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VOLUME 279
Studies in Existentialism
Editor
Mark Letteri
Edited by
Tove Pettersen
Annlaug Bjørsnøs
Margaret A. Simons
LEIDEN | BOSTON
Cover illustration: Simone de Beauvoir. Saint-Germain-de-Prés, Paris, c. 1946. Photographer: unknown
ISSN 0929-8436
ISBN 978-90-04-29440-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-90-04-29446-2 (e-book)
Mark Letteri
Editor
Also in SE
Ronny Miron. Karl Jaspers: From Selfhood to Being. 2012. VIBS 250
CONTENTS
EDITORIAL FOREWORD ix
MARK LETTERI
GUEST FOREWORD xi
MARGARET A. SIMONS
PREFACE xiii
INTRODUCTION 1
TOVE PETTERSEN AND ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
Part One:
CRITICAL THINKING AND METHODOLOGY 15
Part Two:
FREEDOM, DEPENDENCE, AND AMBIGUITY 67
Part Three:
LITERATURE AS LABORATORY 127
Mark Letteri
Studies in Existentialism Series Editor
GUEST FOREWORD
The editors of this fine collection made an inspired choice in focusing their de-
fense of the humanities—and humanism—on the writings of Simone de Beau-
voir. Educated in the classics, with work in mathematics and a graduate degree in
philosophy, Beauvoir’s writings range across the humanities: from philosophical
novels and memoirs, to essays in ethics, The Second Sex, and a book calling at-
tention to the dire situation of the aged poor.
Beauvoir was always an advocate for freedom, but she would not have
called herself a humanist prior to 9 January 1941. On that date, six months
into the Nazi Occupation, Beauvoir wrote in her diary of her isolation (“Sartre
[in a German prison camp] is absent, gagged”), her disgust with the rise of
French intellectual fascism, and—drawing on G. W. F. Hegel and Martin
Heidegger—her own philosophical transformation:
Margaret A. Simons
Distinguished Research Professor Emerita
Department of Philosophy
Southern Illinois University Edwardsville
PREFACE
The idea behind Simone de Beauvoir—A Humanist Thinker is to demonstrate the
significance and worth of humanistic research through the work of Simone de
Beauvoir. It is a collection of ten articles with the aim of exploring how Beau-
voir’s works can contribute to recent discussions on the importance of the hu-
manities, as well as to shed new light on Beauvoir’s work
We believe this volume is of relevance for everyone involved and inter-
ested in the humanities and the debates regarding its worth and significance. It
is particularly applicable for Beauvoir scholars, for students, teachers, and re-
searchers in philosophy, literature, history of ideas, cultural studies, ethics,
and gender studies.
This idea of reading Beauvoir as a humanist thinker was conceived
when we were working at arranging The International Simone de Beauvoir
Society’s 20th International Simone de Beauvoir Conference: Philosophy,
Literature, and the Humanities. Organized by Annlaug Bjørsnøs and Tove
Pettersen, the conference was hosted by the University of Oslo in June 2012,
in cooperation with the Norwegian University of Science and Technology.
We are grateful to Yolanda Patterson, head of the Simone de Beauvoir Socie-
ty, for her longtime work in fostering Beauvoir scholarship through annual
conferences, and through the publication of Simone the Beauvoir Studies and
the Simone de Beauvoir Society Newsletter.
All chapters in this collection are based on selected papers originally
presented at the Simone de Beauvoir Conference in Oslo. All contributors
work within the humanities, more precisely within Beauvoir’s main disci-
plines: philosophy and literature. As both the current debate on the humanities
and scholarship on Beauvoir are highly international, we are pleased to have
contributions from several different countries––Canada, Finland, France, Isra-
el, Norway, and the United States. This collection includes contributions from
established Beauvoir scholars as well as students, something we believe
evinces the inclusiveness and cooperative atmosphere that characterizes the
International Simone de Beauvoir Society. We also believe that the variety of
topics and methods demonstrated in this volume shows the applicability and
interdisciplinarity of the Beauvoir scholarship, as well as of humanistic re-
search. We are grateful to all the contributors for sharing their knowledge, and
for their patience and effort in responding to the editorial comments. We es-
pecially want to thank Margaret A. Simons for writing the Guest Foreword.
We wish to express our sincere gratitude to The Norwegian Research
Council, which provided the basic funding for the conference and the publica-
tion of this book, and we acknowledge the financial support from the Univer-
sity of Oslo (Department of Philosophy, Classics, History of Art and Ideas),
and the Norwegian University of Science and Technology. We also want to
thank our two universities for their assistance with organizing the conference,
xiv SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR—A HUMANIST THINKER
Since Ancient Greece, the humanities has studied human beings in their per-
sonal, social, and political context. The disciplines subsumed under the hu-
manities has fostered new understandings of what it means to be human, and
of our cultural interactions. They have shaped our perception of the world. A
person studying one or several of these disciplines is—in a broad understand-
ing of the term—a humanist. The knowledge gained from humanistic research
is considered to be the cornerstone of well-functioning democracies (Nuss-
baum, 2010, p. 72).
In today’s society, where almost all research and every academic disci-
pline is expected to adapt to the market’s demands for immediate commercial
and financial profitability, the humanities is required to prove its worth and
significance. To meet these challenges, the humanities must clearly articulate,
as well as broadly proclaim its important contributions to society. At the same
time, humanistic research must also continue to pursue scientific excellence
for its own sake, as well as renew itself in order to engage more overtly with
the actual problems of our time.
Simone de Beauvoir—A Humanist Thinker is a contribution to the de-
fense of the importance of the humanities. The overall intention of this vol-
ume is to demonstrate the significance and value of humanistic research
through the work of Simone de Beauvoir.
1. Beauvoir—A Humanist
own reasoning and capable of achieving happiness and moral perfection with-
out guidance from religious authorities (ibid., p. 179). Desiderius Erasmus of
Rotterdam manifested this view in his educational work of 1570 when he as-
serted, “man is certainly not born, but made man” (1985, p. 304).
Reflection on what generally pertains to man is a “philosophy of human
beings.” According to German-British philosopher F. C. S. Schiller:
expense of others, and consequently, how they prevent the whole of humanity
to flourish and use its freedom.
In today’s world, where religious fanaticism and totalitarian ideologies
are gaining ground, continuous discussions of the human-made religious, so-
cial, and cultural expressions in the humanities are more relevant than ever.
Moreover, when the inequality in wealth and resources is continuing to in-
crease, we hold that the focus of the humanities on human beings and their
worldly lives is highly imperative. The humanistic disciplines’ disclosures of
ideological structures, as well as their examination of whether and how differ-
ent systems of values can be justified, are of utmost importance.
However, a school of thought alleging that human beings create their
own purpose, with the freedom to create themselves in a world without any
overriding guidelines, is also prompting considerable challenges and conflicts.
How far does each human being’s freedom extend? To what degree should
one restrain one’s own freedom? (When) is it permissible to constrain the
freedom of others? Can other human beings be forced to embrace freedom? Is
it possible—in the name of freedom—to relinquish one’s own freedom? Can
the oppressed be forced to live a free life?
Although Beauvoir shares the basic assumptions of traditional human-
ism and existentialism, which views human beings as free beings, she also
strongly opposes unlimited freedom. In this respect, Beauvoir is not only a
humanist, but she is also a critical humanist. Unique during her time, in 1947,
she published an existentialist ethics—The Ethics of Ambiguity (1976)—
where she discusses the freedom of self and others, and advances a convinc-
ing theory for how and why individual freedom should be limited. Still, it is,
without doubt, a humanist ethics where freedom is the normative core value.
In today’s global and multicultural society, where people from different
cultures, with different experiences and value systems meet and interact, we
hold that Beauvoir’s explicit discussion of the limits of human freedom is
highly relevant. Beauvoir’s ethical essays Pyrrhus and Cineas (2004b) and
The Ethics of Ambiguity, in which the bonds of freedom are discussed are
central in several of this book’s chapters.
Beauvoir is not only critical of an unrestrained worship of human beings
and their freedom, but also of the fact that a narrowly defined humanism can
suppress and exclude some groups of people from humanity. If “what is prop-
er to man” (Giustiniani, 1985, p. 168) is attributed only to “elite Western
men,” then humanism “functions ideologically to justify exploitation and op-
pression” (Kruks, 2012, p. 21). Of this, Beauvoir is well aware.
The human beings earlier humanists and existentialists have placed at
the center of their attention have been men. “Man” has been interpreted as the
male sex; the words “human” as well as “man” have been taken to mean men.
Half of the world’s human beings have been left out of the traditional version
of humanism. Beauvoir expands both humanism and existentialism by explic-
itly including women in her conception of man and human beings. She studies
4 TOVE PETTERSEN AND ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
women’s being in the world, their situations and experiences that have previ-
ously been ignored. Insisting on including gender in her research on what it
means to be a human makes Beauvoir a feminist humanist.
Beauvoir is particularly renowned as the author of The Second Sex, writ-
ten in 1949, a book that clearly sustains our view of her as a significant hu-
manist thinker, or more precisely; a critical, feminist humanist thinker. In this
work, she challenges the understanding of women in our culture—which tra-
ditionally is based on biological and religious speculation combined with pa-
triarchal interests—with her famous statement: “One is not born, but rather
becomes, woman” (2010, p. 283). Beauvoir’s groundbreaking analysis on
women—and men—in The Second Sex has substantively changed our views
on human beings in our culture, and altered our understanding of interperson-
al relationships. Even more so, it has had an important, positive impact on the
lives of many women, motivating significant changes in research and politics,
hence, also in everyday life. Beauvoir has, it should be noted, also inspired
the creation of new academic disciplines such as feminist philosophy and
gender studies, disciplines that persist in being at the cutting edge in academia
and challenge cultural conventions and common bigotry.
The reception and influence of The Second Sex in our culture clearly il-
lustrate how important humanistic research can be. In a global perspective,
women still experience severe discrimination; the majority of people living in
absolute poverty are women; they experience sexual violence and rape; they
lack equal access to education, training, and healthcare, and there are signifi-
cant differences in access to power, resources, and decision making on all
levels due to gender discrimination (IANWGE, 2014). Unfortunately, a femi-
nist perspective on humanism is still highly relevant.
A characteristic of the Renaissance humanists is their polyhistoric ideal:
their broad interests and their wide knowledge. In Beauvoir’s writings, we
find a comparable wide-ranging orientation. Her knowledge about art, litera-
ture, history, philosophy, anthropology, sociology, psychology, biology, poli-
tics, and literature is extensive, and it inscribes her in the humanist tradition. It
also explains why, today, her works are studied in several different disciplines
within the humanities. The diverse academic background of the contributors
to this book—as well as their variation of topics—bears witness to this fact.
From Beauvoir’s extensive knowledge of a variety of humanistic disci-
plines, an interdisciplinary approach appears to follow. As human beings are
multifaceted and always situated in a particular context, various perspectives,
methods, and modes of expression are required to understand them in all their
complexity. Beauvoir is educated in one of the humanistic disciplines, name-
ly, philosophy. She is formally trained as a scholar in this discipline, and this
is yet another way to be a humanist. In classical Latin, humanus also means
learned (Giustiniani, 1985, p. 168). Nevertheless, her approach is strikingly
interdisciplinary; she writes philosophical essay, fiction, and a play, as well
as political articles—and she exceeds the requirements and borders for each
Introduction 5
genre as well. She also uses various theories and methods as she sees fit;
psychoanalysis, phenomenology, literary techniques, empirical evidences
and logical analysis.
Beauvoir’s work, in our opinion, exemplifies how humanistic research
should be done. Refusing disciplinary purity, she goes beyond the established
disciplines in order to grasp the complexity of the object or the phenomenon
she studies. Beauvoir’s inter- and cross-disciplinary approach is a model for
the development and renewal of the humanistic disciplines in contemporary
society, and there is much to gain by studying her novel method as a contribu-
tion to the advancement of the humanities today.
During current times, the world is facing major global threats: climate
change, environmental crises, expanding economic crisis, poverty, violence,
and inequality. The global society needs the humanities to find fair and mean-
ingful solutions to its problems, and the humanities must collaborate with a
variety of disciplines, from social sciences to the technological fields, to meet
these challenges. Respecting the distinctiveness and the complexities of these
disciplines, each of them contributing in its own right, the humanities must
continue to analyze and propose theories and methods, to combat ignorance,
intolerance and injustice, and to act upon the world. Several of the chapters
in Simone de Beauvoir—A Humanist Thinker examine Beauvoir’s interdisci-
plinary approach and argue that she advances the humanistic sciences.
Many people associate the humanities with critical thinking, which is
considered to be one of the skills acquired by studying and becoming a hu-
manist (Nussbaum, 2010, pp. 2, 23). Also in this respect, Beauvoir is a hu-
manist thinker. Not only is her thinking critical in the sense that she takes
issue with the established structures of thought, but she also criticizes what
she sees as myths and oppressive ideologies. Furthermore, Beauvoir’s philos-
ophy provides her readers with conceptual tools and insights that enable them
to critically analyze their own situation. In all she wrote, she urged each per-
son to take responsibility for their own lives, to acknowledge their own free-
dom as well as the freedom of others, and to work for a society without op-
pression. At the same time, she recognized and unmasked how longstanding
traditions and deeply entrenched social structures impact individuals’ situa-
tion, their opportunities, and freedom.
Several chapters of this volume take Beauvoir’s ethics as the theoretical
basis for their critical analysis of today’s society, be it the requirements for
utility maximization, the domination of instrumental value, or the demands
for unlimited individual freedom. In our view, by encouraging critical and
novel thinking, the humanities must follow Beauvoir’s example and continue
to develop tools and concepts enabling us to better understand a complex and
constantly changing human world.
To be socially aware and engaged in political questions are also signifi-
cant characteristics of being a humanist (Giustiniani, 1985, pp. 178–179).
Also in this way Beauvoir is a humanist thinker. From her ethics, a political
6 TOVE PETTERSEN AND ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
2. Beauvoir Scholarship
The papers in Section I argue that Beauvoir’s work clearly demonstrates how
humanistic research can be done: Beauvoir is an exemplary humanist in the
way she combines extensive traditional humanistic knowledge with original
philosophical thinking, and pioneering literature. Furthermore, as a main goal
of the humanities is to foster critical thinking, Beauvoir’s works can serve as a
model. Her study of women’s situation, for example, draws attention to the
mechanisms set in motion when societal decisions are rooted in “neutral” sci-
entific discoveries. Her work shows with great clarity how important it is to
formulate and disseminate a critical approach to science. Beauvoir also
demonstrates how myths have been created and passed on in our culture. In
today’s society, the widespread tabloid media also tends to replace knowledge
by myths—often in terms of facile descriptions of phenomena, people and
cultures we do not immediately understand.
In Chapter One, “Making the Humanities Meaningful: Beauvoir’s Phi-
losophy and Literature of the Appeal,” Christine Daigle locates Simone de
Beauvoir within the traditions of the humanities, and argues that her works
are the embodiment of the Renaissance Studia Humanitatis. The themes
Beauvoir approaches, the questions she tackles, and the varied methods she
uses make her a humanities scholar par excellence. However, Beauvoir also
8 TOVE PETTERSEN AND ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
main conditions for a human life, as the basis for our social commitment, and
not least as the pillars of democratic society.
In Chapter Five, “Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Simone
de Beauvoir’s Ethics,” Tove Pettersen examines several aspects related to the
core value of Beauvoir’s existentialist ethics, namely freedom. She inspects
the arguments for why, according to Beauvoir, we should sustain and promote
this particular value, and how this ethics encourages agents toward critical
thinking and political engagement. Scrutinizing Beauvoir’s reasons for mak-
ing moral freedom the leading normative value also reveals why the wide-
spread understanding of freedom as the absence of external and internal con-
straints on the agent, cannot be ethically justified. To be free should not be
mistaken for some select individuals having the power to do anything they
like, but rather understood as everyone being able to surpass the given toward
an open future. Beauvoir’s understanding of freedom also reveals a close con-
nection between her existential ethics and humanism: she claims that the ulti-
mate goal of our transcendence is to “act for humanity.” Beauvoir’s existential
ethics is humanism, Pettersen argues. By addressing the continuing friction
between individual freedom, public interests and solidarity with all of humani-
ty, Beauvoir’s normative thinking remains highly relevant today, and it
demonstrates how, through critical and creative thinking, the humanities can
contribute toward upholding a free, well-functioning democratic society.
In Chapter Six, “Becoming-Ambiguous: Beauvoir, Deleuze, and the Fu-
ture of the Humanities,” Samantha Bankston explores the inexorable relation-
ship between the humanities and freedom through a post-structural reading of
Simone de Beauvoir’s notion of ambiguity. With regard to justifying the val-
ues of the humanities, Bankston demonstrates how Beauvoir’s philosophy
enables critical thinking. In an age when the humanities is devalued in con-
temporary technocratic society, with university departments facing extinction
and radical de-funding in favor of research in the domains of business and
hard sciences, disciplines such as philosophy, literature, and history are con-
tinually asked to defend their utility. Instead of succumbing to this require-
ment and obediently answering the question, “How is the humanities use-
ful?,” the humanities should ask: “How does the constant appeal to ‘utility’
threaten our freedom?”
Freedom is not very useful in contemporary technocratic societies where
“utility” has become an authoritative principle used to justify the oppression
of critical thoughts, Bankston asserts. In this respect, Beauvoir’s concept of
ambiguity provides the blueprint for impersonal agency that resists reification
and creates the space for liberation practices. Beauvoir’s existential ethics,
however, is couched in the human-centric context of French existentialism,
and a new notion of non-human, non-representational agency is needed to
articulate the liberating power of the humanities in an ontological framework
that destroys all hierarchies. By mapping the temporal connections between
Gilles Deleuze’s concept of becoming and Beauvoir’s concept of ambiguity,
Introduction 11
and enable communication and engagement by giving the reader what she (in
“What Can Literature Do?,” [2011]) calls “the taste of another life.” To Beau-
voir, literature voices singular, situated truths about the world, simultaneously
exposing and exploring compelling human challenges, be they ethical, psy-
chological, or intellectual. In addition, she used her own life, and the lives of
others, as an arena of exploration. Her autobiographies testify to the im-
portance she attributes to concrete, lived experience as the basis for
knowledge. Beauvoir’s works are also “committed literature” in the sense
that she uses writing as a means to engage with the world by drawing atten-
tion to oppression and social injustices. Beauvoir’s work is indeed human-
istic in the sense of being a thorough inquiry into what it means to be human
in a personal, social, and political context.
