its paradoxkal rdi:t.lion l.o an external body, which
1 its own. Tr is this equivocal relation of man to the spirit, or of the spirit
ii.th itself, that is at the heart of auxicly (SKS 4, T, §5, 349-50 / 43-44).
We recognize without difficulty the phenomenological tenor of
Mis "synrhesis of the soul and the body'' whose possibility is I.he "~pirit"
and is here still interpreted by Kierh:ga.anl within a c:lassiral system of
:1ought, ~i11n: it inw1lves the modem dualism attributed to Descartes):
ti, the dupli.:ity of appearing. In accordance willi lhis, il1c soul, whic:h ::ilso
teans our living flesh-the whole of our impr~s.~ions, our sensory per-
Jrmanccs, and our varion5 powers-is perceived from the outside as
1e a.c;pect of an objectiye body whose configmalious, parL!!, mcmhcrs,
rgans, and numerou~ p.:trlicularitics, which have n.nt,hing in common ,oith
,hat it e:-..pi::rienr:fs originally, can appwr f,{) it only as 1ncom.prehensible and_, w
-Mt it briefly, absurd determinations.
Here we di~Lover a fin11 form of contingency, ,vhich stems from the
i.ct thar this o~jective body, \•vith its organization and slruclun:s thal arc
lso o~jective, is the object of an empirical observatiuu wiLhout which no
:uly rational explanation can accounl for it.. GonfrontF:<l ½ith a variety
fforei~n organs, we can of course try to attenuate it:s unusual charac1ci
y alleging a conespunding variety of "func.rions," each of which 1•,;ill ap-
ear as a mode of rcalization-:mrl perhap'l a mode of realization that is
artir:ubrly ingenious or adequate. By proceeding in this way, however,
·e only push the problem fml.hcr bu:k. The admirable texture of a lung
f coun<P. makes breathing possible, but why is it nece~ary that some-
1ing like respiration exists?'" llecause it is necessary for a living orgaui~m
in these conditions? An<l yet the rc~pome of science (a programmatic .•
response) i:i sl-ill only th,;fnrmu./ation of Kierkegaard'a question: l1'1ty dues lhe
spirit rf mi.n.d fl' ~sp1;t l need to be conwxted w a body of thi:, nature-to a body
in general? ·
Om: c:an 11et> th::it what makes our objective body a comiugcnl reality
is not its singular aspect, with it.:,; d1aractc:ri.~tic~ th::it are alw singular. lt is
not because scieuc-..: would be incapahle of explaining it in the end that
it would be absurd: Tr is so only in the eyes of the mind, to tl1e exlcut
th::1t there is an abyss that this mind itself ha~ ucvcr hc:cn ;i bJe to cross-
between whal this hocly is in itself on one side, '1-1-ith its function:; (11ulri- ·
tion, excretion, etc.) and its destiny (its labo1iuw1 training, irn f1eeting <
maturity, its ine\-itable decline), au<l un Llu: other ;ii<le wh.:it the mind is in )
it.self (wheLher a question of its int.Plligible vision of eternal truths or the·····
joy of unrlcrgoing experiencing itself and living). Excepl that this ahys.~ •.·· · ·
this site of a radical heterogeneity, lhis "uni rm1gin::i hie" connection of ele-
ments, is precisely what dcfine:s it-that which is nothing other than this· •...
conru~rtion, a "sjnthesis of soul and body" v\'hal makes lhc spirit anxious •.·.·.·
is not having this unlikely objcxtivc :-1}'1-itcm in from of it with its unpalat- · ·
abk fum:tiom, its pile of molecules or blind quantitative procc.-..~cs; what·· .
makes the spirit anxious is being lhis." ·
If we want Lu measure thf' violence of this anxiety that pertains to
a ucw ~mt of explanation, ,-.-e must consider more clo~ely lhc ot~cctive
content in whose presence it is pru<l.uct'.cl. On thf' one hand, the proper- •·.·.·.•·
ties of tl1e objcclivc body, as the aspect in which our invisible ilesh i;ccm~ •..•.
to appe::ir, are homogeneous among themselves: TI1cy arc all predsely · · ·••
objective properties. They all lake place there in front of a possible gaze >
(our own, or that of a rhird party if it is a question of the parts of our Lo<ly •...
Lhat we can not see immediately). Between these propcrlics, and 1n spire of )
their common phenomenolog:iral statLL'l, a difference i" revealed, and it is .
all the more surprising for the one who makes the discovery about hhmelf.
or herself for the first time: it is a question of a man's or woman's body. ii
It is signilicanL that, al whatever moment such a discovery may intervene,
it ls the moment of a nxi et:y. Not only does the mind perceive 1~elf from
the ~tanrlpoint of an objecfrve body with its determiaaliowi, to which only
habit allows us to grow au:u:,l.omcd, hut there is one among them that
seems more incomprehensible and more conlingern than all the others:
the sexual determination that 1muk; iL at the riepth of it& being and at
the same time diffcn:111.iatcs it rariir.::illy by putting it into a specific cate-
gmy of individuals, male or female, and defining (.hem by a fonc.tion (a;;

qn the: e:1<lr,1,.,n!irn1ry uo,·ella 1& Mer.amorpho.ti,, J;afka expo.;.ed with gre:at rigor anrl w, .. y
conr.ise:ly thf': T<i1erl:egaanliau p~trndox ufanxic~,.
5enerator," or "mother," or possibly "surrogate mother"), with which it,
iU:z mind, has nothing to do. This is Kierkegaard's dazzling intuition: "The
i:.:ual ·is lhe toXpussionjor the monstm·us contradiction that the immortal spirit is
etmnined as a, ,e:e.nu..s'' (SKS 4, Jt §2, 373 / 69, our emphasis).
"IuLuilion" does nol here mean understanding, or evidence (sen-
.ble or intellectual evidence). Even if the sexual were given to us in a
[sion, it is not a question of this, but of the enormous contr:idiction it
xpresses. And this contradiction is not given to us in "vision," any more
um in OlJr "mind,'' in t.hc sense in which we usually 1111:an ii: TL~ reuda-
:on happens in l-ife's pathos, and this is anxiety. This is anxiety's second ex-
,1:matory principle, which roots it no longer in the vcrlibrinow Gtpacily
f power proper to thP. Self, hut in the paradoxical relation of the two
10des ot appearing.
Haviug silual.cd tJ1e connection, relation, or "synthesis" in pathos,
~hose mode of accomplishment is here anxiety, Kif'.rkegaarrl posscssc~ a
ialectic that was unknown to that point, a dialectic of pathos whose im-
,licat.ions (which he J.e~dop~ spontaneously) are as gripping as they are
_ovel. t The first consists in interpreting the respective situation of their-
~concilablc Lcrm~ 1dalecl in the "min<l" not as a transition from the first
l the second, but as a simultaneot1.s and vertiginous increase of the two
1utually present elements. An increase that thus is nothing other than
1ei.r innea:.iugly anlagonist.ic relation in lhe "mind.'' namely I.he qualita-
.ve increase of anxiety itself.
I.et us follow this sort of"story" that doesn't take place in the world
1it on:urs as a qualitative modification of pathos itself and culminates
1 the uleap" into sin. Because the dio;covery of one'.-: ovtn body as :m
bjective body-and even more as an objective body marked by sexual
iffcn:ncc-is idcmical to an affccti\"c disposition, Lhc fat:t thaL rnd1 a
ody belongs to the mind is experienr:erl as anxiety at rhc out.set. At the
tage ofinnocence, as we have seen, anxiety is already there. It is there
ot only hr:c:-msc innoc:cm:c hn.1r11 wit.bin i1· thi,~ capaci1y for pnwc1; C\'CII
•hen it does not know what it wants, ,.,·hen it is anxious at "nothing." [t
; there because, in its very ignorance, innocence is this s~nthesis of the
1ml and lmdy lhal is consliLuli11c of I.he "mind" from which it is never
eparated. lt is this latent affective disposition that is awakened in mod-
--·---···-·-----··----------

w., om«+.-,,, hav" attempt,,.-\ a phenomenological elucidation of this dialectic, which, as

IIer:tive, js the very ,1 ialectic of lif<' Cf. Th~ Fs,1.m;-P. of i\fot1.yn.1t.r.tirm (P~ris: Pt JF, 1965\), §70.
hat sud, a dialt'l"lil· dilft'r> tc11Li1d;r from Hi:,~d\, ,md 111~1 Ri.,rlueg~~rd gr.i~pt"d ti-nm th"
<'ginning t.11~ pmfonnd originality of his own conception, is made evident in the formi-
ihle critique of I Icgd'F. dialectlc with which The Crmi:4pt ~fAnxiety opens; ct'. the introduc-
on.
esty, wh<.:n, without any need here for the involvement of a foreign gaze,
"spirit is. found at the extreme poir1t of the difference of the ~y11thc~i~" .···.
(SKS 4, II, §2, 372 / 68)-of {his mon,;trous, "enonnou~" uiffcr<.:ncc t.har ·••·.
is establislml ink between itself and it~ sexed hmly.
To these prestigiuus anaJy,ws, the phenomenology of life is able ·. ·.·.
to add lwo rcrrn1rks. One can indeed womkr why rhe synthesis between · •· · .·.
llic "spirit'' r·'t'espnr] (ti:anscendenlal life) an<l our objective body is so··.•·.
paradoxical that it provokes aT1xiery, of which modesty is a l1an~itjcrnal . .
phase. Because what is inexplicable and ultimaLcly absurd is the objec- >
rive. hody as such, and its foreign organ.~. or even the function:; for which ·
these organs are Ilic mc·'.ans. Kierkegaard, however, 11cvcr comriders this >
objecuve hody in itself, but only in its synthclic relation ,,:ith the soul, in ·•·•
tl1c mind [ l'espr1t]. VVe would claim Lhat it i.~ only to the gaze of the mind · .· .
(even if there is no gaze there) that the body with its surprising confi~1- .
rations aml ~cxmi 1 difference is absurd. This supposes of course not only •·•.
lhat this body "diiters'' from th<.: spirit, hut also that, from its :;idc and in · ..
itself,tm: spirit is not at all absurd but quite the conlrury: It is th dmn.ain of a · · ·
Ju.Mijimtirm. and an absolute legitimatiun, r, .1·11/flr.gi,timat.ion. Only designating
the spirit as lite will allow 11~ to understand this latter condition. ·..·
Our scum<l remark is a question. If lwo cxpbnations are succes- ··
~ivcly proposed in the analysis uf anxiety, must one not ask: A.n.: lhc:.c
really heterogeneou~ in the .~ame way as the two fumlamcrm1I modes ,
ofphenomcm1lization are, to which they refer? How in any case can we.··.·.·
unrlrntand their relation? If, as Kir.rkegaard claims at the cml of his in- .·
vestigation, "possibility is the weig-htiest of all caLq~oric.~," anrl again, that
"in possibility all things are equally po~sibk" (SKS 4, V, 455 / 156), is this
nm because these two allcmpl.~ at e.xplanation overlap in sumc w::iy, and .·.·
refer to a single "possible," ~o that the anxiety connecLcd ro thi.~ is redupli- · ··
cale<l lo the point of actually intensifying, until ir rtcaches the paroxysmal
c:ondidon from which the irn:prcs~ihle desire arises that will lead 1.0 rhe.
offense-to whal Kierkegaard calls the leap inlo :-iin?

§39. Desire and the "Leap into Sin."

That our own ohjective body never exist:; in a separate state, but only
within this synthesis with the soul which i,; the spirit, implies reciprn-
cally that the spiriL inhahit~ e;,ch of the terms of Lhi., .~yiithe.~is which it
itself is: ~ot. only our soul, but also our objcaiv~ hody. On this condition
alonf' can it unite in itself each of t.hc nvo irreducible and irreconcilable
letms of the synt.he.~is-on the condition that it is the c0111111u11 clement
n them in which they are united. TI1e question b thu.s unc of knowing
;vhat r.his presence oithe spirit in our own bod~ me,m:, exactly, when t.hi.s
.s defined by a set of olijc,:rivc properties, and in a singular way by sexual
:Jifference.
\.Ve will understand this het.ter if we do not forget that true name
:if this "~piril" is transcendental life. Doesn't the clarification demanded
~(im rhe phenomenology of lite instead turn back against fr? Isn't it,;
:irincipal thesis lhal there is rm life except in Life, in its pathos-filled
.t:lf-revc>htion, and never in the appearing of Lhe world? How then nm
)ur objective body contain wilhi11 it the Lifr th::it. escapes in principle an
tppearing of thl!. sortr
The phenomenology of flesh has responded with precision Lu lhis
1uestion. Our objective worldly body is auimatccl by significations that
nake it precisely this living hody ( T.eibkorper) whose eyes are eyes that
;cc, who'><'. f'ars ::ire ears that hear, whose members are movable mcm-
>ers mming freely by themselves-all significations borrowed from our
>riginal flc11h, in who.~e reality alone the operations aimed al lhrough
hese various significations draw their rcalily. Such a body fa indeed seen
tr the world, and the significations that confer on it the character of
,cing living ::ire aimed at too, yet as unreal noemaLic currdatc~. Bm the
·eality to which they reJer-that. of otff living flegh with all these real
>peratiom (of seeing, mm~ng, etc.)-thi.s reality belongs to the splH..:re
:iftran&cendental life's absolute imma.nern..:e; aml like it, This i& invisible.
Thus, we said, the man who looks at himself in a mirror sees his face,
1is sadnt::;s, and the: move.meot of his lips only to the extent that,joinlly
~ith this perception, the capacity to experienc:;e s<..:nsaljcms or accomplish
novements is actualized in him phcnomcnologic::.lly. Our worldly body
loes nol refer uuly to an imi">ihle su~jectivity: Under its visible species a
lc~h ii; hidden, always present and always living, which never ,,;tops auto·
i:npressing itself in the patho~ of its night.
And Thii;, ·we added, holds for the objective body uf Lhc other as
~ell a.s for our ovm. It too conceals within il a capacity Lo fed, to move, to
uffer and to enjoy, which hide; from me, it is true, at the very time this
>mly presents itself as invested with this two-fold, pal.hm-fillcd and dy-
lamic potentiality. Thal is the diffcrcnc.e, we ,.,·ill claim, that separates the
ilowledge ] have uf myself anrl of my awn hody from that which I have of
he other and of his own body. As for me, while I perceive 111~· own body
n the world, I ant this hirlrli:nfl!!.1·h, which is sensing, mo~in.~, and suffer-
t1g, and which cnrlow~ my objective body with the characLeri:.Lics it ho..S
t)r me as well a11 for others. The other's objective body also bc.:ar:; v.~thin
it these invisible powers ofirs ,St>nses and movements-mun; profounrlly,
this original fll:i;h in which all these powers are gilicn to themselves in the
"1 can,n r.hat. he is as ,•,;ell as I. Fur rm:, il i~ llw.:, this "Tran" and this tlesh
belonging to it are only unreal significations, differentiating his ol~c:c1iv1:
body from an ordinary body. This does nut all.er the fan that this "lam,"
this flesh, and this origiuary Life are really in him. lt is solely Lccausc
this Life reall~· lives in him tha.r these significations are "true," 3ibrnifying
a rea1 lifr, an<l a real flesh-that his objective bmly is anrl c;:in be, for him
as for me., a "living" body.
Becau~c one'.~ nwn oqjective body (whether the ot.hf'r's or mine)
hears ::i living flesh, and at tl1e same t.ime conceals it through the de-
clension of its worldly appcaranr:c.s, i:t is constituted a priori a.i u mugir:al
object-a Lwu-fold nhjfft, visible and imisible, inert am] rnovahle, insen-
:;ibk anrl sensible. On the one hand. il is au opa<Jue, blind, and "mate-
rial" thing, which can be culig'htcned by light from the outside, but c..:an
never welc..:omc anrl rt>reive it ,.,ithin, be i1luminatccl by it inte.mally, or
hcr.ome light itself; a seat ofintellisihiliry, :-i pure crystal ofappearing. On
the other hand, it is a thing, whose essence is auto-appealing in the way
a ljclf-rcvclation is possible: in the pal.ho:; of life.
We recognize without diffirn 1ty the ambi_guity of the "sern.iLk" t.h at
we have euc..:ountcr~<l from the beginning of our investigation. There is
the scrn1ihle in the sense of what we can scn;;c (rhe $ffiOOthness of this
fabric), but which itself semcs nothing; and the sen:;ible in the sense of
what po:;scsscs this capacity to sense and is ddiucd hy it. Our objective
borly h;:i5 the meaning of something- that is able to sense, but in itself,
reduced to its con<litiou a.~ a "thing," to its "thingly" character; il sense.~
nothing. The eye does not see. Only ow· flesh-or our ".~oul," Descartes
woulrl say-sees. ln ordinary ex.pcricm:c, thf' rwo meanings of "sensible''
are constantly superimposed anrl confused. On the contrary, when our
thingly body is explicitly intuited as a tlesh, an<l i,m:srcri :-u such with
thf' capacity to sense, then an cssclltial modification occurs: The se-u.siblt:
becomes Ou: semua~ and sensibility is then called sensuality.
Our ohjec.tive body is a magic objecl, comtit.mively double, and
hcn~ath the surface ofit olfereJ in lhc light, beneath the visible span of
its skin, bonded l.o it and inseparable from it, the inviiiihk of our organic
body 1mfolds, and this body is itself kept in the "J can~ of our original flesh
that unceasingly inhabits it, retain.~ ir, and moves it. For this t'easun, this
objective botly that is ours is never a sensible body; iL is dctcnnined from
lop t.o bottom by a primordial St"n:r·u.al,it_,;, whose reality and true essence are
nothing other tl1au our original flesh, nothing other than life.
Thus Kicrkt1gaard's synthesis of the soul anti Uic hocly in the spirit
 take.s place, such that the latter is prcscul in the former, i.nv:i.sible life in
·. · our objective body. So tfo.tL uur u~jective booy is not n thingly hody whose. living
chamcter would bt reducible to a field of 1nttmfirm.al sitrnifications that conji:r on
i ii, llu, ideal capacity to sense and to move; but mther, this is whal it i.~ in tnuh-ir
really carri~s withi11 iL I.his real ability and these real powers.
·· · Hr>nce this body capable of experiencing sensaliuus can suffer :mil
enjoy if 1 touch it, or move as a resull of th~sc sensations, anrl gi\'t> rise to
afonnidable anxiely fo1 lhc one who now has nor a sensible but a sen~mal
•.t;xpcri1:11c:c ofit Jt is rhe anxietrofthe one who does not touch a lhi11g, or
a body that is similar to a thing, but a hody nfflesh that a real life inhabits.
Of om: who really nm produce pleasure or pain in this body (in Lhe sen-
. mal hociy of the other, for example) and thus the sel uf muvcmcms that
· '\\'ill very likely follow. \11-110 can caress it:; skin in suc:h a v.-ay th,ir rhe one
who caresse~ will nol only cxpcrie.nce, on her own hand while it moves,
the smomh, fresh, or tepid feeling that the other's skin will communicate
to it. Shifting the hand owr il, il will provoke a scrie;; of impressions on it
too-of frcslmcs.~ or tepidi1:y, pleasure or fright. On the shin of t}u: other; ur
morf. precise.l)' beneath it, at this moving limil uf lhc oil1cr's organic body-
vl'hile, brealhiug mon: slowly, thR. lattenviil arouse it, immobilize it, or take
.hold of it in the "I can" of its original flesh. This scrnmal ho<ly, which in
· • itself is moving, suITering or c1tioying, is th~ ho<ly of the other in so jar as
>it canits ii:, }/1iril within it.. This is the inconceivable synthesis of a body and
a spirit that takes place in front of the gaze, bem:ath lhe hmul, of the one
1•,;ho questions; "\11-ill he really holrl onf his hand to the magic object and
::place it on the living flesh that remains there next to him and seems lhcrc
for the taking, and Ir"} to feel it where it feds i{,jdf, where ils sensuality is mosr
alive, in its sexual dilf<::rcncc-:-mrl 'take' it, and hold it in its power?"
His anxiP-ty then increases vertiginously. This power lo a.Llain Lhc
"Rpirif' of the other in its body is not only one of cxlcn<ling the han<l m
it, touching it where its sensualily is 1110:;t an:c,-1~ihle, and perhaps waiting.
JN!iat lhc phenomenology of flesh has established is that such a power
is not a mere pretend p~wer Lhal every flesh kc:l~ in itself at every mo-
\ment. lHta/ it fad:; w-rislanlly in mality is r.h11 mpacityfor power, the ability to
lmpkmcnt in irsclf, of itself- and starting from itself its po,-,·er to Louch
and to take--it is the possibilily of powt:r, its ,ihility to be able [pouvoirpou.
>vufr]. It is from t.his possibility ofpm.,·er, Kierkegaard has tau!,!;hl us, that
/the formidable an_xiety arises for the one who wuld fall into the d1a:1m,
hurl himself on the train rails, or grasp LIH: young woman's hand placed
.nexl to his. And yet, tf the power to extend the lw.nd and closr: il wv·urul the
·.•. hand of the othr;r is still only an wnmd pus~ibilily, an obfect-r,f-thrmght (indeed.
what our dancer is lhinkiug aLoul), the prissihility nf pnwer itself is a re.al and
a{wuy.1 effm;tir;epossibility; it is coustit.nrive of the transcendental St:lfin the.·
ipscit:ywhereby our flesh is placed in itselt, and in each of the powers that
are now it.sown-in tht> possibility of beiug able to t:xe.rr them. Anxiety·.
arises from tlii:. Self, only one momenl wilh itself, wondering "ifhc will
rfo it." Ilut the quest.ion it addresses to itself is uol an a.ct of thought, it
has neitlitT l'll~ject nor object, and ii does not concern the power to >
reach om the hand, which has nevt:r concerned thought and ha.~ always•.···
hcen "self-evident." Tlic quf'stion arises from the ahys.~al possibility of
power, and il is iJ1ii-; possibility that is co11sl.i1.11rive of the reality of the Sdf •·••-··
and is inseparable from il: It i;-1 its revelation in anxieLy, the anxiety of its
freedom. "Free<lorn's possibility," Kierkegaard ;iays, "announces itself in
anx.iely" (SKS 4, TT, § 2, ~78 / 7•1).
ft is then that the re<luplirntion of anxiety happeus: whc.n rhe two·
"explanations'' that 1hc problematic has alten1atcly offered for its emer-
gence overlap. When on the plane of realiry the two sources of anxiety )
intersect like two st.ream:. mixing their water in a sing·k torrent that ·will
submerge eve1yLhing. ½'hen the anxiety slcmming from the enormous
contradiction of the spirit po:sitcd as a hody with is sexual .spccificiry in- .· .
creases disproport.ionatdy from the anxiely stemming from the possi- • ·
bility of bciT1g able to touch the funner in the latter-this spirir in this
body, where they tmited one to another, in this tmimaginahle s-ynthesis .· .·
in which the spirit :.ccrns accessible in this sexed bo<ly, which is its being- .
there. Wl1crc touching this body, Lhi:. sex, would mean touching tlu: spirit
it~,~lfwhere it is spirll, and t.011r:hing· lifewhere it undergoes experiencing <
itself in its own Self, irreducible to any otlu.:r.
The moment anxiety is reduplicared is the moment desire is horn.
Desire has nothing lo do \~ith a natural phenomenon, or some kind of .·
material (biulog'ir:al or chemical) process. Desire is possible only in anxi-
ety. TI1c world of desire is the world of :rnxiety. The characters, the moti-
vations, the history, and Lin: destiny of desire are the mo1iv..1tions and the
destiny of auxict.y. If ;mxiety is born in Lin; face of the disturbing prescucc
of the spirit in the being-there of a sensual object, whid1 i!-1 r.ndowed with
all the sexual attribulc8 that. hring this semualiLy lo it._ limit, so that one
could toud1 each of them where it is capable not only of being-touched,
of h,:ing- sensed, but of 1'ecli11g- itself-and if this anxiety redoubles in
the anxiety lhal inc:rt:a.~s w.i.th the veniginom. possibility of being abk lo
perform carh of these gestures, strokes, and caresses---musl one not. t.ht".n
ask: h rlesire anything oLhcr 1:han the desire to do all Lhi.4?
lt is not cuough, however, for desire l.o desire, even when the om:
fcding ir c::in derive some pk.:a.•;iuc from it (for the anxiety iuhl':rt>:nt in all
cit·sire is not itself exempl from charm). This desire is still only desire, a real
"state" of com~c-an effective modality of life, a fundamental tonality of
~c:;h-hut one that rloes not hring satisfaction in itself.* IIow desire, not
~cmt.e.nt. t.o ht- de~ire, can ·want to and be able to satisfy itself-how, i1l other
-emis, anxiety SIIC.Cumbs to sin-is, according to Kierk.e~ard, SOlnething
11at can never be explained. At the very least, the fulfillment of desire, the
eap into sin, must be possible. And the phenomenology of life, without
Jaiming to give an;uuul in any way for each particular act in which 'lin
:1appcm, is aLlc to bring to light this prn;;ihility. Thr: rP.latinn at 1,,hn.te tmn
inxi.ery and d.e.,i:re uri.U tttrn into sin, makinK it effective, is really only a partiwlar
,iisc of the absolute{y general and essential rel~ion Iha.I liuksAJfr-divily awl.Action
in prinr:i.p!~. This refa.tion is rwthinf{ other than our ownflesh. The phenomenol-
)g}' Of flesh has thus spoken a lot about it. The sets of problems concerning
mxiet-y, desire, and Lhe "leap" are it!i iHle!!,ro.l part:;, This is what we know.
\'Vhcu any modality of our life:, alw.ay!'. givt>n to 1t,wlf in irs own pa-
hos, undergoing experiencing itself and bearing itself in this pathos,
:eels itself suddenly as Loo heavy lo bear, aml Lhus uo longer hears itsdf
(the variou-; tnnalitie~ of our lifo being acmally nothing other than the
iarious ·ways of bearing oneself or no longer bearing oneself), then, as
lili is unbearable, Lhc inepn:ssiblc will to get rid of nnc~clf :-11ises. Yet
here is nothing abstract about such a power: Given to itself in the pathos
:jfanxiety or desi.rc, put in po~scs.~io11 of itself in rhis patho.~, which is the
)atho.~ of onr own flesh (our S11ffering and desiring flesh), it is a power of
his flesh, and, even more, it is the ability to be able, the original "I can"
:hat it inherits from life. Because, giving ii l.o itself, Affccth~ty i,5 the es-
1~nce of Strength, its various affective tonalities (this anxiety, this desire)
1re not only the motives of all the actions our flesh is able to perform:
fhey carry wilhin Lhcm am.I iJcmically rn11slilutc the original po!!sihilit:y
Jf being able to perform them and thus the reality of all of these actions.
So when facing the other's magic body, the anxious desire lo read1
he life within it arouses lhe anguishing po:;sibility of being able to do
1i1-rhc 8Trcam~ of anxiety's nvo dark rivers have reunited indeed. Their
:orce sweeps everything away and eliminates every point of reference.
\nxicty then takc;i on it., feminine form as weakness: Even though it
:om es from the Self it crushes it and leaves it powerless, leh to drift in the
mxiety that dro,\ns it. The ··1eap" will deliver him from this, it is thought
'Al the maximum we find here i:he dreadful fact that anxiety about sin prr:r
tuccs sin" (.SKS ,1, 11, 32, 377 / 73, Kierkegaard's emphasi~).

'.[mt as anxiecy is mil on!'\' anxiety and, in Kierkegaard's language, has ;;till not r.arriecl out
md will it.>ell' never carry om the leap" that mms ii into sin. In it,df anxi~r:y i~ not rnl-
iablc. We sec thi3 well in innocence, where it already occurs and which has still not !ost il.'i
unocent·c-in the modcsi:y that, in a look oflmt, can cum into an intolerable pride, even
1·he11 there is 110 l!H>v1::1m:nt in it wv,;ard the opposite ,;ex, and no desire.
 One oflcn designates as eroticism this anguishing world of clesire
and sin. And yet eroticism is complex, and elucida1fr1g ir requires new
an::ily.ses

§40. Two Cases of Transcendental Flesh in the Erotic Relation. The

Ego of Description.