In Chapter Eight, “The Relevance of Simone de Beauvoir’s eth-
ic/aesthetic project to the Humanities,” Juliana de Albuquerque Katz offers an
analysis of Simone de Beauvoir’s philosophical ideas by answering two ques-
tions directed at her metaphysical novel, Tous les hommes sont mortels (All
men are mortal) (1946). The questions concern the careful craft of an intellec-
tual who sought for equilibrium between thinking-with a philosophical canon
and setting up her own philosophical autonomy. The inquiry can be expressed
in the following way: How did thinking-with G. W. F. Hegel model Beau-
voir’s approach to inter-subjectivity? How did she make use of Heidegger’s
criticism of metaphysics to come up with her own ethics of relations? By an-
swering these questions, Albuquerque Katz reveals that Beauvoir offers us a
picture of the fragmentary reality of our times that certain strands of tradition-
al philosophy are unable to deal with. Because of this, Beauvoir’s treatment of
the concepts of the other and of recognition bear a very peculiar dynamic
based on her notion of ambiguity and its connection to her idea that in the real
world, the meaning of an object is not a concept graspable by pure under-
standing. Thus, by appreciating the way she related to the philosophical canon
and, at the same time, searched for philosophical autonomy, one might indeed
bring new insight to the possibilities of a new ethics in an age of conflicts and
of a more appropriate approach to the history of ideas.
In Chapter Nine, “Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporali-
ty in The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir,” Annlaug Bjørsnøs asserts that
the achievements of humanistic research in the matter of time and temporali-
ty enable us to enter more deeply into the human mind and human psycholo-
gy. They also allow us to gather knowledge about how human beings act and
interact with their surroundings in different historical epochs, contexts, and
situations. Studying Beauvoir’s portrayal of Anne Dubreuilh, the main fe-
male character in The Mandarins, Bjørsnøs argues that Beauvoir’s novel
expresses compelling existential issues through Anne’s relation to temporali-
ty. Through the interplay of two modes of reflection and of searching—
philosophical assumptions and fictional configuration—Anne’s narrative
shows how people may live and react to major changes in their lives. It shows
Introduction 13
Sartre was a philosopher, and me, I am not; and I never really wanted to
be a philosopher. I like philosophy very much, but I have not construct-
ed a philosophical work. I constructed a literary work. I was interested in
novels, in memoirs, in essays such as The Second Sex. But this is not
philosophy” (Simons, 1999, p. 9).
18 CHRISTINE DAIGLE
Further in the same interview she adds, “for me, a philosopher is someone
like Spinoza, G. W. F. Hegel, or like Sartre: someone who builds a great sys-
tem . . . it is someone who truly constructs a philosophy” (ibid., p. 11).
I beg to disagree with Beauvoir. I take her definition of “philosopher” to
be much too narrow and it is only because of its narrowness that she disquali-
fies herself from the ranks of philosophers.
In the spirit of Renaissance thinkers, Beauvoir rejects authority and
seeks to form her own thoughts on human reality, human freedom, and the
flourishing of human beings. Exploring ethical questions of authentic—
ambiguous—becoming, she shares with the Renaissance philosophers, Pico of
Italy and humanist Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam, the view that human
beings make themselves.
Indeed, Beauvoir’s assertion, “One is not born, but rather becomes,
woman” (2011, p. 283) could be read as a feminist version of Erasmus’s
claim, in his essay on the education of children, “man is certainly not born,
but made man” (1985, p. 304). Erasmus, however, had in mind a slightly dif-
ferent meaning than Beauvoir; he expressed his view in the context of a dis-
cussion on the value of education while quoting ancient philosophers. He
makes the claim to show the importance of education in becoming a man, a
citizen, or a full human being. It differs from Beauvoir’s position, but not en-
tirely, since Beauvoir’s claim is that one becomes a woman through one’s own
choices but also under the fashioning of various socio-cultural constraints.
However, it may be that the similarities between Beauvoir and Renais-
sance thinkers are more striking than the differences. For them, education and
training is key for the human being since there is no essence of the human
being. Given this flexibility of human nature, and given that character traits,
virtues, and vices are not given, the education and social conditioning to
which one will be subject are determining. The underlying claim here is that
the human being can make oneself.
As Paul Kristeller and John Herman Randall Jr. point out, “from Pet-
rarch down, the humanists felt in strong opposition to this professional phi-
losophy of the universities and their own intellectual defenses and rationaliza-
tions were developed in contrast to it” (1948, p. 11). Benjamin G. Kohl and
Ronald G. Witt explain further:
Renaissance humanists trust the human being’s capacity to make oneself ac-
cording to one’s own means. For the thinker—the humanist philosopher—the
task becomes to examine the human being and seek to understand its nature.
Although they were the precursors of rationalists like Descartes with their
Making the Humanities Meaningful: Beauvoir and the Appeal 19
faith in the powers of reason, Renaissance thinkers were not system build-
ers—those whom Beauvoir identifies as “philosophers”—and yet, they phi-
losophized a great deal about the human being.
A parenthesis on Descartes’s rationalism is in order here. With his most
famous writings, Discours de la méthode (Discourse on Method) (1637) and
Meditationes de prima philosophia (Meditations on first philosophy) (1644),
Descartes established the foundations for modern rationalism. In a less well-
known text, Regulae ad directionem ingenii (Rules for the direction of our
native intelligence) (unfinished text dated 1628), Descartes proposes a number
of rules for one to acquire knowledge. The third and twelfth rules are of partic-
ular interest here. Rule 3 rejects the authority of the ancients and is reiterated in
Discourse on Method; as he says, “the first [principle] was never to accept
anything as true if I did not have evident knowledge of its truth” (1998, p. 29).
Rule 12 is the most interesting here as Descartes claims that one ought
to make use of all human faculties in order to acquire knowledge. The specific
faculties he mentions are: intelligence, imagination, the senses, and memory.
In many ways, existentialist philosophers like Beauvoir will apply this rule as
they make use of different forms of inquiry besides the constraining systemat-
ic treatise, thus appealing to different human faculties.
In general, French existentialists (as well as German phenomenologists
who inspired them, such as Edmund Husserl) were influenced by Descartes, all
the while being critical of what they saw as hyper-rationalism. Descartes,
along with humanist Renaissance thinkers and Enlightenment philosophers,
had too much faith in reason for the existentialists’ liking. Rule 12, however,
and its appeal to use various tools to philosophize, shows that Descartes may
not have been such a stiff rationalist after all.
Humanist thinkers used a variety of methods in exploring their topics.
Kohl and Witt indicate:
The literary production of the Humanists makes clear that their interest
in philosophy was but secondary and was limited primarily to the field
of ethics. . . . Their direct contribution to philosophy must hence be called
rather modest. But their indirect contribution is much greater. They influ-
enced the style and form of philosophical literature. (1948, p. 5)
Beauvoir was not only politically active in her life but her writings were a
form of active intervention in public life, appealing to her readers’ freedom so
that they may undertake to change the world.
I posit that Beauvoir’s works are the embodiment of the Renaissance
studia humanitatis (the humanities). Kristeller and Randall explain:
For this group of disciplines the scholars of the time, following certain an-
cient precedents, coined the comprehensive term, Studia Humanitatis, or
“the Humanities,” and hence called themselves “Humanists.” (1948, p. 4)
Kohl and Witt take into consideration Pier Paolo Vergerio’s definition of the
liberal arts:
damental nature of man and the world, beyond rational discourse and
expressing an intuitive cognition of truth. (1978, p. 15)
I believe that the themes Beauvoir approaches, the questions she tackles,
and the varied methods she uses make her a humanities scholar par excel-
lence. In this sense, she is more than a philosopher qua system builder or,
shall we say, a better kind of philosopher! However, she also goes well be-
yond that program in incorporating a feminist perspective. Indeed the studia
humanitatis in its inception is very much a study of “man.” The title of the
classic study of the Renaissance period from which I have been quoting,
Kristeller and Randall’s The Renaissance Philosophy of Man (1948), is a
good illustration of that. While they mean “man” as the generic for human
being, one soon realizes that Renaissance thinkers were mostly concerned
with man and not woman. Thus I cannot help but read this title as referring to
men and not humanity.
Renaissance thought about women were placed in the context of their
role in relation to men, such as the essay, “On Wifely Duties,” by Venetian
humanist and politician Francesco Barbaro, written as advice to Lorenzo di
Medici on the occasion of his marriage in 1416. Renaissance thinkers have
asked the question of man—they have interrogated the concept of man and
what it is to be a man; Beauvoir asks the question of man and adds to it that of
woman. Her feminist perspective allows her to truly address the question of
human being, the so-called generic meaning of “man.”
Discussing her notion of nomadic feminism, Rosi Braidotti has claimed:
The feminist theoretician today can only be “in transit,” moving on,
passing through, creating connections where things were previously dis-
connected or seemed unrelated, where there seemed to be “nothing to
see.” In transit, moving, displacing—this is the grain of hysteria without
which there is no theorization at all. In a feminist context, “trans-
disciplinary” also implies the effort to move on to the invention of new
ways of relating, of building footbridges between notions. The epistemic
nomadism I am advocating can only work, in fact, if it is properly situat-
ed, securely anchored in the “in-between” zones. (1994, p. 177)
Beauvoir not only makes the world look different—that path along
which we thread our way through the labyrinth of everyday life—but
22 CHRISTINE DAIGLE
she also makes the philosophical canon look different and compelling.
(2004, p. xxiv)
I agree, and I would expand her claim to say that Beauvoir makes the whole
humanities canon look “different and compelling.” How does she do that?
In a more recent work, Braidotti (2009) has argued that feminist philos-
ophy is a meta-methodological style of thinking that combines the critical and
protesting elements (éléments contestataires) in a peculiar fashion through its
illuminating conceptual creations. She says:
I argue that even at her philosophical best, Beauvoir does not offer what
she qualifies as “pure philosophy.” Because her philosophy is existential and
phenomenological, it avoids the traps that pure philosophy inevitably encoun-
ters—the philosophy that attempts to establish a systematic understanding of
human reality. By refusing to systematize human experience and dwell in the
realm of abstract principles and by focusing on the concrete ambiguous expe-
riences of human beings, Beauvoir’s works—literary, philosophical, and oth-
erwise—all provide this “disclosure of existence.” Further, this disclosure
entails an appeal to the reader to think, be critical, and, as a result, act. We
saw the appeal work in the doctoral seminar described above.
One is always speaking from one’s own perspective. By unveiling reali-
ty, the writer plays an important role that makes of literature a political com-
mitment. Sartre, with whom Beauvoir agrees on this point, defines literature
as “committed literature” (littérature engagée). The writer unveils the world
to a reader and—in what becomes a conversation between writer and reader—
binds the reader’s freedom and commits it to change the world. Writers and
readers are thus bound through the piece of writing that lies between them.
Michèle Le Doeuff identifies this as the “we proper of philosophy”: the writ-
er, and the reader who remains unknown to the writer. She says, “but the ‘we’
specific to philosophy should by rights be unplaceable and unidentifiable: the
author and the reader, who is unknown to the author” (2007, p. 16).
The writing that binds writer and reader presents truth—a subjective
truth that “speaks” to the readers. Readers make of it their own subjective
truth. By doing so, the reader binds him/herself to changing the world. As
Nancy Bauer would have it, “the task of The Second Sex is to explore both
men’s and women’s investment in the status quo and therefore to inspire us to
resist it” (2004, p. 130).
The Second Sex unveils the world to its reader and, by doing so, binds
the freedom of the reader and commits it to act. If the world that is unveiled is
one wherein injustice reigns, the readers are compromised and cannot escape
the duty to change the world in order to allow the flourishing of freedom—
their own as well as that of others. Beauvoir’s Second Sex demonstrates that
Making the Humanities Meaningful: Beauvoir and the Appeal 25
in such a world, individuals cannot live as ambiguous and free. The reader
must work toward it.
In Pyrrhus and Cineas (2004d), Beauvoir had shown that the individual
must appeal to the freedom of the Other. The “metaphysical” duty of human
beings is to unveil being but also to appeal to the Other who will ground and
justify this unveiling. For the appeal to resonate, the Other must be free. If she
is not, she must be made free. The act of writing is an appeal of this kind and
The Second Sex is such an appeal. What is operating in Beauvoir’s works—the
thread that connects Pyrrhus and Cineas, The Ethics of Ambiguity (1976), and
The Second Sex (2011)—is the process of liberation from oppression.
In the context of fiction-writing and phenomenological descriptions of
lived experience, the appeal, as described here, is made to the pre-reflective
individual. It may very well be that an appeal to reflective individuals would
be unsuccessful because they are caught in patterns of oppression that it as-
similates. Appealing to the pre-reflective individual would allow for directly
touching the ontological freedom that is constrained by the reflective individu-
al. Thus, the individual’s ontological freedom would be triggered in actualizing
itself and making itself a practical freedom. Beauvoir’s appeal to her readers is
a feminist appeal that unveils dichotomous thinking and forces the reader into
a critical stance, reshaping our ways of thinking and conceptualizing things.
An interesting question arises here: does the unveiling entail of the
world and injustices therein immediate concrete political acts to change it?
The changes that Beauvoir calls for are radical and fundamental. They involve
putting in place equality between the sexes that has still not been achieved
more than sixty years after the publication of The Second Sex and all of the
feminist action and social improvements that have occurred since then.
The world that is needed for the flourishing of ambiguity is still at a dis-
tance. Many actions and changes are required to bring it about. The situation
is extremely complex. The unveiling that Beauvoir’s philosophy calls for re-
veals ambiguity. Human beings are ambiguous embodied beings and the
world ought to be a place where they can flourish as such. As I have indicated
above, The Second Sex is an appeal to its readers. In many ways, it seems that
the call has been and continues to be effective. As Catherine Rodgers puts it,
The Second Sex allowed many women to “name and think their oppression”
(1998, p. 18, translation mine). Le Doeuff explains:
Beauvoir’s works and feminist philosophies that take their inspiration from
them, social imaginaries will be deeply transformed by a new understanding
of the human being as ambiguous and embodied. In a Beauvoirian context,
these imaginaries will be shaped to value ambiguity, freedom, embodiment,
and authenticity, which in turn, will lead to the adoption of the appropriate
social and political measures to foster them.
The question of which comes first, the ethical or the political, is a thorny
one. Debra B. Bergoffen, for example, has suggested that one is ethical before
being political (2006, p. 104). However, I think that the weight of situation—
our specific location in the world—is such that it might very well be impossi-
ble to be ethical without addressing the political setting in which we are, if not
first, at least at the same time as we address our ethical becoming. It seems to
me that Bergoffen’s analysis, while focusing rightly on the being-with
(Heideggerian Mitsein), fails to pay attention to the fact that this being-with
does not only happen between two. We are always beings-with-many-others.
The being-with is caught in a web of other interpersonal relationships and is
situated in the world. The political setting in which we live and which perme-
ates us needs to be changed and modified as we change ourselves. The ethics
and the politics are intertwined. Beauvoir states:
ethics and politics seem one and the same to us. Man is one, the world
he inhabits is one, and with the actions he performs in the world, he en-
gages himself in his totality. Reconciling ethics and politics is thus rec-
onciling man with himself; it means affirming that at every instant he
can assume himself totally. (2004b, p. 189)
A statement such as this reinforces the link between Beauvoir and Renais-
sance thinkers regarding the role of the humanist thinker as a critic of society.
The Second Sex is an appeal to its readers to carry out the transformation
of the social imaginaries that permeate our lives. By offering an ontologico-
phenomenological description of the lived experience of women and disman-
tling facts that have contributed to the historical and mythical shaping of
women, the work appeals to the reader’s freedom, which is grounded in its
ambiguous being, and allows readers to respond to the work by rejecting
those socio-historical patterns.
The Second Sex is paradigmatic of how the appeal operates and its re-
ception has shown how the appeal has resonated. This appeal is also at work
in her other writings. Indeed, the whole Beauvoirian corpus is this appeal.
Using the meta-methodology of feminism—which is transdisciplinary in na-
ture—and being a humanist thinker who does not limit herself to the narrow
confines of “pure philosophy” as system-building, Beauvoir allows readers to
revisit the humanities and infuse the studia humanitatis with meaning.
28 CHRISTINE DAIGLE
would then exist in the mode of that which has neither completion nor
beginning, but is rather impulse and movement. It would also be inter-
disciplinary: if we accept the idea that philosophy does not launch itself,
we can see it springing from anywhere, from science for example,
through a perception of the fact that the way a science thinks encourages
rethinking. (2007, p. 168)
Acknowledgment
Simone de Beauvoir had the same mission as the humanities: to foster critical
thinking and compassion. Scholars have often described Beauvoir’s female char-
acters as weak women suffering from depression and guilty of bad faith. Instead,
Les belles images illustrates that pain and shortcomings are part of a moral crisis
or existential awakening that serves as a blueprint for the humanities. The three
stages of this process are to become aware of the values that we unconsciously
absorb from society; to discover that there are no external authorities, that we
must accept the responsibility that comes with freedom; and to learn that we
must live with the uncertainty and risk accompanying every decision, the hall-
mark of an ethics of ambiguity. Following the protagonist’s progression through
each of these stages, readers vicariously go through the transformative spiritual
adventure offered by the humanities.
1. Introduction
around her and exposes them for what they are: cold, uncaring, arrogant, self-
ish, superficial, conformist snobs. By the end of the novel, she gains just
enough strength to stand up to her family and to claim her right to raise her
daughters as she sees fit.
Respected Beauvoir scholars have focused on Laurence’s bad faith, de-
nouncing in particular her complicity in her own oppression (Cottrell, 1975;
Ascher, 1981; Keefe, 1983; Fallaize, 1988; Shepherd, 2003; Tidd, 2005).
Others, for example, have emphasized her revolt and partial emancipation
(Evans, 1985; Penrod, 1987; Heath, 1989; Patterson, 1989; Kiran, 2008; Saez,
2008–2009). Beauvoir stated in her memoirs that readers would have liked to
have seen Laurence experience a dramatic moment of revelation (prise de
conscience). However, as Beauvoir explained her concept of the novel in
“Littérature et métaphysique” (Literature and metaphysics) (1946; cf. 2004b),
there can be no clear-cut answers in “metaphysical” novels because the reader
ponders, doubts, and takes sides; and this hesitant development of his thought
enriches him in a way that no teaching of doctrine could (2004b, p. 270).
In this chapter, I argue that Beauvoir deliberately limited Laurence’s
emancipation in order to convey the difficult process of awakening that Beau-
voir described in her philosophical texts. Beauvoir’s version of existentialism
never gels into a fixed philosophical system. Rather, it constantly evolves and
questions its own presuppositions. Just as Beauvoir’s literary texts invite par-
ticipation from the reader, so her philosophical texts take readers on what she
calls a “spiritual adventure” so that they will tease out the ideas that will be
“points of departure” for their own growth (ibid., 272). However, in all of her
texts, Beauvoir insists on one key idea: no changes can be brought to bear on
society or within individuals until the underlying problem has been clearly
identified. This awakening may classified into three key stages embedded in
Beauvoir’s early philosophical writings, in particular, “Existentialism and
Popular Wisdom” (2004a), Pyrrhus and Cineas (2004d), and The Ethics of
Ambiguity (1997): (1) discovering the values that shape us (ideology); (2)
discovering that there is no exterior moral authority (freedom); (3) discover-
ing the risk and uncertainty involved in authentic action (ambiguity). These
three stages perfectly exemplify what we do in the humanities and can be seen
at work in Les belles images.
In general, as explained by Terry Eagleton (1991) and other theorists, the hu-
manities starts by exposing the discourse of ideology, or the values and atti-
tudes that we have absorbed, most often unconsciously. This involves a critical
examination of culture, which is exactly what Beauvoir does in “Existentialism
and Popular Wisdom.” Taking a sharp look at the insidious messages that we
receive from family, educators, culture, and media, Beauvoir summarizes the
Existential Awakening in Simone de Beauvoir’s Les belles images 31
Most men spend their life crushed by the weight of clichés that smother
them. If they resolved to acquire a clear awareness of their situation in
the world, then only would they find themselves in harmony with them-
selves and reality. (2004a, p. 215)
Beauvoir spent her entire professional life trying to demystify and expose the
negative attitudes that block our transcendence. Nothing is possible before we
emancipate ourselves from the mental constraints that choke our individual
voices, and this is no easy task because these messages are everywhere.
Beauvoir’s stated purpose in Les belles images was to “make the silence
speak” (1974, p. 122), by which she meant to free the protagonist, who had
been trapped within the walls of conformity. A large portion of the novel is
devoted to Laurence’s gradual understanding of the workings of ideology
thanks to various crises that she and members of her family go through. Her
identity crisis involves examining others to discover the source of their appar-
ent certainty, because she is under the impression that she is the only one with
no fixed values or opinions. She comes to realize that most people simply
quote what they have heard from others or read from newspapers or maga-
zines. Since she had taken to looking at the papers again, Laurence observes
that people often reproduce the articles in their talk (Beauvoir, 1968, p. 113).
Gilbert, Laurence’s mother Dominique’s lover for the past seven years,
is an arrogant millionaire who flaunts his superior knowledge and silences
anyone who disagrees with him. He only reads books that flatter his self-
image. Laurence leafs through some of these books, which her husband Jean-
Charles also reads; she concludes that they all say the same thing: thanks to
technology, all of the world’s problems will be solved in the near future. But
this is a way of exempting oneself from the responsibility of helping others
now. Laurence is unsatisfied by these glib explanations and feels that she
needs to broaden her range and delve more deeply into these important issues.
Laurence becomes progressively aware that people merely parrot ideas
that they absorb uncritically. She secretly challenges these opinions because
she has other values, even if she has not consciously expressed them before.
At the very beginning of the novel, when Gilbert states categorically that
there will not be a third world war, Laurence wonders why so much money is
being spent on weapons. She even tries to argue with him about workers in
Brazil, but feels that she said something stupid because she did not have all
the facts. Halfway through the novel, Thirion, a sexist, narcissistic lawyer,
claims that women will never be as good as male lawyers. Although Laurence
has not yet formulated her own ideas about feminism, at least she does not
adopt her circle of friends’ assumption that feminism is a thing of the past.
32 LOUISE RENÉE
Everyday little fits of temper, the chance of a word, of a silence, all these
fortuitous trifles that ought to vanish behind me are written deep in the
mind of this child, who will turn them over and who will remember them
just as I remember the exact tones of Dominique’s voice. (Ibid., p. 164)
Laurence also remembers her teacher, Mlle Houchet, who pushed students to
think for themselves. Laurence thinks that this teacher would be very disap-
pointed in her because she has half-heartedly accepted a corporatist, conform-
ist ideology. Dominique shaped her into a belle image (beautiful image),
taught her to stifle her feelings, and even chose a career for her. But Laurence
is becoming aware of these influences: “But what’s the value of that opinion?
Where do I get it from? From Papa; from school; from Mlle Houchet. I had
convictions when I was eighteen. There was something of them left to her: not
much––more a longing memory” (ibid., p. 115). Laurence realizes that she
has allowed people to make decisions for her: “I’ve never decided anything:
not even my marriage, nor my profession, nor my affair with Lucien. That
came and went in spite of me” (ibid., p. 144). Laurence does not blame others
for these choices. She is responsible for having passively absorbed influences,
opinions, and values. But what has that done to her? What has she become? A
woman who can no longer cry, feel passion or deep interest in anything, a
woman completely paralyzed, with “stones in her bosom and the reek of sul-
fur in her head” (ibid., p. 148).
Although both Dominique and Laurence suffer from the effects of cor-
poratist ideology, there is a major difference in the way each chooses to deal
with it. Dominique is aware of the unfair, sexist, cruel rules of capitalist socie-
ty, but she does not consider any other way of living. When she is rejected
and crushed, her response is revenge, and she is punished by Gilbert who bru-
talizes her and probably rapes her. She learns nothing from her ordeal. On the
contrary, she reconciles with her ex-husband (Papa) to create the image of an
aging woman who is still desirable, playing yet another role.
On the other hand, Laurence has never truly bought into corporatism.
She claims that money is important to her, but not as much as it is for other
34 LOUISE RENÉE
people. She secretly gives more money to their maid, and she cannot get over
the fact that Jean-Charles is furious because she wrecked the car rather than
risk killing a cyclist, as if money were everything. When Jean-Charles takes
her Christmas shopping, she is repelled by all the objects that people drool
over. She fully realizes the deception involved in advertising things that func-
tion as substitutes for real feelings. She even catches herself reacting nega-
tively toward her daughter’s friend, Brigitte, noticing before anything else the
pin holding up the hem of her skirt, just as her own mother would have done.
Conscious of her own complicity in a sexist, corporatist ideology, Laurence is
ready for the next stage in the process of awakening: realizing that she must
take ownership of her own ideas.
First and foremost, Beauvoir’s concept of freedom is the realization that mor-
al choice is the individual’s responsibility. In The Ethics of Ambiguity, she
explains that children absorb values that they are taught because they have no
choice, but that adolescence is the moment of “moral choice.” At this time in
our lives, we see that values are constructed, not absolute and eternal. In
Mémoires d’une jeune fille range (Memoirs of a dutiful daughter) (1958),
Beauvoir recalls a pivotal moment in her own life, when one of her friends
voiced an opinion that was the opposite of her father’s. This shocked Beau-
voir so much that for the first time, she realized that she could no longer count
on anyone. In The Ethics of Ambiguity, Beauvoir explains, “Renouncing the
thought of seeking the guarantee for his existence outside of himself, he will
also refuse to believe in unconditioned values which would set themselves up
and thwart his freedom like things” (1997, p. 14). Moral choice means count-
ing on yourself to find answers:
The fact is that no behavior is ever authorized to begin with, and one of
the concrete consequences of existentialist ethics is the rejection of all
the previous justifications which might be drawn from the civilization,
the age, and the culture; it is the rejection of every principle of authority.
(Ibid., p. 142)
that will validate the one that is struggling to emerge within her. She attempts
to find answers in others, but is thwarted each time. When her daughter, Cath-
erine, starts asking the important questions about life, especially, Why there is
suffering in the world?, Laurence at first defers to her husband’s superior
knowledge, “This evening, Papa will explain everything. . . . And he’ll find
persuasive arguments better than I can” (ibid., p. 37). She had been relying on
him to keep up with current events, because she had given up reading. Now
she asks him to recommend books, but finds what he recommends to be un-
satisfactory. She realizes that Jean-Charles hates being challenged, and that he
wants to be right rather than to understand someone. Although she makes
excuses for him, she comes to see him as materialist, sexist, anti-Semite, and
only interested in worldly success: she stops seeking his advice, and is irritat-
ed by his arrogance. When they argue about Catherine, she finally loses her
temper and tells him to leave the room. She now rejects him as a possible
source of knowledge or wisdom.
Laurence would like to ask her colleague, Mona, what she thinks about
Catherine’s questions, but she already knows that Mona will criticize capital-
ism in a “sectarian” way. She also turns to her lover Lucien, but she finds his
responses glib, predictable, and superficial: he is only interested in their affair.
Only one person holds the promise of revealing the answers she is looking
for––her father. He declares, “I’ve always tried to make my life coincide with
my principles” (ibid., p. 43). She admires him because he is “incapable of low
compromise, of scheme, and he was indifferent to money––unique” (ibid.).
She comments that what she had looked for in Jean-Charles and later in Luci-
en, only he possessed: a “reflection of the infinite” (ibid., p. 44).
Laurence wonders what her father’s secret might be, and whether she
will ever find it. But worrisome signs punctuate the text even before she expe-
riences a painful process of disillusionment during their trip to Greece. The
first hint of trouble is the gift he buys for their daughters: a kaleidoscope with
nothing in it, which Jean-Charles thinks could inspire profitable wallpaper
designs, but then again, he loves books that say nothing and gifts that have no
purpose. Although her father and Jean-Charles seem to hold opposite views
on life, one living in the future and the other in the past, they both pretend to
want to do something to improve the world, but they are really just pontificat-
ing. In Greece, Laurence wants her father to give her the meaning of words
and things as he used to do during her childhood. When she asks him about
Catherine, he clearly does not take her concerns seriously; he brushes her off.
She forces him to go through the modern part of Athens and rejects his theory
of “austere happiness” because of the suffering she detects on the faces of the
women selling their goods in the cold.
Back home, not eating and extremely distressed, Laurence tries to de-
termine precisely when her disillusionment reached the breaking point. She
thinks it might have been in the museum, when her father was trying to inter-
est her in endless rows of boring vases. She tried talking to him about the
36 LOUISE RENÉE
Kore, the only sculptures she liked, but he was disappointed that she did not
share his passion, and she fails to reach him. The bond between them is bro-
ken, if there ever was a real one. The truth finally dawns on her:
So it was not true that he possessed wisdom and joy and that his own in-
ner glow was enough for him! She had blamed herself for never having
been able to discover that secret––perhaps after all it had never had any
existence at all. It did not exist: she had known that ever since Greece.
(Ibid., pp. 217–218)
The humanities does not teach us what to think, but how to think. In the same
vein, Beauvoir’s concept of ambiguity is not a rigid philosophical system with
specific rules to follow. This would be the very opposite of what she and the
Existential Awakening in Simone de Beauvoir’s Les belles images 37
the first time at the beginning of the novel and tries to convince herself that
the horrors of the world will eventually dissipate. However, near the end of
the novel, as she is beginning to stand up to Jean-Charles, she tells him that
every day, people see horrible things in the news and yet continue to ignore
them. Jean-Charles retorts, “Oh, don’t start another guilty-conscience scene,
like the one you treated me to in ’62” (ibid., p. 161). Laurence remembers that
he had pretended to understand her at the time, but now she realizes that he
really only wanted to shut her up.
Laurence always reacted violently to all forms of oppression, even as a
child, and that is why she takes her daughter’s concerns so seriously: “Had
she (Brigitte) told Catherine about all those horrors that used to make me
weep so?” (ibid., p. 69). Catherine’s concern for humanity strikes a deep
chord within her because she shares them wholeheartedly, and always has.
Laurence’s compassion for others has been stifled by the corporatist mentality
in which she was raised. But she proves to be far more authentic, far more
sensitive to oppression than even she realizes. Thinking about Catherine’s
questions, she concludes, “Fundamentally the only argument is as to whether
or not everything is being done so that there should be more comfort and jus-
tice upon earth” (ibid., p. 89). In Pyrrhus and Cineas, Beauvoir says almost
the same thing: “I ask for health, knowledge, well-being, and leisure for men
so that their freedom is not consumed in fighting sickness, ignorance, and
misery” (2004d, p. 137).
5. Conclusion
stantly evolve and grow toward helping others become free (discovering am-
biguity). Thus, existentialist awakening consists of becoming aware that there
is no separation between philosophy and life, as Beauvoir states in her preface
to L’existentialisme et la sagesse des nations (Existentialism and the wisdom
of nations) (1948). In Les belles images, Beauvoir’s characters ask the ques-
tions that are at the very heart of the humanities: What is the purpose of life?
How should one live? What is our responsibility to others?
The spirit of the humanities, according to Nussbaum, is critical thought,
empathetic understanding of human experience, and grasping the complexity
of the world, which are skills that will enable us to deal with the world’s most
pressing problems. Universities must realize this and give more support to the
humanities. Ironically, as Gilbert points out in Les belles images during a
high-brow reception, people in finance and politics get free meals, while those
representing the arts only get something to drink.
The humanities is in even more dire straits than when Les belles images
was published in 1966, but Beauvoir’s philosophical and literary texts stimu-
late an existential awakening that is the very purpose of the humanities and
the only hope for a better world:
The humanities makes a world that is worth living in, people who are able
to see other human beings as full people, with thoughts and feelings of
their own that deserve respect and empathy. (Nussbaum, 2010, p. 143)
Beauvoir states that critical thought means independence of mind and helping
others emancipate themselves. Beauvoir’s books, and in particular Les belles
images, convey this core message of the humanities.
Three
INTERDISCIPLINARITY IN
THE SECOND SEX: BETWEEN
PHENOMENOLOGY AND PSYCHOANALYSIS
Erika Ruonakoski
This chapter analyzes Simone de Beauvoir’s way of combining different theoret-
ical frameworks, in particular, those of phenomenology and psychoanalysis. To
elucidate the nature of Beauvoirian interdisciplinarity, I will examine Beauvoir’s
discussion of penis envy and her application of Helene Deutsch’s views. I will
argue that the combination of psychoanalysis and phenomenology in The Second
Sex brings about an inner tension, of which those interested in applying Beau-
voir’s interdisciplinary approach should be aware.
1. Introduction
Simone de Beauvoir’s thoughts and works were humanist in more than one
sense of the word. First, she was a specialist in one of the human sciences,
thanks to her training as a philosopher. Second, her philosophical position could
be characterized as one based on existentialist and atheistic humanism. This
form of humanism does not celebrate the glory of the human being as an ab-
stract entity but puts its faith in singular human beings, who are seen as the ul-
timate source of all values (Beauvoir, 1945a, 1976, 2003, 2004a; Sartre, 1965,
pp. 55–56, 1970, pp. 93–94). Third, Beauvoir also followed in the footsteps of
the Renaissance humanists in the sense that she had a profound interest in dif-
ferent fields of research and in the intricacies of the human experience. She was
an avid reader who did not hesitate to apply research from disciplines other than
philosophy when this research appeared to be suited to her purposes. She was
always reaching toward the other humanities and beyond, coming up with ex-
amples from ancient Greece and Rome, investigating works of fiction, and
looking into new psychological and sociological discoveries so that she could
form a more nuanced picture of human existence.
This chapter examines whether Beauvoir’s use of other disciplines is
unproblematic or whether we can detect a tension or an incongruity between
her phenomenological-existentialist point of departure and her application of
other disciplines, particularly that of psychoanalysis. How are we to under-
stand the interdisciplinarity of Beauvoir’s approach? The answers to these
questions are relevant not only to historians of ideas or Beauvoir scholars, but
42 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
also to all those interested in her method and those who consider applying her
method to their work.
Within the humanities, both phenomenology and psychoanalysis are in-
fluential—though not dominant—theoretical frameworks. Both have devel-
oped tools for investigating the human experience, and human experience is
one of the central concerns of humanist scholars. However, the ways in which
phenomenology and psychoanalysis describe experience are not identical; in
some instances, they are not even compatible.
Nonetheless, Beauvoir fearlessly attempted to use these frameworks
side-by-side in her magnum opus, Le deuxième sexe (The second sex). While
the unabridged English translation of the work (2010) appeared as a single
volume, the French original was published in two separate volumes, Les faits
et les mythes (Facts and myths) and L’expérience vécue (Lived experience),
both in 1949 (cf. 2008a, b). These two volumes exhibit somewhat different
attitudes toward psychoanalysis. The first volume criticizes different disci-
plines, among them psychoanalysis, for their tendency to explain human be-
havior in a deterministic manner, and therefore, without a serious effort to
accommodate the aspect of freedom within them. The second volume, how-
ever, focuses on psychoanalytic case studies and actually draws from them to
describe and explicate girls’ and women’s experiences. Thus, in the second
volume, Beauvoir’s attitude toward psychoanalysis became more ambivalent
and her general approach more interdisciplinary in the sense that psychoana-
lytic descriptions contribute to her conception of the variations within wom-
en’s experiences and how these experiences can be interpreted.