The kap, or sin, doec; not deliver from anxiety-quite t.he. contrary. And
this is for two reasons. In the firsl place, thP. origin. or let us say more pre"
cisely the agent of lhc offence, the. Self and its constituents (ils c;.i,paciLy
for puwc1; it.~ freerlom. the anxiety that arises precisely from it) are aJ-ways
there. Accordingly, once the real act i~ rnil'icd rnH, this real presents itself
again as a possible iu Lhc figure. of the fumre; it is what I will uc i:i.blc to.
can~ ou1 once more and always once more, since t.hc ca.pacit:y to carry it
out (the fundamental "I can" that I am) rcm:iins in me. And along with
the vertiginous fnx:dom ofrhis capacity for power, the anxie9, it i11cxora-
hly createc; too. In this respect, one can say 1.hat thF. Bexual, which is under"
stood here ass.in, created timF.. And that actual time exists lwrn:cforrh
as tl1c Lime of the. possible, of the possibility of Lhe n:pcti tion of sin. And
one em well see how, instead of having been ~11ppressed, the anxiety
connected to the pos:.ihlc, to this real capacity for power, increases in
Lhe his Lory of f':!ch person as it has increased in the hi.~rory of the world,
from generation to generation, since the sin of Adam. lt is a quantitative
increase of whaL Kierkc:gaarrl calls objective anxiety-noL thaL anxicry
would in itv~lfbe something objective, bul lx:causc it is implicated in this
worldly temporality, in the new ol,jcctivit:y it has created.
And thi~ is Lhc .~cconrl re::ison why, far from putting an em.I Lo anxi-
ety, siu prolongs ;md exasperates it: this modification of o~jectiviry, of
our o,•..n objective body whose latent sensuality unceasingly increases
its power of fa~cination. In a certain way, our body i~ i:i.lways marked by
sexual <liffort>nce, and yet for profound reasons that we will return to
::it length, this mark remains lung implicit: fn innocence, for example,
the di1lerencc is lived in ie;norance. Our sensible body may well be de-
termined by the primordial sensuality of a flesh capable of sensing, buL
the consideration of I.hi~ sensuality a~ such and for itself, and eveu more
its use for producing certain sensations or movemen~ in :-m n~jective
horly (whether this one or another), for example, sexual sensations or
motions, are uol. prc~enr t.o the mind from the outset It is rhis imple-
me11laLion, this spontaneous or retlective use of ~cn'!uality, th::it occurs
 in sin, so 1.haL Lhe sensuality that. is primarily only the phenomenological
expression of Lhc synthcsi~ of the hody with the soul in the spirit under·
g-ot:s a nulical upheaval that. turn~ ir. into wh::it Kierkegaard calls "sinful-
. ness." "We do not sav that sensualitv is sinfulness but thaL sin makes ii
n'.
sinfulr1c:.s" (SKS 4, §2, 377 / 73).,
Capacity to sin is nol siu, nor i.~ it.~ immediate anti r~al pos~ibility,
which resides in the act uf fn.:edom-in other wonls, in ~in itself, in its
• self-po~iling. Bni ii create:. this "hisrnrical milieu" that has been con-
structed since Adam to tl1e point of reaching a paroxysmal .~lal.c: in whid1
.the repetition of sin dcvdop8 from general conditions, a capacity to sin in
• princ.iple rhat makes the incitement to sin omnipresent. This iucilemenl
consequently seems to belong to the objectivity of Lhis cnviromncnt, to
the point that it becornes ~umdhing- o}~cctivc it~t>lf, ::is a natural behavior
.that woul<l no longer be designated as a "sin" or "oflence_." except from
outdated prejudices.
Before rclurning lo the future of semmaliry, rhe capacity to sin, and
~in (ofwh::1t we globally and in the most extreme confusion call "sexual-
ity") in the world today, we should deepen Lhc slrnly of eroticism such
a.~ it c:omeg to be grasped in the anxiety of desire, and notably in the
transformation of the sensualily it arouses. Tt. is thP. mher's ~ensuality, to
. be mon: prec.:isc, hi;,; or her ohjcctive hody, that ·will serve momentarily as
the gnining thread for our investigation, since whether one takes it from
traditional philosophy or from conl.emporary phenomenology, it would
be Lhrough his or hf'r hody that we would have access to the other. It is
·a.n ::icress that is not first a theoretical access, or some ki.nd of n:awning,
.whether a reasoning by analogy or even a "pas.~ivc appre'lt>ntation," bm
• dc~ire in iLs concrctf', c:irnal, and spontaneous form.
The thematic inflection here suggested is motived by lhc fat:l thaL,
in the analysis of anxiety, desire, and finally the ;'leap," we have come to
·.the poln l of view of ll!f: ego of our desrriptimi, directing our attention to the
. Vl-'<\3/ things occur in it-thus to our dancer rather than hb compa11im1.
.· It is in him, in Litt "I can" of his origin al flesh, that we read the increase
.of anxiety, the imma.nenr tr::insformarion of this into the dd1,ing force of
desire felr in the front of the other's objective body, whose sensualily ( Llic
presence of its flesh \~ithin i 1) wa,; thPn exacerbated.
How can we mi~judge any longer the unilateral characler uf wch a
presentation? To divide from the beginning lhe ernlic rdalion between
the ego and what is for iL only tlic "01.hc1'' is to risk falling back into the
rfassical dichotomy of subject and object, ,-vith the ego, enLi1dy uatu-
:rally, playing the role of Llie former, while rhc "other" (the: other ego) is
identified with Lhc ol~ect-cspcr.ially a.~ iris precisely in the aspect of its
objcd..ivc hody that it pr<"sents itself to the ego's gaze, which is asxurncd as
the principle of description ( of the "subjecL-ego''). Is it. nor this f'.fassical
dichotomy that serves as a .suhslraLum for the famou.~ rlia ]er.tin, that daiin
to give account of the experience of the other, whether this be Hegel's
dialectic of the struggle for recognitiu11 bdwccn c:ornriences (of master
and slave), or UH.: simplified adaptation of it in Sartre's dialectic of Lhc
gaze? But i.~ ir. not ;::ili;o what stilJ determines the no less f.-unou:; touching
:md touched chiasma, on which the later Merk:au-Ponty fo11rni~ his entire
analysis of the "Sensible"?
And yet the critique of tl1e chiasma has ~huvm Lhat it i11 not lei:;iri-
mate to install a dissymmcLry between thf' two terms that it dissociates
even while il make.-. a i<ingle reality of their (interlacing) unity-the
reality of the- Sensible understood on the basis of t11e Seciug/visihlc or
Touching/tangible couplet, which rdcni to the very structure of our body
and claim:; lo define it. It. refers to this singular structure, one term of
which, a hand, touches the other, the former receiving a :mrt of mastery
from this ability to touch, which co11fcr~ on it. the overhanging-, domi-
neering :;talus of a ",;11~j('-ct," while the other, subjected to this power,
touched and sensed by it, is relegaled Lo the ra11k ofan ordinary thing, of
a "thingly bo<ly"-of an ohject. But in the erotic relation, when in onkr
Lo overcome and flee his anxiety, the dancer carrie~ uul Lhc "leap," anrl
rakes hold of the young woman's hautl, her han<l is in no way reduced
to the inferior comli1ion of an object. No object has ever had the expni-
enre ()f hP.in[( touche.d. The possibility of being touched is a tnmscendental
possibility absolutely synunetrirnl to that of rnking and touching: What is
designalc<l in the chiasma by the term "tangible," or "touched," has the
:;;ame phenomenological status, the same dignity, as what is rlescribed as
"touching." The young woman's hand hdongs roan original flesh; only
in bdouging to this flesh, and never as an object or thingly body, is iL ca-
pable of being touched and entering into the erol.k relalion.Just as the
hand ofthe dancer touches il only in his own fksh, and not on the railing
of the hakony or in the world, where no object has ever louchcd another
ohject any more than it has been touched l,y one.
The analysis of Lhc scL of fundamcnt2l phenomenological condi-
tions I.hat. are immanent to the ~touching" and make iL pmsihk-thc
original flesh of the Self given Lo iL~clf in lifo's p::uhos; the "l can" that
results from tJ1is ~elf-givenness, from the self-givenness within it of every
power cm1~titntive of this flesh; the organic body that it deployi;; Lhc lim1t
against which its effort is broken; ll 1c real content of the world that is this
inv.i~ibk limit)-rhis ;m::1lysis, all these elements, must be repruuucccl on
the 'lide- of the capacity to be touched, and insuibctl iu the origin,11 fle~h
.of the young woman whose hand (on which her dance partner put his) is
just like his: only an objective appca:ranr.F.. ThF. 0nly difference between
the two cases of t.rai1si.:t:11dcnlal flesh (of which the two hands side by side
are lhu~ both the manifestation and the dissimulation), is thal the ()Tl(' j,~
~·active" and tJ1e olln:r "p;iMive:" the)! are two modalities of one and Lhc
samr. capacity for power, so they a.re inlen.;hangcahlc, ami rhe man and
tvom:m can exchange roles.
ilecause, just like tl1e man\, the wom:rn 's hand is only an objective
appearauc:c of her carnal capacity for power-d1e vert.ig-inous anxit~ty
of a freedom increases because of thi)I roo, a freedom to leave her hand
there, Lo m:utralizc ir or draw it back, or to leave the balcony. ,\ml thi:-
anxicty is no less than that of her partner. Like hi~. iL is coupled with
the anxiety of having a body. ,\nd ;vel Ilic woman';; hody is much more
marked by sexual dcl.crmination. The paradox of the synthesis of tl1e
body an<l .~011! in the spirit thus takes on an infiuiLdy greater tension in
her. She is more sensual than I.he ma11, and her.:;mse she is more sensual,
she is more anxious. Her :mxiety is more "feminine" even than his, if the
feminine character of anxiety denotes not the fad that it is a woman's,
but the momern prnpt:r to all anxiet;·, where overwhelmed by it the Self
loses all initiative, breaks away, and sunem.lcrs to the tt>:mptation. This
is why .Kierkegaard praises Ll:1c Gcncsi!I narrarive, which "contrary to all
analogy, repre~cnL'> tl1c woman ;is seducing the man" (SKS ·1, II, ~2, 370 /
fi6). This does not mean tl1at she is more culpahlc than the man, but
more anxious. Not due~ lhiH mc:-in th::tt c,he is inferior, but, on the con-
trary, here, she i:-1 spiritually superior-if anxiety i.s the ~ig11 of spirit, the
-~ign of our heterogeneity.
We see in any ca.sc bow snpP.rficial the theses are that interpret
the louc.:hing/rouc.herl relation (in a.s much as v,,hat is Loud1cd is not a
thingly hody, but a sensual one) as provoking a 1.foparity hct1.11een the
two terms, meaning that each of I.hem wonlr:1 he referred to a different
phenume1mlogiral level: ·where the touching bears within iL lhc capac•
ity to make manifest, to "make visible" (hy touching), and the touched
ivould be in principle Jacking this capacity Even if, in a second step and
in a lmally im:ohcrent way, it is the latter (the touched), promoleu lo Llu:
rank of the touching, that is invcsl.cd with this decisive phenomenologi-
cal power of shm~ing, of which the former (the touching), ~lruck hy a
hlindness no less sudden, thrown back to the le~t:l uf some "scnsihle," is
suddenly deprived. llut ifin the relalion am1.ly:1.crl 1he inversion of terms
:1nd roles i11 110 way modifies their transcendental status in each case, if
"hein~-touched" is a modality of our original flesh an<l helongs to it just
like ·'taking," "grasping," ur '\;arcssing-" <loe.~, rhen we must recogni:.7.e that
lhe erotic relaiirm is rl dynamic a,nd pathos-fil!A:d rdalirm taking place on a plane
of absolute immn.,um.ce, a-nd that it has it~ site in lip.
Shall ,•,re then say thal, iu Lhis relation immanent to life, it is life lhat
knows life? .Except, as we know, life is nothing anony1nous nr universal.
Incidentally, in a life of that ki.n<l, i11 the romantic or Schopenhaurian
mode (which is also blinrl or 1mconscious) no experience nf rhe other is
even couccivahle-he:cause lite is an "experiencing un<i~rgoing itself::''
an<l is alV1~..iys rhat of a Self. Jn the ernlic relation, there are indeed two
transcendental Selves in comnmnication ,~ith each other. Because each
of tlie111 liclong.~ to life, and life is immanent tn each of them, the ques---
tion arises of knowing if in such a communication each Self altains rhf'
other in its tr..v-n l-ift, if it tone.hes it where it touche5 ilJdj. Such ;i quf'Mion is
nothing ks:. than the metaphysical scope uf Lhc experience of the other.
Tr asks: h eroticism what gives us access; to the life of the other? Having
accotulted for tl1e implication of sexual difference for Ilic un<lN~randing
of erolicism-ofirs anxiety, and of the de~irc Lhat takes ~h,1pe there---the
question refers to sexuality. I:; sexuality ,ro extraordinary that it allows m;
to attain the other in himself or herselt, in what he or '!he i;i for themself
in .~ome way? Merleau-Ponty's observation that "for most people, sex is
their only access Lo the cxrraordinary" would then Le st.ripped of every
pejoraLivc nuance, and taken seriously.
To the decisive question of lhc efjer.tfr,p content ot the experienn.: of
the other, where tl1c clcstiny of man is in play in so far as it is ;i question
of e:,c.:aping his unbearable solitude, Lwo responses ,,..ill be provided. The
first, whose exposition followl', ari~es from a. phenomenology of fle;il1.
However, to the cxrcnr that a phenornenology of flesh rP.fer~ to a phe-
nomenology of Incarnation, a second i-ct of problems ;viii necessarily
need to be sketched, no lunger taking flesh itself as its presupposition,
but our arrival in flesh in absolute lite.
To remain with the limited and provisiomil presuppositions of a
phenomenology of flesh umlcrst.ood in the strict sense, Lhe re.~pome is
unequivuul. Tn ;iexuality, the erotic desire lo attain the other in his or
her very ]if~ encounters an insun11uu11tahk failure.

q41. The Erotic Relation in Life's Immanence: Desire·s Failure.

It is thus in life's immanence that rhe erotic relation must firsl he <le-
scribed, witl1 n;i;prn:t to "being-touched" as well as to ro11rhing. '1\,'hen, in
the immanence of its movement moving in it-iclf, my O¾'Il "l can," behaving
 "touching-" and deploying its <Wm org:mic body, comes up agaiml whar.
resists it absolutely, aml again~t which it has no power- what is touched by
it at the invisible limit uf it.~ effort rn an external body: the real couteut of
the world. Except that this body_. the cnnl.i:nl. that is external to my power, is
precisely rwlhing f.xtrrn.al 1n the phenomenological sn1.\"t·, 11,.1 what shows. itself in
> thP- extli'rifrrity of tlu wwld. This coul.enl, on the contrary, is in me; it i.<; the
< practical limit of my "I can," inlcrnally liverl by it, and equally invisible.
With respect to what is given to it in this way, the touching su<l<lc11ly he-
comes passive. This passivity, however, can I.a.kc on nvo different modali-
. . . ties depending on wl1c1hcr thi.,c limit is inert (let us imagine that, dosing
·• • lily eye~. I touch t.he face of a wall) or whether il exert~ a sorr of counter-
·.. movcmf'.nl against my mo-vement, an adivc pn::.1mre 1hat [ nevertheless
cannot experience otherwi:,e lfom in the irr~pede.d dynamism. of rny "I um,"
· LeL us suppose thai: what is touched and felt in this way were the
young woman's hand. In my prlmonlial cxpcril':nce, this hand. is noth-
ing objective-----any more than minf' i'l. ~ty own "hand" is an inunanent
·· power of gra..~ping rnming up against its own invis.il,k limit, whi.le the
. young woman's hand is for me Holhing other than this limit. this resisting
. .•. continuum oppming itself actively to my movemcut, wl1ile thi;; hand, for
•· .. example, exerts pressure on my own or do~es over it in return.
A series of semaliuns scttk over thi'> original, dtna.mic system, and
.•·. l undergo Lhcm from rhe term that is an obstacle to my movement, and
· thf'~e are precisely sensations of pn:smrc; on the other hand, my own sen-
•• sations of movement arc. also situated on the continuum of this invisible
· · limit. TI1c phenomenology of Hesh has laughL us to <fotingnish carefully
original impressions and consti.Lutcd imprf'.~sions: Only the former are
··real.Thus, only lhe original impressions ofmovemelll arc real, as wt>ll as
tile impression~ of pressure considered in their auLo-imprC','l.~inn;. lity. llut
situaterl on the organic
.
body. and on iu; limit, t.hcy. are nothing-. more than
· constituted sensations, wl1ich mix rogether constantly.
. . TI1<" phenomenology of skin presented ahow: ,illows us to clarify this
• imi.sible limit between touching and "being-touched." Does the t:.ncss,
which plays sud1 au imporranr. role in the erotic relation, nol uffcr a privi-
leged example? Rm the analysis of skin intervenes (sec §~1 ;ihove) only at
. the moment when, abandoning che reduction to radical immam:nn: in
whid1 il firnt. takes place, the phenomenology uf flc~h appeals explicitly
to the duplicity of appearing. Only in the world's appearing, in it and j(7f'
it, does the imisible limit of the "T can" change into a foreign body over
whid1 i1 rni longer has any power-into a Lhingly horly. Only there, let us
.· say, does this invisible limil, this thingly hocly, now show itself to us wiLh
the aspect of a body lhal is external in the phenomenological seuse, in
the outside itself of the world. As we have seen, our skin is nothing other .
than the pheuomc11olohiin1l duplicity of this thing}~, body--a strange en-•
tity with two faces, ex-posing the one in the world's light, dissirnulaliug ·
the other in the night of our flesh.
Ifbcing-touched comes about in the immanence of an "I can" (as a .-
passive modality of it) just like touching docs (whirh is an active modality •·
ofit), then the original ducidation of the tonc.hing/being-touched rela- ·
lion, considered as an archetype of the erotic relation, must be pun,ued ·_
in an attimde of radical reduction that holds fklibcnHcly to the imma- _.·
neut ~pherc oflifc, to whic:h the renns of the relation both belong. This
is why the skin, and in a general way every phenomenon involving the rln-
plicity of appearing, must be provisionally put out of play. Kierkegaard's
analysis, by not <li.';t.inguishing the two sources of anxiety whose dazzling
intuition h~ pursues, already slips outside the reduction to Lhe cxlcul that
the paradoxical synthesis of the soul and hody in spirit surreptitiously
treats this bo<ly, and parricul:uly se"\iual difference, as objective determi-
mi.tions, referring ine\itably to the world's ek-static appearing. Placed •
in this exteriority, sexual <liffcrcncc wnnlrl ~uddenly appear absurd, and .·
anguishing for a spirit that did not recognize itself in I.his.
Maintaining our attitude of reduction, we will keep for the moment
to the radical dimension of life'.~ immanence, a dimension that we will
4.:onvc11 tic in ally c;:i 11 the l.o-:.wrs '-night. Not that it is a question of the ubscuri ry
that comes over the world when the sun sct.11, or a room where one has
tun1ed out. Lhc lightJii. Jr is a queo;tion of life's invisible. The phenonu:ua of
th,: inrJisible aredescrihable.,i, When on the balcony our dancer has taken the
hand of his companion and exerted pn:.s.mre. on it, and it happens that
she give:-; it to him, the ri.gorons analysis of these unapparent phenomena
has heen produced. For an "1 can" to exert pressure mean:-; to deploy the
resisting continuum of its own urg.:1.ni<: body up to rhe limirwhere, no lon-
ger giving way, this nmtimmm turns into an invisible thingly body. ½'hen
rhic_; resisting body, not content to stop the movement of the "J nm/ op--
poses ltsdf actively to it a.~ a cmmrer-movement, what do we truly know
al.Juul lhis? Thc1.t it is rhe hand of the dancer who presses her hand in Lun1
against hi8? Knowledge such as this, however, i.<; only an unreal .11ignifir.,1-
tion appended to Lin: imprc~sion of the pressure he really undergoes,
which is lived by him as produced by the hand ofi.he young woman, with
exactly the significaticm of re~ulling precisely from t.hP. movement that she
brings aboul in lurn. Bnt thi.~ mrmement, as she experiences it, in ils accamptish-
m.P.nt in the immanence of her m.im "1 can," in the pathm-fillcd self-givenness

"Cf. ,lie fu ,: dmpte,r of mis book_. "The Reversal of Phenomenolog:.;" whirh .,,t.,hli, h ,,.,1
th~ possibi!ily of this utsniptit>n.
·. of her mvn transcendental Self, in her own life--..-this is what stay:s on
the other side of the mirror, and the dancer never feels himself. It is no
>more the originary impressions of this movement than the impressions
consl.il111cd or1 her own, imisihk, thiug-ly body. So if the des.ire is to attain
the other's life in itseij; where iL atLains i L~df in it~ ow11 origina.l flc.~h, this
rlesire rloes nor re::ich it~ go;il.
. _·.· Tn rhe ~::ime fashion, thi~ is wh::it a phenomenology of the sexual
act would show. ln the lover's night, the sexual act mates two instinctual
·.· m ovc, rIc 11 ls, ca< :l I c1f wh id1 comes up ag-ai nst the resisting cont in mun of
its own invisible thingly body. Which is thus, for each of the two drive~,
lhis moving limiL uLcying it, and thc11 opposing ir anri pnRhing it hack.
In copulation, the two <lrivc.s c:ome inm resonance, each heing deployed
>and then ceding in tum. Nevertheless, the phenomenological situation
remains as follO'\'vs: Each drive, in the alle1naLion of ils adi'ic an<l passive
mmlalitics, only ever know1, itself, its ow11 movemem together Vlrith the
sensations felt at the limit of its own invisible, organic body. What the
other drive feels remains beyon<l whaL the fi,sl feds. The impmcnc:c of
each to attain the other in itself exasperates the tension of desire up to its
resolution in the paroxys1nal fodi11~ of orgasm, i11 st1ch a war thl:lf. each
has its own without being able to feel that of the other as the other feels
it. If this is erotic desire in the sexual act, here again it is a failure.
And this failure mw,l be graspcd as what it i~ fen everyone. It doc~
not come from a sort of rupture of immanence, as is the case when, in
the presence of the lovers' kiss, the evaluation of this ternkr acl wrcsL.s
from Rilke thi:1 disillusicmcd cry: "Oh how oddly the <lrinker e.:;:.c::ape'l rhe
an" (Duino Ele(!;ies, "Second Elegy"). In the amorous coupling, it is not
an "escape" or a distraction that intervenes, although of course Lhal can
.· happen. It is in lite immanence of the dtiiJe that de.~ire fails to attain the plea.mm
.·. rif the other whet-r. it attains ifs,i!f, it. is in rhe love.rs' night thar, for each of
them, the other remains on the other side of a ·wall that forever separates
them. A proof of lhis is given hy t.hc signals low·rs offrr each other while
carrying out the act, whether it is a question of spoken words, sighs, or
varying manifestations. Such that the coincidence sought is not lhe real
identification of a Lrnnsceudeutal Sdf wilh an other, the recovery of t.wo
impressional flows melting into one, but at best only the chronological
coincidcucc of twu ~µa.inn~ powcrlc~s to overcome their <liviRion.
That even in this case rhe two flows of <le'lire remain sepa.r:uerl,
the follo\',:ing fact, as incontestable as it is tragic, also demonstrates: At
the very hean of thi~ limiL cxpc:ricm:c that rhc ltwcrs t'.xpert to be not
nnly exn-:ciordinary, b,1t absolute, and to establish a sort of fusion or even
identification between them, the possibili.ty o_fjc(?:fling remains. How many
:\'v"Omen have made the one to whom tl1er give themselvei;, ot1t oflovc or
fur another 1Tasm1, believe that they take from him a pleasure they do
not feel, and perhaps ,dll never feel?"'
This is indeed the consequence of the duality of impassioned move-·
mcll!.~ each fo1lm~i111,; ii s <1w11 lr~j,:clmy, each ending in its u-wn pleasure,
which despite its intensity remains in itself and leaves the other's pleasure
some\~ I1crc inaccc~si hk. To take t.h c p hen om cna in rhe rigor of their im-
manence, shouldn't we speak, rather than of eroikism, of ;mto-eroricism?
However, to the extent that, as we have noted, signs, signals, and
varying expres!;ions intervene alJ along this amorous process, musl. om:
not recognize, s;nce these signs and signals (CY(! themsel'IJes plwnomena, that the
auto-eroticism at work here differs from aulo-erotici:,;m prnpcrl)' spcd-
ing, where evcryom: is truly alone with himself, which in trnrh ~ccms to
exprFs~ ~olipsism' Tn the impassioned couplin_g, on the contrary, a rec-
ognition for him or her who has produced or allowed this sore of salisfac-
Lion, howevcr _prnvi~iomt.l, i~ adckcl l.o the irnrnancn t phenomenon folt hy
each rlrive ;ir the movin~ limit of its organic body, and to the enjoyment
in which its desire results, and is indissociable from ll and from the well-
Leing it prrn:nn:.~. The erotic relation then doubles the y:rnre affective
relation, which is foreign to the carnal coupling, and is a relation of re-
ciprocal recuguitiuu, oflovc perhaps, even when this might well precede
anrl inrleerl provoke the entire erotic process that results from it.
Now if e\'iden tly the affective relation is itself an immanent relation
whose descripLion,jusl a:; 1J1al. of t.hc i-1cxual act, rlcmaml.s ,m attitude of

~ One will perhaps obJect that the interpretation of deRire and sc,cual activity a, alway,
a.nd necessarily ending up in failure is faI from being universally admitted. The question
incvirablv ari,cs of knowiop; if, at the origin of such an interpretation, certain a priori ha\er
not altered or falsihcd the inquiry. Can on,:: avoid thinking here of the philosophy of Scho-
penl,au~·r, who e,cplicitly idcndticd love Vl~th sexualicy and took it for an illusion? How is
,1=xuaiily ,m illu,ion, Bcc,mse it i:; reduced co sexual desire, and this is prcci,cly what fails.
1Nh} does it fa.iii' l'hc only realirv (the metaphv;;ical reality of the universe) is, according

to Schopenhauer, the Will-a will that has no obicct, and accordingly no proper object
tu rndsf:,-. and that th1.i, remains in a state of perpetual dk,mtisfaction-a hunger, an un-
ljllt"mlu•d thirst Tirns tJ,is Will "'ills i11ddi11itdy, eteru.illy. ,1Ud always bcgtm to will again
with0111· ~11y po.ssihk .;fu[,ping poim. r'i:'-l sc,xu«I clt>,i.Le, accu1di11s· lu Schup1=11lmu1=1·, i, 11ulh-
i11g olh1=l Lh,m this 'Will tlm, p1=Hdn1le, .iml (kti.mate:, the entire bodv-otherwisc there
would be 110 ..ealit1 anrwherc that could put ,mend to iis dissatisfaction, a dissatisfaction
lh.il i,; cunrnhsla11Li>1l wilh it and ht,;ts as hmg as it does. This is the rca:ion why. cicmalJy dis-
~;l1isf,t'.d, ,e,,.;·,J ,k,inc im.ldiHilely b.-gius ii,s :,1.,~unl t·ydt> >1:,;aiu. A metapbysit~,I conception,
rt'.p,,;ited in Ft"eud as well as rnosL of the greaL no;<1lor, uf the iale··niueleemh am.I ,v-;entit'lh
,·ent11ries, one .,ees ii deteunine mude1u p.-ssimism, am.I coude11111 in a(har1ce the great
arJv.,,nnu.·e orJuvec,, 1>cdul·t'u Lu sexu,il de:.in,, advenity, and failure.
This irn mense irleol ogirn I C;lt~slrnphe, wh k.h st,~m I fr<•m u1.ndum .,,,ump Liuu~, dotes
not concern phenomenology. Plwnornenology is nppos,,rl in princ.ipl<> to mo,t~physi,~~ in
a;; much as ir. holds rldiheratdy to t.hr ,nbenr,m.,.,n r.< !Jury .<how tl,,,.,,.,,,1,,.,. in tiwllis,•fot.1. TI,i~
 /reduclion, is not lhe que!>tiou ofL11c pmsibility for il lo al lain the olhcr in
\ iti;df, in recugnitiuu or love, for example, immediately posed again:' This
que8tion concerning- the experience of the OLher is nut only repeated; iL
\ appears far more difficult to elucidate if the erotic relation seems in the
'>eyes of mosr people the most natural means for the experience of rhe
/qther to be effectively realized-if love it.self, for example, looks to be
fulfilled in a corporeal embrace. ln this case, the failure of sexual desire,
/.far from being able lo be overcome i11 the afkt..:Livc rdation lo tl1e other;
ion the contrary condemns this affective relation to reproduce that failure
( in iL'iclf, thus leading il lo advance iL,; own failure.
·· In the presence of these difficulties, a question arises: Would the
failure-whether it be ot the erotic relation or ot the affective relation
< (that of the experience of the other ln general)-nol hold for the pheno-m-
f:1wlngiw.l mrhu:tirm 11.nt!P.ntnnd tlf a rnd1u;twn tr, a sph.trf: nf radir:al imm,n.nr.ru;p
in the sense that we mean it? Such a reduction can indeed give access
i to e:r.sential phenomena unnoticed lo that point, Lo lhe discovery of an
>original fle;;h, of its immanent power, of the organic body finally grasped
(.in its speciticity, and of the world's real content as in itself escaping the
<World'i;; appearing: but this reduction would not for all that avoid solip-
<sism. ls reducing to immanence not reducing each phenomenon to its
..self-givenness aml tliu~ e11dusiug it in ilsdf, aml e1cning lhis "e11clmurc"
)hat marh thf-' wlip~i~m of an irremediable powerle%ness? lnrerpr<"ten
/ on the basis of this self-givenness, and considered all the more to be con-
)ti l.utcd hy ir, docs the Self nor rni,~c up the wall.-. nfin, own prison, is it not
:·, ·fo its own immanence condemned to an unbearable solitude-forever
incapable of lea,..ing itself, opening itself to an alterity without which no
.·•·. other, no experience of the other, seems po~~ihlc?
> Mmt we not direct attention again to the fact that Kierkegaard'5
'· analysis leaves the sphere of immanence when it considers ·what we have
, called Lhe second source of anxiety: t11e synthes~ in the spirit of tl1e soul
with the body, considered in itself and in its sexual diffenrntiatwn as an objective
.phuwmerwn ?'\1/oukln'L lhc <lisq_ualifirnt.iou of t.l1e work.I'~ appearing need
to I.Jc removed if the erotic.: relation must he brought hack to its cunuetc
plenitude, where, perhaps, its faHure would be c;:ipable of being tram-
formed into this pleniLude?

i §42. The Erotic Relation in the World's Appearing. Repetition of

the Failure.