I will begin my discussion of Beauvoir’s approach by briefly examining
her philosophical background and the demands that the phenomenological
method entails. Then I will demonstrate how phenomenology and psychoa-
nalysis meet in Beauvoir’s conception of the body, and how she describes
subjectivity and the formation of meaning in a historical context with the help
of these approaches.
To elucidate Beauvoir’s use of psychoanalysis, I will investigate one of
the key examples discussed in Lived Experience, namely penis envy. Using
this example, Beauvoir illuminates the role of freedom in meaning formation
and illustrates how bodily differences can sometimes turn into signs of inferi-
ority and superiority, even if they cannot as such create hierarchical relation-
ships between groups of people.
In connection with this, I will discuss some problems inherent in Beau-
voir’s assimilation of psychoanalysis. I will suggest that some of these prob-
lems originate from her shifting from the phenomenological attitude toward
the so-called natural attitude, whereas other problems have their source in her
ambivalent relationship to psychoanalyst Helene Deutsch’s somewhat reac-
tionary ideas on the psychology of women. I will go beyond a discussion of
the birth of penis envy to girls’ later experiences of their genitals, namely the
“eroticization” of the vagina in first intercourse, which was presupposed by
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 43
both Deutsch and Beauvoir. I will finish by considering different ways of un-
derstanding and applying Beauvoirian interdisciplinarity: one is more rigor-
ously phenomenological and the other more freely combines elements from
different disciplines.
the body as merely a physical object but that of the lived body. In Beauvoir’s
account, one of the ambiguities of human existence is that the body is both “a
thing of the world and a point of view on this world” (2010, p. 24, cf. 2008a,
p. 42). This formulation is quite close to that of Husserl, who argues that the
body is the zero-point of orientation to the world and yet also an object in the
world (1952, pp. 158–160).
An interesting similarity can be found between The Second Sex and
Merleau-Ponty’s La phénoménologie de la perception (Phenomenology of
perception) (1998). In her review of Merleau-Ponty’s book, Beauvoir compli-
ments his phenomenological elucidation of the lived experience. She writes:
This procession from “facts” to the lived experience is reflected also in the
two volumes of The Second Sex: the biological, psychological, and historical
“facts” (faits) about women are dealt with in Facts and Myths, while the lived
experience of girls and women is described in Lived Experience. Moreover,
Beauvoir explicitly argues in Facts and Myths that the meaning of human
phenomena cannot be found in scientific facts alone—they need to be consid-
ered in the light of the human existence. This is in accordance with what she
considers to be Merleau-Ponty’s approach.
In comparison to the Phenomenology of Perception, however, Beauvoir
articulates the historical and embodied constraints of lived meanings more
clearly and in a more detailed manner. Psychoanalytic theories and case studies
are of help to her in this endeavor. Another difference between the philoso-
phies of Beauvoir and Merleau-Ponty is that Merleau-Ponty aspires to describe
the universal structures of human experience, even using pathological cases to
investigate these structures, while Beauvoir is more interested in questioning
what was considered universal in reference to women. In this sense, her pro-
ject is critical rather than constructive. However, although Beauvoir questions
the normality of some psychic formations, for example female masochism, she
does think that a human condition exists that we all share. Each of us experi-
ences the ambiguity of being both a privileged subject and an object to other
such subjects; a unique individual and yet only one of the numerous individu-
als in a community; embodied yet also conscious; mortal yet aware of it; a
being of both spirit and matter (see Beauvoir, 1976, cf. 2003).
Thus far, nothing contradicts the view that The Second Sex is unreserv-
edly phenomenological. Nevertheless, to better understand the matter, it is
necessary to analyze Beauvoir’s way of treating “the data” provided by dif-
ferent disciplines. We will be able to note that while Beauvoir rejects the de-
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 45
3. Against Determinism
Facts and Myths begins with a description of the ways in which biology, psy-
choanalysis, and historical materialism explain women’s inferior status and
“femininity.” The functioning of the female body, including the chromosomal
structure and hormones and phenomena that typically appear at various times
of women’s lives, such as ovulation, menstruation, pregnancy, and menopause,
are all objects of investigation in the science of biology. Beauvoir argues,
however, that biologists tend to explain women’s lives in terms of passivity
and determinism. For this reason, they fail to recognize important aspects of
women’s existence.
One aspect of women’s existence is historicity. In Beauvoir’s view, his-
torical materialism rightly proposes that humankind is not an animal species
but a historical reality. As such, it appropriates nature instead of passively
submitting to it. From this point of view, a woman is not merely a sexual or-
ganism, for her self-consciousness reflects a situation that is dependent on the
economic structure of the society and on the level of technological develop-
ment in that society. According to the Engelsian interpretation of the history
of family, the invention of new tools after the discovery of copper and iron
gave rise to private property, the property of men, who came to possess land,
slaves, and women. Nevertheless, Beauvoir criticizes Friedrich Engels’s view
that the history of women essentially depends on the history of technology: it
is not enough to consider the material possibilities of women to explain their
singular situation (2010, pp. 62–63, 67–68, cf. 2008b, pp. 98–100, 106–108).
Beauvoir also argues that materialism fails to acknowledge the unre-
strained character of sexuality. In matters of sexuality, psychoanalysis has
more explicative power. In addition, she applauds psychoanalysis’s focus on
the lived body instead of on the body as an object. Psychoanalysis holds that
“no factor intervenes in psychic life without taking on a human meaning”; for
this reason, Beauvoir claims that psychoanalysis is more progressive than
psychophysiology (2010, p. 49, cf. 2008a, p. 80). This view is very close to
that of Merleau-Ponty, who praises the ability of psychoanalysis to account
for meaning formation and argues that phenomenology and psychoanalysis
are compatible (2012, pp. 160–163, cf. 1998, pp. 184–187). In a similar man-
ner, Sartre underlines that both psychoanalysis and existential psychoanalysis
look for the meaning of action (2001, p. 615).
Beauvoir writes, “Freudianism’s value derives from the fact that the ex-
istent is a body: the way he experiences himself as a body in the presence of
other bodies concretely translates his existential situation” (2010, p. 49, 68, cf.
2008b, p. 107). This kind of statement may account for the view that her fun-
damental idea of explaining sex in terms of the lived body comes from psycho-
46 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
analysis (for example, Kristeva, 2011, p. 84). However, in Facts and Myths,
Beauvoir’s attitude toward psychoanalysis remains chiefly critical; the role of
psychoanalysis is clearly secondary in comparison to existential-
phenomenological philosophy. It is more plausible to interpret Beauvoir’s
comments about the lived body and psychoanalysis as meaning that both phe-
nomenology and Freudianism have discovered the same thing: the signifi-
cance of embodiment. Beauvoir appears to regard the phenomenological and
psychoanalytical ways of dealing with embodiment as largely convergent and
compatible (2010, p. 49, 68, cf. 2008b, p. 107). Yet, in Facts and Myths, she
points out that the failings of psychoanalysis are similar to those of biological
explanations and historical materialism: all these explanatory models fail to
consider their findings from the overall perspective of existence, which alone
can give them meaning (2010, p. 68, cf. 2008a, pp. 107–108).
Beauvoir also presents us with other criticisms of psychoanalytic theo-
ries. Many of these criticisms are similar to those that Sartre had proposed: at
the end of L’être et le néant (Being and nothingness) (2001), he had rejected
psychoanalysis as such and had formulated the basic ideas of existential psy-
choanalysis, which appears to have influenced Beauvoir (see also Sartre,
1947, 1971, 2011; Beauvoir, 1955, 1966).
According to Sartre’s critique, traditional psychoanalysis operates only
in the past: an individual’s behavior symbolizes the past. Existential psychoa-
nalysis, on the other hand, sees the human being as always oriented toward
the future and as an agent of choice (2001, pp. 503–504). Similarly, Beauvoir
argues that in psychoanalysis, “the individual is always explained through his
link to the past and not with respect to a future toward which he projects him-
self” (2010, p. 60, cf. 2008a, pp. 95–96). She also declares that the problems
of psychoanalysis lie in its reductionism and inability to take choice into ac-
count (2010, pp. 55–56, cf. 2008a, pp. 88–91). Most famously, perhaps, she
challenges the view of some psychoanalysts that anatomy determines how a
girl views herself, others, and the world, and she claims that psychoanalysis
describes girls and women only as distortions of the male model (2010, pp.
60–61, cf. 2008a, pp. 96–97, cf. Roudinesco, 2011, p. 34). Like Sartre, Beau-
voir rejects the idea of the unconscious and replaces it with the concept of bad
faith, which, up to a point, transforms psychological problems into questions
of choice (see Roudinesco, 2011, p. 39).
Beauvoir’s belief in the power of conscious choices is not as firm as Sar-
tre’s, though (see Kruks, 1992, pp. 97–102; Heinämaa, 2009, p. 18; Merleau-
Ponty, 2012, pp. 458–483, cf. 1998, pp. 496–520). She admits that in some
cases, one may be too oppressed to even think critically about the nature of
one’s situation or to see what one’s choices are. However, as soon as one has
come to acknowledge these, one has to choose between authenticity and bad
faith; either one works for collective liberation or lets oneself be lulled into a
state of complicity. Therefore, the fundamental challenge for the individual is
not recovering from neurosis but taking responsibility for one’s actions.
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 47
In short, Beauvoir takes the idea of the lived body from phenomenology
and answers the question, “How do girls and women live their bodies?” with
the help of psychoanalytic case studies and excerpts from the works of wom-
en writers. She dwells on the concrete experiences of women, charting the
development of the female body, its bloody and painful cycles, as well as its
inevitable decay, using psychoanalytic case studies to demonstrate the infinite
plurality of women’s experience and the meanings related to the female and
male bodies. Through the multitude of examples she discusses, it becomes
evident that the human experience and the meanings that evolve within it are
in constant flux.
However, to think of psychoanalysis merely as a provider of examples
would be simplistic, for along with the descriptions of women’s experience,
Beauvoir also seems to adopt general ways of interpreting this experience.
Her understanding of family dynamics—the jealousies, the early attachment
and symbiosis with the mother, the meaning of weaning—is based on psycho-
analytic literature. To further elucidate the role of psychoanalysis in The Se-
cond Sex, I will examine Beauvoir’s view of female embodiment in reference
to Deutsch’s two-volume work, The Psychology of Women (1946, 1971).
Lived Experience describes how girls come to live their bodies and form
meanings pertaining to these bodies, and how grown women carry on or reject
these meanings. Each girl or woman does this in her own way, according to
her individual background and inclinations, and yet in a socially shared and
restrictive situation that bears on the bodily possibilities. According to Beau-
voir, one of the meanings related to “femininity” and “woman” is “lack”:
women are perceived as lacking in comparison to men. Beauvoir argues that
the conception of women as secondary and lacking human beings repeats it-
self throughout history; yet in her view, the discourse of psychoanalysis plays
a special role in theorizing this lack.
Beauvoir appears to regard Deutsch’s The Psychology of Women as a re-
liable description of women’s experiences: she cites its case studies benevo-
lently in Lived Experience and even repeats many of its literary examples. Her
avoidance of open criticism is surprising, considering that Deutsch advocates
the traditional, bourgeois role for women that Beauvoir set out to challenge.
Nevertheless, she does keep a critical distance from Deutsch’s ideas regarding
typical “feminine” characteristics even if she does not crusade against the idea
of Deutschian femininity (Lecarme-Tabone, 2011).
Moreover, Deutsch is not totally insensitive to the fact that the women
who live in different environments have different kinds of complexes as well
as different kinds of experiences. But she finds these differences to be super-
ficial: “certain feminine psychic manifestations are constant and are subject to
48 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
cultural influences only to the extent that now one and now another of their
aspects is intensified” (1971, p. 386). She argues that to be feminine is to be
inherently masochistic and passive. By contrast, Beauvoir does not see maso-
chism as inherent to women but as something that girls are pushed toward by
a life of few choices (for example, 2010, pp. 304–311, cf. 2008b, pp. 42–51):
“the reason must be sought not in a mysterious feminine soul but in the
child’s situation” (2010, p. 311, cf. 2008b, p. 51).
Beauvoir consistently discusses women’s existence in terms of future ori-
entation and possibilities. This is a far cry from the attempts of psychoanalysts
such as Deutsch to find regularities in the mixed data of clinical experience and
thereby, to determine the feminine character. Unlike Deutsch, Beauvoir em-
phasizes the social constraints that guide girls and women to accept “feminine”
ways. She refrains from determining women conclusively: as long as there is
oppression, the oppressed cannot live up to their potential.
To fully grasp the relationship between psychoanalysis and Beauvoir’s
understanding of meaning formation, it is useful to examine her position, as
well as that of Deutsch, on the penis envy hypothesis (see also Björk, 2011).
As is well known, Sigmund Freud was the first to present this hypothesis.
According to him, penis envy arises when the little girl (between three and
five years of age) realizes that she has no penis. This results in resentment of
the mother and a growing affection toward the father (Freud, 1981b, p. 195,
1949, p. 96; see also Hamon, 2000). Therefore, the female castration complex
depends on the girl’s experience that she has already been castrated (Freud,
1981a, p. 229, 1948, p. 522).
Deutsch, on the other hand, points out that a girl of eighteen months may
exhibit complete indifference at the sight of the penis. Hence, merely seeing
the penis cannot cause penis envy. This sense of lack has to be the result of
other factors (1971, p. 234, 236; see also Beauvoir, 2010, p. 288, cf. 2008b,
p. 20). According to Deutsch, penis envy is real and common enough to be
considered “normal,” but chronologically, it is a secondary formation and can
only strengthen the impulses that derive from the girl’s earlier experience of
her body (1971, p. 238, cf. Horney, 1923, pp. 25–26).
Beauvoir starts her discussion of penis envy by emphasizing the various
forms it may take: “Most accept today that penis envy manifests itself in very
different ways depending on the individual case” (2010, p. 287, cf. 2008b,
p. 19). She then endeavors to demonstrate how girls in different circumstanc-
es end up experiencing the genital difference between themselves and boys in
varying manners. In early childhood, girls can be totally indifferent toward
the penis, or they can even experience disgust toward this “anomaly,” this
“growth,” or “vague hanging thing like nodules, teats and warts,” argues
Beauvoir, following Deutsch (2010, p. 288, cf. 2008b, p. 20).
Beauvoir points out that the penis envy the girl experiences may be quite
superficial because it is merely one envy among many. Similarly, Deutsch
argues that the little girl may envy the penis just because children have a gen-
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 49
eral tendency toward envy. In many cases, the envy is practically oriented: the
penis is practical for urinating (Beauvoir, 2010, p. 288, cf. 2008b, pp. 20–21;
Deutsch, 1971, pp. 236–238). On the other hand, Beauvoir argues that direct-
ing and governing a stream of water means “carrying off a little victory over
natural laws” (2010, p. 289, cf. 2008b, p. 21). Echoing Deutsch, she explains
that girls think they may have had a penis, and that they have been made girls
through parental intervention: the penis has been cut off. Again, in unison
with Deutsch, Beauvoir argues that for this “castration” to become a source of
frustration, an earlier and deeper sense of lack is required (2010, pp. 291–292,
cf. 2008b, p. 25; see also Freud, 1981b, p. 195, 1949, p. 96). Deutsch writes
and Beauvoir quotes her, “The girl’s discovery of her anatomic difference
from the boy is for her a confirmation of a lack she previously felt herself—its
rationalization, so to speak” (Deutsch, 1971, p. 237, cf. Beauvoir, 2010,
p. 292, cf. 2008b, p. 26).
While both Deutsch and Beauvoir agree that penis envy is only a second-
ary formation in the girl’s psyche and not the original reason for her experience
of lack, their explanations for the primary lack differ. Deutsch still attributes
this experience of lack to the girl’s inevitable psychological-anatomical pro-
cesses, namely the female castration complex, or, as she prefers to call it, the
“genital trauma.” According to Deutsch, penis envy is only one of the manifes-
tations of the genital trauma, never its primary cause. In the phallic or clitoris
phase of her development, the little girl needs a genital outlet for her aggres-
sions. Deutsch suspects that, as an organ, the clitoris is not an adequate outlet
for the little girl’s genital urges, and therefore, the girl gives up masturbation,
subsequently claiming that she had a penis but no longer has one (Deutsch,
1971, pp. 227–229). Now the little girl finds herself organless and “the inhib-
ited activity undergoes a turn toward passivity” (ibid., p. 229). Unfortunately,
the passive genital organ, namely the vagina, only becomes available to the
individual much later. Hence, the girl’s lack has a twofold character: she
deems the clitoris inadequate and the vagina does not exist for her yet. Ac-
cording to Deutsch, the individual manifestations of the genital trauma vary,
but the trauma itself is based on anatomy and instincts and is, therefore,
transhistorical (ibid., pp. 229–230; cf. Horney, 1993, pp. 214–233).
Beauvoir does not discuss this fundamental discrepancy between
Deutsch’s view and hers, nor does she point out that in the end, her position is
quite similar to Karen Horney’s (see Roudinesco, 2011, p. 38). In terms of
scholarly writing, Beauvoir’s attitude can be criticized as offhand. Yet in the
context of her general project, it appears justified: she seems to be more inter-
ested in providing an overall description of how the body acquires meanings
than explicating in detail how her position differs from or resembles that of
other thinkers. She piggybacks on Deutsch’s description of penis envy as long
as it does not contradict her own philosophy of freedom, and when this is no
longer the case, she smoothly turns toward other theorists.
50 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
In other words, little girls do not automatically experience the absence of a pe-
nis as a lack, although some girls’ experience of their genitalia might become
marked by a sense of lack. This happens when these girls’ personal histories
and the dominating values of their environment intervene in their meaning-
giving processes in a specific manner.
In Beauvoir’s view, a girl is not free to give her body whatever mean-
ings she might wish: one does not originally choose one’s anatomy even if
one can try to change it or influence others’ perception of it later in one’s life.
Menstruation, menopause, and the possibilities of pregnancy and of being
raped are not chosen either, even if one may influence these processes and
possibilities in a number of ways. Certainly there are also social factors that
guide the individual experience. Through the impulses from her historical,
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 51
psychological, biological, and domestic situation but also on her own initia-
tive, the girl comes to understand the relationship between herself, women,
men, and the world. The process is both passive and active, both restricted by
the historical and social circumstances and subject to the questioning activity
of a free agent. Thanks to the mutability of circumstances and the freedom of
the subject, there is no reason why all girls and women in all eras should con-
sider themselves inferior to men, anatomically or otherwise.
If the little girl were brought up from the first with the same demands
and rewards, the same severity and freedom, as her brothers, taking part
in the same studies, the same games, promised the same future, sur-
rounded with women and men who seemed to her undoubted equals, the
meanings of the castration complex and the Oedipus complex would be
profoundly modified. . . . [S]he would not be oriented towards passivity.
(Beauvoir, 1988, p. 735)
When this passage is compared to her statement that some, but not all, girls
experience penis envy, she appears to be vacillating between questioning the
necessity of psychological structures such as penis envy and the castration
complex and deeming them necessary. Another option would be to read the
above passage as saying that the change in the meaning of the complexes
could also involve their gradual disappearance.
Even if we might be tempted to choose the last interpretation to explain
away what seems to be an unpleasant inconsistency within a phenomenologi-
cal framework, other passages in The Second Sex require our critical attention.
For example, when Beauvoir describes the process of alienation in boys and
girls, her approach is arguably more psychoanalytic than phenomenological:
she explores the experience of little girls and boys by positing psychological
mechanisms on the basis of the behavior of some children and adults. To do
52 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
this, one must step out of the sphere of appearing, hence, outside the phenom-
enological attitude, and into the natural one.
In addition, it appears that Beauvoir takes some of Deutsch’s problemat-
ic ideas on the later developments of girls and women for granted. Even if
Beauvoir’s emphasis is on plurality and emancipation, in some cases, her po-
sition seems to merge with Deutsch’s universalizing positions. For instance,
one of the most astonishing statements of The Second Sex, namely that virgin-
ity is lost through a kind of rape, can be traced back to The Psychology of
Women. Deutsch writes, “the ‘undiscovered’ vagina is—in normal, favorable
instances—eroticized by an act of rape” (1946, p. 79). She underlines that she
does not refer here to the “puberal fantasy in which the young girl realistically
desires and fears the sexual act as a rape” (ibid.).
In Deutsch’s view, however, this fantasy is preparation for a milder but
dynamically identical process, which manifests itself in “man’s aggressive
penetration” and in the “‘overpowering’ of the vagina and its transformation
into an erogenous sexual zone” (ibid., pp. 79–80). Hence, Deutsch is more
interested in the psychological dynamics of the situation than in the actual
pain that the woman may feel when her hymen is torn. Even so, Deutsch also
pays attention to the pain, which is supposedly inevitable: “A painful bodily
injury—the breaking of the hymen and the forcible stretching and enlarge-
ment of the vagina by the penis—are the prelude to woman’s first complete
sexual enjoyment” (ibid., p. 81). In the first volume of The Psychology of
Women, Deutsch also presents an evolutionary theory for the sexual act, hy-
pothesizing that the sexual act was, for women, initially an act of violence and
that it only gradually became an act of pleasure for them (1971, p. 222).
To sum up, the Deutschian view presupposes that if a woman does not
have sensations in her vagina before her first intercourse, then the first inter-
course is an act of rape. Conversely, if she does have sensations in her vagina
before the first intercourse, then that intercourse need not be an act of rape,
because in the latter case, the woman is already an erotic subject who cannot
be turned into one by an aggressive act.
Beauvoir writes in a very Deutschian vein, “The woman is penetrated
and impregnated through the vagina; it becomes an erotic center only through
the intervention of the male, and this always constitutes a kind of rape”
(2008b, p. 147, my translation). Neither does Beauvoir contest Deutsch’s de-
scriptions of young girls’ rape fantasies. She does underline, however, that
these fantasies are only fantasies and do not presuppose a masochistic charac-
ter in a girl or a woman.
By the time Beauvoir was writing The Second Sex, psychoanalysts such
as Horney, Melanie Klein, and Josine Müller had already suggested that even
little girls were likely to have sensations in their vaginas (Roudinesco, 2011,
p. 35). As can be concluded from our discussion thus far, this view also con-
tests the idea that the man simultaneously “rapes” the young girl and “eroti-
cizes” her vagina. Beauvoir was aware of these alternative accounts but was
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 53
not convinced by them. She writes, “some psychiatrists hold that vaginal sen-
sitivity exists in some little girls, but this opinion is quite fanciful; anyway
vaginal sensitivity would have only secondary importance” (2010, p. 384,
translation modified, cf. 2008b, p. 146). By this she means that in the case of
virginal girls, vaginal pleasure would be secondary to clitoral pleasure. Yet, if
her goal is simply to emphasize the autonomy and importance of the clitoral
system, her adoption of Deutsch’s vocabulary, which makes all young girls
objects of man’s manipulative actions and their development into women
man’s accomplishment, is questionable. Similar choices of words are symp-
tomatic enough to lead us to question whether Deutsch’s idea of female mas-
ochism—the idea that Beauvoir rejects in principle—accidentally springs up
here and there (for example, 2010, pp. 404–405, 415, cf. 2008b, p. 173, 187).
The previously discussed universalizing tendencies of Deutsch’s writing
reappear in Beauvoir’s description of first intercourse: as we noted, the vagina
becomes an erotic center only through the intervention of the male. True,
Beauvoir remarks at the beginning of the second volume, “‘in the present
state of education and customs’ must be understood to follow most of my
affirmations” (2010, p. 279, cf. 2008b, p. 9). Nevertheless, it is doubtful that
this gesture could change all her arguments with a universalistic ring into non-
universalistic arguments—and I do not believe that she meant for this to hap-
pen. Yet it is clear to the reader of The Second Sex that her emphasis is on the
multiplicity, freedom, and the possibilities of women’s existence, and that all
ready-made “feminine” destinies are regarded as being fabricated in bad faith.
According to some psychoanalysts, Beauvoir exhibits insensitivity to-
ward, or even ignorance about, some of the finer points of the Freudian theory
(Kristeva, 2011, pp. 84–85; Roudinesco, 2011, p. 37; see also Stavro, 2008, p.
11). Yet we can side with Julia Kristeva, who thinks it unfair to take the pre-
sent understanding of this theory as a criterion for evaluating Beauvoir’s pos-
sible shortcomings (Kristeva, 2011, p. 85). We must bear in mind that The
Second Sex was an important contribution to the French psychoanalytic scene
of Beauvoir’s time. Not only was her work the first to investigate emancipa-
tion and sexuality together, it was also the first to discuss women’s sexuality
in a comprehensive way in France. In addition, Beauvoir was the first to in-
troduce the British school’s discussion of female sexuality to France
(Roudinesco, 1990, pp. 511–512).
Importantly, Beauvoir wrote The Second Sex, which is well over a thou-
sand pages, in only two years (1978, p. 196n, 1963, p. 204n). Her breathtak-
ingly busy schedule might have contributed to some of the problems in the
work. She wrote about The Second Sex in her memoirs:
Oh! I admit that one can criticize the style and the composition. I could
easily go back and cut it down to a much more elegant work. But at the
time I was discovering my ideas as I was explaining them, and that was
the best I could do. (1978, p. 202, cf. 1963, p. 210)
54 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
Beauvoir even had some specific changes in mind: she should have taken a
more materialistic position in the first volume (1978, p. 204; 1963, p. 210).
She says nothing, however, on phenomenological rigor. Thus, I think that
although her approach had a solid background in phenomenological–
existentialist philosophy, a conflation of different theories and empirical de-
scriptions played the central role in her writing.
One way of answering the question, “How can we apply Beauvoir’s ap-
proach?” would, therefore, be: “Feel free to make theoretical innovations!”
This is, indeed, worthy advice for any researcher. In terms of content, howev-
er, the suggestion is empty. It may, therefore, be illuminating to consider
more specific ways of practicing Beauvoirian interdisciplinarity.
I will now present two models that can be used when applying Beauvoir’s
approach to contemporary research. The first model recognizes that her ap-
proach is somewhat different from rigorous phenomenology—for one thing,
she appears to accept some of the psychoanalytic theoretical constructs, at
least provisionally. Accordingly, the first approach allows theoretical con-
structions from different disciplines to be used as long as vigilance in refer-
ence to the fundamental freedom of the subject is maintained. For instance, if
we want to describe the lived experience of girls and women today, we can
still try to explain this experience in terms of penis envy and the Oedipus
complex or whatever happens to be the current theoretical model in psychoa-
nalysis. The danger is that, if we follow this approach, we impose ready-made
models on experience instead of remaining open to different possibilities.
The second model is more rigorously phenomenological and requires us
to leave out the elements that appear as inconsistencies within this theoretical
framework. Again, we could resort to the descriptions of experience that psy-
choanalysts have gathered, while setting aside the explanatory models of this
experience (penis envy, the genital trauma, the Oedipus complex, narcissism,
alienation). The research questions could still be quite similar to Beauvoir’s:
How does a woman’s body and its relationship to male bodies appear to girls
and women in a particular historical situation? Now, however, the description
of this experience would not be directed by the aforementioned psychoanalytic
constellations. Instead, the meaning formation within different aspects of fe-
male embodiment would be investigated in a less restricted or prefigured way.
It is this second approach that Merleau-Ponty suggests we should take
toward empirical descriptions: we should see them as descriptions of experi-
ence and bracket their theoretical interpretations (1995, pp. 120–121; cf.
Ruonakoski, 2007, 2011, p. 41). For both Merleau-Ponty and Beauvoir, the
idea was to examine different experiences in the larger context of existence.
Yet, even for Merleau-Ponty, who articulated his theoretical point of depar-
ture more explicitly than Beauvoir did, empirical research did not provide
Interdisciplinarity in The Second Sex 55
only examples. In practice, it also suggested models for interpreting the de-
scribed experience and behavior. This may partly be because the objects of
empirical descriptions have been preselected. In addition, an empirical de-
scription may, as such, be misleading.
Certainly it is possible for the phenomenologist to slip away from the
phenomenological attitude, which addresses the appearing of things, to the
natural attitude, which posits things as such and such. But this shift from one
attitude to another may not be the worst threat to the integrity of the research.
A more common problem is that both scientists and philosophers have the
same blind spot, due to their partly shared historical background, and for this
reason they are inclined to make similar interpretations and omit similar things
from their investigations. For instance, phenomenologists may examine psy-
choanalytic descriptions of children’s behavior to transcend their own limited
powers of imagining different kinds of experience. Yet, if those descriptions
point in the same direction as the other variations of experience, phenomenol-
ogists may find it difficult to challenge the selection of the data and the inter-
pretations given by psychoanalysts.
The two alternative ways of applying Beauvoir’s approach to contempo-
rary research proposed here may not look altogether different at first glance,
since in both cases, the historicity and limited nature of scientific research
plays a role, and questionable assumptions can be made. Yet the motivating
attitude is different: in the first model, the researcher operates from within the
natural attitude, relying on scientific theories as providers of knowledge of
how things are. In the second model, the researcher methodically refrains, or
at least attempts to refrain, from making judgments on how things are and
instead focuses on how they appear to the subject. A truly phenomenological
approach to psychological descriptions, or to descriptions of any other disci-
pline, requires bracketing the suppositions of that discipline and asking how
the targeted phenomena manifest themselves in different cases.
As I pointed out at the start of this chapter, phenomenological-
existentialist philosophy and psychoanalysis are both theoretical approaches
applied by humanist scholars from a variety of disciplines. For many, Beau-
voir’s interdisciplinary approach may appear to be a useful tool, especially for
those interested in both phenomenology and psychoanalysis. Her pluralist
description of the sexed body-subject is particularly appealing: there are many
ways of being girls or women, boys or men, or persons without a definable
sex. We are our bodies.
As a person with female genitalia, I have, to some extent, different pos-
sibilities than someone with male genitalia. When reading a text, I relate to it
not only according to the universal structures of experience but also according
to my particular situation in the world as a female body. If I encounter another
living body, the same is true: I encounter others from my own unique, histori-
cally and personally defined perspective. This perspective cannot be reduced
to only my gendered position in society, since there are, of course, numerous
56 ERIKA RUONAKOSKI
1. Introduction
According to Nicole Racine, while “female intellectuals were long left out of
intellectual history” (2003, p. 341, translation mine), Simone de Beauvoir
endures as one of the most renowned, analyzed French intellectuals. Howev-
er, her role in Les Temps Modernes—a politico-cultural journal edited by
Jean-Paul Sartre—remains underappreciated. At its inception, in 1945, Beau-
voir was on the editorial board along with Raymond Aron, Colette Audry,
René Etiemble, Michel Leiris, Albert Ollivier, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Jean
Paulhan, Jean Pouillon, Pierre Uri, and Sartre.
The intention of the journal was to enable readers—intellectuals and
students alike—to understand the world by publishing literature and studies
on international events. Contributors to Les Temps Modernes promoted dem-
ocratic socialism with national independence, then called neutralism, a politi-
cal movement that attracted numerous French intellectuals. In 1948–1949,
neutralist intellectuals founded the Rassemblement Démocratique Révolu-
tionnaire (RDR), which was a political failure. To have political influence on
the proletariat, Sartre also chose to become a fellow traveler in 1951.
Many contributors to this existentialist publication did not agree with
Sartre’s choice to sympathize with the Communists, which is why the journal
kept a neutralist policy during the time he was a fellow traveler . The majority
of articles published in Les Temps Modernes defended a neutralist policy
whereas the articles that alluded to Sartre’s fellow traveler affiliation were few.
Because Sartre did not write many articles for Les Temps Modernes, his influ-
ence on the readers weakened. After Aron and Paulhan left the journal, Beau-
58 STÈVE BESSAC-VAURE
voir and Merleau-Ponty played central roles. However, Sartre was the only
name that appeared on the publication, credited as the Editor. This begins to
explain the under-appreciation of Beauvoir’s role. From 1945 to 1950, she
often published her own writings, even contributing excerpts from The Se-
cond Sex (2010). But after 1950, she published very little of her work in the
journal, and from 1951 to 1956, Beauvoir wrote only four articles for Les
Temps Modernes.
Historians such as Anna Boschetti and Michel Winock seem to grant
Beauvoir a strictly passive role. Winock details how Beauvoir took care of the
journal’s administration: the “procedures related to obtaining rationing paper,
the model and cover choices, and talks with Sartre and Merleau-Ponty” (1997,
p. 551, translation mine; see also Boschetti, 1985). By her own admission,
Beauvoir also took care of layout for Les Temps Modernes after Paulhan’s
departure (Beauvoir, 1963, p. 1:91). However, Beauvoir was actually in
charge of the journal alongside Merleau-Ponty. She described this period of
her life to Nelson Algren in a letter of 1949: “So, here I am in Paris again. I
don’t enjoy so much being there, but I have to take care of T. M. since
Merleau-Ponty is going to New York and Mexico” (Beauvoir, 1997, p. 250).
Apart from administrative tasks, Beauvoir led the literary department of
Les Temps Modernes, a significant aspect, because she considered literature to
be a way to discover the world, as she posited in “Littérature et
métaphysique” (Literature and metaphysics) (1946). She introduced numerous
foreign authors, in accordance with the journal’s choice to foster an interna-
tional perspective, because existentialist philosophers believe the problem of
the human condition is the same everywhere.
How was Beauvoir, a writer, transformed into a “cultural mediator” for
foreign literature? In the Cold War context and that of Sartre’s fellow travel-
ing with the Communists, what decisive criteria influenced her publication
preferences? In what ways did her practice as cultural mediator allow her to
convey her existentialist philosophy, and how did she reconcile philosophy
and literature?
Based on an analysis of Les Temps Modernes over the period of 1952–
1956, Beauvoir’s correspondence with Algren, her essay on literature (1946),
and her autobiographical works, I will discuss Beauvoir’s mediation in practice:
its criteria, its channels, its beneficiaries. In the absence of polls, it is difficult to
evaluate how readers perceived these literary choices, but her role undoubtedly
allowed her to broadcast her philosophical-literary ideas, ideas that conflicted
with the contemporary communist literature marked by socialist realism.
France” (Beauvoir, 1965, pp. 115–116). As the head of the literary section,
she decided which books were published. In an interview with Beauvoir, Sar-
tre said that his taste for reading “was lost towards 50, 52, when I started poli-
tics. When I had relationships with the Communists” (Beauvoir, 1981,
pp. 278–279). Beauvoir’s role as literary mediator, as when she published
foreign books “unknown in France,” is confirmed by cross-referencing her
correspondence with Algren and Les Temps Modernes. She mentioned all the
literature published in the journal in her letters to Algren. In February 1952,
she wrote:
Beauvoir’s first literary medium was her network of friends. Personal rela-
tionships were essential in her cultural mediation. Many authors who were
published in the journal knew her personally. This was especially the case with
Richard Wright, an African American author, who met Sartre in New York in
1946 before he welcomed Beauvoir when she crossed the Atlantic. Wright also
introduced Beauvoir to Algren, with whom she fell in love and who supplied
her with numerous works to read. He sent her documents mentioning life in the
United States, such as prisoners’ letters that were published in August 1952,
several copies of The Nation, in particular on the second Red Scare, and novels
such as La pesante journée (The heavy day) (1953), by Jack Potter (see Beau-
voir, 1997, p. 753).
In addition to the works published in Les Temps Modernes as a conse-
quence of these personal connections, some of Beauvoir’s friends were pub-
lished because they shared a similar conception of literature. Some American
authors were published. Beauvoir wrote, “Wright gives us his long short sto-
60 STÈVE BESSAC-VAURE
ry, ‘The Man Who Lived Underground’” (Beauvoir, 1999, p. 432), while a
French translation of “The Man with the Golden Arm,” by Algren (1990) was
also published in the journal in four installments, as “L’homme au bras d’or”
(1954/1955). At that time, Wright was already known in France, whereas Al-
gren was not.