<Tn the Inver.~· night, wht>n rhey awakr from the h;.ippys;uisfac:t.inn that. en-
again? Should we uol look for the other where it is--and not on Lhc 0Lhc1
side of Ilic wall, upon which the drive broke and smgcd hack on itself
rt>ferring to itself and drowning in il:s own pleasure? "\'\,1,ere h1c is, ;me
where she is, where the body or the lover is stretched out next to the bod]
of her love_ Jsn 't it enough for her to open her eyes i11 rmkr to see him
or if it's still dark, to read1 her hand toward him, squeeze his shouldc1
stroke his lips again anrl feel his breath. or breathe it in?
TtJ reach out her hand, tO squeeze, to caress skin, Lo fed, or tc
breathe in a scent, a breath, is to opeu crn(:sdf to the world. It is in th(
world, in it.s lclppF.ari.ng, that the other is really there, arnl lhat. his hody (t(
which the other is united) is there an<l is real. If it is ;:i question of attain
ing d1e other beyond lhe limit that. crnshes thf.' impassioned movement
beyond lhc rc:1isting i:ontinuum in which the organic body becomes ~
thingly bodr, and beyond the invisible siJe tlial. Lhis hody opposes tc
desire--is it not in Lhe appearing of the world that tl1is body now liei
before the gaze, the touch, or the caress? What shows me this uugrasp
ahle "within" of the other's thingly body i~ ils "outsi<'le," ::ind that is wha1
occupies me, whel11c1 it he a question of ordinary experience or of tht
nulical modification it undergoes when the scnsihlc hody becomes an
erotic and sensual body (a body clclpahle of sensing and being touched)-
when al the same time as this body, the entire world has Lakcn on rhf
face of anxiety.
A companion ofdc~irc, anxic1yis now no longer based on the sing-1~
verlig·inous capacity for powe1~ but on the body thal flaunt,; it,ie.lf in rhe
visible nniverse from which it proceeds. The second source of anxiety-·
one that arouses uut some thingly hody but a bod,1-insynthesis-witlt-tlu:-.wu,
·i.n the 1Jiirit-th11"_joins. with the first. And as we kuuw Lhi:,; means nothing
more than that a flesh, an "I can," au<l iL~ freedom, inh;:ibit this body-
anxiety inhabits it. The auxictyofpow~r to be touched, power to letoneseU
be louc!tcd, ;mcl power to experience a series of sensaLimrn lha.t can he
subjected to the power and the will ufan otht~r. So the redoubling of anxi-
ety does nut mean mere.ly that, in addition to its anxiety iu lhc fat:e of its
fn:cdorn, the spirit also has anxiety at being tllis uvuy !here in the: world,
v.'irh its determinations and its objenive sexual cnnfignr::itions. Redou-
bling means that the :mxiety that is redoubled in each one is n:<iouhlcd
from being the anxie 1:y of the other-fru1 n each of The two lovers, or from
those that will :succwnb to llic temptation to become so. 'fhe possibility is
,~ide open for each ofthf'm to touch the other at the most "sensible'' poin1
of their body, the extreme pointofiLs scxt.tality-"there,"which means on
their own thingly body as iris shown in the world. And in the same way this
i.s alsu Lhc possihility of"being--touched": there, on the beiug-Lhcrc oft.his
horly. The fact that this tv,;o-fold possibiliLy con:.!.iturive of the erotic rela-
 \ tion occurs in the world, and is indebted to it, prohibits us it seems from
circumscribing such a relation in life's sphere of immanence.
The fact that the erotic relation's being--thcre belongs to the world
/can he rcacl from 11um(Tou.~ sig11s lhal. nm 1hrough hum:m hislmy. l.d
) us retain just one: clothing. Beyond the practicaljmtificalinns for it thal.
>•depend on J;;ititude, the seasons, or even the cultural habits of social
/ gronps, ii::n't its essenti::tl function to conceal what is too intimate in it5
\paradoxical synthesis ,~ith the body that the soul risks exhibiting? Owing
( lo IJ1is f1mcl.io11, irn'l.1 he: mc<111ing of c:lo1l1ing inverted to the point th~t it
> becomes erotic itself in proportion to the eroticism it wants to hide? Isn't
removing thi~ duthing-n;vcaling v,;hat v.~.:1s suppol!cd to avoid scrutiny,
\ an act irwolvcd in every erotic rdation-rcsponsihlc for all the anxiety
.of the world in which it ori,g-i.nates, which originates in the anxietrofhav-
·•·· .· ing a body whose sex is offered in its objectivity to the otl1er? "Where Lhe
iothfT will h;, ahlt>: to tm1c:h it :md fin;i l\y t;;i, ke it-aw::ty from the :ll1Xiety
< of the vertiginous power to be able to do all this-from the redoubled
.·. anxiety of the one to whom lhe offer is made? "To give oneself" means to
·• expose a body where the other can indeed attain it, to invite her to do
so, to put in front of his desi1·c this fast:inating body that c.:1.11 g:ivc rise lo
· a ~erie.~ of sensations in it that will be its verv life, the secret life of the one
( who ,g-i.ves his or her body and thus not on!}· gives their body, but also this
{ gift itself: theirfieedorn.
... . In his commentary on the text of Genesis, the pertinence of which
:.. he constantly atlirms against what seems obvious to common s~nse,
Kinkl:gaard indudcs the famous statement that after ~inning "rhcy knew
they were naked." Bue roday-in our "historical milieu" that is marked
./hy the quantitative increase of objective anxiety through successive ge11-
> eralion:., buL alsu be<:ausc anxiety as sud1 is a rcsull of lhc paradoxical
.· .~ynrhcsis, in thP. spirir, of the. soul \1.-ith a ~~xua.lly rlifferentiarnl o~e.rtive
.·.body-doesn't nudity, in which the body ex-poses itself to the other's
desire, hdong t.o t.hc connctc phc:nomcnality of the pmcc~~ rlescriheiP
/ Doesn't the nudity precede the process as much as it follows from it? VVith
( .the omnipresent being-there of the undressed, gazed upon, touched, and
> taken objeu-body, doe:;u't the appearing of lhe world cxlcml ils n.:igu
over the entire erotic relation? ls that relation intelligible without this
cxhibiliun?
.. From if.~ fn'llt step.~, the phenomenology applied in thi.i hook ha.~
i•·.•·recognized that the duplicity of appearing constitute5 the arch-fact apart
.••.. .•. from \-,hid1 no prnhlcmal.ic: com:crning tlu: hmly or flcxh i.~ pn~sihk,
> since only thi;; duplicity decides ben...-een the former and the latter, en-
suring that no body is possible, at tirst glance, except in the world, and
no He.sh is po.ssible except in life. In truth, the reduction to immanence
has neither lhc aim nor thr> ol:!jective of challenging, in dc.fomce of every
pheno111cJ1ological presupposition, the effectiveness of the world's ap-
pearing, m the extent that eve1yLhiug we claim is from the world, and•
falls within its horizon, :-ind is part of it as such, shows iLsdf i11 the world,
as "oppo.~i.te," or as an "object." By lrnc:ing a rigorons line of separation
between what appear~ in the "outside itself" of this horizon ancl. what
reveals it1;df in life's parhos. by focusing on the latLer, the rcd.1ict.ion to
immancnc.e- aims at a second division, which i'l no less decisive, because
it rests on the first the separation of the real and the unreal. Ii. i:s in light
of lhi~ c.~scmial dichotomy between realit~ and unreality that the entire
problem of the body has been pursne<l, .and the erotic relation must be
evaluated.
Musl we here h;we one final reminder of Lhc analy.~is of"touching"?
A.~ we see better now, touching duei; not. have a univocal meaning; it de-
notes not just one Lut lwo phenomena that are structurally different.. On
the one l nm cl, the intentional excess of a meaning opening to something
r.xternal, where it is a question of thf' world's exteriority. On the oLlicr
hand, howeve1, Lhis opt'.rntion of the intentional body mu~r he considered
in life. ft is the latter that constilulcs the rt1ality of touching, because it
constitutes the realiLy of intentionality. As the same time, il is the move-
ment thaL draw<i on life's givenness for its pus:;ihiJity, ::ind thus for its
reality-the movement moving i11 ilsdf that is inherent in touching an<l .·
in every transcendental performance of our original corpon:ity. Tn its in-
nennrn,l pos;sihility, intentional touching refers to this movement moving
in itself, so what it touches must then he 1mderstood not on tl1e Ual!is of
its intentionality_. Luton the basis of this immanent movement. \,\'hat it
louchcs i.~ not a body ex-posed on the ouLsidc, hut the invisible practical
limh of a power, which is moved hy it, actively deployed or passively un-
dergone, and in Lhis way i,~ felt in it, by it, and by it alone.
Su ihc pretension to grasp in their real 11a111re the erotic relation's
pha~es and constituents Ly pn1ccting them against the horizon of the
world appears pointless. This was notably the illusion of posr-Husserlian
plH::nomcnology when, wanting to break through the barrier that it
rhoughi: prohibited access to the other, ir clearly designated what it called
interiorit;, a:; Lfic obstacle to put aside-as oppo~cd ro transcendence,
whme reign it turned into an absolute. Opened to the world from the out-
set, and defined by 1Jiis opening, is man not at the same Lim<.: with others
within this world? Ts Dasein as such not a Afit-sfrin? Reing with others in
th<' same world, that is the mosl ori!,rinal fact, and it doesn't have lo be ex-
plained, bulrerngnizcd. We v.'ill come back to this poiuL (see §47, helow).
As soon a'! one examines the concrele plienom<'ml, the.~e g-enerali,
tics that have only an apparent darity go up in smoke. Uesire does not
 pi'ou:ed fosL from anxiciy. The.re. is no desire unless what it desires is not
given in it~ rr:ali1y, hm rr>mains beyond the given-wiles., the thing/)' body
•• •iix-hibited in th.t world does not deliver the reality of its jlesli in and through this
iex-hibitirrn. This is what is rle1-ircd. Tt is pn:cisdy because it does not show
iitself in rhe being-there of the thingly body that it is and can he desired.
_Yet neitl1er is the anxieL)' cuuneckd ·with desire hasP.<l on the ohjf'.ctive
heing-there of a Lolly reduced to its objcct.h,;ty. Just as wirh desire, for
..the same reason, and at che same time, anxietv alises from a bodv shot
·•·.· through with sensuality, and thus a pri111onlial ca11ac:i ty to sin-from ; body
that a flc.~h inhabits. Except the flesh that makes the th:ingly body an an-
guishing, desiring, desirable, and sensual body is nol ciu llllleal nuematic
signification. There is one circle of reality. Only real flesh, a li\-ing flesh, is
.· capable uf giviui; birth to a real rleo;;irt>, a real anxiety. A. real and li·l'ing_tlesk
.that ret!eals itself in life s auto-impressionalit;, ne:r.ier in the m,tside itself of a wurld.
·.·.10 entrust the erotic relation Lo Llie world, lo look for life rhere, is not ro
oven:ume Lhc failure dc~irc. knew in the lovers' night; it is to redouble it.
Even more, it is to eliminate all il5 conditions. For desire il:;df i~ a
modality oflife,ju.'il like anxiety is. ·when The larter emerges in the pres-
• ence of an objective sexual determination, it is in the spirit that it feels
>anxiety at not recognit.iug iL-;elf in a sex. Ami rhat is because this spirit,
which is nothing other rhan life, is actually not found there. But what
never shows itself in the world is flesh itself, which is Ilesh uuly in life .
. What escapes the reign uf the visible, nor firniing its possibility there any
more than it,; satisfaction, is the Self inherent in flesh, its ~r can," the ca-
. pacity for power, the ability to move itself proper lu every power (whether
.· touching or being Loud1ed), the totality of original imprr>ssions-in short,
the entirety of phP.nomenological properties that belong to tlesh and thus
.·.· to the erotic relation, which is a carnal and not a thiugly rdaLiuu.

§43. The Reduction of the Erotic Relation to Sexuahty in the Time

·. of Nihilism .

.The si I uaticm is thm the following-: In the lovers' night, desire fails, and is
incapable of reaching the other's life in ilself, anu this <lclc1miuci1 it.11 plan
. to seize the other's life on its naked body, which is offen:d in the world's
appearing. YcL the failure of this endeavor is peculiar in that it does not
modify the presupposition from which it follows, bu.l on the ccmtrary,
.pushes this to iLs limiL Since Lhe aim to po.~scss rloes nor ::itt:=iin the life of
t11e olhcr on it:; hody, which is ~xpmed in all of its sensual potentialities
and offered to desire through them, a sort of sudden metaphysical deci-
.~ion is JeJt, which is at the ~amc time a form of violence. We must stalt:
catego1ically thal l11i:. real life (which is the other's reality as much a8 my
owu) Lhi:; object of rle~ire, isjust rh.at a natural body displaying it11 sexual
properties in the world. This life's ~cnsuality, its capacity to feel and en-
joy, are crushed ont.o the hody, incorporated in it, identificil wirh it, and
nm: with it; they become what one wud1cs, what one caresses, and ,·vhat
one gives joy to by touching; what is then·, really in the world, the object
before one':-; gaze, anrl nPar at hand. The erotic relation i:s rcclucccl to an
ol~cctive sexual relation; and that is how it now comes about, as a perfor-
mance and a set of ulijcccivc phPnomena.
The rt:cl11nion of eroticism to objective scxualil)' explains the im-
pnnance that the act of undressing now assumt-:s. Tr is no longer a ques-
tion of one gesture among all those tfolt make up the erotic process in il~
entirely. This gcstllrt>: marks a n1pture: lt de.fines and di_jJ1lay1· thf- .ii.tr. where
the relation between two beings will ttuw lakr. jJlm:e. In it the decisiue displacement
occurs whereby each living being'., dll.,ire to enter into symbiosis with the· lift· of an-
utlu:r living beinK and.finally to be united with ii in a l1n•fr1g 11iltdfnsion will pla,
out .somewhere other titan in l~/e, on a tt1win where. there is rwthing living, and
when' nu life is po.1sihlP.
Such an upheaval, which affccl:-1 the human condition itself and
thus every society lhal :;uhmits to it (in general, the decadenl soc.iclics)
has two d1aractcriM.ics. The first is that this has nothing to do 1\ith a fact
properly speaking, which it would suffice l.o obo.;enre in the way the natural
sciences proceed, as well .1$ the. human sciences, since they now have it in
mind to imitate them. Because such a fact goes agaimt the narure of life,
ancl stipulates that it be consununatcd where~ its very existence is simplr
impossible, we would claim it follows from a decision. But ever)' 1lcci~ion
agaiusl. nau1rf' assumes the form oh,iolence bt:causc it implie.s an active
nt>:g::ition that opposes the cousislcucy anrl r.oht>:rence of its reality. This
must be eliminated and destroyed. This active and deliberate destruclio11
ofn:ality, in thi.5 case life's own reality, is nihilism.
Nihilism means fu:;t a ncgat.ion of ::ill values. And yet, since the be-
ginning of time, values rcgufaw human actions, determining the struc-
tures uf wcicric.s and rhe way they operate. So for nihilism t.o on:ur, several
different processes-prou::.scs of de~truction, indeed selt~destruction-
must have Jed to the dic;solution and ultimately the diminat.ion of all
these values. Though in fact there arc nu values in n:uure. Only in life
and for it, by virtue of Lhe needs anrl values that belong specifically to
life, arc 111c value~ that correlate with these neecfa assigncrl to things.
Life is a universal principle of evaluation, :mrl this principle is singular.
At the same time, life prnvc<i to he the origin of culture, in as much as
this i1; 11ull1i11g other than the set of norms and ideab Lhat life imposes
:,-·

ioil itsdf in order to realize its needs and desire;, which in the end are
summer! up or concentrated in one alone: Lhe need for life: ro increase
it<iclf c.omr:mtly to increase its capacity to ft:el, the lcvd of irs ;,ction, and
·. •the intensity of it,; love.
.·.· ·. So if life is diminished and obsc: un:rl, if it is no longer the organiz-
i ing principle of a ~ociety an<l of each one's life ,.,ithin it, the principle of
i each of iu; a.divitics, then the time of nihilism has come. And it come~
every time life is discarded, whether implicitly or explicitly, and for each
•·of the acti"ities for wliid1 it is di5carded. This is the ca:;e for the t1olir: rela-
. . liun, whr:n tnrn.fro-m life's pathos, handed uvr::r lo the world, rr?du,ced to ,1:hat of it
is shown in the world, aaih.i ull lhe objer:ti11e d~t.l!rminations of a thingly body; ii
•• is at the same timt· 1tdw:;;rl to what in it can still become an object uf de:.ire-its
SeX'ualily.
lt is a problem of knowing how all the original phenomenologi-
cal properties of a livi11g, scming, desiring. suffering, and enjoying flesh
can mutate inro those of a body that feels nothing aml 1locsn't. feel itself,
desires nothing, and in itself is tlcprivcrl of the capacity to ,,.rill and of
power-of Ilic intoxication and the anxiety of a freedom. It i~ the act of
undressing that brings about this cxl.nmrdim1ry mutation. That is why it
·• arises from a radical will ::ind occurs as a leap. With res pen lo lift:, it. i~ an
is~uc of profanation. 1o that which is cloaked in the scuet of an original
modesty because it carries withiu i1 the ~pirit that is heterogeneous to
every tl1ing anti every o~jec.tivity, it really claims; This absurd Lhing and
indcr.ent sex is what you are and is all you arc-indecent because it has
·. nothing in common wiLh yuu, or Vlrirh spirit. Only this claim is not simply
an aHegation, it is an ::ict-the act that brings about a rnbjecLivity's cxrrn-
orclimiryr metamorphosis into an inert objcn: the: sexmility ·whereby life
ex-poses itselt; and thus aITmm 11iat ir. i~ nothing other, and nothing more,
.than that.
It is life, however, that carries out the act Lhal dcmule.~ and ex-
poses life in sexuality. The prnfam1tion i[ engages in is a selt~profanat.ion.
Two correlative tniirs belong to the erotic relation u1al takes plac.e in rhe
world's appearing, and they are taken to llwir extreme rlegree from the
beginning: sadism and masod1i.sn1. Tt. is masochism for the spirit to de-
clan.: that it is nothing other than a contingent. ol~cuivc determination
{foreign precisely to the .spiril) and for it to lower itself to the rank of a
thing, of a masculine or feminine sex. The other's sadism corresponds lo
this masod1isrn, ;is its correlate, and enjoys the suITering· of lhc one that
fa diminished like this, affinuing in and by its display that its truth is in
this poor thing, whic.h is indeed foreign to spirit, indecent, an<l ahsurrl.
Bul the other in rhe relation is put in the same ~itualion. Sarlism and
masochism are now indefinitely iulcrchangcahle, and become the ele-
menl.'i llrn.t coni;rit11te the erotic relation as Jou~ as it seek.~, and expects; ·•
10 he realized out\vardl-y.
To the ,•,;oddly µht::uomcnological effoct.mition of the e,otic rela~
tion reduced 1.n au o~jective sexual behavior, voyeurism is cormu:ted. It
:;ippears as a logical consequence of the act. of undressing which makes the
flesh identifiul with rl 11isible body and then forces it to behave as an order~
live reality in rhe inter-subjective communicaliun ufli,,,ing hcings. And yet
voyeurism cannot be considered a conscrp1en,e of such an act except to\
the extent thal il h<1s i.11c rarlical meaning conferred on it, nol <1s a rncrC' •··
phase ohhe erotic process, but as bringing about. in it the metamorphosis•
of the phenomenological properties of flesh into those of a body, .in such·.·
a way thal it i~ this horiy in its objective condition (seen, tuuchc(i, fdt, .•.
hcarrl, aml smelled) that becomes the agenL of cornmuniration.
For whatever is seen, iu as much as attention is focused on whaL
is seen as such, as given in sight and thus in a world, it i.~ for everyone····
to scc-hy all who are there, holding tl1e same span' of hght in "iew: a
room, a scene in a t11e ale 1, or a tc 1evision screen. 'Thus voyeurism is not at ·•·•
all limilcd to t.hc two traditional actors of the eroLic rcla1:ion; it nirries iff
principle the possibility of exlcnding ro f':Veryone who v.:ill have decided
to hand t11e ernljc rcfation over to the world. Either lo undrcs~ together
a11cl give them~elves over to various sexual prncticc11 re<'lu<'ed to their ob-
jectivity. establishing between llicm no longer an "inter-subjective" rela·
tion but an "inlcr-nhjcc:tive" one, and expecting from il all the tonalities ·
of anxiety, disgust, degradation, masochism, sadism, and enjoyment (the••.
kind degradation provides) that these practices can bring. Or, withoul
themselves rcwrting to this, then at least watching it, lhc po.~sihilitif's of
which are multiplied by the new lcdmologic:- of communication, which
are themselves form~ of voyeurism.
Tlii:1 rnllccrivf': profanation of life is called pornography. In pomog- ·.•.·
raphy an attempt to bring the objectivity of the erotic relai:ion to its limit
emerges, where ever~thing i.~ given to be seen-which then requires I.lit:.·•
vanlagc point.~ on the beha'l-ior.s and sexual atl1iburcs to hF. multiplied, as·.···
ihomething within sexuality were emllc~sly refusing rhis total objectifica- .>.
tion. The same radical pnBcct of o~jectifica.tion occurs in prostitution, ..
which ii- not first and foremost a social fact, bul is also a metaphysical act, . •.
whose "publicity,'' h oweve1 limi tcd it m:;iy be, remains the hidden lelos ( lhc
prostitute i.li one who,jusr like money, concentrates this potential advcrf.i!'l-
iug in his being). Let us add that, in objectivity, auyLlii11g can take the place .·.·
of anything: individuals arc imcn:hangeable just like things are. That i~
why I.he loi,iical rnn.,;e:quence of voyeurism is "pa1lucr swapping," which
often 3<"fompanies it. At this point the very partirnlar plea.~ure that degra·
dation provides, already secu in prostitmion, is brought to its extreme.
 One will claim lhaL Lhcsc phcnomr,na evoked belong to all societies.
At the basb of all societies i~ hum:m nami:-e, whose phenomenolo,gical
jlrudun.:, Lhough it has sclilom heen darified plumomenologicaUy, is no less
constant through the centmies. This slructure is the duality of ;ppearing.
That is why the multiple modalities of existence that are connected Lo
it and draw their final possibillty f1 om il an: in<lct:d at work e\·eryivhecrec
there are human beings. The d1aractcri~tic ofnihili.~m i~ thar, within this
global slru<.:t.urc of th c rh ml i ty of appearing, the origin al an ct fund amen ta!
mode of life's revelation is kept off limit~.
ll turns out Llrn.t this disqualificnion of transcendental life occurred
• on the rheoretical plane at the beginning of the seyenteenlh cculmy
and determined the entire development of mo<leru science. It was in•
deed explicit when Galileo had altrihutccl tn it knowlPdge ofrhe universe
tompmcd of cxtf'nof'd material bodies, all of whose properties relative
to transcendental life and in any way dependeuL 011 il were climinarerl .
. We have exhibileu (sec §17 above) th!' natnrf' and scope of this Galilean
.rcrlm:tion, which had only a methodological function that was intende<l
to circumscribe in a rigorous way a ~pccific rlmnain of investigation, the
immense: rlomain of objective knowledge oithe material universe. To lhe
• extent that modern science has given hinh to an cntin~ly nf'W rf'chnology,
howe\'er, whid1 tcu<ls prngrcs:.iivcly to recphce life's active subjectivity ·with
inert mawri:i.l processes, the entirety of modern societies (their thoughL
as well as their "practice") is mark<.:d hy thi!i clisqm11ification of life. and
by ill; correlate, the unrlivided reign of objecti\.ity in nihilism.
· Giving the erotic relation up to the world's appearing alsu Lakt::; on
a new meaning, which is truly exaggernLt:d am! insane, wht~n it receives
addiLioIJal motivation th::it folloV\rs from nihilism, to the point of becom-
ing onf' of it5 most remarkable signs. It is no longer a que:;tiuu lhcn of
phenomena that have taken place at all Llrnes au<l everywhere, in -~o far
as they rest upon the univcn;al ~t.rm:llm" th:H is the duality of appearing .
. That cerrainly remains the presupposition of everytJ1ing "hum,m," aml it
can occur onlv in a n:aliLv that is dd'mcrl hv thi~ dllahtv In this absolute
• ~ I I

presuppu::1iliun that define~ the human condition, however, there is not

only o~jertivity; this is neither its foundation nor its decisive elemenl, in
fact. Thal i8 why, i11 the Galilean reduction. when objectivity is detached
.from lift. and considered in it~elf in an abstract way, ~ .u1 autunomou.i
moment, and when a thought that is allegedly ralioual, ~dcutific, and
true grants it the privilege of defining rhc site of this truth and thus of
.all reality, the threat of travesty and denaturing hangs over all human
.phenomena.
As far as iL 1.:onccrm the erotic rf'.lation, rhe reduction of it to an
o1~cctivc: behavior is nh longer the u•orlt ofa desire that fails to /ind the life
of the other in its own immanenc.e.; 1t is a geru:ral premppusitivn of modRrn •-·•-·
ltnow/.edge thal cr;rm:I in.ti) play, which takes objeclivily as the site of reality,-•·--·•-
aa<l the knowledge of this reality as the out: aud only mode of acmal · ·
knowledge. The laws of erotic communication are thus the laws of the
objective:: sexual relation it turns into; they arc uo long-er the laws of Eros,-__
of life's infinite Desire to return to the hfe of a living being, to be uuit.cd <
with it, and to foul il again in the depth ot the abyss where this union is \
possible. These are laws that re_gulate objecL.ivt phenomena-the bio-
logical, chemical, or physical laws that aH belong to modern science. _- _
The amorous fusio11 reduced to its objective appearnrn.:c-imch that one
ca11 lit:c ir, and photograph it with it.s various inflections, which are in-
tended to mask. its monotony-ha!! h~c.ome the business of sexolog~ts, •-•- -.
psychologists, psychianist~, and sociologists." Only those with ohjt>ctive · -·
mellwdologie;; ac their disposal may acquire a rigorous knowledge of it.
"Fourteen percent of French women make love on the stairs." TI1e ques-
tion rationally posed in this o~jective context will be settled whe.n con-
sLruc:tion hegins on the next live-year housing plan, or ,~ith the progress
of scientific research 011 AIDS.
All of th<' ancestral cultural forms of knowlc<lge (religion, ethics_. · •.•
and aesthetics), which a.re born from the most original knowledge nf ---•-
transcendenlal Life in its self-revelation and from the sdf-cicvr:lopment >
of its palhm, art>: "obsolete," In the time of uiliilism, moreover, none of-•--
these forms of kno,.,iedge that springs from transcendental life ha:,; the --
right to speak, ar1y more rhan this life itself doel-.

§44. Life Is without a Why. Life Is Good.

In considering· Ll1c: erotic relation, either in its imma.r1c11t achievement,

or in its worldly appearing, we have rcrngnized how in each case it is
wrapped in anxiety and in earh case leads to failure. Furl11cr rcfkc.tion
has persmulcc.l us that, despite the primordial phenomenological distinc-
Liuus in play, rhe analysis of eroticism rcrm1.in:-1 a prisoner of a decisive

* Medil-iJ1e has ucvcr been a science properly ~re..,l:irog --- uul that it lacks rigor; Resting
on the h.1rd ~ti<=wce, like biology, chernim-y. etc., it. nievc':rthele,s remains "humanist" in
principle. By Lhis we should understand that all nhjective- s~ie1u;1;.; in operation are shot
th ron gh h;· ,q;<LL<:: that secs, beyond them, on I hf' radiu!5rnpli of a lesion or tumor, beyond
the ohjf'ctiw· l.luu 1· therefore, whai its 1'esu/t is jor afte,h, fnr 1-h ,~ living- and suffcrini;: Self v,ho
is sick. \frrli~i.ne i,, unimdligibJc wi!.hou1 this comtant refe:re:nc<, ll> trn1m:endcntal lite as
constimdw of lm n1au reality. The medical gaze is today onf' of thte b:,t 1efu~es of culrnrc.
 fo:nili:ltion. Thi~ is hecause no flesh can be envisaged in iLsdf a.~ a sort of
aut.onomons order, an ol=!ject of a separate proce:s:; of elucidation, if lr. i.~
true rhat. flesh occurs to itself only in life. TI1is is \'lhy, a:; we have found
irepeatedly, or rather r.011Sl.anily, the analysis of flesh and its various con-
stiments, as soon as it goes further, refer:. w wlrnt rakes place before it the
most Oeeling impression, to rhe relentless emergence of an alway~ m:w
..impres:;iuu; lhc power of fl~sh, to its original powerlessness; and finally
._Lhc flesh itself to absolute Life's arriYal in itself. It i~ ouly Lhis n:frrcnc~
of ail flesh to the Arch-passihili ly ofl .ife's Arch-flesh that can say whether
it is pmsihle for a flesh to constitute the site of penlilion or· ;,1a ]vat.ion.
And yet when we corn,ider Lhc relation of flesh to absolute Lite as
an immanent relation, we :;cc certain r:haracteristics of the erotic relation
immc<liaLdy fall away, notably the contingency and therefore absurdiLy of
sexual difference, and above all of sexual tleLcnnimJJion :ts ~uch. Th11s the
desire that thought tl1al i11 sex it r:011 lrl reach the life of the other where it
teaches it:;df, irs plt-awre where it undergoes experiencing it.:;df, meet.~
only a thingly body heterogeneous to the spirit, wl1rnH: o~jer.rive configu-
t-ation remains incornprchemihle or obscene in its eyes, and whose life
_in :my case escapes it.
· "\I\Te wlll claim that it. i.~ the duality of appearing, and more preci~dy
Ilic ubjcctjvity of ~e,nial determinations and thus of Lhe 1::rnlic relation
it1:.elf which is responsible for the ab:=,urdity of the:«: rleterminations as
well as for the failure of rlc~ire. Such is assuredly the case, and this is the
first point that demands an explanation: v\.'hy duel! l!Cxual life seem both
absurd and doomed for failure iu the worlih appe,iring?
Yet the vei~ ualurc of the question must first be claiif-ied. To ask
"why" a$.~11me-s chat that about which and with re~pe[l lo whir;h nne pnsP..t the
question refers to something IN.yund ilst!f, to a horizon of exte:riority against
which it stands oul m, an external hcing or external object. It is on the
ba~is of ihis horizon, which confers its presence upon it and within which
it "is there," that one comes ha.t:k 10 ii in order to ask it why, in "iew of
what it ii; Lhcrc, a.~ it. is, ·with the properties that it has. Nece::.sarily, a quc.~-
.lion like this has no response. Why, to what end, for whal purpo:;1c this
being, this object, exists, why this sex is lhcrc-only the beyond could tell
it, lhc hori:wn of exteriority that has been opened by the very question,
and that is nothing otl1er than L1n.: world'~ appearing. A'- the problem-
atic has shown at length, hmvcvcr, :.m:h an appe;:iring must uncover what it
itncover.i- willuml 1.nating it, and with/Jut in an; wa_"r giuing an account or a mt-
son_fo,· it. Thus unveiled in the ol<ltctivil.y of the l-Vorld, naked, sex no lon-
ger offers auytl1i11g more t.han ,his contingent and absurd appearatKt. IL
is a ~oun:c of rfosire and anxiety only in so far as it has the ~iguifi<:aliun
of being inhabited by a flesh. But became tJ1i~ never dwell~ outside itself,
au<l m:vcr shows irs~Tfin such a horizon, the signiucaliuu is empty, anrl it
goes up in smoke the same time the de~ire doc:..."
Life is without a why. :\ml Lhis is because ir rloe.s not. t.()krate in itself_
any outside i1.~clf to which it would need to manifest itsell' in ordc1 to he •
what it is-to which it would have Lo a.~k why it is what it is, wh~, j'm- ·what
pmpu.w:, ii. is 1ifc. However, if life leaves outside itself no realiLy Lhal is ex-
ternal to it, ro which it ,votdd have to go cap in h<1.11U a~kiug the reason -
for its manifestation and thus for iL,; being, rm horimn of intelligibility
on whose basis it would have to rernrn to itself in order to understand
and _Justify itself this is only because il carries wiLhin it thi;i final principle ·
of intelligibility a.n<ljuslification. Thi;; i.s because it selJ-reveals itself in
such a way dmt it is al,,o what is revealed in this immanent, pal1-10~-filkd
rC'velatioo of itself. Life's stlj revelat-i.&n is alsu il.l' .1elf-justifu:ation. If life is
,.,,ithout a '\vhy," if it ask:, fur nothing, an<l <loei;;n't ask for the why oi'its
life from a11yonc, from any ek-static knowledge, from any inLenLioual
thought in search of some meaning_. or from any scicm:c, rhis is hecanse,
while undergoing expcricm:ing it'ldf, it is neither only nor first what it _
experiences whC'n ir undergoes its m..n experience, but is ih.e veryf1,rt of
undergoing e;,.,,peruncing itsdf, and the dP.light rif this experie.ru:e that is its enjoy- -
men/ uf itself and that tP.lfr it th.at it is good. This is the phenomcuolugical .
root of Meister Eckhart's radical propositiom: ''However ciiffknlt. life may
be, one nevertheless wants to live [.. _J But why do you live? 1n order to
live, you say, aml ycr you do not know why you live. Life is so desirab!t: in
irsf:lf th.it we desire it for itself." And life's supreme justificnion is. not only
what life undergoes wln:n ii. alw,iy:; unrlt>rp;oes experiencing itself. but the
fact uf umlcrgoing experiencing itself and of living; and life ilsdf aUcsL~
rn this in as much as it subsists in eve1y circmnstanr:f', and ::i! the height
of suffering and adve1sily. For an ah~olme justification alone, a phenom-
enulugical sclf:imt.ificarion as self--revelarion, which nothing has µuwcr
against, and which thu.s works in every mo<lalily oflifc, t.hc most awful as
well as the mosl uuble, Lhc limit ;i.w"rtion of Eckhart authorizes: "Even
diosc who are in heH, in eternal torment, whe!l1e1 angds or rlcmons, do
not Want to lose life; for life is this 1101.JJc LO them f.. .l.'''
Is there any m:t:<l Lu recall her~ that the famous verses of .-\nge--
lus Silcsini;;-"The rose is without a why / it blooms simply hccame it
blooms / it has no concern for il~clf nor any desire to be seen"-follow
directly from Meister Frkh::irt's dazzling propositions, where 1he rose i:;

HThis is ½'hat an analysis of auto--,.,otili,,m, pn,pedr spcakin~. would ,ho,,.,·.

+ lraiih l!t S"''11'Al'lS, french tram. Anhir,r anrl M,:,lilur (Pacis: f\.ubicr, l'H~) p. 48 / TheCom-
pli!i.e .Mys!frtJ.l Worfa o.f.Heis!.er Er.kh11:rl, rrans. Manri,ct'. O'C Wftlshe. ,.,,,_ Bernard McGinn (.\Jew
York: Herder & Herder, 20i.)9), p. 505ff.
 nothing but LIH:: name for lifo? vVhar 8tands out here with intenst: darity
is that lli.i~ um;qu.allcrl vi~ion of life's essence doesn't come merely from
•. • the geniu~ of the poetic imagination, but is based on a rigorous phe-
nomenological analysis. Because lifr rules out everything beyond itself
\for which and in which it would live, two decisive c:harncteristics follow,
·.• ~\·hich Silesius assigns immediately to life. ThF: fir.~t: It is to its immanence
>that life is indebted for Lcing life and rloing everything it does: "it blooms
because it blooms." The second: In its m·1;n proper native comlition, iL i:-1
>in no way related to itself ek·statically. N ci rlicr in care, as if the immanent
. jpseity of life umlrl he in care-for-itself and thus separated from it~clf in
its C'.are ,.,,ithout immediately seU~destrucliug: "ha~ no conc~rn for itself."
Nor in seeing, as ifliie could :;ec iL:;clfby relating intentionally to itself in
seeing wilhouL <li.,;soh<ing immerliately into unreality, like Eurydice under
Orphcm'.'l gaze: "nor any desire to be seen."
. lhis phenomenological essence of lifo clP.fined positively by Eck-
<hart and negaLivcly hy Silt:i-.ino;; sheds its light on the erotic relation. Is il
not ~ignificant to notice that all the negative diarallcrs that th~ h11m:m
body takes on in its aliamlm1mcnt in the world-its neglect, its lack of
justification, its strangeness, its contingency, iLs allSlmiity, :md possibly
its ugliness or 1,ulgar.ily-disappcar a;i mon as, lived from the inside, this
body is rcvcakd to it~df ::!$ a living flesh? .For if it is possible Lo .c,;k why
· the h,:oing that we are has two eyes. rather than Llm:c or one in the middle
·.. of its forehead like the Cydop~, why it has four limbs (tv1,o upper and two
.Jowcr) rat.her than a thousand legs like the hero in Kafka's 1\-fetn.mm-phn-
-~is, or ten thousand hands like Kanou'~ goddess, still no one has really
complained about seeing, hearing, or walking. Ifin the world everything
· . sccm::i arhitrary, it is no lon~er the case for the trar.1:c;cenue11Lal pcrfor-
.· mances of our senses or the other original powers of onr tlesh where they
are revealed to themselves aucJ inkc place. Quite the contrary: lt is their
· absence or their alteration that turns out to be unbearable, as in the case
·· of sickness or disability.
Bul if 11011c of the powers of our flesh is ever in question in the
question "why," for as long as, absorbed in its immanent effectualicrn, it
• fctels itself immediately as "good," how can we forgc:1 t.har such a power
·. presupposc::i a c:1p:-1.1:ity for power, an "'I can," a Self, and finally a flesh,
·. whirh never occurs to itself except in lift:? Bul Lhi8 series of implic:ations
.·is not the result of analysis; it refev; Lo a form of pallsivity concretely felt
. by each of our power:.; in it!-! particular operation. It is not merely the ca-
.• pacicy for power (which it does not take from it~df) that make;; it passive
· t\rith regard to itself, it is the spcdficity of rhis power that marks it with
a definitive cuulingcncy. For why would there need to be, in these tran-
-~ccnrlr:nt::il living beings that we are, something like vision, hearing, the
 <
sense of smell, molor :skills, aml ;;cxual activity ~~ith its differentiation tl1al
imposes everywl1crc in, powers of attraction and its equally-<li.ITercnliatccl ·•·
drives? Everything happt>:ns as if the world's appearing ilid nothing but<
make visible, literally snipping naked the r,ulin1l contingency of a diver-
siLy of specific properties that are already inscribed in ne~h. Ts this ,liver~<
sity not secretly telt despile il!i innmmcnc~-the specificity and contin- )
gency exposed by lhe body but cornmh;,.rantial to the flesh, which merely>
translates an olclcr pa~sivity? It is a question of recalling the ~ceue of this ·
radir.11 passivity that extends its invisible reigu everywhere, across these
superimpo~e<l slrata, ifwe are now to understand the possibilily, ,u.;uml-
ing- t.o the te:iching- of Christianity, for a fle::,h Lu comnitutr. the way of
s:ilvation.

§45. The Degrees of Passivi~y: From Genesis to the Prologue of John.

Two texts wiH assist us, both liorrowccl from Scripture, Genesis and the <
Prologue of.John. Separated by centuries, these two fragmcm.~ of a pro-·.•·•
cess of continuous elaboration i:l.rc not without relation . so that one can·.
consider the second as a comm~nt;iry on the first. A commentary, or·.
ratJ1er a lkcisivc cil':epening, where the Prologue conslilulci1 lhc rcvc- •.·.
lation of the essential truth buried in Genesis. When these are related, . ••.•.
the opposition bclwecn ueation and generation (to which allu:iiun ha'-l \
already heen made) is claritied. 1t is conceivable lo cslahJish snch a rela- •· · •
rion, however, only if our reading of Gcnc~is avoids the naivety usually •·•
broughl lu iL
To this t>nd, we should set aside the idea thal Gcuc.~is offcrll :uort.of ·•·
hjstorical account of the origin uf lhc world and iu rnnt.ent-inert things
or living species or human hcings. Considered in this way, the text imme- ·.
diatcly loses all meaning. Thus when Adam is nc,11ccl lu: i~ 20 years old, •.• .
and so is his spoust: Eve. Thi:; A<lam, created at 20 years of age, is said lO .··
be the first 1mm. Yet from hi.~ union with .L:ve t1.vo children are born, uuc
of whom, Cain, kills the other. So that driven away frum lhc place wht>re
he is, which is already no longer Paradise, Cain wanders the earth meet-
ing mc11 who ,vill be completely hostile to him. All of which as'!nmes that
the.i;e men, descending through natural gcm:rntion, helong to families
that have long populalcil die carrh.
C:omidered in itself, the creation is no less ~triki11g if one distin-
guishes in it the creating ad and the contenr created. We must then
recognize that lhc content preexi.~ts the creating act at least with respecl
lo il~ conclition of existence, in this case the time in whid1 1J1c: creating
 act takes place, even though that.act. muMoh\fously precede it. Thus God
successively cn:alc<l heaven and e:a.rrh, light and darkness. the waters,
:planls, fruil tree:;, t:lc, all on the fir.~t rlay, rhen on the second ... until
>the- seventh day, when like a ·wise man he decides to rcsL. C,1:1lai11ly one
cari c:omiclcr this circularity between the creation and the created a.<; a
metaphysical picture, which \'v·ouh.l alrt:ady kad one to douht. rhe naivety
•of the account. Leaving aside ,m a.nay uf inadcquat~ qne,;;rions, we will
tome immediately lu lhc essential.
Genesis is the first known account of a transccwlc,nal 1hcnry of
man. By ''Lransu.:mkntal," lvt> mean the pure and a priori possibility of
the existence: of something such as man. It is a question uf the t::;scnu..:
of man, as one speaks of the essence of a circle, iu ulht:r \-,mda of the
internal possibility of something likt: a circle, ·without ·worrying about
knowillJJ when humans thought about a circle for the first time ratl1er
than something round, when they under.swuc.l its ideal character, wh:n
ideality in general ls, etc. [n the same way, the': question of the internal
t:omiiLion of po~~ihility of a reality like our own has nothing to do with
the historical and factual appearance uf men upon the earth, or with
.their empirical development. At most this conception of man's a Jmori
: essence marks the moment where 011e can speak of a ma.n for rhe first
. time. Adam is the Gr.sL mo.r1 in tht: ~trong i;eme rh:n he j5 the archetype of
>every nmecivablc man, the essence of the human that one will inevitably
find in every real man.
'iNhellit:r lht: firsr man in this strong sense was a real man, tl1is is
immct.hing thar, far from contradicting his transcendental comliLiuu, on
the contrary results from it, if it is true i.hal (unlike an ideal e:ssFnce such
as that of a cin.:le, which is locked up forever in its ideality) the essence
from whirh man nraws his provenance is the essence of reality itself, I.ht:
· ah.mlute rh;:it is Life. Man's essence is always the es.se11Lc uf a real man,
and reciprocally, every real 111a11, every living individual, necessarily has
thi~ archetypal possibility in himself, without which no man cxi:.1:-1, am!
that is why the individual in Ac.lam, a.~ Kierkegaard says in The Concept of
Anxiety, is never ~cparaLed from rhc hnm:m race.
So ifwc want to understand the llible as a transcendental documenL
indiiterent to the factual history of men, we musI compare it to the other
"trausccndcntal" hooks we have available. For example, to llic mu~L fa.
mom, among them, which has precisely brought the t.ran.sccn<leulal point
ofviev,r to its radical point in rnodcrn 1ho11ght. The Criti:que of Pure Reason
-ii- I.he prototype of a transcendental ,,:ork in the sense thaL lhc ubjcc:I. of
analysis is the a primi condition of pussibilily of every conceivahle m:m,
which Kant calls the wnditiun o.fpo:1sibility ofexpe,--ir.nr,e in geri.e,ral,, thus defin-
ing· mau as ihi.~ c:on<lirion of all experience, as phenomenological in his
f'S<;ence. With regard Lu lhis phenomenological structure of man con-
stituted by the '" fmnri forms of pure intuition and by the categories of ·
the umkr"!ltanding, which ::ire both modes of makiug-vi~ibk, it ha.~ heen
established that it is identically Ilic world's phenomenological struclmc,.
whose pun: cxtcriority defines pure phenomenali1.y anrl thus "the Condi·/
tion of all possible experience," of all "phenomena." ·.·.
Con:sidering the Bible from this u-anscendental point of view (amL
leaving a,:;idc everything that separates a modern individual work from a
mllec.tion of very ancient texts redac!.cd in different epochs by different
authors), we sec what. it is that places these two sets of problems in oppo-
silion, where one relates the essence of mau to the worlcl, and the other
to God (in this case to Life). If, like Kierkegaard in the nineteenth cen- ···
tury, some today can .still finrl the Bible infinitely more profound than
Lhe Critiq1J.e nf Pure Reason (despite Kant's ex.lraurdinary r:onceptual power •. ·
and unequalled terminological elaboration), it is only by virtue of tJ1is •··
fundamental tl1emalic difference, where the former alone affects us :at···
the ckpth of ourselves. For in theorelical life a~ well ;,i.~ in practical life, as • .
soon as one tun1s tov.·ard l11c world, forgetting that the path of life 11cvcr
opem llicn! (even when this path consisa, of:,;lcps), the Essential is lost .
and ·will never return.'' ·
In Genesis, Lhc relation ro the world is present, and il even seems to
occupy a preeminent position to the extent tlial the neat.ion is thought .·
precisely as a creation of the world. Tn this preliminary sense, the con~
cept of crealiun is decisive: ii: marks a priori the All of being, the totality
of reality whatever it may be, with a radical pa.~sivity rhat will never be
lifted. Despite iu; radical d1aractcr, such a passivity remains marked by a
fundamental unuTt.aimy, and it even appears fallaciou:s in so far as rhis di- .
vine creation of the world given as a universal procc~s obviously concerns · ·
m::in, takin.~ him up in it and uow making him a being-oHhe-world whose
principal cha.radcrist.ics, notably passivity, must themselves he graspeli on
the hasi~ of his own condition.
Man's passiviLy with rcsp~cf to the world is two-fold: It is a passivity .
v.-ith resped lo the worlcl as such, to its ek-static horilon where things
Lccomc visihle, on the one hand, and a passivi1.y with regard to the con-
tent that is shown iu such a horizon, on the other. The pasJivily of these two

*Th i.q is what the nucial example of the u-anscend,,ntal SdfAhows, whid1 Ki,.ul is unable to
iv~sp in its "sul..tsL:.111,e' and iL, own "simplicily" 1.0 thf' e,,t,.nt !.lmt lhe,c: arc onlv chc phe-
nnnv,,10lu~irnl material of absolute Life in it~ miginary pht"11umenali:cc1.tion. This is actu-
aJly the tragiic ,.lt"sliny uf the aria problematic of the criliqut>, r,f rh<' p;,rnlogjsm of rational
p8}'C holngy in rh,~ C,,1i~·u~ uf A,r~ Hea:;on, On this point ,;ee our (',err,,alngy of P!.yrlw,malysi,, op.
cit,, chap r.cr 4: "F.m piy S1, bjectivity ~nd Liic Lost: Kant's Critique of' Sm1 I,"'
·::.
>rtlations liRs in their srnsibility. The world's cont.enl, the objccL:;, and the
material processes that compose it are not sen~i.ble in themselv~s: The~
are the inert systems that physics studies. They become scmiihlc only h,:.
tause we relate to them intentionally through each of our senses, am!
:hccausc, more f1m<lamentally, tht> intentional surpassing occurs when
this purf' horizon of f':xteriority comes outside itself. It is with respect
to this horizon that we are passive, because it is given to us to sense in a
primitive ailection consisting in the fad Lhat iL slurwl-! ir:-.1:lfto m, and that
.W1thin it everything shows itself it turn. Thus in Kam and Heidegger, for
example, we find conslructed the po:;sibility ofa lransccmknrn.l affoction
.qua pher10mc11olugical affection hy thf' worln, one: that defines our pas-
si\~ty a!i a pun~ <iensibility that is itself transcendental.
· llut as we have been compelled to recognize repealc<lly, when lhc
biblical crt:<ilion is presented as a crcat.ion ofth~ world that involves man,
it. is a 1.uperfidal reading that can only be provisional. Such a reading is
shattered as soon as it is a question of man precisely, and t.he ~hocking
.ind repealed proposition o,:r11ri- i.n which God created man in his image
3nd likeness. Like God, man is nothing of tl1e world, and nolhing: in him
can ullimaldy be explained hy the world. Like God, man is not the prod-
11.ct of a process that sits out.side itself in the form. of an image. Man has
never been posited outside God. Man h nol au i1m1.gc we could sec. Man
is nOLhing visible. >lo one has ever M'f'Il God, but no one has ever seen a
man-a man in his actual reality, a transcendental living Self. It. is only in
the idolatrous proces.s of prufanaljon that we strive, in vain, ro see him.
Bcui.use life is never \1<iihle. Jr i.~ because he is Life that God is imisible.
And for this reason man is too. Man has never been created, he has ne11cr
come in the world. He ha:, cumc in Life. And it is in thi~ semi" that. he is
in the likcucs~ of C.,rni, cut from thf' .~amt> cloth as Him, as every life and
a.'l all the living are:. From the cloth that is the pure phenomenological
substance of lite itself.
We: recognize (he initiatory propositions of the .Prologue of john
that allow us to understand the -unity of lht l1amu:ndi:ntal airri, of Scri/1ture.
.This unity is laid bare when lhe idea of crealiu11 makes room for that of
geucrafjo11. \fan can he understood starting from the idea of generation
alone. The generation of man in the 1,V'ord-11olc that hihlical creation
is it.self mack in tl1c \-Vord, in t.he Speech of C.od, which is the Speech of
Life: "C,od sairl r... l'' -repeats the generation of the Word in God as his
self-revelation. This homogeneity between lhe gencu1jo11 of Lhc '\Voni
and of man explains why, when the ·word will become incarnate in order
to he m;,de man, it is not in the world that he has come, but in u.flesh,
"to his own"-among those who have been generated in Him au<l have
alwavs belonucd lo him. Rut when we. trv to nnclt>rst::mrl ::ill rhi~ wt> h:n·,,.
lcfl history; nor do we need to :follow the chronologirnl development of
Scripture, whose aim is also n;vcr.~cd. Tt. is the concept of ,g-eneration tha(
gives exhaustive and auey_ ual<: meaning to Th P ere a tion; it is the Prologue
ofJohn th::n allows us to understand Genesis. ·
\\ihen the concept of gcncr::ition substitutes for that of creaLio11, 1lic
concept of p:iso:ivity itself is overturned. It .is nu lo11gcr a q1w~rion of the
passiviry of man with respect to the world, I.ml an entirely different pas~
5ivity, the radical passivity uf his life \~it.h respect to Life. Here the ilnal
ambiguity of th,~ concepi of sensibility is fully uncovered. Sensibility and
Affectivity have alv.-ays been cunfuscd a~ if ir were a question of one and
the same essence, one an<l the same reality. Far from being identical,
howcvc1~ sensibility and Affectiv:ity have a paradoxical relation, at once
f011nflational and antinomic. On lhe unc band, .~tfedi11ityf01.mds sensibil-
ity. The phenomenolob')' of flesh has constantly made this foundaliunal
1daLion appart>nf: Every intentional perfonnanu; (Lho-ic of onr senses,
for example), all the operatiom au<l aclivc or pa%ive syntheses in which
these performam:cs l.ake place, are possible only as given lo ll1c1rn~dvcs
01i~im1lly in the auto-impressionality of our flc.~h. Tn the field of play
the distance of lhc world opens, it i~ always possible to beha~c in Lhis or
thal way with re,..pect to an "in-front" or an "ob:icct," to turn roward it
or away from it, whereas this movt:mcnt it.~clf, aR movement moving in
itself in its pathos-fille<l :,;df-givcnness, no longer has any such possibility
,~ith respect to itself, and is on the contrary hamlc1l m,cr ro itself in the
radical passivity that belongs Lu every modality of life because it belongs
to Llfe itself, which ovcrwhelm5 every suffering, every <lesin:, and the··
mosl hurnhle impression-with its own weight. This raclir.al passivity-
which in itself excludes every uisLancc and every transcendence, and thus:·
sensibility itself a~ a p()wcr of sensing different from what it :;euscs-is
the tnmsccndcntal affectiv:ity we are discussing. Here a major <li~r.overy
of the phenomenology of Lik appcari,;: t.hf- ra.dfral heterogeneity of transcen-
dentalA/jet:livily with respect to se.ris1bility even within llu: i-m'rrument fmmding qi
the latter 1n thefonner.
Yet this passivity, which i:, ullirnal:cly thP. p:.ssh-ity of every tlesh, every
Self, and every life with n:spect to itself, covers over a passivitr Lim.I. is far
more radical still. to the extent LhaL each of these lives is given to itself
only in the self-givenucs.~ of ahml1ite Life. In its radical characler. such a
passivity refer!! to tht> st>cret buried in every life, to its hi<l<lcn :.murn:: to
the arrival of absolute Life in ils Word a~ the ronclition of every arrival
in ourselves-of our transcendental birth, our .Filial conditio11. ft is rhi~
nulical passiviry that according to Christianity up<:ns the way of ...alvation.
Vvlthin the framework of our invesliga,Lion, we wi111imir the analysis ofthis
soteriological theme lo n:rtain formulations that it ai;sumes in ln'.11:-¾1'.m
 §46. The Way of Salvation according to lrenaeus and Augustine.

Jfin r:hristi,mity ~alYation rest.~ upon the Filial conditfon, which is origi-
1ially the condition of transcendental man, and if this condition has been
Jost (forgotten, but more precisely broken, in the sin of idolatry that has
subsli.Lu.led the .idulalrnw; rdaliou for Lhe oitginal .relalion to Life), Lhen
isaJ1-alion umloubleu.ly comisls in recovering :;.uch a condition pril.Ctically
\arn'I not merely theorc-:tic.ally. These arc rhc acioptivc Sons of whom Paul
or John speak, in whom the condition that was initially the condition of
every m:m has been restored. If life'$ r::ic:lira 1 passivity (;i life -.uch as ours,
generated in the selt~g-eneration of Life in its Vford) contains the way of
salvation, it is because there is no salvation for a life so generated, other
than lhe geucraliun in which it live~ originally from 1..he very life of God.
To take thing!:. in the strict sense. it is not in an indeterminate life, but a
)if"e marked in its essence by a radical Ipseity, because our life has been
generated in the '\-Vonl of God, anti hcc.:ause, haviu~ bruken Lhis c.:on-
.11ection in the idolatry of a finite flesh tO\\'ard itself, its pretend power,
ind the pleasure; it imagiues itsdf LU produce, it is for tl1is rea1-on lhat
re-generation assumes the coming of the Word in a flesh of this sort, and
· lhaL, according lo Lhe thinkers of Christianity, Irenaeus and Augustine
•· riotably, the Tm:an1ation took plm:c.
And first, Irenaeus declares explicitly that the Incarnation of the
·• Word in our finite ile:.h n1ust allow w lo fmd ag"<lin ow· initial relation Lo
God, ;md much more, to be made God: "Truth r... 1 ,1ppt':=trs whf'n tht'
Word ot God was made man, making hitnsel/ liJw man and maJr.in,~ num liJU!
ltirn" (up. di., p. GI 7, our emphasis). Thus Irenaeus from the beginning
•· come:s up against the (-:.reek aporia, if ir i~ tnlf' that it is not. only a qu~srion
of affirming the extraordinary J::vent of the lncamation, but of ascena.in-
·..·ing its possibility. In a truly ingenious way, as we saw in what we called the
c:hristi:m co~tn of flc.~h, Trcnac11~ rcfcr:-1 to the in-canial.c unulit.io11 of
• man himself in order to show how life, tar from being incompatible with
•. flesh, ii; on the co11tra.ry its comlitio11.
Nori~ it imphmsihk that, at t.hc rime of Christ, the one who Look un
•· flesh in the Christ was not an ordinary man but the \Vord of God. In every
·. hum:m in-r::irnation, each time o life mmes in a hndy in ordff to makr it intn
_flesh, it is precisely not an ordinary life that is able to do that, to incarnate
itself-because, after all, there is no ordinary life. A life that is capable
. iif giving life to a body in order l.o make ii. flesh i:; <me Lhat is capable of
giving itself lite hrst in the eternal proceeding of its self-revelation in
its Wonl. Thus all ne~h originale~ from Lhe \\lord. "All tl1ings came into
·. being through him, an<l wiLhoul him nul um; thing came iuto being"
·· ( Tohn 1:3), Irenaeus 's proximitv to the initiatorv texts of the Proloe:ue
the orig;irwl creation rf m,an and the Im:a:rnation of the Word, such that only
the sc:cond allows us to understand the first. This foundalional rNro-
inrelligihility is what ra:uacus cxpo.~e.~, .:ind the Irenaean lhcrnc;; l\Tand
together in it.
The first, which we have exhibited at length, posit., I.hat "the flesh is
capable of n:cci,.,ing life" for the essential rcawn that it originate; from
Life. This is cxar:rly what the Johanniuc rereading of Genesis taughl Irc-
11ac:us, the apperception of creation nm as the positing of a worldly thing
outside itself but a~ ihc ~eneration ota J-lesh lhmug-h the insufflation of
life in a hody of mud----by the lm:ath oflife that is its Spirit. ln:11ac11s read
this explicitly in Paul: "Your hody is the temple of the Holy Spirit" (1 Cor-
inthians G:19). Bccau.~~ this coming of Life ia ii flesh rlefi.nes the creation
of man as his rranscendental birtl1, a co-naturaJity between the divine
~ssence and our own i:. c:1rahlished here, as lrenaeus affirms, "while we
belong to God by our nature." Only a trngi<: history r:ou Id undo the native
membership that our flesh has iu Life, and this history, or ral11cr the
Arch-event that dorninat.cx it and is tirelessly repealed in it, i8 the history
of sin's Aposiasy, of which we have traced the sequences abruptly broken
hy the '"leap." It is this k<1.p into Apostasy that has deslrnycci our original
nature and, Lcing unceasingly reproduce<l in it, unceasingly destroys iL
"Apusla8y h::i.~ :1lienated us agaiml our namre." The native membership
of our flesh in the Vford uf Lifc:-only the arrival of t11i.~ word in a flesh
lik.e ours, iu; lncarmuion, can reestablish il. Rut these are the condition~
uf Lhc Incarnation that Irenacus help.~ us better to understand.
And first, as we havcjnst rec.ailed, he helps u~ urnkr.~tand the possi·
bility of it. By becoming incarnate in a flesh like ours, the Word really
come~ into what he him:,elf gcncrateci in his Lite in the beginning, into
that which he made 1101.only possible, but real. "The Worrl r... ] is united
to his owu work that was fashioned by him." But if the ·word of Life gen-
cntfi:d flesh by giving Life to it, outsirle of which no flesh b possible and
within which every flesh a bides, the Word i.s never ahse.nt from its creation
to lhc extrm. that, in this cre,ui.011. il is the generation of mau in qucs--
lion: "He was at all times pre~cul to the human race" (of_), cit., re~pcctively,
p. 570,57U,360,3W).
Anorh~r side of the pos:r.ibiliLy of the Word's lncarnation hcc:omes
dearer for us, and another Gnostic argument collap:;es. fn ir.s eyes, the
difficulty w<1:, not only to understand how an ctcrna.1 and incorporeal
Logos (eternal because incorporeal) could be united to a putrcscihk,
terrestrial body. Wl1eu the relation is rearl in t11e reverse: sense, where the
supposed Vford i;i to be incarnate in the Chri:.;t, th~ aporia reemerges. "If
the Cl1rist i5 born at that momeul, then he never existed befo1·c." Thm;
Gnosticism did not read the: Johannine proposal. IL is the Word that is
 incarnate. Not. only wafal the Incarnation of the Word possible in so far as
every fk5h i.sjoined to itself in it, but the following is also tnle: Because
according to the Johannine proposal it is the Word that is made flesh in
<the Christ, it is equally false to dairn thal. lhc Clni:-11. who i:,i the Word, did
>not exist before his coming into history, the One ln whom everylliiug
<:iva:s cn:a.Lcu i11 lhc beginning, in whom all fle~h ha~ r.ome in it5df. It is of
coun;i.; lnu.: that the Christ has two natures, that of tht- Wor<l an<l th::it of a
man, anrl that he assumed the latter until the end, until his agony on the
Cross. Butt/use two nai-uus we mil t·qual: Acconlir1g to ahsolutc l .ifc's onh:r
--_-- of proceeding, the former generates the latter, through a superabundant
- love, lrenaeus claims, in complete gratuilousm:~~-
- So the Christ's "one an<l the ~amt/ hi:; iuc11tily, which will he so
• difficult t.o rhink through the great future councils. which continue to
·• express themselves in a Greek hmizon, becomes more than intelligible
· - -_ when Irenaeus exli::mh iL hack Lo the Goi;pcl source~. Hcnr.c, on rh~ one
han<l, an imme.rnw rle.ployment of"proofs" by the Scriptures, repeatedly
cited and commented on---"That John knows only one and the same
V\ionl of Guel, which i.~ t.hc only Son ~nd which became incarnate for our
salvation, Jesus Christ our Lord l.. ,j," "for we do nol suppose tl1al one
is Je:;u~ am! a11ulhcr i~ Chri~t" (op. cit., p. ~46; anrl, in thr> commentary
... on Matthew, p ..'H7)-and on ,hr> other, this gripping- philosophical justi-
fication pushed to the very sources of Life. Beyond the transcendental
·_- possibility of the Iuc:amaticm of tht· Word, however, it is its reality as the
- _foundation of salvation that matters in the end. h-enaeus first indicates
· -·. unequi,,.'Ocally the site where this salvation must be accomplbhe<l an<l lhal
_-__ can only be lhaL ofn:ality. And we arc c:onfrnnfccl again ,-,irh the Christian
_paradox: The site of salvation is also the site of sin, their reality is cut from
_-_- the same cloth----'lbis is precisely our flesh, our finite fle:sh.
· Two major pheno111<::nological prcsupposilions arc thereby con-
firmed, namely i:hat life in its carnal, phenomenological materiality de-
fines reality, and at the same lime defines the rcalily of ac1jo11, in a.'! m 1u:h
·•· as it is a question of real action (and not of an ideal activity like the one
that consists in dealing with significations). llecause it constitutes the
site of every real action, the flesh also defines the site or salvation, if it is
trnc that the latter, according to the Gospel, consists not in words but in
deeds-·'Not everyone who says to me 'Lord) Lunt' will eme1 Lht kiug-
- dom of hea~,;en, but only the one who does the will of my Fa.Lhn who is iu
lu:avcn" (M arthcw 7:21 )-nor in a knowledg-e of the cognitive type but in
the practical transformationor a Jlesh, which no longer gives iLsclf over
-- to lhe <.:ulL uf iu;clf, aml. henceforth will no longer live e.xc.ept from rhe
· infinite Life rhat gives it tn it~df in rhe heginning, ancl n~vr>r stop;; giving
itself to it even in its idolatry.
 This is the reasou why the. Word assumed a llailc flesh like mm
because it had fallen prey to sin and death. A~ we have shmrn at length
the flesh really doe~ open the dimension where, producing upon himse]
in ,he touching/touched 1chition the sensations of his 1lcsirc, man ha
the power (which he attributes to him:df) t.n become and to make o
him.~dfwhat he ·wants. An<l dm.~ he has the power to lQve himself douhl
in this pretend power and its ple:i.sures. lt is this love uf :-elf that lead
to death because wh~t is. loved-this pretend power or the sensations i
procures-precisely does not hav1: the power to give itself to i l~df, to givt
itself life. And thus by loving them, it is his owu powcrles<;ness that mm
lovci:;, and it i~ to his own tinitude <UH.l. death th;it he entnLSts himself.
Ry incarnating himself, Lhc \'\!nrd thus took upon himself ihc sir
and death inscribed i11 our finite flesh, and he himst:lf dc.~troyed therr
by dying 011 rhc r.ro,;s. What is restored Lhcn ii-1 the ori)?;i.nal human con<li
tion, his transcendental birth in divine Life outside of which no hf(
occurs to life. Bul Lhi.~ restoration is possible onl)' if il is the Vford himsel
who ii:; incarnared in this flesh, ·which ha.'i hPcome sinful and monal, lit
that out of its destruction lfo: Word itself emerges and wiLh it onr genera
tion in Him, in the embrace of absolute Life-a generation whose firsl
formulation is the biblical crcalion. frenaeus expressed lhi::; i;trm:t11rf' oJ
Christian salvation in many ways with the greale~L clarity." r ,et us retain
one of them: "The one who had to put 1>i11 lo dc::ith and redeemed 1mm
worthy of death was made inlu Ll1ar very thing; he was, which i~ to say, thi!
man kept in slavciy by sin ;md held under the power of death, so that siu
was puL Lo dcarh by a man and thus man kave:s death." Then the explicit
remmption of the greal Pauline themes: ''.Just as 'by the <li:;ohcdience oJ
one man,'" who wa.~ thP. first, molded from a virgin f'arth, "many were
made sium:TS," and have lost life, tJ1u~ il wa~ neres5ary that, "by the oLc-
dienc:e of one man," ·who i::; the fir~r, horn from the Virgin, "manr wtcre
justified and receive 1<1alvation~ (op. cit., p. 366-67, cf. Romans 5: 12-18).
Augustine leads this Christian sl.mr:tnre of saJvation, which we find
in ;i II the Fathers as well a~ in rhe rouncils, to its li.uLhcsL point, where the
becoming-man ofC.,od, which makes possible iu lurn thP. becoming-God
of 111an, mu~r. he i:aken literally-as meaning rleification, the identifica-
t.ion with incorruptible Lifo that alone allows man lo c:,ir:ape death. Au..
gusti.ne seeks to lay hare the possibility uf this idtcntification in principle