Beauvoir’s personal relationships were important to her role as cultural
mediator. In the case of Les Temps Modernes, these connections were not
“institutionalized,” at a time when the literary milieu was influenced by a few
specific social events, such as the cocktail parties given by the French editor,
Gaston Gallimard. Numerous authors, French as well as foreign, many of
whom were published by Gallimard, went to these cocktail parties to make
connections. Jean Cau, Sartre’s secretary, says as much in his memoirs (2007,
p. 43). However, Beauvoir avoided such places, as she told Algren after com-
ing back from the United States:
While Les Temps Modernes could have increased its profits by publish-
ing well known authors, instead it offered its readers something new. By pub-
lishing authors of great quality but little renown in France, the journal earned
prestige and functioned as cultural mediator. This editorial policy also guaran-
teed the journal status as a source of inspiration to young writers, as the Span-
ish writer, Juan Benet, confirmed. In spite of the censorship organized by
Franco’s regime, he received Les Temps Modernes, through which he discov-
ered numerous authors (Casanova, 1999, p. 153).
Beauvoir’s travels were another intermediating medium between herself
and foreign literature. When she traveled abroad, she tried to find out as much
as possible about local literature. If she were fluent in the language in which a
text was written, English or Italian for instance, she would read the original
version (Beauvoir, 1958, pp. 90, 198): “On my way back, I stayed with my
sister in Milan for several days; while there I read [Cesare] Pavese’s journal
and took it back to Paris so we could have excerpts published in Les Temps
Modernes” (Beauvoir, 1965, p. 282). Beauvoir’s role was also important be-
cause, in spite of the geographical proximity of France and Italy, Italian litera-
ture was not well known in France because of the lack of French translations
(Viallet, 1986, pp. 465–524).
Fortunately, if authors were already internationally known, the publica-
tion of their books as serials in Les Temps Modernes would showcase the
Beauvoir as Mediator for Foreign Literature in Les Temps Modernes 61
works before they were edited by Gallimard or other publishing houses. For
example, Pavese’s Il mestiere di vivere (The business of living) had only just
been published in Italy in 1952 as “Le métier de vivre,” and by January 1953,
the publication edited by Sartre had already published part of it. This led to
Gallimard’s publication of the book in France in 1958.
However, Beauvoir’s choices were based on aesthetic criteria, not com-
mercial ones. That’s why, sometimes, books published by Les Temps Modernes
were not published by commercial publishing houses. For example, Wright’s
“The Man Who Lived Underground,” a story initially published by Les Temps
Modernes in July 1951, was only published in book form in 1961. Moreover,
“The Bug,” by Vladimir Maïakovski (1956), which was published by the
journal, was really impossible to publish in France because it did not corre-
spond to French taste (Beauvoir, 1963, p. 2:82).
Some writers were even completely unknown in France prior to appear-
ing in Les Temps Modernes. Among these, Heinrich Böll, whose short story,
Der Zug war pünktlich (The train was on time), was published from October
through December in 1953. Böll was a member of “Group 47,” an influential
literary association in Germany established in 1947, which represented
emerging German literature.
Authors Beauvoir selected corresponded to her editorial strategy, which
matched her criteria.
4. An Existentialist Mediation
The books published in Les Temps Modernes were selected according to aes-
thetic criteria defined in “Literature and Metaphysics,” in which Beauvoir
expressed her conception of literature. For her, literature is a way to embody
philosophy, to reconcile a temporal world with metaphysics. First, novels
affect sensibility and then, readers build their own ideas from there. The ad-
vantage of literature is that it is not necessarily a rational demonstration with
logical and necessary links. With literature, readers are freer than when read-
ing a philosophical treatise:
Bewitched by the tale that he is told, the reader here reacts as if he were
faced with lived events. He is moved, he approves, he becomes indig-
nant, responding with a movement of his entire being before formulating
judgments that he draws from himself and that are not presumptuously
dictated to him. That is what gives a good novel its value. It allows one
to undergo imaginary experiences that are as complete and disturbing as
lived experiences. The reader ponders, doubts, and takes sides; and this
hesitant development of his thought enriches him in a way that no teach-
ing of doctrine could. (Beauvoir, 2004, p. 270)
62 STÈVE BESSAC-VAURE
A literary model emerged, for which Beauvoir did not set up formal
rules. Yet, through her editing choices, she promoted a form of “literary phi-
losophy.” Les Temps Modernes favored books with an existentialist dimen-
sion, in which freedom was the main topic. Such a preference was evinced in
short stories or novels such as Algren’s “The Man with the Golden Arm” and
Wright’s “The Man Who Lived Underground,” with antiheroes whose ac-
tions lead to dramas. In Wright’s story, the character of the black fugitive is
responsible for the guard’s death as, in a way, Jean is accountable for Hé-
lène’s death in Le sang des autres (The blood of others) (1945).
The existential dimension was also conveyed through numerous autobio-
graphical works: La matrice (The mint) (1952) by Lawrence, Franz Kafka’s
Lettres à Milena (Letters to Milena) (1952), La statue de sel (The pillar of salt)
(1953) by Albert Memmi, Der Fragebogen (The questionnaire) (1951) by Ernst
von Salomon, The Turning Point by Klaus Mann (1952), and Pavese’s “Le mé-
tier de vivre” (The business of living) (1953). The tragic side of existence is
also found in these books, where the main characters, or the authors themselves,
are confronted by death or suicide. These books, far from being social panora-
mas, were published for their introspective and subjective dimensions.
Cultural transfer also affects the mediator. Both activities, writing and
transmission, are complementary. Accordingly, it is likely that these autobiog-
raphies influenced Beauvoir, who published her Les Mémoires d’une jeune
fille rangée (Memoirs of a dutiful daughter) in 1958.
For Les Temps Modernes publishing a substantial, explanatory article
together with an extract, clearly signaled its esteem of the author. In the end,
the publication of excerpts, or even a whole book, offered authors a greater
visibility than literary critics’ reviews did. Also thanks to such publications,
the journal implicitly presented its selections as models.
Les Temps Modernes employs an explicitly normative speech in its cri-
tiques. The literary critics of the publication confirmed the journal’s interest
in existentialist literature. For instance, Pavese’s “Le métier de vivre” benefit-
ed from an introductory article by Franco Fortini that confirmed the journal’s
interest in subjective freedom.
Beauvoir as Mediator for Foreign Literature in Les Temps Modernes 63
Did you read The Watch by our friend Carlo Levi? . . . Some parts about
black market, prostitution, newspaper people just after the war are not
bad. But it is too long and when he pretends to think, it is awfully bad.
We’ll give a little part of it in Les T. M. (Beauvoir, 1999, p. 452)
Beauvoir’s hesitation did not prevent Levi from being published, but his ex-
cerpt was accompanied by an article written by Harold Rosenberg, who was
critical, attacking Levi on account of his arrogance and his “thinking” (1952,
pp. 1153–1159). Rosenberg’s introductory article, which was intended to ar-
ticulate the journal’s position, actually presented Beauvoir’s personal opinion.
As a result, Levi, who was Sartre’s close friend and a fellow traveler from the
ICP, was more negatively criticized, from a literary point of view, than Silo-
ne, who was member of the Italian Socialist Party (ISP), member of the Con-
gress for the Freedom of Culture, and the editor of the journal, Tempo
Presente, with Nicola Chiaromonte (Forlin, 2006, p. 378).
Finally, Silone was far from appreciated on a personal level by Beauvoir
(Bair, 1991, p. 597). What mattered most to her as mediator were the aesthetics
and the artistic quality of a piece of work rather than the author’s personality.
This is in accordance with her manifesto “Littérature et métaphysique” (1946),
where she explains that authors must be secondary to their works.
At that time, Beauvoir was firmly opposed to the Communists, who de-
fended socialist realism in the artistic field. Such an opposition is obvious
when one compares the authors published in Les Temps Modernes and the
works chosen to compose the “Battle of the Books” libraries, which were
initiated by the French communist Party, in 1950, on Elsa Triolet’s initiative,
to promote new literary standards and increase workers’ and peasants’ access
to books. Among the 103 volumes selected, seventy-six were French.
Les Temps Modernes chose a diametrically opposed stance by publish-
ing very little French literature, since Beauvoir lamented its mediocrity
(Beauvoir, 1997, p. 790). The journal published a large number of American
and European authors and only one Soviet work (Maïakovski’s “The Bug,”
which had received a cold reception in the USSR), while the Communists
possessed twenty Russian or Soviet books in their library, and only two books
Beauvoir as Mediator for Foreign Literature in Les Temps Modernes 65
of “progressive Western literature” (Lazar, 1986, pp. 37– 49). Kafka was con-
sidered a “decadent” author, and Lawrence, a “class enemy.” These two au-
thors, who were much appreciated by Les Temps Modernes, had no chance of
fitting into the Battle of the Book’s libraries.
Beauvoir maintained her freedom from communist aesthetic dogmas, as
well as her autonomy within the journal. She decided to publish Salomon’s
autobiographical Der Fragebogen (1951), which she appreciated despite the
author’s personality and choice to support the German conservative revolution:
6. Conclusion
That Beauvoir was, in fact, in charge of Les Temps Modernes’ literary choices
was unknown to the public at the time, but one that was essential for the jour-
nal. Thanks to this function, she became a cultural mediator, introducing new
works of foreign literature to France. Beauvoir also helped enlarge the jour-
nal’s window on the world. This role also provided an opportunity for her to
define models that expressed her own philosophical ideas in the realm of lit-
erature. She remained consistent with the ideas put forth in her 1946 manifes-
to, “Littérature et métaphysique.” Her function as mediator definitely influ-
enced her cultural production as well. She consistently promoted literary
66 STÈVE BESSAC-VAURE
existentialism through her personal work and through the books she high-
lighted in Les Temps Modernes. She thereby helped enrich French existential-
ism with other literary experiences.
Beauvoir’s existentialist conception of life is completely opposed to the
aesthetic of socialist realism, and her choices illustrate her persistent autono-
my and critical standpoint vis-à-vis the Communists. Moreover, when there
was a conflict with another member of the journal about the publication of a
work, her role as literary director allowed Beauvoir to affirm her autonomy
within the organization.
Beauvoir held a humanist conception of her role as a cultural mediator:
she aimed to discover and promote works defending a humanist view of life, a
life based on freedom from any kind of alienation (be it social or ethnic) as in
the examples of books by Algren and Wright. She took interest in other coun-
tries’ literature, while at the same time emphasizing values that she considered
to be universal, such as existentialist values, among which human freedom is
the most significant.
Part Two
FREEDOM, DEPENDENCE,
AND AMBIGUITY
Five
1. Introduction
With its focus on critical and creative thinking, the humanities fosters under-
standing and breadth of vision, while creating an entirely new way of thinking
and acting. With regard to moral philosophy, Beauvoir remarks:
The great moralists were not virtuous souls, docilely subject to a pre-
established code of good and evil. They created a new universe of values
through words that were actions, through actions that bit into the world;
and they changed the face of the earth more profoundly than kings and
conquerors. (2004c, p. 188)
2. Freedom—According to Beauvoir
B. Unconstrained Freedom
ations, they have not achieved moral freedom because they fail to consider the
freedom of others when acting (1976, pp. 59–63).
Beauvoir claims that even if we, as human beings, have the capacity to
subjugate others and ourselves, we can also choose not to do everything of
which we are capable. If we chose to acknowledge others’ freedom as well as
our own, we will refrain from acts of subjugation. Choosing to respect our
own and others’ freedom means we are voluntarily restraining the potential
use of our capacities. Consequently, in assuming moral freedom as our nor-
mative value, we also relate to concrete and ontological freedoms in a particu-
lar way: our actions must not detract from our own or others’ opportunities to
lead an autonomous life. The type of activities and projects in which we partic-
ipate must not obliterate our own or others’ opportunities to flourish and de-
velop. In other words, having moral freedom as our normative guideline does
not license us to do whatever we like, but rather, it gives us the opportunity to
preserve and protect our own freedom and that of others (ibid., p. 156). This is
the admonition that follows from Beauvoir’s normative core value.
It was important for Beauvoir to dismantle the understanding of freedom
as being equivalent to having “the power to do anything you like” (ibid.,
p. 91). The way she rejected this view makes her ethics highly relevant today.
Now, freedom is commonly understood in a similar way as it was by the op-
ponents of existentialism—the freedom to do as one likes. In contemporary
society, “freedom” is frequently perceived as the absence of external and in-
ternal constraints on the agent.
In “Right-Wing Thought Today,” Beauvoir identifies the agents who de-
fend this way of exercising “freedom” as commonly belonging to a group of
privileged individuals, which defines the concept in extension and compre-
hension of only its own situation. “In earlier times for proslavery Americans,
the idea of Freedom included the right to possess slaves; for the bourgeois of
today it includes the right to exploit the proletariat” (2012d, p. 152).
During current times, claiming the right to use drugs, buy and sell sexual
services, consume pornography, carry weapons, or express hatred in public is
often justified on the same conception of freedom, generally advocated by a
group of (would-be) privileged. Not only does this version of freedom fail to
respect the freedom of others (moral freedom), it also commonly remains
ignorant of the internal and external conditions (ontological and concrete
freedom) that must be in place to make authentic choices. Agents under op-
pression, who lack ontological and concrete freedom, often cannot act fully
autonomously. Those who take advantage of others deprivation not only lack
moral freedom themselves, but also act oppressively and contribute to the
perpetuation of injustice. Consequently, Beauvoir has the following view:
In everything Beauvoir wrote, but especially in Pyrrhus and Cineas and The
Ethics of Ambiguity, she explains why we should embrace moral freedom.
Some arguments emphasize that we should maintain our own freedom as well
as that of others for our own good. Others focus on the interests of others,
while still others hold that moral freedom is in our common interest. The three
different types of arguments need to be separated only for analytical purposes
as they all, from different perspectives, build a case for why we should choose
to act ethically: it is for our own and the sakes of others that we should es-
pouse freedom. This reveals an important aspect of Beauvoir’s ethics: it is
consistently intersubjective. In Beauvoir’s ethics, the agent’s motivation for
acting morally is neither purely egoistic nor completely altruistic.
The reason Beauvoir transcends a traditional dichotomist thinking can
be traced back to her ontology. For Beauvoir, a human being is present in the
world as a being connected with others: “I concern others and they concern
me. There we have an irreducible truth. The me-others relationship is as indis-
soluble as the subject-object relationship” (1976, p. 72). Moreover, she does
not understand one individual’s being-in-the-world as separate from, or fun-
damentally antagonistic to, another’s being-in-the world. Rather, for Beau-
voir, it is my-and-your-being-in the world, it is our being-in-the-world—it is
being-with (Mitsein) (2010, p. 17). Human beings are perceived as unique and
free individuals, who are also interconnected with other unique and free be-
ings, which is why we can neither be fully immersed in a collective move-
ment, nor appear as completely separated and isolated beings.
Beauvoir’s emphasis on human beings as fundamentally relational de-
parts from the individualistic ontology of many traditional philosophers—
76 TOVE PETTERSEN
As long as there have been men and they have lived, they have all felt
this tragic ambiguity of their condition, but as long as there have been
philosophers and they have thought, most of them have tried to mask it.
They have striven to reduce mind to matter, or to reabsorb matter into
mind, or to merge them within a single substance. (1976, p. 7)
Beauvoir’s clear rejection of dualist thinking based on the binary logic of ei-
ther-or, and its elimination of ambiguity by attempting to make human beings
either pure inwardness or pure externality, not only anticipates the relational
ontology of contemporary feminism, but also the feminist concept of relation-
al autonomy. Relational autonomy is an alternative to the traditional Kantian
notion of autonomy where human beings are understood as sovereign beings
that act and decide alone, unencumbered by attachments to others. It is also an
alternative to traditions wherein human beings are considered to be deprived
of agency (see Pettersen, 2009–2010). Beauvoir’s relational ontology also
informs her view of society. “A society is a whole made up of individual
parts. Its members are separate, but they are united by the need for reciprocal
relationships” (1973, p. 321).
Beauvoir’s concept of moral freedom must be understood relationally
and in light of ambiguity. Ontological freedom is given to each individual,
and must be exercised by individual choices if the external situation permits it
(concrete freedom). However, as human beings are related, there also exists a
connection when it comes to freedom; our freedoms are also interrelated:
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 77
“Our freedoms support each other like the stone in an arch, but in an arch that
no pillars support” (2004e, p. 140). Hence, in sync with much feminist ethics
and in contrast to an individualistic version of freedom, it would also make
sense to call Beauvoir’s concept of moral freedom “relational freedom.” Ac-
cording to Beauvoir, relational freedom is precisely the kind of freedom we
should adopt as our core normative value. But why choose this as our maxim?
Why select the freedom of all as our moral goal?
A. Existential Meaning
The first argument for why we should embrace freedom emphasizes our per-
sonal existential situation and its relation with freedom. By practicing our free-
dom, we can establish our goals and create and participate in self-chosen pro-
jects that give our lives meaning. Only when our projects are freely embraced
can our lives be autonomous and authentic. If we let others decide how we
should live—for example, by uncritically adopting traditional gender roles, or
submitting to religious or political doctrines—we are just following directives
and norms not freely consented to. This is equivalent to living un-freely. As
un-free, we experience existential meaninglessness and we do not develop our
full potential (2010, pp. 661–664) because only our own freedom can be the
source of authentic values and meaning. When norms are imposed from with-
out, or simply uncritically adopted, they are heteronomous and inauthentic.
Our actions and projects reveal the extent to which we are free; through
them, we sustain and create authentic values—or we perpetuate the values
imposed on us by others. This explains why one of the most heinous punish-
ments that can be imposed on a human being is that of Sisyphus. The mean-
inglessness of having to perform pointless tasks over and over again—like
filling and emptying the same ditch, or writing lines at school—is more intol-
erable than the feeling of exhaustion one gets from doing this work (Beauvoir,
1976, p. 30). Likewise, a life in prison is the hardest punishment because it
keeps the individual’s existence in a state of pure facticity, a situation that
cannot (easily) be changed.