*"Ile [th~ Torrll gm·t his tl,csh for our flesh [ ... ] . He h,,s favored us with incorruprihili!y
by the cnmmuniu11 we have with himself." "T low wrmld we &dually ha•.'C part in the adoptive
filiation tow;inis r.<>rl, if v-t,• had not received, through rhe Sun, Lhis communion with God?"
"And how would w~ h:,vc receil•ed this communion ,,it.h ("',nd if his Word had not entered
into communion with m, by rnakin~ us tksh?~ (op. Git., respectivtly, p. 570, %6, 5n).
 by explaining one of John'~ mu~l enigmatic proposirions, relating the
· words of Chri:,t in hi~ final prayer to the Father. This texr. that unveils the
mysteries ofChri~L':- mi:-:ilion on earth puts into play a two-fold relation: of
Christ to his Father~ and ofChrisL tu thrnc whom his Facher has entrusted
<tn him for their salvation. Let us recall several elemeul!i from LhcJohan-
context: "'Jam not asking you to take tht=m uul uf d1c world, but I a.~k
'fou to protect them from the evil one. They arc not. of rhc worlrl,just a.5
I am nut of Ilic worlrlr... ]. As you have sent me into the world, so J have
· sent them into the world and/or them! sanr:iijy myst1lf, .m that the.y also may be
sanctified," (17:15-19, our emphasis). From this immense text, all of whose
u nn poncn rs it i.~ not. possible to analyze here, let us retain the proposili.un
·.· on which Augustine meditates: "And for them I sancLify myself."
Implied in this prnpo.,ition, on thc. on<" h:md, is the relation to
. men of the op~ration Christ carries out ("For them" ..-he performs it for
. them), and on the other hand, the operauon it~df ("I sanctjfy• my~df").
Augustine un<lerstamls this from the outset a5 the identity of the Christ
. arni of men. for how, he asks, could Christ sanctity men by sanclifying
.. · himself unless it is bea,1u.1e men are in him; "P.eeame rhey themselves are
.· .·• me." Tt is indeed evident that if a sanctification takes place in the:: Christ,
· those who are in him will be sanctifie<l <1.l lhc same time. ''Sanc:rifwd" in a
radical sense, mt:aning 11ot to become holy ones, but this One who alone
is Holy: God. Sanctified, that is, deified, and only as such saved. ,'1-·c will
s
return in 1l8 to this identilirnliuu of C.hri~t. with men on which Aug1.15-
Liuc·~ explanation of the mystical body of Christ is based.
The second implication, indeed the founding implicaliuu, is pre-
··· sented like an enigma; IL is Chri:;L's opna1jon, the: ,ianr.tific::ition that he
.·. accomplislu;s himself, hut mith re.spe.ct to himself; a sanctification. concern-
ing him, clirened toward him, and having Christ as its objecl. "No om:
_justifies himself," the Christ had conceded to I.he UlKLors, .~crihc.s, prir..~,-~.
and high p1icsls who addressed him, in a dialogue of tragic tension that
the Synoptic gospels and the Johannine text recount, a very scriom rf:-
proach that also conform~ Lo the Law. C:hri~t.'s respon~e consisted in a
radical dedaialion lliat can only aggravate his case: That it is not he, but
God, who makes him justice-which presumes between Him and C,ocl a
relation so iII tima tc: th 3 t ir already contains blasphemy. By transposing to
sarn:tjfication what has just been said ofjustification (are not ,ancliflwl.ion
andfustifi.cation the Same?), could we not think in an analog·ous ma1111cr:
"~o one sanctifies himsdf"-and yer this is what the Christ affirms.
Augustine ventures an explanation of this sanctification of Christ
by himselt', and he does it on the basis of lm:an1<1.tion and as the explana-
tion of the ]ncarnalion iL~df. Irnkcd, since it is the Word (who is God,
who i.~ in thP heP-inninP' with r.nrl l wh.--. h,.,.--,m,.~ in.-:>rnc,t,- ( th-~,· :~ ,,..!,.,
V-.'3limade man by taking on the flesh of a man) so he sa.uclifics this man .
in whom he becomes incarmuc in thi8 unique person of rh<" Christ who
v.cas made w·ord and man. Or, l.o c011.~if!n matters not from the point of
"iew of the Word but of the man in whom he is irn.:arnatc, he has hFen ·
sanctified from Lhc hegi,ming of his historical existence in as much as iC
i~ the Word rhat has taken on tlesh in him, in his own human flesh. In
brief, as Word, the Christ sanctities himself as man. Thi~ is Augustine's
explicit declaration: "He thus ~anctific<l himself in himself, that is, mali
in the ·word . because the Christ is one, Word and man, sanctifying: man··
in the \\'ord."~
In Augustine's arlmirahle analy&i.s, an obscure core remains. To say
thar the Word sanctifies the man Jesus by being incarnate in hin1 (Lccausc .·
then this man is the \,\lord himself) indeed makes the '\iVorrl thP founda-
tion of ~alvalion, hut it docs nm trnly explain the internal possibility of
thi~ relation of the Word and man. \-\i'ord and man are juxLaµo~eJ. in the.·
person of Christ, in such a way that l11isjuxlapmition, t.his dual nature. re 0

cur~ as the central prohlem::itic. of the great councils, tixing dogma while
remaining, as Cyril of Alexandria for example say~ iu his i1ccor1cl letter to
Nestorius al Epl1e.su~. "i11cxprF~~ihle and incomprehensible."
YFt in the Johannine text, which ey:idently repeals the words of
Christ, the coexistence of the 'ii\J'onl and man in the C:hrist i.~ at no time
presented as an a!iscmlilagc of nvo opaque and irreducible realities. On
the contrary, one and the same principle of intelligibility or rather Arch-
intelligibility mns through Lhe Word and man in order to unite them
in Lhe Clni:.t. This Arch-intelligibility is absolute Life's self-revelation ..·
lr commands the phenomenological relation of reciprocal i11tcrimity
between the Fathe1· and lhl: Son bccau:,;c ah,;olute T.ife's self-revelation
i:. iLs; sdf-rcvdarion in the Self of the First Li"ing·. The phenomenology
oflnr:arn::ition has shown at length that the Arch-passibility of thi~ Arch-
revelation is, in its phenomenological cffc<:tuarion, the Arch-flesh pre-
supposcrl in every flesh. But all of this is said in John's text, which pre-
sents a formal stntcture of the type 'jw,l as ... w ... ," whose amhirion
to giYe account can hardly be disputed. And ,~·hat it ar:connts for is the
.sl.ructural similarity between the phenomenological relation of recipro-
cal interiority of absolute Life an<l iL'I Word, on the one hand, and the
relation of n:c.:iprocal, phenomenological interiority between the \ Vord 1

anrl all rhe living in the Christ, on the other. Between all these equlvalern
pronouncements that reier lo a radical Elsewhere, to this Other-than-the-

*St. Augustin", O~w:m, """'f•h,ie, (Pnri~: LiL1,.,iri,, Louis Vives, 186Vi t. X ('lra~!<!lru, (,"vlU,
"Sur Jean"), p. 31i4ff / Tmcwte., rm. the (;,isjd ({/,.hn, LrnusJohn Re,tii,; (Washingr.on, DC: The
Catholic Univer~ity of /\me:,i.-.1 Press, 1991). i:,. 279ff.
 world, which is absolute Lifr in Lhc Parous.ia uf iLs radical self-revelation
. that is its "glory" ("They arc not of the wurlu jw;l as I am not of the
. i.vorld")_, let m ret;:iin t.hr. last: "The glory tlial you have given me I have
\ givc:n 1hc111, ~o !hal Lhey may be one as we are one: I in them and they in
< me, that their unity may be perfect" ( 17:22-23) .
•..···· . • Bul Lh.i~ i.s a question of the mystical body of Christ. This unity of
all men in tl1c Chr.i:;L is precisely Augwtine's first presupposition ("They
themselves are me"), whirh is also the fir:-t con<liliou of salvation, since
•.• il is only if all men are in Christ, one ,.vith him, if they are Christ himself,
.···that, sanctifying him-:elf, the C::hrist. sanclifics all iu himself, and at the
..· same time saves them all,
The mystical body of Christ where all men are one in him is a limit
···form of rhc experience of Lhc olher; as such, it refers to this. From me
./ phenomenological point of view, the my~tiral hmly ir, possible only if the
· ualure of Lhe relation that men are capable of having among themselves
. can artain this limit poim, 1n1ly, where tl1ey are one, in such a ·way that,
·. ·. according to the presuppositions of Christi:mity, which arc equally lhosc
.·.·· of a ph1:nomc11olo1:;)' of Life, the individuality of each one is preserved,
..· indeed, exalted, and in no ·way abolished in such an f'xpcricm:c, ifi1. musl
·. ~till be an cxpcrieuce of lhe olhn:
The t>xpf:rienr.c of the other ha.~ become one of the major themes
of phenomenology, Let us indicate, a~ brieflya,5 possihlt>, the rhcsc~ <if ihc
phenomenology of Life on this problem, which here tal<es on a decisive
.• . importance.

§47. The Experience of the Other in a Phenomenology of Life.

·wben philosophir;:il reflection cra.:ouulers an e~sential question, the first

topic it investigates must be the phenomenological presuppo,;ition thar
. provide., the hasi!-1 and ultirnaLc poss.iLilily for the reality it examines. ln
· · this respect, the pht>nomcnolobry of Life has taught us thh: "\-\1hen the
reality in question is life, its phenomenological pres11ppo.,;ifinn is rn:vcr
the one in which the qm~stion it.~clf moves, Tin: presupposition of philo-
·.· . sop hi cal questioning is always thought, in ten ti on ,i li ry, an cl nl rim a tely th c
distance of a world, which lifr escapes by reason of its own phF-nomc:no-
logic;:il presuppo~it.ion, and thi:; is nothing but liJe: its Arch"revelation in
the A.rch-passibiiity of an invisible pathos. Thus the queslion oflang11agc
is Lolally rcncwc<l when Lhe phenomenological basis of the appearing of
the workl, whir.h we have a:;cribcd tu lauguage slnce Greece, cedes place
to the "Logos of Life." Thus the concep,ion of the body is it~clf ovc1'-
turned when lhis body (to rhe extent that it is a guestion of our ovm)
11<1 longer a worldly body, but a living llel'ih, which oc:cnr.~ only i.n life, in
accor<lanct> with its proper and original mu<le of phcnomenalization;
The same holcls 1r11c for the experience of the other. .·.
This has been a subject of recenl iuten:st, notably on the part of .
phenomenology. A wont should he said about the traditional cuucq}-'
tion, howeve1, which ~cems at first glai1ce foreign to phenumeuologirnl
analp;is. In classical thought, the possibilily of commnnicat'ton between··
people comes from the presence of the same Reason within them.. This ii
explaim how clifferent individuals, despite tl1ei1 diverse ~phP.res of per- <
sonal existence, are able lo umkrslaml one anorher and communicate---,-
beyond the sensaliuus lhcy havf' (that according to psychology are given
only Lu one of thr.m), they think the same thing and umlcr:sland the same >
rrnths, in so far as the same Reason lhink'I in rhcm. ln fact, it is not only···
the same trulh~ (iu lite liCnsf: of rational truths) that they have iI1 cun;.
mun, it is ont~ and the same world they are open to, so that in the end it··
is this opening to the world, iu wliich they relate to the same things, that
unites them. Thu:-1, a.'i most ofi:en happens, classical analysi~ resL~ upon a.
phenomenological presuppositlon lhat j:,; not them;:itized for itself-and·
this is preci:selr what phcnomr.nology endeavors to do. .· .•
Iu contempor.,ry phenomenology, the retro-n:krcncc of the e"Xpe- •·.· ·
ricncF of the other to a phenomenolugirnl founcl.ation is constant . .For
Husserl, it is inlcntionality rhat ~ves us access both to others and Lo every• >
lhing that for 1is can be asserted as being. Il wa.~ Lhi.~ same intemionality, }
moreover, which claimed to unveil our own t.ran~cendental lite, whether . . ·•.
thl.'i be in the intentional anto-constitution of the tlux of consciomm:ss
which alone produced its spontaneous self-c1,ppcaring (ir~ Selbsterschein-
11.n~). or in the methodical rdkction of thf' phenomenological reduc-
tion. It.is nol at all :;triking t.har thf' failure intentionality comes up againsl
in 1hc casf' of our own transcendental life is repealed in the ra~e of the
experience of the othe1~ if lhc other proves robe originally and in itself .·.
nothing ulher than what T ::im myselt: a living Self. In Hus~erl's prohh,m- .·.·
atic, the failure thus stems simply from the fact l11al, far from heing able ....
to attain the lite of the other in itsdf (such as it is itself attained in itself), ..
inlentionality cm only confer on the other the siguifical.ion of bearing ;
:mc.h a life i\lithin it--and confer uu iu; hody thP. .~ignification of being a ·
flesh, a uliving bod~" (Leibki.irpP:r).
According to Heidegger, the failure of the philu:mphic.~ of inwn-
tionality is not attributable lo intcnLionality itself, or more precisely to the ·..
e,uence of the phnw·rrttrwlit:y in which it unfolds. Heidegger himsdf kuows
11u oLhcr kin<l of phenomenality than this, spedfkally Lhii; original self-
externalization of pure exteriodty that he calls by different names, for
 example the ek-static horizon of temporality, in the second part of Sein
und Zeit. What Heidegger in a very clear way criticizes Husserl for, in his
_- final Zahringen seminar, for example, is inserting intentionality into a
i''consciousness," or into a "sul~jef'.tivity" l'lrnt rrrnintaining-, 1hanks to l.hcsc
·_ i11adequate concepts, an "interiority" tliat one will never succeed in u·uly
e~caping, in order to find rhe origin:. 1 Ohjecr in ir!'-elf as it is, and do jus-
_tice to its way of showing itself to us in the clearing of Reing. ft is true
_that for Husserl, in the case of the experience of the other that interests
• us here, rhe mher i'l 1~nvdnpc1l in thi'l type of i111crimi1y lhal is prnpcr
to consciousness in classical thought, such that only the appearing of its
body in the world (albl.:it the wurld n.:duccc.l lo it:; "sphl.:rc ofLduuging")
: gives itself to an efftx:t.ive perception, while its own life escapes u:1, ~incc
jt is never more than "appresented" ·with this body. in the form of an in-
· 1.entional (and as such unreal) signification."
By .;;erring aside ,he concept.~ of "con~c.iornmc:<.'(" anrl "imlticcri\~ty,"
and by eradicating definitively every form of "interiority,'' Heidegger's
Du,.v:rin, whid1 i~ 110 mun: Lhau "beiug-in-lhe-world" (ln-der-Welt-sein), far-
- nishes a long-sought solution to the problem of the experience of the
_other. Du-sein ( Lhe facL of being-there) is by itself a "being-,.,ith," and in
_this way a being-there with others. Dasein is not a "being--with~ became,
. opening us to the world, it opens us to others along ·with everything that
show~ iLSelf in the world, in the :-,ame immediacy, without there being
any need to leave any individual sphere in which vve would he iniri::illy
enclosed. It is not because, in fact_. we are ,.,ith someone in the world, or
with many, that we arc this ,;bcing-wilh." 'Whether we are alone u1 wiLl1
•· other&, "being-,~ith" ahvays precedes. Solitude, for example, i1'1 poi-;11ihlc
_- only on the foundation of this ''being-with,~ and as a privative modality
<>fit. \Ve could ncvl.:r frd alouc if lhc olhcr <lid uul ladt u:;, aw.l he wou!J
never lad ll'- ifwe were not originally with him.t
_- __ \,1,,'e are acquainted with these remarkable analyses. All the modali-
tic~ of our cxpcricm:c of the oilier, wl11:ll1cr of bis presence or absence,
• do suppose the priority of "being-with," without which none of them
would be possible. But it is the possibility of this priont,1 it.set/; of "bein[!;-,irith"

· *On this poiul, s.,e om workPJ>.im,-rr,i,-,..,;lugi,,maJ.irielit (Paris: Pr=~ U11i~e1s.ilaire de Franc-e,

.1990), III, .l / Materi1:J·p1,,·n,.-111.e,;uloft:>. 11·;11_1~. S,:011 n~1·i,l,nn (NtcwYnrk: Fnrriham 1Jnive:rsity
- Press, 2008).
· t In ~114 of Sein ,,.,,,1 7.mt, !Iddegger offer;; a theory ofipseity whose possibility is sought in
C:me (in th.-, "rmtsi.ie: it~df'") .rn<l in the "xist.,ntial morlali1.i.-,i .-rfit1 fulfillment, depending
_ Oll whL"thn it lcise,s it.,L"lf in thie One, nr fimls c.onsi.ste11r:y (tlw '\uhstan<'.e" ,ind "simplic-
- ity" of the Kantian souJ) in the resolute deci8ion in ,-iew of death, In this authenticity or
inauthenticity of the Self of care, the ipseity of the Self constantly proupposcd is not even
perceived as a problem.
as mch, that must be estab{i.1hcd. Can one n~atl il in Davein irself and as iden· . •.·.
tical with it? If we look with doi;cr attention at how Heidegger proceeds
in order to reach lhis final condition for t.htc experience of the otl1e1, il
must be n:i:ognized that it is not an immanent analysis of na.wdn itself that.··
dears the way to"¾'llr<l "Lcing:-with": Jt is indeed the world and, ftuthc,- .
mot'e, Lbc beings showing themselves in it ("inlcrworl<lly" heings) that.·.•·•
scrvf': as tht>: point of departure. Because these beings are not pure ob 0

jects, but "tools," and because tl1cy incvirnbly have a relation to the other •.•.
as conslltuLivc of their being, this relation functions as an inililcll .~ituation, \
,md apart from it no "tool" exil;1.:,;, ThlL~ if T ,'lee a boat at anchor on the··
shore, it refers lo someone who 11ses it for excursions-"bulevcn ifit is 'a·.. ·
boat whid1 i8 strnnge. rn us', it is still indicative of Others." Tl:ms in the. r1er,•
am.tm.t of the world, a content constiluled hy ;.i_ r.ontext of "tools ready,:
to-hand," the other is present :,is ,he user or producer of the tool-not ...
as if Lhis frnil in itself preexisted its user (the otl1er), 1,ut. thP- ton/. i.mplies in····
itself and thus shows in itsPlf lhe other ai Jm:existi.ng it, even if the latter is not
there. The other~ olhcr:;, or more precisely a l)asein, is thus itself pre:.c111.n .••·
p-ri1m· in the world of tools, "they are there too and tlu:rc with it." And this
occurs in such a way that, a:1 Heidegger declares with great force, ''if 0111:
wani.eu to identify the world in general with en Lilies within-the.-world, one
would have to say that Dasein too i:,, 'world'." (SZ, §26, 118 / 111; transla- .
tion modified). '"''ith this unmi-prcsence of others even in the things of·.·.···
the worltl, i~ ir nor "being-with" as such tl1at regulate:; our opening to the ••·
world and is thus identified with Dasei.n? ·
A.nd yet, accurding m Ht-idegger himself, the world cm iu no way . •.•
be identified with an inter-worldly being; on the romrary, it differs from ·•· .
rhis to such an extent that tl1e rmmifcstation of the being, ,vhich is the ..
world itself, consbls in rhis Difference. The world unveils the Leing, but as ····.
we have seen, rlo~s not create it, and thus is un.tUc LU account for ir. in its
infinite diversity. lly referring to a user or prooucer, an inter-worldly tool,
far from showing- in it!-ic:lf :m "other,'' and thus our original bci11g wirh rhe
other, it is only this original "being-wiLh" that makt-s prn,sible something
like a "tool,'' and like tl1is couLcxl of tnols, which is the ontic content of
the world, One c.:a111101. therefore read "being-with" onto a being that
il~df c:m be recognized as a tool only on the frnmdacion of "being-·with."
Ileidegger's explanation turns in a circle. llut it turns in a cin:Je uul;- hc-
ca.1,1.<;e il is irn:apahle of grasping ''being--,,..ith" whlle k.,gilimating in o:ome
way the meaning it gives it.
.\lany difficullics arc hidden here. For a phenomenology, lo,gni!-ip
"being-\',:ith" mems to elucidate the mode uf manifc~rat.ion proper to it,
which in turn can mean two tl1ing:.: either t.o clarify the mode of mani-
festation in which "being-with" is given to us; or to regard "being-with"
a<i constimting ir.-; mo<le of manifestation as such, and, even more, every
mnrle of m:rnifrsrntion in general. These are the two meanings Hei-
degger confers on it. This is indeed the import of the repeated attirma-
fam whnd,y T>a.wi.n (= lhc fact ofhcin.~ there as being--in-the-world) and
lv1itscin (="'being-1\ith") are one. From Lhere he b1ing-:,i out dcarlr lhat lhc
lra1m;cmkrnal pos~ibility of "hcing-wir.h," qua ulrimate phe.nomenologi-
cal pussihility, i8 in the opening to thf: worlrl as s11r.h. V•1nat remains wide
· open is the question of the realit) with which we are related in this open-
ing. One can lhink that it is a cp1c~ti1111 of :-mother reality in general, if it
is true that pure exteriority means a pure alterity. Hut what is the content
of this pure alterity? Or else it is a question of the hori:wn of the pure
world, which by itself still has no conlem, si11cc iL is only an cmply form,
where there ill ,;till neither bo::it nor mer of the boat-no one else in the
sense of the other, of another "self" like mine. lf"being-with" must mean
a ''Lci11g-witl1-lhl:-utfo.:1;" one cannot pull thii1 out of a hat. This is Hei-
degger's i:wo-fold sophism, when he thinks he reads the other from the
relational totality ot'tools that form the content of the world, even thoug-11
there arc ton ls only if the other (not "being ·wirh" in general) is already
presupposed, and even though "being-with" as an opening Lo the wo.-ld
m:ver explains anything ahnUT its content or ahrnll this relational, instru-
mental sy~tem that is supposed to show itself in it. The circle in which
one always presupposes what one claims to give account of is masked by
a final equation that for Heirlegger is self-evident: the other is another
Da.sein, another "being-in-the-world." From then on being-in-the-world
is everywhere, and is as much in "being-wilh" as in llw.l wilh which we arc
related in "hcing-wirh ": the other that ito;;elf is only being-in-the-world.
We should therefore examine again and directly the possibility for
being-in .. the-world to be a "being-with" qua "being'--wilh-Lhe-ollier"-
where the olher is no longer any "other" in general, and stm lcsi1 alterity
as such, but the other: an other who is what I am myself, .u.1 other self
lmoij. Through &in urtd 'l.til run:s an affinnatim1 l:hal. ill forrrmlatc:cl only
in pas~ing, as al!to heing o;elf-evident: "Das Dasein istje-111,eines" (''Dasein is
~lways mine"). To be mine means to belong to me, which presupposes 1)
a selt; ;!) that this self is mine, is what I am-or Lhat whal I am is a .~elf;
and 3) and precisely the one I am and no other, no other self that other-
wise displays, as a self, all the characteristic~ of m~ own ~df. Bula::; we
have demonstrated at lengtJ1, sometl1ing like:: a "self" always presupposes
an original Ipseity, an "experiencing undergoing itself' in which every
conceivable Self LSoij consisu. and which lKcw·s lo it~clf only in lifc'1, ar-
rival in iu;clf in its pathos-fillc<l i1clf-revelation-nevt>r in the exterioriry
· of an F.k-Masis. Ir i.s even a problem of knm...-ing if in such an exteriority
a "relation" is still possible. Was it not Heidel!!ler himself who reminrled
us thal, iu l11c worlcf, ·'rhe table does nol luuch r.he wall"? What is not the <
t~hle's doing, is this not lhc privilege of Dasein: the primordial phcnom/
cnol ogical possibility of a "rd.tl.ion ro" as such? llu t touching, as UH.: p h c-
nomc11oloh'Y of the "J can" has establishc,I, a'lsnmes the moving-in-itself>
nf the movement oftoud1i11g, the Self immanent to this movement and·.••····.·.
hidden in il, anrl .a Self without which no movement. of .any sort would be \
possiLk and which exteriority's proce~s of cxt.tcrnalization is incapable/
of founding. ·
Faced wiLh the massive failure of a phenomc:nology of pure exte 0 >
riority to come to gi.ips with Lin: prohlem of the relation Lo the other; >
should we not sulntitutc here again, as an ultimate phcnomt>nologi- /
cal presupposition, the self-revelation of Life for rhe .appearing of the>
world? A11 the elements that art omst.it.urivt> of one such relation an:· ·
then given, not as simple "far.ts/ but in their transceml.eni.al possibili~~
and all the aporia.~ of classical thought or contemporary phenomenol-
ogy thf:n dissipate. ls the expericm:c of the other not what an ego [m,,il
has of another ego [mmlr For each of them, is it a quc:-;rion of anything >
other than h~ving access, not only to Lbc othcr'g thought, but also to hi~ i\
or her very life, of living from ii: in a certain ,·vay? Is this not the reason ·
why, alway:; and everywhere, such an experience is first affective, so that . ·
in cac:h one it is affectivity that opens h~r ro this experience_. or doses )
her to it::, ln this pathos lhat comtitutes the phenomenological material .· ...·
of commuuication and at the same time its ofticr.t, doesn't the tlesh also ·. ·
play a m~jor role (and nol only in the ra~e of the amorous rd.tlion)? Rut .···.
don't these eleme11Ls comrimtive of the experience of th!': other origi- •..•
nate in each one from his transcendemal hirrh-from life in its specific ii
mo<le of revelation?
One will perhaps ohjt>rt, and nonvithout rea::;011, tliat in the classical
philosophy of comciousness as well as in Hu:-iscrlian phenomenology, it is · ·
the fact of anchoring the relation in :rn ego [moil as an inevitable point
of departure, a11d prc~cribing it a destination ''inside" :m ego-as im-
J:>Cllctrahle as ,i circle, .Kandinsky says-in hrit>f, that in both case:; Lhc
"mon;:idic'' presuppositions of1.hc ,1.n;:ilysis block the comprehern1ion and ii
effectuation of a Lruc experience of the other that is capable of sharing · ·
wilh thf' f'go a same "contenL," a samf~ re;:ility. Doesn't the analysis of
eroticism that the phenomenology of the tlesh oITer:; remain a prisoner
of this limiLalion? H.a;;n 'tit sho-wn, even wheu set within the immanence
of a rk.~iring drive, that at the boundary of the organic body and iL~ de-
ployment this drive stumbled into the real bod)" of the univer&e, in this
case the other'~ hody, like an insurmountable wall, without the power
to go rhrough or reach beyouJ it, it~ own living flesh, its desire, ur its
pleasure-----where tlicy 1mrlergo experiencing themsdves?
 Rut the phenomenology of tlesh has itself unceasingly recogniz.e<l
.it~ own limitation, and has been compelled in each of these analyses to
carry out a kind of movement or question in return-fi-om the/ksh tu whul
· cornes before it. That which comes before every flesh is its own arrival in
itseH; its own inca.ruatior1-whid1 is 11cvcr it~ doing, and occur& only in
abso1ute T.ife '.~ arrival in itst>lf. Bec:rnse ;:ib50Jute Life comes in itselfin its
.· origin::i 1 Arch-pas~ibility, every finite flesh generated like tl1is, arriving in
itself in it, is made passible, llesh. Became this arrival of abwlule Uk is
identically in, arrival tn the Ipseity of the First Self, every flesh is identically
the flesh of an equally finite Self. Thus one ·must m"t'n ~tartfrum lhi.J &lJ, and
a·er. l1:):,frum an I [1mri) u1 an ego rnnrnivr,d as th point. of d;.pmturn, tht smJ.ra
Jmint of intentionaliry. The inevitahle reference the phenomenology of
flesh makes to the phenomenology of Incarnation presents us '\\rith the
following evidence: Eve,y reluliun from ,mt Stlf lo mwlher S1df requirP.s a.1 it.~
point ofhpn.nure not f.his Self 1tse.lf, an I [moi7-m1•own or the other's-but their
.· common transcendental possibility, which is nothing other than the possibility of
tlu-ir relation itsdf: ab.\olult Lije.
In the experience of the other, it is indeed a question of recognizing
its inescapable pn:comlilicm, "!icing-with" :1.-. such, in irs radical phenom-
enological possibility. This is precisely not the world but absolute Lite.
In absolute Life, "being-with" is not constructed like a formal and emply
relation, :;o that noLhin~ in iL allows us to undcr.,.;tand how :mrl why such
a refation is established between a plurality of egos [moi], presupposing
them all without explaining any of them. Umkrguiug cxpcricm:ing it~clf
in lite lpscity of the First Self, ahsolme l jfo generaH·s in its transcendental
possibility every Self and thus every conceivable l (moi]. It generates them
as living Seh,·es and egos [11wi] and al Lhe same Lime gcm.:rc:1.Lc~ iu them
· u1e uamcemlcnlal pos11ibility of their relation. For rhi~ relatiomhip of rhe
li"ing to one ::mot.her ronc;isrs of nothing other than Life in each one . .:-Jot
exact!~- in its tinite lite, in its Self or its finite I l-moiJ, where each would
sl.ill he only liimsclf, alone with himself and ,'Vithout any possibility of
joining another. The relation of transcendental living Selves takes place
in them before them, precisely in their transcendental possiLility, iu I.he
place of t.hci r bi riJ1, in th c: proceeding of a hsolnte life in which they ar-
rive in themselves and in which they remain for as long as Lhi.:y arc living.
In as mu.di as Lhcy an; living in one and the ~amc Life, anrl arP. SelvP..~ in
Lhc Ip.~city of one anrl rhc samP. SP.lf, they ::1.rP. :rnrl can hf' each with the
others in the "being-with" that always precedes them, which is absolute
Lift: i11 it~ original Tpseiry.
Tn thi5 way every conceivable community is born and is formed in
its original phenomenological possibility. Such a community has certain
essential characl.crist.icx as a rcsulL The first concerns wha.r is in common
in this communily, or if one prcfr:rs, irs content: lt is transcendental life.
One th,:rehy .~ees ,:hat a content of this sort is not origiually (and thm not
necessarily) a "rational'; content. Reason, in the sen:;(:: liial we mean it, is
not that which gather.~ originally: It isolates just as well. lt is rightly said
thar the fool is someone who has lost everyLhiug- except reason. And it is
not only on the in<lividual phnP. ,hat reason can prove to be destruclive.
One has uuly Lo consirlc.r wh:n happens today under our eyes in or<lcr Lu
measure: at what point reason handed over Lo iu,df, lo a pure ohjec.tivism,
to the calculating ab~ti-acliou ofmorlem technology, can strike at what is
most proper tot.he hean of man and threaten his "humauity," and at. the
same time humanity in its entirely, Lo lhc point ofle.acling it to ruin. The
content of ever~ comnumity is all ,hat belongs to Life and has its possi-
Lilily iu it. Sufforing, joy, desire, or love each carry a galh~riug power
infinitely greater than what one attribute:; w "Rca.~on," which properly
speaking has no µuwcr Lo gathN, in as much as one cannot deduce the
exi~Lcncc ofa "lingle individual from il, or anything that mu:sl Le !5<1Ll11:rc<l
in a "community."
Because wbal. is in common in every community is Life, the com-
muniry indeed presents another essential d1aractcristir., as being a com-
munity of the living (in the i1cnse. of transcendental living Selves), Lo
thi.:: extent that in ~uch a community alone such Selves are possible; and
rcc.ipmcally, it is not possible without I.hem, wid,out the: primordial Self
in which it comes in Lo iu,clf, and which contains the potential and indefi-
nite multiplicity of all possible selves lmoiJ. We set hue how ri<lirnlous
it is to oppose, as one does loday, society an<l individuals. If society is
something otJ1e1 1ha11 a colkr.rion of "individuals'· reduced to their ob-
jective appP.ar:mce and treated as separate entilies-ifsocicry i., prPcisely
a community-then communiLy aml individual arP each connected by a
relation ofTeciproc<ll phcnomcnologiral interioritythat is nothing other
tha11 the relation of the li\fog to Life, emptying of mea11i11g r1. fJriori r.he
idea of any sort of ~opposition" lictwccn them.
But il is life's t.hiril characteristic that must here be emphasiLcd:
Before it rlefines the content of what is in common, Life in it~ original
Ipseity constitutes the transcendental po:-1sihility ofheing--in-common of
what i:-1 i11 common-relation as such, "being-with" in il~ prccccknre.
Hov,·ever, it can no longer be a quesliun hen: of lift> in g<"neral, a finite
life like our own, bul uf absolute Life.
From th est: brief reminders, it follows:
l) That every community is by c.~scnce religious, as the relation
bet\o\ieen lrnnscemlc11tal Sclv~s presupposes in all respects and in every
way lhc relation of each transcendental Self to absolute Lifr, lhc nligi011,~
bond (religio). l\ot that each of them as a L<:arcr of this bond generates his
relation to the other. but on the contrary, because it is from this bond
that he has his own Self and at the same time the possibility of being re·
lated to the other.
2) Tii.at<'Vt'T}' community is by essence invisible. Of course, like our
m'r11 lite, our Self, and our Ilesh, it has its "appcaram:c in 1hc wurlcl," hut
here again thi~ appearance is only a simple semblance cut from reality.
Thus even more than our life, our Self~ or our flesh, the visible commu-
nity carries ,\'ith it the possibility of dissimulation and deception. Is it not
t.hc place: wh,:rc in<liffrrence :-mrl all other shameful sentiments are con-
stantly masked by social ritual?
3) A~ invi~iblc, foreign to the world and to it~ phcnomcnolobiir.al
r.3tcgories, to ,;;part> :;mrl timf', the rt>alit:y of the communiry opens a field
of pa1·adoxical relations. and these form the nucleus of Christianity, of
which Kierkegaard had the brilliant intuition. Thus a real rdalion can
ht> e.stahlisht><l ht>t\o'>'f'f'n transcenc:1ental Selves rh:n never see one another
and that belong to different epochs. A man can see his life turned upside
down by reading a book frum auulhcr century whmc author is unknown.
An individual can become the contemporary of an event that happened
two thousand years ago. The prcsupposiLiom of a phc1mmcnolo6'}· of
T.ifr here prove themselves as an introduction to the decisive intuitions
of Christianity, and notably to its extraordinary conception of intersub-
jectivity.

§48. The Relation to the Other According to Christianity: The Mystical

Body of Christ.

This rdation t.o the other, in tht> Rt>nse of an or.her Self, i.~ expressed in rhe
initiatory texts of early Christianity in a way that had. never yet been envis-
aged by lhc hum,m spiriL vVhalcvcr may he the difficulty h>T' the C:hri~ri:m
thinkers of the follo'I-Ving generations to conceptualize within the Greek
horizon the nature of such a relation, this decisive fact remains: It j5 this
relation lu I.ht: ahmlule OL11c1 Sdfwho i~ Gotl LhaL i.~ co11.~1.:tnlly acLualizcd
in the liturgical and sacramental practices brought by the new religion.
Frnm th<.: µli<.:nomcnok,!,rical point of\,icw, it is worrh recalling tha[
a relation of thi~ kind mulit he gra,~pcd where it or.cnr;i: apart from the
world, before it. What happens before the world? We know the answer:
It is Lhe 1n:iprocal phc11mm:nologfral relation ofintc:riority between ~h-
solme T.ife and the First Living in as much as it puts itself to the test
[.s'eprom1e] in the One who puts himself to the test [s'ep-roin•e1 in it. To
undergo experiencing oneself, lo e1tjoy oneself, is to love oneself in such
a way that this stlf1:n_j1Jymenl is prodv..r:td in ah.rnlut.11 l~fe as its generation of the
first Sr.Ifin whir:h it. j,,els ilse(f and thus wves itse.lf'--for the one who undergoe~
experiencing him.~lf in this absolute Life that loves it5elf in Him, it hap-
pens that each one lnves himself in lhe "0th.a" who (with every e.xierw-rit)' hen! out i
ofp!n.y) is nf:oer ex/erna{ to Mm,, but on the contrary -internal mid lon.n1.hstanlu1l. _-.<.-_-·•
This is how the extraordinary relation we are rli;w11ssing occurs: "You /;
loved me befOle tl1e foundation of r.hc worlrl."
The Johannine context affirms continuou.sly, even in its formal (
structure, that this relation ofphenomenologic:al intcrinrity between ab- \
solute Lifi: and the: First l .iving is reciprocal. In its formal structure, tl1e i
phenomenological imeriority of the Father to lhe Son is constantly for---••-
mulated as the interior it,; of tl1e Sou lo Lhc Fat.her: "As von,
/ , Father, are in .. •
me and I am in you"; "The fatht>r is in me and I am in the Father": "Do -_
yon not_ believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?" {John - -_ •.
17:24; 17::!l; 10:38; H:10, respt:clivdy). _-•••-•
It is striking, as we haVf: had occasion to observe, that the proceed-·--•_:.-•
ing of absolute Life's internal structure (as a relation of phcnomcno- --
logical interiority belweeu Life and iri- \·Vord) is repeated in the relation -_---
hctwcen thi.s absolute and man, in this c.1.5e between it.s v\'onl ,md every
conceivable transcendental Self. Doesn't an ahp,:;; neverrheless separate
tl1e infinile Lifr that bring:, it.~elf ahonr as such in its Word, and a lite, a
Self like ours, incapable of bringing itself into life by itself, and su is dell· _
tined for a certain death? Here lncarmnion in the Chrisi:ian sense inter- -
venes. Only liy the: Incarnation of the Word in the flesh of a man-\vhu
h::is as such "come from God," is "sent by him," namely the !vk.~siah, or rhe •-_
Christ-does the union thaL uvncomc~ thi~ ahp,s take place. This union - -_:
ha:; bceu called a rlr;ificarion because, since the reciprocal phenomeuo-
lngical interiority of Life and its Word is repealed when lhe 1'\-1ml itself is
11U1.de_fl(!sh in the Christ, every uniou wilh lhis is identically a_ union with the - - -_
"\Vord, aml, i11 this, with absolute Life. But how could man be united to the }
·word if Mt because, in the Word itselj; in the '-'riginal ljJ.w:iry of the( ,1 rrh-Son, every · ·
transcmdc,tlal Seif i.i· joined to it.1elf and gi.11m t.o its.elf as. thf Sflf that it is? In
this way, undergoing experiencing himself in the original self~trial Life
nnrlcrgoes in its "\i\.'ord, it has become like it, like Cod.
l\.s a way open for the ~alvation of man, the incarnation now ap-
pears, arcording to the intuition of lrenaeus, as a re:,tumliou, Lhc rc~t.ora-
tion of his original condition, in as mud1 ,H m= v.~.1.s crcate<l hy Gnd in h,s
image, so this crcalion is his gcncr::idon in absolute Life's self~generation
in its ·word-his transcendental birth. That this bi1th he ccmtingi'.nt., and
that this contingence be L11e :;igu of an original finit11de, dor.-~ not change
anything .:1.buul Ilic csscnr.r: of T,ifr in it, about the fact t11at in it and in it
alone it is a transcendental living Self having part in lhe ~elf-cujoymcnl
. this Lifr. r.onfen on it. Rarher, this finitmte r.rirnhes it against the founda-
tion oflife within ir. For if a life like ours is inc:apablc of giving life to itself,
if it is only in the absolme and infinite T.ife of God that it. i~ given to itself
· in order 1o c10oy it:.df iu life, I.hen lhis life of God remains in our finite
·. life, as the latter remains in God for as long as it lives. Thus the repetition
. ·Of the reciprocal phenomcnologiuu. inlcrim-ily of Life and its Vford in
(:ach of the living take:. place a~ the phcnomcuological inleriority of this
.· li\ing being and absolute Life.
This reciprocal phenomenological interiority of the living and ab-
•solute Life in the Word of God allows us to understand what is important.
for us now: the original relation established between all men and women,
· the i.;xpcricnce of the otJ1er in its final possibility. ff the Word is the condi-
. tion in whif'.h eve.ry living, carnal Self comes into aml can come inlu iu;df.
is it not a.t tlte same time the condition of e,..'e:tJ living, carnal Se.lf other tlum my
own-tht waJ ont m·usl mxr:IJuri(1 /ollow in order to enter into relation with him,
1

.. wi.th the other? Here ahsol11tt> I .ifo pnwcs to he, in ir:,; Vford, the phcuum-
. enological access to the other Self, as it is for me the access to mine: the
· Ipseity in which Tam given ro me ami c:mm: into me, in wliich lhe olher
is given to himself and comes into him. Thus it is in this sense that Life is
· "hcing-,.,it.h" as .mch, the original csscnn: uf cYcry communily: Leing-in-
common as well as wh;:ir i.~ in f'.ommon. For we coulrl ncvcrknowwhaL is of
.. the other, and tirst ofall that it is a Jiving Self, ifwe did not first know what
. Life i/' that give~ us to om~cln:.~. ft is Lhus imlccdfmm what W'ffi(;j befv1e du:
·.. self from its arrfoal tn itself-never.from itself-that one must begin if being-
. with-the-other and being-with-others must be possible. And indeed it is
never this as a "pn~cnion" of the 11df i11 lhc olher, a projection Lhat, far
· from being able to found the latter, on the contrary presupposes it.
1\.nd so we see well how this ''being-·with," which is absolute Life
in iu, Won], differs from the Creek Logos, from tl1e Reason of classical
·. thought or from Heidegger's world. For Reason prc~uppmc:; pnn: cxtc-
riorily where Lhcsc e-vidences are always formed as well as its capacity to
spe3k, if it i.~ tmr. rhat. onr. )lpeaks only of what one can see, hy i.ignifying
it when it is not seen-thi~ pure exterioritywhkh i,;; rhe worl<l of S~in und
Ztit, this exteriority where neither lpseity nor Self are possible.
Since the self-givenness of absolute Life in its Word, in which the
transcendental Self that I am is given to itself, is God's life alone. it is in
that one and the same Life that the Se1I of the other is given to itself in an
identical way-in it every possible Self, foture, prci-,:nt., or pa.~t, has been,
· is, or will be given lo itseir so as to be the Self that it is. For every carnal,
li\'ing, transcendental Self, hcing-logi.;thcr iu lhc ½'unl'~ one aud ab~o-
lute life (in rhe Arrh-passihility of ifj, Arch-flc~h) i.~ what. rnrnnilulc:s lhc
concrete ohenomenolovcal tenor of even· relation benveen men. allow-
iug· lhcm to uncinst;ind one another before lhcy mc.<!t, anci allowing each< ·
to understand the other as he umicrst}lnds himself-not after the fact. at .
the end of a history, bul in lhe place of hit birf.h, in as much as it is idnitu;ul('v ••
lhr. /1irlh olthe other, anywhere in the world, and al any time in history. Itis <
Llfe in its Word, the way it ha;i rome in its Word, before the world, 1J1af
unilcs all li\-ing beings., yesterda~~ today, anti tomorrow, amt makes theit<
encounter possible as its sole precon<lilion. It is thi~ precondition that<
makes possible in turn every form of hi~rorical, trans-historical, or eternal···-•-
relation bctwc,:n them.
But in Christianity there is somc:rhing rac1ically otiginal in relation \
to the other greatfonns of .,;piriniality: This absolute unily Letween all liv- )
ing Sdvci1, far from signifying or impl~ing the dis~oluticm or nFstniction ·_-_-•-·-
of rhe- individuality of each one, i:s un the <:ontrnry constitutive of it, in ii
as much as each of liicm i~ joine-d to himself or herself in the phcnom· · ·
enological dfoctuarion of Life in its \-Vord, and g-c11cratcci in themselves
a~ this irreducibly singular Self, ineclucihk to any other. This is one of
the decisive 1m:anings of the ageless utterance of Meiste1 Eckhart "Gn<l
t:ngcn<lcrs himself as myse1f'" (op. cil., p. 146). Thu;i one of t:he great para,
doxes of Christianity i~ darifi f':n. Maintaining each one, the nwsl hu'rttbu-:, and
the rnosl imignifinznt, in its own i-rrcducib~~ sing;ulur indi11idnnhfy, in. if.., condi- (
tirm, n.1 a tmnmm. dental Self that i~- by es~el'u:e thi., mu rw that om/orr:ucr farfrom •·-·
nee-ding or being abh- /u be ovm:mne rrr aboli..shR.d anJ where, this alone can .malr:h. ·
1

ku1riankind from nothin!J:Ytess.

It i.s this irreducibilily of each one rhat motivates the extraordinary ._-__._
attention the Christ give:. them. Eliminating every considcratio11 pertain· · · ·
ing Lo a pmfP-ssional, economic, social, intdledual, ethnic, or other con-._ ,_._
dirion, behind every empirirnl charart.f':ristic of a given individuality, aud - - •. - -
even its individual condition (man according to the "Rights uf~fan," for ___ _
example). di.~do.~e~ ·what is unique in each one. Thu~, as ()Til daim~: · ··-
"Keither Paul, for example, u:1.11 be or he r::illed Peter, nor can Peter be or
be called Pat1l." .. Th11s again in his first letter John designates the Christ
himself as Ile (,v·here it is a.n issue of living "a;i Hf' lived" (l ,[ ohn ::!:G),
even when it is in his view a q uei,tion of the principle of all things. Tiiat -··-
each one's frredw..:ihlc singularity is generated 1.'lithin the ver·y pdm:iplc of --·

*Cyrille, :frr.ite .mt· .,o:i,./je•1.n, Buok Xl. ch 11, on.John 17:20-21 (PG, 74, 551-f,f,2, !1?.1-
l()l)iJ}, Loui., Lane,m rrnnnienb UH lhi~ li:x, in his J)e la d§~-li,u,,tion ri,sju,.~,"'-' (Ceneva, Ad
Solem, 199'1), p. l il7-4j_ One fimh in this work, written in the sew-nteenth ,centu1y by a
Jesuit missionary imp dsout'cl iu Siam, " remarkable ,ynthesis of com·erging in' nprell.ttions _-
of the doccrine of the mystir.,1 i h,Jll~ uf Christ in dlc J<'athcn and of salvation .ts irle,nti r,r~-
tion "l'/ith God. I am grar.efol to I.he [""'l Frnu~k Veiliart for having made me aware oft.hi~
book or cx<:cptional dari1.y a.nrl rle,prh
· every gc11cralio11, and, even more, that rhis comes 10 f'.a.ch one and takes
.holrl of him in ah,olute: T.m~'s Rottomle:s.~ pmce:e:<ling, thi,; is 1rn<loubtedly
. one of f;hristianiry's mo;.r .-xtraorclin::iry inmirions_
ls phenomenology capable of giving an account of this identity
· between the principle that unifies Life and makes it possible, and the one
.· that <liver:;ifie:; a multiplit:il}' of living beings within it? Paul formulated
· in au aurupl asscrlion lhc n::jcctiou of every difference, in the .~cn~c of
· a rliscrimination hei:ween all of these tramcendental living Selves: "Nei-
ther Greek nor Jew, nor master nor sen-ant, nor man nor woman" (Ga-
latians _'):2S). Whatever may be the ethical perspectives opened by these
grandiose propositions----which draw from tl1e direct teaching of Chrbt,
moreover-whatever the upheaval that they have also pro<luce<l iu his-
tory, a cpu:stion rcmain:-1. Ts it pos.,;ihlc to <lisreganl ,erta.in characterii>Tirs
in human beings that establish a difference between them as important
as sexual difference, for example? \Ve cannol push Lhis aside umlcr lhc
pretext that it on:urs on rhe "natural" plane :;mrl concerns objective bod-
ies. On the one hand, this objective dittierence provokes anxiety, which
tJwroughly dclcn11i11cs the crolic rclatiou; on the other han<l, it is in the
immanence of our tlesh that sexual difference reveals itself originally in
the form of <lislim:L, pun: imprc.-;.~io11s. some proper to female ~cn.~ihilit:y,
unknown to male .~cnsihility, ::m<l vice-\•e:rs;:i_ hn 'r ;:in Pssential jncommuni-
cability now set up betv:een transcendental Selves, to the extent that im-
pressions iuhabil lhcm llial arc prnpcr lo some anrl unknown to others?
Such questions lead back in a naive way to a phenomenology of
flesh, as if this could be abstracted from the trying process in which il
comes inlo i1.;,df-as if every Self, every flesh, and every imprcs~ion coul<l
give itself ;;is an autonomous content that would be dosed on itself and
would in its specihcity elude every conceivable being-in-common. But if
being-in-common precedes the Self as its internal con di Lion of poss.ibiliLy
and if this ti-..imcf'.ndental condition is a phenomenological condition in
a radical sense, in the sense or
the Acch-revelalion aparl from which no
phenomenon is posllihle., thP.n the prnhlf>m i~ complnf'.Jy reversed. Posed
in a rigor011s ·w::iy, the question was the fol10V1,ing: lfwe were to suppose a
specific impression of female sensibility, and equally a specific impression
of male .;;cnsihility, what could these two impressions have in common?
Being gimm to themsc/vef, in absolute Life'.1 sdfgivenne.,s.
But what holds for these impressions hold~ a for/:i1J1i for eadl Oe:,;h,
of which they an- only rnndalitic.~, and for each of the transcendental
Selves that are consubstantial to these cases of flesh. Thus each living,
carnal, Lran:,;ccmknlal. Self, given to it'!df and being wfrh it.self only in
ahsolurc Life's self-givenness in its \Vord, i;i in rl,at ,-vorrl, with Him. h is
now in I Iim ,v;th all those who also are given to themselves only in this
Word in whid1 I am myself given to me. So each tr:rnscendental living.•·-··
Self is .iu the Word before being with iL'lclf, :rnd in this Word, it is witl1
the ot.her before the other i~ given to it~elf. And the other is in lht: same·•
situation of being in the Word before being with itself m with me (in the·_.· .
Word in which it is with itself as with me) who am mvselfwith him and.·
with myself in tl1i.'i Woni. Thus, especially, since each .;.anscendental Self····'
is with l11c other where it is given to itself, il is with the ot.h er before every .•·.
subsequent. determination-before being man or woman.
But these are the irnrncdi:He phenomenological prc:-mppositions of ..·,
the <lu<.:trinc of the mystical body of Cluist. Thi.5 hotly indeed suppo~cs
,ill of them, some as fouu<ling relations, others a;; relations founded on
the hrst, and having in ir hoth their origin and lhc prinr.iple of their
development-a.~ ;:in immanent development raking- after the force of
Lhis origin, which remains wiLhi11 it. as irs invincible consistency. TI1u~ we
can distinguish, al least in an abstract way, succes.sivc phases ·within this
conslrnction or gro·wth of the body of Christ, hecause there is always
\~ithin it an element that edifies and an element that is edified.
The element that edifies, the "head" of thii; 1,<>dy, is Christ. Its mem- •···
hers are all those who, sanctified anrl deified in him and by him, hdong
to him from then on, t.o the point of becoming pans of thi,,; body itself,
precisely i L~ members. To the extent thal ln: is rhe: 1--eal lncamation of the
Word, the Christ tirst edifies each tramc:endental li"l-ing Self in his origi·
nary lpseity, which i~ ,1.hsolme Life's own-he joim: it to himself. Giving
each Self to itself, it gives it to grow from it.sf'lf in a trying process of con·
tinuous self~_growth, which nu1.kes it a becomjng (the opposirc of a "sub-
stance" or a '\l1i11g")-a proceeding that is al Wllom nothing but abso-
luu: Lifc'i. proceedin.l?:- Our critique of Husserl's problematic corn:eruing
the Tmpression has showu Lhat if":m impression is al-way~ Lhcrc anew'' in
the flux of the internal r.onsciousness of time, iL is never hy virtue of the
Impn:.~sinn itself. Al-ways and already the pathos-filled nial of absolulc
J.ife 's selt~givenness b al work, so that this flux, which in iL~df is foreign to
every iulcntionality, is neither linear nor umlctrrmined: As impressional,
it is first r.arnal, by the authority ufLifr'.~ Arch-passibility; next, it obeys an
~vident afiective dichotomy, in a~ much as this Arch-p~si!Jility ht:cnmes
phenomeual in the original phenomenologic:-i.l tonalities of pure Suffer-
ing and of the pure fatjoymcnt horn of this Suftering. Thui1, finally, this
flux, this seerningly ahrnrd parade of modesl pkasmcs ancl oppressive
thouglH:;, is scc:retly oriented toward an agony, toward the ultimate transi-
tion from the ultimate ~uffcring of despair to the eruptio11 of :m unlim-
ited joy, as evith:nce<l hy the Parousia concealed on tht> wood of the Cross.
Each transcendental Self's giveunci~s to it,;;df-a ~venness in which
that Self is editied within, a.~ grm~;ng from itself and thus from it~ nwn
 becoming-is the operation of the \-Vord, and the Word repeal~ il iu
ea.ch conceivable transcendental Self, whether past, pn-:~c:=ul, 01 future.
Thus the mystical body of Christ grows indefini1.ely from everyone who
• is s;imJificrt in Christ\ flesh. Tn this potentially indefinite extension, the
- mystical body of Christ is construed a.'! "Lhc commm1 person of lmm:m-
iry" and "that is why it is called the New Adam.~"' Because this edification
doe5 not proceed by an accumulation of added elements, as ''stones"
_properly speaking, in an edifice constructed by human hands, but on the
conl1ary hccarn,c iu Christ die 1-~,frfication occurs in the ·word, it contin-
ues as transcendental Selt~edifi.cations, each of which, given lo iLSdf i11
llic '\-Vonl, and mac with it, i~ at the same time given to itself in the samr>
unique l .ife oft.ht": same 11ni,p1e Self in which all other Selves are given to
themselves. Thus it is one with all of them in Ch1ist, and because Christ
is not divisible (being I.he only Life Lhal hulilii LIH; µower Lo live), neither
arc they sc:pararf'rl, hut, on the contrary, are one in Ilim, with Ilim, and
they are, in an identical way, in Him, one with all others who are equally
in Him. Thus the "uuiver~al µcrson" oflumianil.y, as the Father.~ also say,
is preci;;ely this ··common person" C}Til speaks of: 11terecipmcal p!umommo-
loP,icul inforio1i1y uf all /he living in /he one S1df of ahsolutr- l .ife, in the recipmr:al
frherwm,enolop;iwl inte,iorit; of this Self muJ, this Li{e, of" th~ Fath,er- and the Son.
Because we cannot fuil to distinguish in this common person that
which edifies and llial which is c<lifo;d, the head ancl its hody, we must
say v,;ith Augustine that "the head saves and the body is saved." Hut be--
cause that which edlfies penetrate:; eve1-y\.,hcrc Lhal whid1 is edified, be-
cause Lhe head arnl the hotly are one, and hecame this hody composed
of all the living who are united in him thus becomes "the entire body" of
Christ, that which was still not completed in ChrbL is given LO Lhis l,u<ly
Lo accumpfah awl complete. Hence Paul's cxtraorrlinary rled:uation, giv-
ing his mvn ;mfferings-experienced through numerous tribulations and
persecutions endured in the service of Christ-as sufferings still lacking
i11 C:lui~t\ own body: "Tam completing what is lacking in Chrisi:'s afflic-
tions for the sake of his body" (Colossians 1:2'1). Thus it is up to Paul to
complete this body, to finish lt-in the radical ~ense, howt:vcr, lhal Ll11:::;c
sufferings of Paul arc Lhc sufferings of Lhi: C::hrist him:-.clf, and hdong to
his body. And this is possible because Christ remains in his grown body,
iu hi.,; "entire" bmlv. ' . whic:h the Fathers :dim call his Churc.h. He remains in
.

th i,;; "emir~·• ho<ly, wh ic. h is his my.'ltical body, a;; that which gives each of its
members to its elf. What he gives to each of its members is th us himself. 1t
ill not for everyone, it i,.., true, to live as his God what gives him to him'lelf.