Beauvoir depicts inauthentic lives in many of her writings, and her por-
trayal of women’s situation in The Second Sex is possibly the best known.
78 TOVE PETTERSEN
Here she explains why women living as traditional mothers and wives often
find their lives meaningless: they did not freely choose to live this way; they
are only following conventions. In The Coming of Age, Beauvoir describes
how external (culture, body, myths) and internal (emotional and existential)
factors restrict elderly persons’ freedom of choice:
A limited future, and a frozen past: such is the situation that the elderly
have to face up to. In many instances it paralyses them. All their plans
have either been carried out or abandoned, and their life has closed in
about itself; nothing requires their present; they no longer have anything
whatsoever to do. (1973, p. 562)
B. Ethical Responsibility
Those capable of making free choices, but who refrain from doing so, will not
only experience meaninglessness, but also, according to Beauvoir, live uneth-
ically. In addition to its existential side, autonomous choice also has a signifi-
cant ethical dimension. It is the first step toward living as a moral person, and
thus, another reason why we should embrace freedom. Beauvoir writes, “to
will oneself free is to effect the transition from nature to morality by estab-
lishing a genuine freedom on the original upsurge of our existence” (1976, p.
25). In other words, “to will oneself moral and to will oneself free is one and
the same decision” (ibid., p. 24).
One of Beauvoir’s points, advanced in The Ethics of Ambiguity, is that
when we unreflectively follow conventions, indulge in pre-established ethical
systems, a religion, a political ideology, or just “go with the flow,” we do not
take responsibility for our actions and ourselves. Disclaiming this ethical re-
sponsibility by uncritically following others can lead not only to dogmatism
and fanaticism, but also to violence, brutality, and evil carried out in the name
of a principle, a religion or an ideology (ibid., pp, 44, 49). Living by the dic-
tate of others is to reject our freedom and dismiss an ethical responsibility for
our own lives.
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 79
Beauvoir applies this idea in The Second Sex when she asserts that
women are partly culpable for their oppressed situation (2010, p. 10). This
culpability arises, in Beauvoir’s view, because in most cases, we have some
responsibility for our own situation. Unless we are completely determined
from outside, an agent can always choose to act one way instead of another.
Apart from cases of extreme oppression, individuals cannot escape the moral
responsibility for their lives and actions simply by claiming that they had fol-
lowed the rules or some authority. Consistently, and on every occasion, Beau-
voir argues against determinism—a view that denies ontological freedom (see
Pettersen, 2009).
One objection to the argument that our own freedom and that of others should
be our leading normative goal is that if we are free, we can also choose to be
un-free. But “deliberately to will oneself not free,” Beauvoir replies, is a con-
tradiction (1976, p. 25). Why? Simply because agents need freedom in order
to voluntarily subjugate themselves to others, a topic Beauvoir explores in
“Must We Burn Sade?” (2012a). “Un-free” has meaning only in relation to
“free.” We cannot choose to be un-free unless we have the freedom to choose;
consequently, it is a contradiction to want to choose to be un-free. Slaves, for
instance, do not possess sufficient concrete freedom to choose between a free
and an un-free life.
However, even in the absence of concrete freedom, slaves still have on-
tological freedom—by virtue of being members of the human race. On the
basis of their ontological freedom, they can choose to consent or oppose their
own oppression. Therefore, one might suggest, slaves’ ontological freedom
also allows them to choose to be the objects of others even if their concrete
freedom does not.
The problem with this argument is that human beings are not simply ob-
jects. Human beings are human precisely because they have ontological free-
dom. Hence, the choice to subjugate oneself cannot be made once and for all.
Given the free will every human being possesses, slaves can change their
mind at any time. They can choose to replace submission with revolt. Fur-
thermore, even if slaves never change their minds and always want to be un-
free, they can only do so by repeatedly choosing lack of freedom. This is only
possible if they are free. If the other has forced them into slavery, they have
not chosen to be un-free. However, in cases of extreme oppression or any other
situation where ontological freedom has been demolished—something that is
indeed possible—individuals cannot choose to be un-free. In “Preface to Tre-
blinka” (2012c), Beauvoir analyzes the impact an extremely oppressive situa-
tion can have on an agent’s possibilities to act.
80 TOVE PETTERSEN
D. Free Recognition
Persons who are the only free individuals among un-free persons, or who are
completely alone in the world, will soon discover that their freely chosen
goals and projects become meaningless. Initially, individuals must choose
their own projects freely, but at some point they will need to have them
acknowledged by others. This is not to say that one cannot enjoy a solitary
hike, but when hikers reach a mountain peak, they may wish to have compa-
ny—or at least to share their accomplishments with others upon returning
home. Likewise, one may enjoy writing in solitude, or tending the garden
alone, but sooner or later, one craves the responses of others. Moreover, some
projects can only be realized in cooperation with other people: My idea of
how to solve a political problem will never be anything but a fantasy if I do
not interact with others (Arp, 2001, pp. 71–72).
We are mutually dependent rather than self-sufficient in our attempt to
justify our existence in a meaningful way. Existential justification is, there-
fore, also constituted inter-subjectively; “there is no escaping it,” says Beau-
voir (1976, p. 72). Individuals need the approval of others in order not to be
devastated with regard to their own individual finiteness, as well as to experi-
ence joy and meaningfulness (2004e, p. 97; see Pettersen, 2008). In other
words, “no existence can be validly fulfilled if it is limited to itself. It appeals
to the existence of others” (1976, p. 67).
The recognition of others is only fully satisfactory when given freely by
free subjects. “The other’s freedom alone is capable of necessitating my be-
ing. My essential need is therefore to be faced with free men,” Beauvoir
claims. “My projects,” she continues, “lose all meaning not if my death is
announced, but if the end of the world is announced to me” (2004e, p. 129).
People whose ontological freedom remains intact must give the recognition;
the response of an indoctrinated individual will not suffice.
Those who respond to our projects must also have concrete freedom; if
they are forced to voice an opinion, it is of little worth. Consequently, there is
a correlation between my own freedom and the freedom of others. In Beau-
voir’s philosophy, my freedom and yours are not opposites, but interwoven. I
cannot expect others’ free recognition, which I need, if I do not recognize
them. We cannot force each other to mutual recognition, but we are all equal-
ly dependent on each other’s free recognition (ibid., p. 133, 1976, pp. 71–72).
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 81
Mutual recognition has not only existential, ethical, and political implications,
but also significant (inter)personal consequences, as the recognition of one’s
own freedom and that of others—assuming moral freedom—is necessary in
order to enter into authentic relationships. Authentic relationships such as real
friendship and genuine love are, according to Beauvoir, important elements of
a meaningful life; to recognize freedom of self and others constitutes a neces-
sary foundation for forming such bonds. Relationships are authentic when they
are freely assumed and when the parties recognize others’ freedom as well as
their own. Only on these terms can authentic love or genuine friendship devel-
op (2010, p. 735). In such relationships, each party recognizes the other and
themselves as human beings equal to all others (neither inferior nor superior),
and, at the same time, as unique from all others. Consequently, neither attempts
to submit to the other or to oppress the other. On love, Beauvoir writes:
[I]t is when the slavery of half of humanity is abolished and with it the
whole hypocritical system it implies that the “division” of humanity will
reveal its authentic meaning and the human couple will discover its true
form. (2010, p. 766)
Justifying our lives is an ongoing process with different stages. First, we must
freely and deliberately choose our projects. In addition, we also need the
recognition of other free individuals. However, others’ acknowledgement is
not enough to bestow upon our lives an enduring purpose. Even if we enjoy
the support and affirmation of a particular group—be it family, friends, or the
politically like-minded—we still need, at some point, a wider justification of
our projects and our existence. We also want to participate in something larg-
er, something extending beyond our mortal life, an ultimate justification of
our projects. What could constitute such an ultimate justification of our pro-
jects and our transcendence?
In Pyrrhus and Cineas, Beauvoir addresses several possible ultimate
goals of our transcendence. One is to withdraw from the world and enjoy the
moment (ataraxia), as both the Stoics and Cineas recommended. Another is
to pursue the idea of the universal, as Hegel and Kant proposed; a third is to
posit God as our ultimate objective—an option recommended by Kierkegaard
among others. Beauvoir rejects all three. Instead, we “must turn toward men”
(2004e, p. 106) and act for humanity. It is only in humanity that we can find
the ultimate goal of our transcendence. Before inspecting what is meant by
“humanity,” we shall review what humanity is not for Beauvoir.
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 83
When Beauvoir posits humanity as our ultimate goal, she rejects a view
of humankind as a unified, impersonal entity with a common goal, which she
believes Hegel and Kant advocate. She also rejects an impersonal, universal
source from which all values originate, a view found in religion. She further-
more distances herself from Hegel’s and Karl Marx’s understanding of human-
ity as they ignore human beings’ ontological freedom by subjugating everyone
in a deterministic, collectivistic movement. For Beauvoir, humanity is not a
homogenous entity striving for the same goal. There is only a “plurality of
concrete, particular men projecting themselves toward their ends on the basis
of situations whose particularity is as radical and as irreducible as subjectivity
itself” (1976, pp. 17–18).
If humanity cannot be understood as an impersonal, unified, and collec-
tivistic movement, can one instead envision humankind as an assembly of
separate and antagonistic individuals, where only particular perspectives and
isolated projects exist? This view appears accurate, says Beauvoir, since “the
place each one occupies is always a foreign place” and “the bread that one
eats is always the bread of another” (2004e, p. 107). In other words, “I am an
instrument for some, only by becoming an obstacle for others. It is impossible
to serve them all” (ibid., p. 108). However, even if our acts are often in ten-
sion with those of others, Beauvoir also dismisses the view of human beings
as fundamentally divided and antagonistic. Such a view contradicts her em-
phasis on inter-subjectivity and free, reciprocal recognition. Ignoring
relationality when describing humankind is just as deceptive as overlooking
human beings’ ontological freedom. According to Beauvoir, human beings
are related, and “the me-others relationship is as indissoluble as the subject–
object relationship” (1976, p. 72).
How then, are we to understand the “indissoluble” relationship between
others and oneself that needs to be taken into account in our conception of
humanity? Beauvoir asks whether it might be a pre-established order between
people working for the “accomplishment of human unity across temporal dis-
persion” such as promised by Hegel, or the idea of evolution, or perhaps an
unbroken continuity between individual actions (2004e, p. 108). She rejects
these views as well.
No pre-given order between acts exists, and the assumption that there is
continuity between each individual’s acts is highly problematic: if my son
emulates and perpetuates my actions without the possibility to resist or refuse,
it indicates a deterministic view of human beings. This is clearly not an accu-
rate depiction; human beings are free. Consequently, “if I am free, my son is
also free,” and “actions cannot be transmitted across successive generations as
if they were gliding along calm water” (ibid., p. 106). Every individual can
act freely, and each generation can change the course of history. Therefore,
“with each man humanity makes a fresh start” (ibid., p. 110). Beauvoir re-
peatedly insists that the individual’s freedom cannot be merged or subjugated
84 TOVE PETTERSEN
into a unit. Each human being’s ontological freedom is entirely separate; hu-
man beings cannot be considered as a whole.
If each individual’s goal can neither be united with an overall goal, nor
be viewed as completely separate and antagonistic, then perhaps individuals
can be unified in groups, or classes? That is possible, says Beauvoir, but only
by opposing another group or another class and thereby reintroducing a fun-
damental antagonism: “If I serve the proletariat, I combat capitalism: the sol-
dier only defends his country by killing its adversaries” (2004e, p. 108). It
appears as if we cannot transcend humankind as such, only parts of it, because
working for one part will always be to work against another. Cannot these
groups then agree upon an overall goal—such as progress and enlightenment?
Yes, but it can be difficult to reach a consensus on what is considered pro-
gress and enlightenment: the same person can be a martyr from one perspec-
tive, and a terrorist from another. Establishing a single goal for the whole of
humanity is highly problematic, and potentially repressive.
Therefore, at first glance, it would seem meaningless to “act for humani-
ty” when humanity cannot be considered an indivisible whole, or have a pre-
defined ultimate goal. Also, when no values are given—another constitutive
premise in Beauvoir’s moral philosophy—it follows that there exists no
a priori ultimate goal for humanity, just as there is no pre-given mission for
each individual. In her own words, “each man’s life and all of humanity thus
appear absolutely gratuitous at every instant, as neither required nor called by
anything” (ibid., p. 110).
All of the aforementioned views on humanity—be they Marx’s, Hegel’s,
or Kant’s—derive from beliefs about human nature. This is precisely why
Beauvoir rejects them; they are founded on philosophical anthropologies that
depart significantly from her own existentialist depiction of human beings.
Let me enlarge. The term “humanity” sometimes refers to all, or sometimes
only to a group of human beings, past, present or future. Moreover, it is often
linked with characteristics or attributes that are taken to be uniquely constitu-
tive of human beings (Giustiniani, 1985, pp. 168, 171). For instance, when
uttering the phrase, “We are united in our common humanity,” “we” can be
referring to a group of people, or all people collectively. What “we” are as-
sumed to share in virtue of being human, could be reason, emotions, a need
for care, that we are beings loved by God—or ontological freedom. Beauvoir
strongly emphasizes the final alternative, while clearly rejecting the penulti-
mate possibility.
From this it follows that the expression “to act for humanity”—which
Beauvoir suggests is the ultimate goal of our transcendence—is also closely
related to her understanding of what characterizes human beings and, based
on this, what she believes to be in their best interest. For Beauvoir, this is for
all individuals to be able to exercise their freedom—together with other free
individuals. Therefore, we can also suggest what it means to Beauvoir to have
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 85
G. Existential Humanism
This is why her concept of humanity, and in turn her humanism, embraces the
freedom of both self and others (moral freedom).
Sonia Kruks terms Beauvoir’s humanism an “ambiguous humanism”
(2012, p. 32) and points out how it challenges the “abstract humanism” based
on “the Western ‘man of reason.’” By this, Kruks means the “‘sovereign’
subject,” which is a humanism that also “functions ideologically; it masks and
legitimizes structures of oppression” by viewing the “‘Others’ as (at best)
‘dubiously human’” (ibid., p. 38). Beauvoir’s humanism, on the other hand,
acknowledges the ambiguity of human existence, Kruks asserts. It is “a hu-
manism for which flourishing is not to be confounded with the presence of the
individualistic liberal order that has accompanied abstract humanism in the
West” (ibid., p. 32). Although ambiguity is an important aspect of Beauvoir’s
humanism, it is an integral part of her existential philosophical anthropology.
It should therefore be subsumed under what I argue is her existential human-
ism, not as an independent version of humanism.
Fourth, when Beauvoir claims that acting for humanity is the ultimate
goal of our transcendence, she situates humanism within the last stage of her
existential ethics. By merging her existentialist ethics and a secular humanism,
each individual becomes connected with humanity as a whole. This goal is
transcendent and infinite, but not religious. Rather, it is human-made. This is a
move that does away with the problem of existential restlessness and meaning-
lessness. Even though each individual is mortal, and our projects finite, hu-
manity is not. Beauvoir writes, “it is only by prolonging itself through the free-
dom of others that it manages to surpass death itself and to realize itself as an
indefinite unity” (1976, p. 32).
In addition, by linking humanism with existential ethics, Beauvoir avoids
the problem of infinite regress in her moral philosophy. Having moral freedom
as the ultimate goal of our transcendence is not just an instrument to achieve
yet another end. Acting for humanity is also the ultimate goal of our transcend-
ence because it cannot be surpassed or completed, thus can never obstruct the
infinite movement of freedom and transcendence (2004e, p. 106). By infusing
existential ethics with humanism, Beauvoir sustains and fulfills the relational
and intersubjective mode of thinking in her philosophy. It is not by turning
inward, but by throwing oneself into the world and interacting with others for
the good of humanity per se that our transcendence becomes truly meaningful.
Only in a free society can one throw oneself into the world and interact with
other free individuals. Only in a free society are individuals granted the op-
portunity to choose their own projects, their relationships, and the possibility
of participating in a common life. Such a society is not given by nature, but
actively created by human beings. Some of our ancestors used their freedom
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 89
to facilitate such a life. They fought for causes such as the abolishment of
slavery, women’s rights, and against fascism and the Nazi occupation. In their
efforts, they made moral freedom their overall goal as they struggled to up-
hold their own and others’ freedom. At the same time, they were acting on
behalf of humanity, as described by Beauvoir.
If we choose not to join a common project because we are not willing to
act on behalf of humanity by assuming moral freedom, we are free riders in
the humanity project. We benefit from the concrete freedom others fought to
preserve, but without wanting to do our share to maintain it and ensure its
continuation. When we fail to embrace moral freedom, we stand passive in
the face of those who seek to undermine concrete freedom, and we fail to
support others in their attempts to defend it. Shared freedom is a common
good, created by human beings. If the number of free riders grows beyond a
critical limit, this common good, which depends for its survival on our ongo-
ing support, could collapse. By remaining passive or ignorant, or by actively
exploiting others, we inflict damage on ourselves, on others and on humanity.
Within the framework of Beauvoir’s existential ethics, our freedom and
our interconnectedness have impact on our moral responsibilities. Both tell us
what we can to do to support or destroy others. Ontological freedom is some-
thing each individual has by virtue of being human; it includes our free will
and capacity to act autonomously. In Pyrrhus and Cineas, Beauvoir says that
this freedom cannot be destroyed by others. Violence only affects the other’s
external condition, not their ontological freedom (2004e, p. 124). As presented
in Pyrrhus and Cineas, this is clearly a limitation in Beauvoir’s portrayal of
freedom. She operates here with a problematic body–mind dichotomy, not quite
compatible with her efforts elsewhere to transcend binary modes of thought.
Moreover, this dichotomy is empirically unsustainable. Destruction of ontologi-
cal freedom is not limited to violence, torture, starvation, or imprisonment; it
can also be damaged by daily neglect, lack of care and respect, violation of
trust—and correspondingly be reinforced by mutual respect and recognition.