~Cyril. Traite.1'!.l.r.<cJintjecJl'I, op. rit., Book T, ch. 9, p. 17.'l.

The majority live like idolaters: They hardly care .tl all abour the power
that give~ lhcrn life, and live in it only for Lhcrnsdve~, and care, in all
things anrl in others, only for them~clvci1. To the memhe.rs of his body, to
each of them who, given tn th cmsdves in the self-givenness of th c ·word,
will live only from the infinite Li1e tJ1al i'i put to the test in this Word, Jo
those.who lo-ue one anutlu:r in Him in such a way that it is Him they lo1)11 in them.,
Him and all thrm:: who arr. 1.n lfrm, eten1al Life will lie given, ;io that in this
Life that hall hecome theirs, they are saved.
Beyond Phenomenology
and Theology: Johannine
Arch-Intelligibility.

We have reserved for this conclusion the task of d1::cilli11g; between what
in our essay comes withi11 lhc compc:tcncy of philosophy, in this case
phenomenology, and what from theology. Philosophy and theology do
not compete, but are given as two different <liscipliucs. The 1liffcrcncc
consisls in what Lhcolo_!:f.,' takr:s as a point of de:parrure, and more than
that, as rhe very object of its reflection: Scripture, that is, texts that are
deemed sacred. "Sacre<l" does uol. mean thaf. they ~peak nfwhat is s::icred,
of C,od, but that they wme from Uim, that they au1 his Speech. It is thus in
all respects a question of a Speech of Truth. This is the rle.dsive. advan-
t.agc of theology: To hasc in;;dfin thi~ Truth, which is given as absolute. If
theolo!w relies immediately on the Speech of God, it is precisely because
this is the Speech ofTrulh.
Philo~ophy then appears singularly destitute and indigent, initially
in a situation of wandering, knowing neither what Truth is 1101 huw Lu
go about reaching it. Far from Lciug in possc:-ision of a :idf-a.~:mr<'<i he-
gir111ing, it i;i a prisont>r of aporia. It must begin its investigation from a
true point of departure, without kno.ving where to go to have a chance
of coming across it, and without knowing, iu lhe case LhaL it docs have
Lhi~ chance, how ir nmld recognize iT. Oe.scartes's universal doubt echoes
the ancient skepticism from which Platonism emerged. The genius of
Desca1tc:; wa:; Lo discover in thi~ douhr. it<1elf the beginning sollght. and
at tl1c same timr. Tnnh it~elf, in a.~ much ;:is it resides in this beginning
:md in the certainty proper to it. 'fruth and beginning are one,just as in
theology. The Trnlh i~ in rhc heginnin,e\" if the beginning must do without
everyjustification p1ior to it and other than it, if it must ii:,elf prove itself,
and must be itself the True of which we must say, verum indtx mi. Iu shorl,
a truth lhaL i:s depcmlc111 {Ill 11orhing other-the absolute Truth from
which theology starts and of which it speaks.
,,vm one say lhal i11 philowphy, man find.'! the founciation he mmr
slarL from through reflection, whfr:h c:ome.~ from himself and from his
own ,bought-while in the case of theology, exegesis rests on a dogmatic
cnnrent that comes to us from the onr.~ide? The autonomy of the former
is opposed to the hetcronomy of the latter, which is enough lo dcv,1l11e
it au<l lurn it into r.h~ oflj~ct of a belief and thus a poi;siblc unheli~f, in-
dc1:d :-i legend instead of the 'fruth that c.rn found itself, and as such can
be Reason, the only v~ritable Reason whose internal ju.,tifirntion and
autonomy are the dignity or man. \Ve will come back in a moment to the
relevance of this oppo~itiun.
For the momcut, lcr us reflect further on the difference in method
that ii; ~uppmed to separate philosophy and l.hcology: There isn't one.
The opposition of tin: point.~ of departure does not changt: the fan rhat
in lmih rme.\ thP- method consists in a movenu-nl uf thought, whkh by develop-
ing a ~e.ri.es of evidences, and through the play of their implications that
are themselves evide11L, arrivci; at re,rnlts that are all progressive gain:-1
constltuli~c of a theory always in the making. \.\Thal the whole of our
i11vcstigation has established is thal tl1i~ mnvcment encounters an insur-
mountable failure if it muxr grasp life in some kind of evidence-in the
o peniug of th c world in which Life never ap pearlj. If the profound reality
of man must escape a hardly couceivahlc nnconscious, analogous to whal
is attributed lo brute m::itter, rocks, stars, or qua.nla, it is only hecause this
n:a.liry does not reside originally in a Lhought tj,at is dislocated from the
power to bring itself into phcnomenality. Only absolute, unit.Jue, tnm-
scendenlal, phenomenological Lite-·whose properly i:-1 prcc.isf'ly reveal-
ing it.~elfto itself in its pathos-filled ~df-affcnion, which owes nothing to
anyone or anything else-can define human reality as phcnomcJJological
in lls c~sencc. If thought itself is possible, in lhc sense of a phenomeno-
logir::il thought like ours and nol a 1hought unconscious in itself (whlch
is only a chimera} il ii; prec:isely because this thought is revealed m itself
ln Life. Thu~ it is not thought (intentionality, being-in-the-world) that
gives us access to life, it i:s Life tliat g1vc:-1 m; ar.r.ess to thought, in as much
as thought is only a mode of life, and it is Life :in it that reveals i1 to itself
in rcvc.i.ling itself to itself. Thus the aporia of the phenomenological
method that Husserl came up against is removed-which in Lhe same way
seemed to block Lht: rcscarr.h into a phenornenology (i.e., thought) oflifr
umkrlakcn here-since it is transcendental Life it.~clf that provides all
thought and every form of in tcntionality with the primitive self-givcrmc:ss
in which, put in possession ofthemselve.s, Lhey arc ahk t.n do their work.
These remarks developed at lengt.h obviomly hold for theology as well as
for philosophy, which an: both forms of thought.
Thought, tht" distancing of the ek-static lmrizm1 where it moves-
nature as the primitive "out;,;ide ir~elf/ contemplation of Ideas, re-
presentation, the subjcct-o~ject relation, intentionalily, bci11g-i11-the-
worl<l-has been .~ince Greece the phenomenological ha~i~ for. and thus
the. e.ssence of, intelligibility. To the extent it cumc~ Lefore any intf'l1igi-
bility of this sort, Life's original coming in ilsdf is an .-1rch-intelligi,blity. fn iri:.
precedence to the intelligibility that guverns western philosophy this is
not dcfim:cl in a Hf\~ative way. Before the world and its "appearance,"
Arch-intelligibility has always opn1cd the phenomenological dimension
of tl1c imi~ihle.-which is anything but a negative concept (Lite curn;cpl
antithetical ro the vi.sible). lnvisible is the original revelatfon that carries vi.I.I
the work ofrevelation with uspect to ilse~{-bcforc evc1ything dl!c. For ap-
pearing ca11 make -.omething other than it appear only ifit appears Jirst
in itself and as such. Only absolute Life carrie~ 011t this st>lf-revelation of
the Beginning. IL is h<..:rc that tht> pret~nsion ofhmnan thought to attain
Trulh by lhejim:R. rif its rmm r.hinking goes up in smoke. it is here that the
phenomenological intuitions of Litie join together ,~ii.Ii lhus<..: of Chris-
tian theology-nxognizing a wrn,rtum /irnwppnsitinn that. is no wnger that of
tlwughi. Before rhoughi:, th11S before phenomenology and theology alike
(before philosophy or an-,,·other theoretical di.sLipline), a Revelation is :at
work, which owes Lhcm nothing hm which rhey all equally assume. Before
thought before the opening of the world and the unfolding ofit'l inid-
ligibility, absolute Life's An:h-i11tdligihility fulgurates, the Parousia of the
Vvord in which iris embraced.
We are thus presented with Life's paradox: Only irs Arch-
intelligibility allows us to undcrstanrl whar in us is the most simple, most
elementary, mo5t banal, and most humble, and which, as an effect of
this Arch-intelligibility v•,hcucc we ori1:,rinatt>, re:ache5 us in the heart of
our being. ]11 ti1c heart of our "being": where all the lh,ing come to life,
where life gives it to itself in the Arch-intelligibility of lu; alr.iolule ~df-
givenness--in our transcend en la! hinh, arni where we are Sons. \'Ve have
referred ~evc1al limes to th~ striking &equence of thought in the Fathers
of the Chnrr.h and the great councils. The crucial character of Lhe prnh-
lem posed by the body-substitut.i.ng fo1 Lhc material ho<ly rhe living
flesh thal we really are and that it is up to us to rediscover today despi.le
the reigning objecth,ism----in at least au implit:iL way for the rh1nkt>rs of
early Christianity (in an expliciL way for lrcnacus), is t.o make possible
the Incarnaliou of I.he ·worn, the only thing that matters to them and the
foundation of Christian salvation.
But for us hen:, u." pmr-Hmserlian (which is to say non-Greek) phc:-
uumcnologi;(t~, the r:hristian presupposition acquires a decisive mean-
ing. It does not only help us to re1'wle the rulnou;; and ahsurd rcchiction
of our bo<ly Lo an oi~cct., :rn o~ject offered to scientific investigation and
tht>n hanried over to technological and genetic manipulation, and at the
limit to the practices opened by Na:ti iueulugy. Nor is it enough for us to
interpret this object-body ai,; a .~n~jective body, as long as this subjectivity
is identified with iuLeutionality anti 11ltimately with the "outside ilsdf" of
the world'~ appearing. v\'hat we are claiming is that Lbe m.:w i11t.clligihil-
ity that rhe P.la.hnr.ition of the question of Lhe hotly demands, in as much
as our body is not a bod_-; Ina ajfr.1h, i~ Lnlally foreign to what we have always
umkr~toml intelligibility to be. This is only I.he worldly pcn:eption of
our body as a body of flesh (I.ei1Jkarpr.r). the perception of an object-body
clothed wilh Lhc :;ignific:ation of nor being an ordinary thingly body, huL
a body capahlr: of sensing, which comes from the intelligiliiliLy of Platonic
contemplation or its modern substitutci-. Again, thi5 intelligibility is only
ever derived, anrl pre.~upposes one entirely other than it. Originally and
in itself, our real.flesh is arch-intdl:igible, ·revealed tr; itself in the revdationfro11t
beforo the world, pmj)t:·r l.o lite Wunl of Lif1r of wh.irhfohn speaks.
Two <lec.:isivc comcrp1f'nces follow. 'l'he ti.rst is that the Greek apuria
of the coming of the intelligible Logos in a 1nalerial, put.rc~cihle body-
and as a condition of a salvation that is then identified ·with death-
dissipates like a mirage in the .Johannine Arch-intelligibilily. Totally
ciifferent from the Greek Logos that denotes ar onr.e Rea,mn and the
possibility of the language that men speak. which consists in the fonna-
lion of irlt>::il and as such unreal signilicaLious, Ilic 'il\'orci of l ,ife is the
radical and final, transcendental, phenomenological condition of every
possible flesh. In it alone., ;:i~ we have seen, every living flesh is 1:,riven in
iL~ p.i.rhm-fillerl auto-impressionality: in the A.rch-pa.~~ihility in which Llfe
and its Word love each oLhcr clcrnally. The Christian Word could come in
a flesh. In the An:h-pathos of its Arch-passibility, it alone can join to itself
what in its auto-impressionality is properly flesh. This is the invincible
motive for which (since lhe flc:~h anti its phenomenological properties
ha~·e their final phenomenological possibility in tl1is Ard1-pa.~sihiliry of
the ·word) the phenomenology of flesh referred us const:;mtly to a phe-
nomenology oflncan1aliun.
Prior to c:vcry flesh, as its arrival in itself (its in-carnaLiou). I.he Tn-
carnation of the Word is not only thaL in which the Word was made flesh,
the extraordinary Evcnr from which Christ's disciples aV1'ait salvaLiuu-if
il is lme that, acrording to the abrupt formulation oftl1c Prologue, it is in
the Word itself that being mackflesh is accomplished, anrl out~ide of which no
flesh, no carnal living.Self, and no man has ever been possible. TI1i~ is why
rhc Prologue spreads its dazzling clarity behind it onto the text of Gene-
sis. It allo-ws us to underst.aml Lhc divine cre::ition not only as the arrival of
the world ouL-;idc, its o~jectivation, according to the phenomenological
interpreration of Jakob Bohme that would dominate German [dealism.
What Bohme ha<l also undcr~mofl, :md what we also have redisco-ved iu
many uf our developments, is that this horizon of lighL thal according
ro him is the Wisdom of God is still unable l.o cn:atJ: irs content-whose
 Bm when God r.:rea tes man in his image and likeness, it is no longer
an inert and blind matter that he thrO"ws outside himself----it is a flesh that
he ~enerates in himself; apart from the world, in the proceeding of his
sdf~gcncralion i11 hi~ Won\. "F.H:rythin).\' was made in him and ,vi.thout
him nothing ,vas made that was made." God ha-, indeed takc11 I.lie mud,
but he has breathed into it tht1 Brt1at.h off .ifr which gives life, the Life that
rcmaim in this rhingly hocly, not as irs own property but a'i the l'rinciple of
all life, the common Spirit of the Father and the Son that inhabits every
flesh and make:. il alive, and wiihoul whid1 the~ hody wrnild not even be
a cadaver. A flesh that has never preexisted itself has become flesh by its
transcendental birth in Lhe ,\n;h-pa:s:sil.Jlily uf Life a.n<l its "\-\Tord, in r.hcir
reciprocal pl1enomc11ological intcriority thaf. i.~ their r.ommon Spirit.. Ar.-
mrcl in g rn the word of the Apostle already cited: "Your body is the temple
of the Holy Spirit." The man of the biblical creation is thus earth and
flesh a Lonce, but in him cvcrythin g th at is hony is hody, ::i focal point and
heap of material processes. But also everything that is flesh is flesh, there
is not an ounce of matter in it: It is a pure phenomc11olugiea.l material,
crystal of appearing, su hstance of suffering and joy, a bit of phenomenal-
ity that is foreign to light, invisible, and filled with palhus-a n:vdaLim1
that is nor brought ahont in nselfin its pathos-filled impressionality, and
is not given to itself in this way, except in absolute Life's Arch,.passibility.
This is the extraordinary concept of ilesh unveiled iu ChrisliaHiiy.
A flesh rhat is st>mihle only in the secret of its affective tonalities and its
invisible, pathos-filled determinations. ~,\.nd which is infrlligibleoniy in I.he
empty, external appearance uf a malcrial dclcrmination (never a.~ flesh,
therefore, hut. nnly as an im:rt o~jert). And iU es.sence is the.Johannine
Arch-intelligibility of God himself and of his Spirit. The Parousia of the
absolute shlnes i.n the deplh of I.he simplcsL imprc~sion. Tha.t is why the
flesh due~ not lie. It clew~ not. lie like truthful rhoughr rloe.~ when ir $:=iys
what it sees or thinks it sees., even when there is nothing there, as in
dreams. It is nol a llwughl that doc.~n 't lie, hut also could, whether in-
temion:llly or inadvertently, or even out of ignorance . .Flesh does not lie
because it cannot lie_. because at bottom, where it is g1ipped by Lile, it is
Life that speaks, Life's Logos, 1.hejohan11i11e An:h-i11lclligihility.
In the Fathers, and before them in the initiatory texts, we find an
even more decisive condaliun a<l<lcd lo the t.:unda.tion between flesh
and au ,\Jd1-n.:vdalio11 forcibrrl to the world, which it.sclfha<l hcen un-
thought until then (where, far from being reduced to a blind body that
can be illuminated only from Lhc outside by the light. of the worlcl, that.
never pcnct.rat1::s ir ::inrl i.~ inrliffert>nt ro ir, the fle.~h, like fire, ignites as
the subsrance of its own revelation). lhis new correlation not only con-
cerns every incarnation and every flesh, bm precisely Lhc cvenl wiLhnuL
been livP.cl by Christians as Lhe Revelation of God himself. How mmt this
Revelation proper to I.lit: Tncarnation of the Word in Chri!lt he under-
stood in the t:nd?
For as long as flesh is coniused wit.Ii the body, the Incarnation oftl1e
Word is its coming in a hody and thus in the world. &m:lat.iun is entmsted
lo 1hr ,imrld's afrpea:ring. \\le have already encountered in Athana:;ius the
thesh in which the Inca.rnaLiun uf the \'\lord signifies its coming iu a ,1s-
ible body and in thu; way rh<> Revelation of God in this wurlrl. We have
already recognized the difficulty it raise~. Tf God must reveal himself in
the form of this worldly man whose corporeal appearam:c he h::is as-
sumed, how ill t.his to be distinguished from the corpon:al appearance of
oLher men-how can we know or believe that this is precisely the Word?
l .ike every man in his external aspef'.t, is the Christ not a prisoner of the
incognito Lhal appealed so much to Kierkegaard, aud that never gives up
it'! secret to the unbelie.,ing-whid1 in any case makes every act of belief
so difficultr We have seen how rhe De i:nca.rnatione removes Lhe difficu hy
by showing· tl1at. this ordinary man, of humble apprnr:mce, like others,
all of a o;udden differs from Lhcm by words and acts that are so extra-
ordinary thaL he proves to be no longer a man buL, in rhe violence of the
contrast, the absolute of justice and Lrnth in which many will recognize
the :Messiah.
It is penui~sihlc to think, however, that the hu:arnarion accom-
plishc~ rhe Revelation of God oLherwisc than by means of this contrast,
however gripping it may he. fa it nor enough to recall a final time t.hai: the
Jncarnat.ion of the \Vord is not its coming iu a bociy hut. i.n flesh? Or, to
:say it in a more rigorous way, thal iL'! coming in this body that some ha\•c
seen ·was not dissociable from the coming of absolute, invisible l .ife in its
Word. An<l that it. is this Word in its Arch-passihility that was made flesh,
not dii:.a~ociable from this flesh it~df, and like our own, destined to ~uffer
and also to die. Its hi<ldcn reality now takes place in t11e Coming of the
Word in iL~ ti~ih\e body, the eternal generation of the Only Son, first born
in absolute Lite's self-gem:ration. lnr.::imation reveals the recipruc.:al phe-
nomenological inLt:riority of the Father and the Son. "Do rou not. know,
Philip, that I ,1.m in the father and the Father i.,; in nu:?" Visibly, Philip has
difficulty seeing and undcr~lamling what the Christ says to him.
But whal. arr. we ourselves' A.re we uol u jle.~h that in its re.ality is tilw
the rm~ thr. uncertain gau of Philip questions? An invisible flesh generated in
absolute Life's seU~generatjon in its Word, in the Arcl1-passihililr from
which every conceivable flesh dra-1.vs its pure phenomenological material,
it~ patho.~filled auto-impressiouality? 'When the biblical God bre<1.Lhcd
into us the Breath of Life thar made each of us living, ith L11is generation
that takes place. The Incarnation reveals to us our ovm generation in
is Filial, and, tearing ir :nvay from a 1l our ilhu;ions, refers it to its unfath-
omahle truth.
It is t.hio: re,uorat.ion of our original c:on<l.it.ion t.hat. Tr~naeus sl'rive:o;
to explain, in difficult texts that constantly affirm the identity beu...een
the biblical creation of man by the insufflation of life in a piece of matter,
and on lhc ullu.:r ham.I the Juhannine gencrntion of flesh in the V1Tord.
"[ ... ] In Lhci;c lasl days, He [the \\!urd] wa~ ma.de man, even though ht
was nb-,.11.dy i.n the world a.nd irwisibly stistained all created things." From rhen
on, the historical Jncamation of the \'Vord in a visible body hru; the goal
of reminding m:m that it is in this Word that he had been made in the
beginning, in the image and likeness of God: in the invisible. TI1e in-
carnation makes manifest to man his invisible generation. "In ancient
Lime:,; it. was imkcd said lhat man had hccn made in the ima.gc of God,
but this did not appear because the Word was still imisible, the one in
whose image e11ery1.hing had been made." IL is also Lhe ,Von.i's imisiL!e
condition llmt had made man losr: hi~ "imagr:," this se.lf~rcvehnion ofl .ifo
that is the ·word in which every transcendental Selfis given to itself in its
Johannine generation. Hence, an:unling lo Lhc n.:aso11i11g of Ircmtcus,
when the Word is incarnate in the flesh of Christ, and becomes visible
lo men in Lhc worl<l, iL makes visihk lo cvc1yom: that he is thi.~ "\1Vonl in
whrn;c image they have hcr:n marle-he m::u1iff'~ts rheir ihvine condition.
"Bur when the ·word was made flesh, he made the Image appear in all
u·ulh, by becoming him~df lhaL which wall iLsdf ils Image." Thi:,; mea11s
th:n, wht>n he was incarnated, he showed himself to other men as man who
is the image of God, he showed them in this man that he was the original
Im.age in the image of which man was made, he ~howcd Lhcm Lhe Word
in him. Ht:' told them that like Him, generated in Ilim, they bear this
Word in them that he himself is, that they were of divine origin. Thus
tlmnh to the Incarnation, man was reestablished in hh dignity as a son
11f Gnd. "And fu: n:csr,1hfo.J1cd the liki~ncsi; in a ~rah le way hy making man
plainly like the imisible Father by means of the \'Vord henceforth "isible"
(op. 1.it., respectively p. 625, our emphasis, and pp. fil 7-18, 618). lHuzt thf
Tn.r.arnatwn of th.P. lVoni in the humrm r.nnditinn .1pnkP., thn,,Jrrrii, wrH ultim.<1.iPIY
the transcend;:ntal generation ofe,1ery living, carnal Self in this \,Vord; it was the
lmm·ri-:nrh:nlal truth nf man.
Philip's hesitation remains. How can we ovr?rcome the ,varadox rhat en-
trusts to the visible the revelation of the lnvi.5ible? In order for the ·word that
ha~ become vi.,;iblc iu ils Incarmuio11 lo allow u~ Lo sec i11 tlti., lm:arnalim1
the ·word in whose likeness we have been made, must we not presuppose
that lhe One Lhal we sec, or rather l11al ti1c~ have seen, and also lc:!!lify
that they have i-ccn, is precisely the Word? Must. we not already believe
in him? Then what does 11 mean to believe when belie.vmg 1neans believing in
 \ 1Ve speak quite badly about belief as long as we have not performed
:he prior work that consi..5ts in recognizing the ultimate phenomenologi-
:al foundation of what we're talking about. Thus we ~poutancomly treat
he act of belief as an act of thought-an act capable of making visihk
whal it thinks (i~ wgilat-um); so that by making it visible in the clarity of
".Vidence we would no longer be able to doubt it.• Related to and treated
ts a mode of thought, belief can never be more than an inferior form of
.t, to the extent that it never succeeds in having a clear e\idence of what
t hdic:vc~. 'Whc:n the r:om<"m of hehcf \~,rnishcs in front of hclicf itself,
1s identijit:d with an act of !I.ought, doesn't this lead us back to the ultimate
:>hcnomcnological foundation we arc looking for, to the place that is fore
~ign to the world, to every sight and every thought, where belief ,md faith
tre possible, 'Where everything is given without separation or distance: in
tbsolule Life's sdf-1evelalio11 in ils ·word?
"I believe in Chris!" means: "I am certain of the truth vvhich is in
H.im." And in as much as eve11' relation among transcendent.11 Selves---
m1011g "egos'' r"mm"l-i~ c,lificd in life, "I am cnlaiu of tl1c lrulh which
.s in Ilim" means "I am certain of the Truth which is in You.~ But how
:an I be cerlain of Lhe Lrulh which h in Lhe One to whom I 'You," ~ar
.mles5 iris because Hi& own Tnnh i~ in me? This presupposes in the first
Jlace that since the truth that is in me---my own certainty----is the truth
J.ial is in Him, it i~ Jw-rrwgr:nwu:, with him, and i~· indeed ru-illter lhoughl, no-r
the certainty of a th.ou-K'i.t, but thR trnth prnper to the l4'cmf, the Trnth o/Lift, the
4.rch-intelligib(J we're talking about.
How thcu i_~ Lhc Tnuh of the 'ii\'ord in me, in each transcendental
living Self? In its arrival in itself in the arrival in itself of absolute Ufe in
ts Word-in its transcendental birth. Only the one who hears ,.,ithin him
the sound of his birlh (that undergoes cxpc1icncing himself as given to
himself in absolute Life's self-generation in its Word), the one who, g:ivt>n
to himself in this self~givenness from the beginning, no longer undergoes
:xpcricncing himself, properly speaking, hut undcq~oc.~ cxpcricm:ing
Ni thin him only this Self that gives him to himselt, only that one can say
:o this Self of the 'Nord: "I am certain of the truth which i.s in You."
"I am certain of Lhe trulh which is in You" now mcarn;: I draw my
:ertainty, my truth from the truth that is in You, I draw my life from
,-ours, "it is 110 longer I \vho live, il is you who live in me.'' Because "C',od.
~ngenders himself as myself,'' and became "God engenders me :::is him-
;elf," then, truly, because it is his life that has become my ovm, my life
1~ nothing: other Lhan his own: I am deified, acconling- lo lhL; C.J1rislian
:oncept of salvation.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -.. -- ....··-···-··-·····-- ·····-······-··-"··-·-··-

 Only the one who believes in Christ, who s:.iys, "Tam cert.iin ofrlic
tnith that is in You," that one alone understands and can understand the
Speech of the Scriptures, the Speech of Lite that tells him: Jt is in me that
you have life, "you are my Son." TI1is Speech is what he reads in the Scrip-
tures, but he can read it there only because that is who speaks in it, who
t'tpea.k~ t.o him. The orn;~ who speaks t.o him in the speech that srivc~ Life
to him. «Who spt"::tks to him": who g~nerates him in iTsdfas that which,
undergoing experiencing- itself in it, suddenly undergoes ¼'iTh1n it only
it.s Parousia.
The Johannine Arch-intelligibility in which every Self experience~
it.self iu tl1e one firstborn Son in whom absolute Lile undergoes its own
trial and enjoy:- it.sclf-ll1i:,; inLclligibilily that wmcs before the world's
"outside itself," hP.fore. e.\'e.ry intdligihilit.y that sec;-; in il, before every
form of knowledge and science, before what we have always called a
"knowing," a "guo;-;is"-musl iL not tJ1en be called an Arch-gnosis? A su-
perior form of knm~ing, a knovl'i.ng of the tford kind, which is given only
to those who are raised up to it by an extraordinary effort of the intellect
or hy P.xr.eptional gifts?
We must recognize that Christianity is an Arch-gnosis. Irenaeus,
for example, in no way criticize.~ 1:,rnosi:-1 as such, but only "g11usis fal;-;dy
so-called." that which, instead of the truth. which it simply ignore.~, wa~
only able to develop dangerous, imaginary, extravagant, speculative con-
structions, the product of mere fa111.asics. ln it'! wonh, which arc foreig11
to the truth of the world and which will not pass at\'clY when the world
pa:;ses away, iu il:i Lexts, which we have called initiatory, doesn't Ch1isti-
anity actually initiate us into the sccn:l hidden i;incc Lhe origin of Lhe
world, into this great secret that ,ve are? This secret is the Johan nine
A.rch-intelligibility in which we are initiated into what v,re are in our tran-
scendental generation in Life.
But because Arch-intelligibility is an Arch-pa:-.sibility-rhc Arc:h-
passibility in which God eternally Lm:es himself in the infinite love of his
vVord-because it is also in this Arch-p::i~~ihilify that thi.~ vv·ord has taken
011 flesh and that every flesh is pm.sible (ours as well as hio; own), rhen it
truly inhabits all flesh, shattering the idea that we have of this. Our flesh
is not the opaque body that everyone hauls with them from the time they
are saiJ lo be born-the body on which without surprise, but in anxiety
and throughout hii; cxislcucc, Lhcy will watd1 for every particularity, every
quality and every defect, every modification, c.vcry <lu:linc, :-nul every
wrinkle tliat draw.s invincibly on the face of man or woman the stigmata
of ir.~ ne.crepitude anrl death. Our body is nol an object incapable uf
drawing from itself and assuring iv.elf of it~ mm promotion to t.hc rank
ofa phenomenon-it is not an object handed over to the world, obliged
to appear in it and then to disappear. Our flesh hear~ the principle of
its manifestation wilhiu i1., am! this m::mifescation is not the world's ap-
peariug-. Iu ils pathos-filkrl amo-impre~,;ionality, in its very flesh, ,given lo
itself in the Arch-passibility of absolute Liie, it rcvcab thi~, whi,:h reveals
it to itself~ and his in it.~ pathos 1.ife 's Arch-revelation, the .Parousia of the
ahsolure. In the depth of its Night, our flesh i1i God.
We had never before asked fksl1 w holci thr: principle of knowl-
edge within il, and supn:mc knowledgf':, which is even more. That is why
ii. ilisconcerrn and defies the ·wisdom of the ,1;ise and lhe science of the
scholars, and every form of knowll:dgc: rhat arises from the world, which
Ll1i11k, mcasurc;i, :mcl calculates from it everything that we have lu Lhink,
m no, and to believe. We had never before askcJ flesh to holci the prin-
ciple of our knowledge and our acliun, hut it~clfhao; never asked anything
or anyone-or :auything other than to enlighten it, to enlighten it about
irsf'lf and i:o tell us what it is. When in its innou:m:c each modality of
our flesh undergoes ex.pericming it~clf, heing nothing other than itself,
when suffering say~ rnfferin~ andjoy joy, it is actually flesh thaL spt:aks,
:rnd nothing has power against its word. Tlil:n: i:- flc)lh, however, only as
the effecl of iL~ an-ival in itself, in an in-carnation, in the Incarnation of
the Word in the Arch-passibility of absolute Life.
Thus John's Arch-intdlig'ibility i.~ implir.::ited everywhere there is
life, lt ex.tends even to t.hc:sf: heing-s of flesh that we are, tal<ing into iu; in-
nmrlescent Parousia our paltry wants and our hidden scan., a;1 it did for
the wounds of Christ 011 the Cros~. The more each of our sufferings
happl:ns iu us in a v,:ay that is pure, simple, stripped of everyLhiug, and
rerlu,ed to itself and to its phenomenological body of flc~h, the more
strongly the unlimiLeJ. power t.hat. gives it to itself is felt in us. And when
U1i.-i suffering re::ii'.he5 its limit point in despair, the Eye of God loob upon
us. It i~ the unlimited intoxication oflife, Ll1e Ard1-plca.wrc of its f'Wrnal
love in its \i\lord, its SpiiiL, 1hat:mhmc·rges us. All who are brought low will
be rnisccl. H2ppy are those who suffer, who perhaps have uotl1i11g kfr hut
their flesh. Arch-gnosis is the g11o~is of the simpk
 Index
A.bsoluic, the, 6, l>, 45, 1~:~. B5, Hi7,
179-~0. ~27,257,262
action. 45. IOI, 137, 146, 150-5~. loO.
161, lf,{i, 172, 183, 187 89, 203,
233, 262
AITo:u.ivily 61---63, 'i1, 121, 142, 187, 189,
203,230
All, th", t 79, 228
Alqui,', F<'1fii11;,orl, 104
anim.,1$ anrl ,mimality, ."., fl, ·11, I 00, 11 in
,mxiely, 188 97, 201 -1, 20'i, 210, 213--
17, 222: uislinguish~tl frum 1.-.u,
190
A[,db, 11, 132
A rrh-i nt~ lligihiii'}; rn-20, 26, ,;i0-.'11, llil-
8'i, 90-91, 124, IM-3f,, l 70, 2.'lfi,
2:,G--f,C., 2Gl-C.2
An:h-passihili1y, 169-70, 171, 17/i, 2%,
2fo0,23G, 2511,261-62
Atinotlt, 8-9, 1811
aarrit•al'' (Ir. wnv.11), x·vi, 5, f<"i, 88, 93,
120-21, 124-25, 137, 165-66, 169-
70,208,223, 230,243,256,260,
2ti2
Athanasius. Ill, 16, 17,258
attention, J2, 5~, 78, 156, ~nu
Audi, Paul, 139n
Augustine, z31, 234-37., 251
auw~rotkmn, 166-6'7, 212
autonomy, 66, 106, 183, 2'19, 254
becoming, o, J:~, ti:5, 76, 85, ~50-51
ll.cing. 8. 20, 2'7, 4-1n, 23'): ~;;git;; ,1mi, xiil
"lJti.!l~-llHUllllllOU_" 1-1, 211, 2'1/, 2•19
"l.Jti..u,11-in-lht,-WUl·ld," •10, 23'J. 211, 251
"being-with" (,'\.1i!sem), xv, 216, 23'J-41,
213.21'1,217
bdief, ·1.8, 2::i-1, 2r.s, 2r.o
F\,;rgson, H t>nri, 11 fi
Bible, :.!2!:!
Oid Testament: Genesis, 7. 121, l2'J.
l 33. 183, 20'7, 215, :226--30, 232,
2f~G-.>7; FKnclns, fi
N- T,;stam,;nt: Marth~w, 2!\3; John, 5,
10-11, 14, 16, 17-20, 26,32,n!i,67,
.9R-Rg, 121, 12!i-2fi, 167, 170-71,
1711, I i!'i, 229-~2, 235-37, 246, 256,
2.'i9; Arts, i, 177; Romans, 171-72,
17fi 2M; l Co.--intlifan.s, 171, I 77,
2'\2, 2f,7; 2 <.orinthi;,ns, 17(-i: c:.ala-
liaus, 2,19; Colossiam, 2[,l; I John,
10. 18. 2·18; 2Julrn, !Ou
hirlh, 12:,-30; I r.~n,cn1rl.,n1.,1, 230, 2?.2,
234,242, 24?.,246, 255,257,258,26()
horly. Sre n~sh: rlistingnished from hody;
ohjc,r.tivc, lmrly; "s,.ie,nlilic borly";
"sensil1I" lx,rli~s"; mhj.,rtive hody;
transcendental body
Bohme,Jakob, 44-45, 46,256
capacity, 113, 169, 178, 187-88, 197,201,
204-7 passim, ~17-19
care., 2;t5, ~3'Jn
causality. 46, 95, 103, 124
ccr.aint)-', W, 8Y-Yi, W5, Z53, 260
Christianity: alleged contempt of the
body. IOn, 167; community and, 2'15;
ead~ rlo:et:lujJllll'Hl, 6--12, 122, 12(,-
31. 2·15, 255; h,er,esi~,. 10, II, 12G.
l:.!SI, 131-'.{2; historicalJcsll.'I, 15,
:t:l-6; lncamation. S-iO, 41, 1~5-;!~.
131--33, l&fi, 167,170 71, 231--%,
24G-47, 2r,r,-r,~; inrlh•i<lrnility :mrl,
2-18 -'19; mys Lita! body of Christ, J 4,
13i.. 235,237, 250-52: saHclifirnLiun
ufGhri">I, 235; 1nu1stYJl1knn,, 122-
2~; I.he Trinil.arian Gori of, 171
,:ogi1,o, rngit.ati.o. sg,. l)e~cart.e;;, Rene
L-urnir1g ..5« "arrival"
(OJlJJ!JUriily,243-4:5, ~47
C'.undilla<-, Etienne Bonnot de, xiv, 138-
41, 143, 14.,, 14f,, lri7, J(,5,,,-67
[OnJ.dousness, 23, 32-39, ·1-6, 4i-49, 51-
51, 73, 88, 180., 242: hylcctic level,
·18-19, 51; '"stream" of, 23, 51-52,
f.4-~itt
constitution, 115-H,, J.5·1-55, 153-5'),
162-6.~
~ontem, 22-2~. 26-27, 29, 39, ·12, H,--47,
!'i0,G3-G6,61,63,7D.73, 75,7Y,81-
R4, 87, 9:,-%, 101, 109-12 passim,
129, Lil, l!'i8, 1Ri,-8r., 188, 1%.
208-9,226,228-29,25fi,2ft0
:ontingcncy, JOO, 19.'i, 22.~-2fi
:ontinuum, 55, l 72; organir, lll2; pracli
cal, 158, 161; resisting, 147-,,0, 159,
l61-62,209,210-11,214
;orporcalicy ( corporeity), xv, 4, 120, 143,
144-45,]48, 152,164,173
:::ouncil of Nicaca, 9, 13
.:.:1>ril ol Alexandria, 121, 236, 248, 2D 1
'Jrucin. Ho, 21t,, 23g_42
le~Lh, 6-~. 1~7. IY4, 234, 256, 261
leifica(ion, 14, 234, :.!4!i
J~rnocritus, !J7
\em,turin!l", 71,175,221
)~,rn,tes, Rene, xiii, 64-72, 87-89, 103-
5, 108, 109, 117, 146, 151, llHn,
190. 253; c,Qg;ito concept, xiii, 64-65;
,:I 1,ali,rn aw.l. 195; wa.x example,
103--·i, 109. 163 . .Su also essence;
evidt":ncf:
le.;criptinn, prinliple uf 205-6
le,1ir.-, 202-4, 205, 21211, 211, 216-18,
2W-24
)ifference, 39--40, f'i1, 240
listancing, 33-M, 39, 112, 2f•'1
lrivc, 20, 142, 149, 151, 71'iR, 160, 161,
179,180, 211-12, 211,212
lua]i8m, traditional, 7-F,, 11, 123, l 'l5-LJ6
luplicity, 32, 69-70, 90, 104, 111, l!il-
5i, 162-64, 184, 194--9f),209-l0
)wellin1r,, 14, 4(1, 63
:ckhan, Meister, 62, 224-2!',, 24R
economy," (j-7, 140
·ffort, tcding of, 147-51, 160, 187-Afl
.-go, xiii. 59-60. 16')- 7(1, :.!U5-6, 242-43
drl,elic an,ilysi,, 'i6, 80. ')l, '.!8, 103-4,
IOfi, 112, 1118
.Ek-stasis, 38-39, 42, .rn, 55, .'i7, %, 109,
111-12, 11fl,119-20, 1.3•1, 1GB
r:mhrac.-, 50, 5G, GS, 213, 231; ~pathos-
fillt":d," xiii. 61, 90, 120, 17U
emotion, I 01, 1f,f), 177, 187
cnjoyment,55,63,89, 120,121, 1RR.212,
:.!20, 224, 250; self-, 246-47
eroticism, 204-22, 225, 242; dmhing
and, 21n. Serl ,,fo, ~\1to-e1·uti<--ism; sex,
sexuality
csscnce,~2.27,39,56,63, 77-84,89,91-
92, ~4, 142, 200, 227-28: Descartes
aud, 64, titi-ti8, 75-76, 79, 89, 103;
divine, 8. n, 170, 232: ll=rl anrl,
xii, 71. 75-76, 78, 81-82; intuition
and, 78-79,81-82,8\J
t•Lhics, 177, 190, 222
i:-vo,ul, 60. 75; An:h~vcnt, :.!32; of the
I1tc.1mation, l:~J-31, 231, 245, 256,
257; transcendental, 86
evidence_. '.jU, 32, :~5. 44, 66-72 passim,
75-76, 80, 83, 85, 87-!Jl, l02-4,
185,197,251,260
exi,tence, '27, 10-41. 43, 56, 61, 67, !58,
91, 95, 121. 12ti, 170, 185-86, 221;
""gilu!io and, 'i 1, 74- 77
=p,eril".n1.<e, .><.iii, 30, 31. 34-Sti, 4(), 70, 88,
!'ill, 94, 111-12, 118, 139, H5, 147-
49, lDt-f,2, 179, 227-28, 237-H;
''exp,erienc<" ,u1tlerguing it;clf," xvi,
19, 61, 62-fi3, fi7, 7-t 120, 121-23,
133, 140,147, Hl2-8'.l, 20:'I, 208, 22'1.
See a!so other, rhe,
exterioriiy and ,e>:rem:;Jiu.tion, 31, 37,
39, 51, 53, 39, 83, 109, 121, H0.112..
183, 194-95,22!1
feeling, :~-4, 50, 59, 64, 86, 11 fi-17, 183,
187-88, 192,202
tinitude, xiv, 185
1'ink, Eugen, 35, 69, 84. 92
fksh: Arch-Flesh, 121, 123, 125, 130, rn4,
l'i'll; "auto-impressionalily" anrl, 62;
as Cartesian ;cul. 200; di~tingui~h,e.d
trom body, 4-5, 11, 17-18, 31-32,
ll4, 1w-:n. l:.!3, 125-26, mo, 136-
37,150,153, 155-Sb, 160, 16~-63,
 Hi5, 194, 256, :.!38; innocence and,
191; lrenaem on, l~l-36, 17L as
rcvdation, 15-lti, ~U. ~6, l'.1~: and
Sdr, 124, 182, lfi4; rn11snenrlental,
207
"floating- prc~cnL!i," 175
lorcc,24,61,86, 137-~-IB. 14~. 148-4~,
151, Hi~-IB, 180, LH7, L8'J
fc:.rg.,11ing, 9•t, l R-1-~R
fom,, xiii, 17, 31, 48-49, i'>l, !',~-!'>ti, (iA,
71\, 75, 83-84, 91, 119, 168, 241
fn,edorn, 182-83, 192, 215
Freud, Sig1,iuml, 20, 181, 2121L See,il,1!
rhin,
Galilei, Galileo, xii, 70, 96-108, 109, 113,
118, ml, 181n, 221
gt:ncration, xiv, 19, 87-89, 121-23, 166,
169,181,183, 167,226,229-34,243,
257-61; self-, xvi, HJ, 65, 87, 167,
170, 181-83, 231,246,~48,257-58
geometry, 97-98, 100, 102-3, 106-i,
118
Ge,-man !rl~aliRm, 45n, 256
givenness, xii, 23, 32-33, 46, 77, 123.
18:{-84; 1,;vcnnes.~ from abort., 1 i4-
75; givenness-in-image, 83; gi\ing,
32, 110, 117, 2!>0; ori~inary, 71-72;
~elf-givenness, xii, xiii, 68, 66, 90,
\B-\14, lUO, 105, B4, 141-44, 1.50,
172-75, 177-78, 18z. HH, 186-87,
lOti, 213.~49-51J,252,254.260;of
,cn,;c, 148
gnosis, 261-62: Arc:h1,TJ1os,s, '67,261,262
Gno~lici,m, r,, JO, VI, 128, Pl:'/.,~)I, 13!i--
3G, 232 33, 2C.1
Gud. Sre BiLle: CJ11·i!!Lituiily; ima)!,e,;
Juthiism
(~ul:'llu··.Jnhaun Woll"gaug vou, (12
C,1-.,," k philn,nphy. s,~ Hellenism
growth, 250
Hegel, Geo1g l1Vilhdm F1·ieurid1, xv, 1511,
1i9, 194, Hl7n, 2()fi
Heidegger, Martin, xii, xiii, 3-4, l:35-3t3,
23R-42, 247; int.r.ntionality anrl,
23R-39; phenornenolngy ,,nrl, 22,
24, .'13, 3fi-40, 42, 22'l: Sein uni. 7~it,
22, 36-37,42,239,241,247;Trakl
and, 4:~
Hellenism, 6, 7, !J-12, 19, 20-21, :!3, 122,
125,131, 132-33, 171,131,256:
C:rcck medicine, l~!J
heterogeneity, 12, 17, 26, 47, 49, 72, 196,
198,207,219,223,230
burizon, 35, 37-39, 42, 45, 60, 86, 109,
1 rn, 118, 129, 148, Bl, 185, n6,
it3-i4.~~8-~!J.~41.~54,~56;
hre,:k, 13, 14, 1!11, 2.'tl, ~4.,: o,tirne,
!53, 111,239
hnm;mity, nl'Cwly cldinterl, 19
Hume, Davi<l, 18
Hu~~el'l, Edmuml, xii-xiii, xv-xvii, 20,
32, 1r,:i, 1 F,(), 260; on th.e body, 1f,5-
57, 164; Descartes and, 71-72, 77,
97; on fiction, bO; on Galileo, 105-6:
on "Ileraclitean flux,'' 73, 74, 76;
on in 1.entionaliLy, 233-39; l.eb~n.n,1t1li
concept, 96, 151: pbenomenoloey
and, 23, ~6, :;2-'.;8, 46-5:~, 56, 59-
60, 63-64, 7,-6:{, ~10-!ll, ~·8, 115,
155. 185-86, 254; lutureJ, 51-55,
59, 7.~, 75, Firl. ,',,,11,,l,t,
impr.,ssion:
"origin:uy"
hyk. Se~ under consciousness
"1 can" concept, 143, 148, 150, 172-73,
178, 182, 183-84, 196-8!3, 204-6,
208-10,217
idea, i, 19,54,l'>S,8~
ideation, 7!.l, 103 106-7
idolau-y, 167, 231, 233
image;, Hl, 27, 4tJ, 7Y-85, Yl-Y2, Y4;
man as iumg·e uf Cud. 183, 229. 21.6,
2[,7, 2r.q
.imagin.Mion, 80-82, 99
imum11ern.:e, 89 90, 123,137, 38, 183,
191,208
11.UJ.llt'di.[K~, 2fl, ~9, 19(1... 9'2, 2)19
imp1tssio11, 47-5!i, (i2, 63, 100, 121,
1.'10, 13R-39, 14:1, 152, 1/>2, 1fi4-
G7, lC.8 ,(,9, 172, 209, 2:.0; "a11to-
imp,.,.»iurn1lily," 62, 1 ~". Hil ,(i2,
168, li!l, 209,256,262; ''originai,,,"
JJ.,·i-:nii, 32, 54-64, 79, 88, li2,
211
in,.,,rnation, 20, 2.'ifl; .-!dinted, ,i;i, 4; the:()--
logkal: ,ee ·undnrChri~tianity
individuality, 179-81}, 181, 248-49
infinite, the, 177,178
inhun,~n, th~, 102
innorenc:e, 19(1, 191 -92, l!N, l'J7, W3n,
2fl-1
intelligibility and the: Intelligible, r,,
30-3 l , 86, 117. S,1e 11!$'1 An: h-
intdli gihi lity
int<';nt.ion~lity, 33 !IG. 38-39, 46, 47, 4!:.1-
:,o, fi:1-:>4, f,9, 7'J., !IS, 116-17, 152.
168,238
intcriorirv, 33,216,245,247, 2:,1
imcrsubjcctivity, :i..-v, 24,,;
intuition, !12-34, lOf,, 1O?, 197; uf es-
sences, 78-79, 'll-R2, 89
mvi.sible, the, 85-87, 89-92, lf>l, F,7,
200, 210, 255, 259
[p,eity. l'J, 88-8~1, 124, 130, 162, 170,
173, lbl-82, ~31; Heidegger on,
239n
[rena,:us l(), 11:i. 122, 128, 131-36, 171,
2t.5, 2!':i9: on .~nos is, :.!ti l; on ,alva,
i..iuu,231-34,~40
'emli Christ. Ste Christianit}·
'uhn. Su Bible: New Testament
oy, xi, 18, 57. !12, 114, 122, 129, 155, 177,
178, 1~7. 18'), J'.!b. :rn,, 244,250,
2[•7, 262
·11d.-ii,m, 7 -8. 183
n.stificaLir.111, 198. 224-25. 235
·ustin M,-.i·ly1, 8
,afb, F1·~,n, 30, G2, 19611, 225
\3.ndin.sky, W~ssily, 70, 212
r,,
{ant, Immanuel, 13, 30, 12. %, US.
146, 130, 229; r.i-iti'f""' of Pu:t!! Rwsvn,
45-46,227-2R
{ierkegaard, Sflren, 17ii 188--98, 200-
202, 204, 210, 21 'I, 227, 228, 2-15,
258; on Genesis, 207, 21 !i
rnhn, Rolt 60n
..acan,Ja.cque;, 173
,aneau, Louis, 248n
anguagc, 41-44, 153-54, 23i; po.,tir, 4.~
,eibniz, (.;ottfricd Wilhelm von, 65, iO,
146
~vi1ras, fmmanud, 21
ight. theory ot; 107
urnli,aLion, 155-59
.og-u,, Ci, ll, 18. 247,256; phcnomcnol-
u!.(y and, 22, 42. 85. ;l'.17
lo"'-~, !l, 191, 2l I 13,219, 2H; in Chris-
tian theology, 122 233--5'1, 252. 256,
261-62; ofone,elf, 24_;.,Jfi; Sd1u-
pcnhat1cr on, 212n
llfaine de Biran, Fra11~ois-Pierre-
Gonthi~r, xiv, l.'18, l 11, 113, I H,
145-48, 167, 187, 190
Malcbranche, Nicola,, 65, 78, 146
11-:hu·don, 11, 13-H, 12\J, 131
Ma1ion,Jcan-Luc, xvii
Marx, Karl, 45n, 90, 17ft, lf!R
matcrialit)', :{-6, 88-89, 97-98, HIO- lOR
passim, 124, l~\J-33, 152-53, 168-
69, 181, 184,202.i33,255-56
nwdiciae, 12'J, 222n
nwmury. 1-11-16, 185-llti
M.edeau-Pumy, Mmricc, xiii, 114-16,
118, Ei5.161, 206; on sex, ~us
monim1, 11.':( 1%
Nahe11,Jen11, GS
N.',tt~sd,e. Friedrich. 10n, 3o, 5~, 167
nili.ilism, 218-22
nnrhingn•:<&'>, 51, 53, 55, 57. 62-o3, 69, 7:{,
75, 92, 177, 178. 182, 186, Ell, 248
ohject, cl d, ned, 3•1; u1Jjectific.tt1on and
o~"ct.ivis1n, 1'12, 150, 183, 190. 2t0,
244
o~jeccive body, 149-fifi, 19.:i- 201, 201,
20,~-6. 21.'>: a~ magi.-:;,l ol~jeu. 200,
203
omoloi,zy, 9, 28
Origcn, 16
other, the, xv, 155, ~05-6, 208, 21!1-14,
~3d-46
Outside, 39-40, 44, 6.c'\, 109, 179
pain, 1, 56, 5~. oO-ol, J..(), 168, 176,
18111, 183, 187, ~UL Sf.t'a/.wsufkring
p,nu.hcism, 17:;, 179, 183
pauiogism, 109, 154, 228n
P<1ruusia. 61, b~. 135, 145,169,237,250,
2'i5, 262
P,,.1c.il, Blai,e. !02
passivil)', 59-61, 20'), ~~ti.. 228-31; ~pas-
si,e .syn lhe~is," bU-61
p~thn,, r, 1---ui. 67. 68, S6, 8')-'J2, l l l,
114, 120-21, 129 33,137, 112-43,
1.'i/l I!',\\ 1 'iQ 1(,1; l r;.R 170 I i;.c.,_,:1·~
 passim, I \j7, 203, 242, 25 7: An:h-
p,,thoo, 121, 123, I ~O. lt\'J, 256; as
, . .·,gill,J.i.11. 70
Paul, 3-6, 171-72, 176, 177-78, 231,
249, 231, 257
Pavt>.st:, Ce.s,\Jc, 190
perception, J l, '.'\2, 34-35. 4~. 46. 51. 72,
77--Rfl, '2/ifi
p~AAimism, 212n
ph,,.nomrnologkal analysi.,, xiv, 39, 104,
108, llR, 16.\ H\4, 22:'> 2!\fi
pht,H(UHl'"HOlogr, Kti·--Kiii, xv, 20-21; r1 .. r,-
11irinns ancl goals, 22-25, 29, 42, 74,
77-73, 82, 64-85, B8, 118-19, 212n,
215; offlesh, 93-168, H)2, 201, zOtl,
230, 249; of Life, .:>7-58, 60n, 88-tl'J,
93-94, 96, 136, 141, 151-52, 1!)3,
198-99,203,230,237,245:p~sup-
positions, 25-36, 41-42, 72, lll,
237-38, 242; reappraisal of, 22-92;
Lhcologv and, 2:j; tramcendcncal,
xiii, 33, l:-!2-23
Plato and Platonism, 6, 253
pleasure, 3-4, 140. 166-67, 186-88, 191.
192, WI, 211-12, 22'.~; in anxiety,
EJ2-!J4. 202; Arch-pleasure, 2ti2;
in degradation, 220; in pro3tirui::ing
oneself 194
power, 137, 172-78. 182, 184, 187, 192,
201,214
prcsenn:. ori;,;inary, 72. ?!!-71
"proceeding." See self-ufal
profanation, 219. 220,229
.:>r.~ C.9, JRO
)'HJLt'.Hliuu: !.l~t r13~
realism: crudf", Ji)!); n~iv-.., l Jfi
Reason, 12. 13, 122, J.12, 238, 244 24i,
2fr1, 2~(;
rl':ff'"rf'"n~-~. t.h.,,.nry of, l 64
religion. S,, Christianily; Gnosticism;
Judaism
fl'".S\lrr,:-ction, 6-7, 16-17
r~r~ntinn, ~4, 37-38, f>J-.,6 p:mirn, 59-
60, 73
Rilke, Rainer ~1aria, 211
romanticism, 179, 180
Rnusseau, Jran:f acques, 139n, 1iB
salvation, xiv, o-7, 10-11, 14, 15, 12).
107, 171,220,231-37,246.252,256.
Sanre,.Jcan-Paul, xiii, xv, 191, 206
Schder, M:tx, xv, 153, 155
Schnp~nhaue.-, Arthu.-, 2Q, lE!O-!lL 208;
on love and sex, 212n: the Will, um,
212n
"~t:it:'111.i.Gt: I.Judy," 97
Sdf, Lh~. 65, 12·1, 181-83. 193, 202, 2M,
24~, 244---45, 247. See a.t!o transcen-
dental Self
self-trial ("trial ofoncscl±;" "proceed.in~"),
xvi, 19, fil, fi4, 74, R.~, 89, 12,~, 169-
71, 182,231,233,243, 24f>,249, 250
sl':nse~, 112, 158-59, 164
sensibility, 102, 106, 109, 112-17, 22~,
230; defined, J13; distinguished
from AffcctiYicy, 23U
"scmibk bodic.,," xiii-xiv, 3-4, ~14-HiU,
105, lll8-17, 11~1-20, 204, ~14
"sensible world," ,.;, 6, 31, 50. 96, 100.
107-fJ.117-18, 115
scmuality, 200-201, 2°'1-7; ft:<umltc vs.
male, 207
Sesboi'.ie, Ber.card, \j
sex, sexualitv, xv, 19 7-98, 20 I, 204-8,
21l!n, 214, 21~-~U. <!2':;; copulation
dcscribi;,d, '.'11-12; '1S an illusiun,
212n: !11crkau-Ponty on, 208; µ-u1°
nographv, 220; prostitution, 220;
sadism and m~sochism, 21 ')-20:
vu~euri.sm, 220
Silesiu!l, A.nidu,, 221 2!i
sin, u. 7, Hi6, lfi7, 171 72, 17G-77, 191,
193. 20h, 231; Kitcrki,g.,,i, .-1\ "1..,-,;ip
inl.n ~in," 197, l 9R, 203-5; ~exuaJity
as_, 20-i
rnlip.,;i~m, 212,213
snlit11rll':, 20R, 21.'l, 239
snu1, fi, 14, 19:i, 20fl
Speech, 21, •12, 135; of God and/or
Truth, 229, 253, 2(il
Spinoza, Baruch, 65, 146
<pontaneit::,: :'11, l'lO, 1."t9, 140, 157, 184,
187. ]91-92,204-5
Strcn~th, 187, 203
subjective body, 118
subjectiviLy, 38, 44n, lj3, HJ;$, J06, lti7,
Ie9, 221, 239, 255; Condillac on,
138-40, 143; transcendental, 107. Sre
ai.so i r, ter.mbje<.tivi l )'
~uffrriug, 20, 58 61, 130 31, 17f.,, 1B3.
lcchno!ogy, 97, 194, 221\ 221, 244, 2r,r,
fertullian, 10, 11, 13-14, lfi, J 7, 122,
126-31
Lh~ologyv,. philosophy, 25~-55
thing, 5, z!:J, JY, 42, 46, 66, 70, 155-57,
160,163, 200-201, 206, 250
touching/touched relat.ion, 114--17, I rn,
120, 136-~9. 14.1-42, 159-61, 206-
7, 20~-Hi. ~34
lhu<l, Georg. 4'.>, 15:l-:'14
lransccndcntal body, llU-1~, ll<±-20,
1~5. LH, rn:>
,ransccndcntal lite, 65, 77. 8J-d4, 106,
12'1.150, 186, l!.14. 221-22, 2~7.
238; rnuuuunily -~nd, :!44; "opiritff as,
198,199
lrnusu~mleulal Self, 123-2-t 182, l:l3-
91, 202, 211, 22811, 2-11-•16, 24')-5(),
2(,0
·mth, r.,:-.nrf'plio,.i, of, 23 · 2•1, GG;
"origin-ii Ir.11th;' 21.
uuive1salily P.1Hl the univcrs>ll, 20, 2b, titi,
74, 73 79, 99, 17.!J, 179,191,251,253
Valcntinus, II, 126
vi.~ihle, 1h,~, !\!., fl!, 90-92, 9!1, 114--lr.,
124, ]51. 2[,5, 2j9
\Vill. Se,, S<:hopenhauer, .<\rt.h11r
Word. See Chriscranity: Incarnation;
Logos
world. xii, xiii, 7, 44n, i2; C.hrislian
U$agt., 10, 19, !'\lj-!i(i; as Tm,zgo, Ril-
84; Kandinsky's "little world~," 70;
IA,mswelt, 96, 151; "wc>rlding," 70;
'"world's appcarin~," :~l-32, 37-45,
50,53, 55-57,tio-ti~, 77-70,83-84,
8!:!, !J4-!:!b, 114, 1:~2. BS, 152, 160,
I 7!J, 1 o\:l, 20!:!, 213, 2lt\, 217, 21 ~,
221, 2i3,226,~5ti, 258,26~.,See
a/so "h~in~-in-lht~wodd"; "se;:nsiblc
wu.-Id"
Michel Henry ( 1922-2002) was a leading French philosopher and prize-
winning novelist_ His hooks previously tn.m~lalcJ iuw English induJ.e
Bmharism (20 l 2), Malen.al Phtinmnmnlof!J (2008), and Grmealog;y v,f Ps:,;dw-
ana('ysis (1993).

Karl Hefty currently holds anArthur.J. Fnni&, O.S.A. Postrloctoral Fdlow-

ship at Villanova University in Pennsylvania.