Because each of us is always a part of others’ situations, it follows that
we must aspire to not undermine their ontological freedom or destroy their
concrete freedom. Although others’ ontological freedom cannot be penetrated
directly, as can the body, it can definitely be demolished indirectly by vio-
lence and lack of concrete freedom.
Many of our actions affect others’ concrete freedom. If we actively de-
prive others of their rights and livelihood–or hamper their struggle for con-
crete freedom–we become the facticity they fight against. In such situations,
Beauvoir argues, violence can be permissible (ibid., pp. 97–98). Our moral
responsibility, therefore, not only requires us to act for the good of humanity
and do nothing to violate other people’s freedom, but it also requires us to
avoid inhibiting their (struggle for) concrete freedom. We must make sure that
our actions do not reduce or obstruct other people’s free transcendence.
90 TOVE PETTERSEN
The last reason we should assume moral freedom as our normative value con-
cerns the political conditions that allow us to live a human life, a life where
transcendence is equally possible for all. Democracy as a political system is
able to sustain concrete freedom. Concrete freedom, ensured by a democratic
form of government, is as important as ontological freedom for us to live an
authentic life. Only by living in a free society is a human life possible.
Reciprocity also exists between each individual and society. Just as in-
dividuals must seek to preserve each other’s freedom, society and individuals
must also mutually recognize each other’s freedom. What does this mean?
According to Beauvoir, it means that, at every opportunity, the community
must recognize the importance and dignity of each individual citizen—one by
one. Society’s respect for each individual is demonstrated by the public
recognition of every citizen as a unique individual able to create individual
values and life. This is what democratic states understand, Beauvoir contends,
and what totalitarian regimes violate (1976, p. 106).
Society’s recognition of individuals, says Beauvoir, is expressed through
arranging and facilitating ceremonies such as baptism, marriage and burial
(ibid.). It is also expressed, one could add, by facilitating education, job op-
portunities, health-care, child-care, and safety for all citizens, and by sustain-
ing freedom of religion and speech and by invoking laws against discrimina-
tion. These arrangements are part of the concrete freedom each individual
needs in order to use their ontological freedom and form authentic lives
(Pettersen, 2013). Beauvoir points out that totalitarian regimes confine citi-
zens in their facticity, preventing them from exercising their ontological free-
dom and creating meaningful lives for themselves (1976, pp. 106–108). Also,
one may add, in some liberal societies, only privileged citizens have the op-
portunity to exercise freedom.
The political implication of Beauvoir’s moral imperative to act for hu-
manity—sustaining the freedom of self and all others—implies working for a
society where concrete freedom extends to all citizens. In a democracy, hu-
manity is understood as a collection of unique individuals, while in a totalitar-
ian regime humanity is viewed collectively, as an entity that can be controlled
and defined.
In return for having their unique values recognized and for providing the
necessary framework for living authentic lives, individuals must also recog-
nize society and act to maintain democracy. As Edward and Kate Fullbrook
suggest, individuals can contribute to society in a number of ways—from the
extreme sacrifice in emergency situations, to the daily care of fellow citizens
or participating in elections (1998, pp. 110–112).
Existential Humanism and Moral Freedom in Beauvoir’s Ethics 91
4. Concluding Remarks
BECOMING-AMBIGUOUS: BEAUVOIR,
DELEUZE, AND THE FUTURE
OF THE HUMANITIES
Samantha Bankston
The humanities is under siege in contemporary society, expected to justify their
worth in technocratic terms of utility and productivity. Rather than adopt the
language of instrumental reason that threatens their future, Simone de Beau-
voir’s ethics of ambiguity demonstrate that the value of the humanities is the
value of freedom. Beauvoir’s notion of ambiguity contains a temporal logic that
breaks with the reifying mechanisms that inform instrumental reason in existen-
tial praxis. However, this concept is still framed by the representational logic it
resists, relegated to the sovereign subject of man. By forging Beauvoir’s con-
cept of ambiguity with Gilles Deleuze’s philosophy of becoming, the humani-
ties takes on a new form of agency that is both situationally effective and onto-
logically free.
1. Introduction
first investigate the role ambiguity plays in the construction of existential and
ontological freedom.
If being neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the
same time, then I’m neurotic as hell. I’ll be flying back and forth be-
tween one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.
(1996, p. 94)
Being “neurotic,” in this case, means being alive and unable to halt temporali-
ty. Here, we arrive at the first node connecting ambiguity and assemblage: the
evasion of locatable points of fixed Being. Instead, we have relational lines
prior to chronological temporal ordering, where existence is pure flux. The
nothingness of the present moment, as described by Beauvoir, can be expli-
cated through becoming’s relational split of the present into the simultaneous
streams of the ontological past and open future.
Deleuze adopts this temporal split of the present from Henri Bergson’s
theory of memory, where the continuous multiplicity of the present—
duration—divides into two simultaneous streams of the ontological pure past
and the not-yet of the future. He writes, “at each instant duration divides into
two simultaneous tendencies, one of which goes toward the future and the
Becoming-Ambiguous: The Future of the Humanities 97
other falls back into the past” (1990a, p. 19). Deleuze translates the temporal
split of duration in terms of becoming that divides “infinitely in past and fu-
ture and always eludes the present” (1990b, p. 5).
The constituted present of perception is always eluded since it is none
other than the (infinitesimally) immediate past, whereas the present as such,
or what we will call the “moment,” is pure relationality absent of fixed terms
of Being. The moment, strictly speaking, is the operation of self-differing
within absolute otherness. When Beauvoir states that, in this moment, “man”
is “nothing,” she is referring to the absence of fixed being, or individuated
form; the individual exists as flux between the assignations of Being. As op-
posed to the present of perception, which is actually the immediate past, the
perverse moment of becoming is understood as a differential relation absent
of fixed terms or conditions.
To map Deleuze’s notion of becoming onto Beauvoir’s notion of ambi-
guity, it is important to examine the conceptual history that informs the mo-
ment in Deleuze, which, put into Beauvoirian terms, evokes existential ambi-
guity. The moment is distinct from the present, and Deleuze extracts it
through a conceptual encounter between Nietzsche and Gottfried Wilhelm
Leibniz. On the Nietzschean side, the moment appears in Thus Spoke Zara-
thustra, as the gateway to two contradictory lanes of eternity, one running
backward with the other running forward (Nietzsche, 1961, p. 178).
The moment for Nietzsche is the counter-causal operator for Deleuze.
There are two conceptions of eternity that are indicated in Nietzsche’s “On
the Vision and the Riddle” (ibid., pp. 176–181). One of the two eternities in-
cludes the cyclical conception of time that is predicated on the measured pre-
sent. In this conception, we have a homogeneous succession of now points,
with the future and past as dimensions of this measured present; in other
words, what Beauvoir means by Being. This first, manifest understanding of
eternity operates according to mechanistic causality of concrete bodies. The
other conception of eternity, according to a Deleuzian reading, is the eternal
return of the unconditioned, the radically new. Where one version of eternity
corresponds to individuated forms in Being, the other account of eternity de-
notes the chaotic proliferation of forces in becoming.
The moment, then, takes actual forms of Being from the forward lane
and counter-causally differentiates their singularities so as to repeat the un-
conditioned in the product, the new, on the long lane of eternity that proceeds
backward. As will be shown, this counter-causal differentiation of the mo-
ment disorients and destabilizes fixed forms of Being, producing existential
ambiguity. These singularities are then redistributed into new constellations of
sensation and thought, producing new assemblages in becoming. The noth-
ingness of man’s Being in Beauvoir finds an explication in the differentiating
moment, whose temporal tension is expressed through Deleuze’s reading of
Leibniz’s infinitesimal calculus.
98 SAMANTHA BANKSTON
It is the wolf itself, and the horse, and the child, that cease to be subjects to
become events, in assemblages that are inseparable from an hour, a sea-
son, an atmosphere, an air, a life. The street enters into composition with
the horse, just as the dying rat enters into composition with the air, and the
beast and the full moon enter into composition with each other . . . . Cli-
mate, wind, season, hour are not of another nature than things, animals, or
people that populate them, follow them, sleep and awaken within them.
This should be read without a pause: the animal-stalks-at-five-o’clock.
The becoming-evening, becoming-night of an animal, blood nuptials. Five
o’clock is this animal! This animal is this place! (1987, pp. 289–290)
utopian visions of the collective. There is always space for ungrounding the
past through a radical singularity that connects to the universality of freedom,
the infinite. Contained within the structure of ambiguity is the repetition of
difference, of singular individuals who will the collective freedom of the whole
when acting freely as individuals. Taking the following claim about existential
ethics, we can work backward to recover its onto-temporal underpinnings:
A free act, then, arises from external relations between individuals, ex-
ceeding the individual itself and affecting the totality of existence, opening
the finite onto the infinite. Deleuze and Guattari use similar language with
respect to the concept’s finite features opening onto the infinite through its
survey: “[The concept] is infinite through its survey or its speed but finite
through its movement that traces the contour of its components” (1987, p. 21).
The concept is singular and finite in its movements and blocs of sensation, but
it moves freely at infinite speed throughout the virtual network of thought.
The implication of the opening of the finite onto the infinite is the fold-
ing of time through ambiguous becomings that transcend fixed meanings or
terms. It is ambiguity that opens up the space for freedom, and by “transcend-
ing himself” the individual produces an immanent future that is not subordi-
nated to utopian signifiers, definite ends, or historical inevitabilities. With the
free acts of the individual arise the actualization of freedom itself, beyond the
fixed structures of Being and representation. Free existential action entails
keeping the act’s meaning suspended in ambiguity, without letting it fall into
the past of former presents in reification.
To keep an act from being reified, it is returned to again and again
throughout the whole of existence, that is, virtually (ibid., p. 27). Repetition
distributes the moment throughout the virtual network of existence, involving
the relationality of moments, thereby forcing fixed terms to infinitely ap-
proach the vanishing point. It is also important to note that the interstice of
moments that hold Being at bay are ontologically univocal, rejecting, as
Beauvoir says, “every principle of authority” (1976, p. 142).
forms, and where transcendental signifiers are dismantled. Again, we have the
seeds of post-structural metaphysics contained within the concept of
Beauvoirian ambiguity.
Rejecting every principle of authority pertains not only to the State,
God, and Man, but concerns the Signifier itself. What is at stake when dis-
mantling the principle of authority is the internal self-regulation of the con-
cept down to the signifying chain. The negation of any principle of authority
can be positively formulated as the principle of exteriority. The concept (for
example, woman) is not internally regulated, as if abstracted from its sur-
roundings, but its components express divergent capacities according to the
external relations of whatever system in which it is assembled.
This means that rather than conceive of woman’s line of flight (her oth-
erness) as a break in the signifying chain where meaning is conferred by tran-
scendental ideas, Deleuze and Guattari conceive of her as an imperceptible
rupture into the code of phallocentric Being—signification. Instead, they posit
nomadic thought, which is anarchic, against the sovereignty of the subject and
interiority of the concept. Sovereignty, or the State, has infiltrated the history
of ideas, as they explain:
The State as the model . . . for thought has a long history: logos, the phi-
losopher-king, the transcendence of the Idea, the interiority of the concept,
the republic of minds, the court of reason, the functionaries of thought,
man as legislator and subject. (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p. 24)
Doubtless, the girl becomes a woman in the molar or organic sense. But
conversely, becoming-woman or the molecular woman is the girl herself
. . . . She never ceases to roam upon a body without organs. She is an ab-
stract line, or a line of flight. Thus girls do not belong to an age group,
sex, order, or kingdom: they slip in everywhere, between orders, acts,
ages, sexes; they produce n molecular sexes on the line of flight in rela-
tion to the dualism machines they cross right through. The only way to
get outside the dualisms is to be-between to pass between, the intermez-
zo . . . . It is not the girl who becomes a woman; it is becoming-woman
that produces the universal girl. (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987, p. 305)
Becoming-Ambiguous: The Future of the Humanities 103
Irigaray’s charge that Deleuze and Guattari become other than their born sex,
making women invisible in the process, has already been rejected by
Deleuzean scholars, such as Claire Colebrook (2012) and Elizabeth Grosz
(2011), who both point out that, at a surface level, Irigaray fails to see how an
ontology of multiplicity and freedom from the One allows woman to move
from a notion of otherness premised on resistance, to an otherness of creative
irruption. Just as Pierre Menard, a fictional French writer, creates the condi-
tions in the twentieth century to write the exact sentences that appear in Cer-
vantes’ Don Quixote three centuries prior, anyone, regardless of sex, can
break with the logic of identity to initiate a becoming-woman (Borges, 1964).
The process has nothing to do with one’s identity, but constructing any series
of contextual arrangements that produce the desired effects. The problem
some feminists perceive in Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of becoming-
woman is the seeming undermining of historical women’s movements, whose
struggle for liberation relied upon identity politics.
Once we move from chronological history to the counter-causal history
in becoming, Woman loses her footing in actual contexts of oppression, it
might seem. However, this criticism suffers from two main problems: (1) The
failure to escape from the sovereignty of the subject, which traps women in
104 SAMANTHA BANKSTON
restrictive dualisms, and (2) The abstraction and evaluation of immanent con-
cepts in a system of transcendent principles of interiority. The first problem
attempts to dismantle the master’s house with the master’s tool: subjectivity.
Even in an altered, multiple, or differing state, feminine subjectivity is still
dialectically bound to the logic of the One. There is more than one way to
return to the body, and a body beyond the artificial categories of Male and
Female leaves us in a field of sensation where the two sexes:
bly inform Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of becoming, as well as their con-
cept of an assemblage. Becoming-woman forms a bloc of sensation through
coexistence that refers to the molecular memory of the dualisms that woman
defies. She produces infinite molecular lines—assemblages—between dualis-
tic points, and she is indefinitely deferred. Above all, she is direct action at a
distance; she is flight into the ambiguous space where marginalization frag-
ments all static forms of Being through its otherness.
Everything becomes other, fleeing the capture of representation when
traversed by becoming-woman. Despite its de-territorializing function, the
very power of becoming-woman may be temporarily and temporally arrested
by individuated forms. This is the reason why the feminist anarchist philoso-
pher Emma Goldman, for instance, rejected adhering to the representational
logic of historic women’s movements and why Foucault, an avowed critic of
hetero-normative culture, similarly rejected the identity politics of the gay
rights movement.
Women’s movements are on the level of representation and chronologi-
cal time, and as such, they do not have the infinite speed and freedom afford-
ed to sub-representational becoming. Beauvoir’s definition of the moment as
non-being denounces chronology as the time of existence.
Granting ontological status and primordial relationality to the ambiguous
condition of man, Beauvoir pushes farther than Martin Heidegger and Sartre
toward a sub-representational time. Ambiguous time pulsates without defini-
tion, between forms of Being. It is impossible to be ontologically free when
bound by definition, and definition is the work of representation. Beauvoir’s
genius is the interstitial moment of philosophy between subjective intention
and virtual process; she employs the figure of human existence only to destabi-
lize it through anomalous relations in ambiguity. The rejection of all principles
of authority pools in individuation, making way for impersonal, a-subjective
“agents,” or assemblages. Beauvoir’s ethics of ambiguity lends existential
agency to Deleuze’s ontology, witnessed in situations in direct action.
Oppression tries to defend itself by its utility. But we have seen that it is
one of the lies of the serious mind to attempt to give the word “useful”
an absolute meaning; nothing is useful if it is not useful to man; nothing
is useful to man if the latter is not in a position to define his own ends
and values, if he is not free. (1976, p. 95)
Becoming-Ambiguous: The Future of the Humanities 109
Precluding the individual’s ability to define its ends and values is precise-
ly the work of instrumental reason. Further, appeals to utility already presup-
pose what is deemed useful, and when utility is used to justify the suppression
of critical thought, then the freedom to evaluate ends in-themselves and the
system imposing prepackaged “utility” is blocked. As Beauvoir illustrates,
freedom emerges from the actualization of the ambiguity of existence, the con-
nection of radical singularity with universality. This occurs with the counter-
causal repetition of the future in becoming. Being, on the other hand, attempts
to turn individuals into sterile objects, relegating their meaning to a dead past
of former presents.
The defense of the humanities lies squarely in its opposition to the logic
of instrumental reason, as well as the principle of interiority. Equipped with
impersonal, non-human agency, the humanities stages encounters in non-
locatable space releasing spatiotemporal dynamisms from within ossified in-
stitutions in a collage of philosophical and artistic thought and praxis. In fact,
freedom is not very useful in contemporary technocratic societies, thereby in-
hibiting the efficiency of capitalist production, as Žižek reveals when discuss-
ing “capitalism with Asian values” (2009, p. 51). For example, the postmodern
shift from material to immaterial labor requires that the State intervene to exact
profits through legal, thus non-economic, means, in the form of intellectual
property, or what Žižek terms the “privatization of the general intellect.”
With regard to the general intellect, capitalist markets are unable to ex-
tract capital through solely economic means, necessitating the authority of the
State to intervene by extracting profits in the form of rent. This is a clear ex-
ample where free, open source expressions of the general intellect are seen as
an impediment and disruption to technocratic, capitalist society. Instead, au-
thoritative rule helps capitalism operate more efficiently, with greater profit
margins extracted. Spatio-temporal dynamisms, in this example, are reified in
mechanistic causal structures, as opposed to their inverse release through
counter-causal processes that emerge from becoming-ambiguous. In this for-
mation of society, then, free movement and liberation slow down the gears of
production, making it less useful. The humanities resists this notion of tech-
nocratic utility, and are targeted as a result.
Rather than subordinate impersonal, pre-subjective acts produced
through the multifarious becomings of the humanities to an authoritative prin-
ciple of utility, we must preserve the humanities precisely because they allow
the freedom to articulate and express the notion of freedom itself. As an as-
semblage, the humanities frees concepts from chronological history, staging
them in new encounters, literally freeing them from established structures, or
the status quo. They are able to do so by employing the sub-representational
division of the always already and the not-yet of the future: the moment.
If the human is nothing, as Beauvoir states, existing as lack, and the hu-
man is the seat of the humanities, then the human’s temporally deconstructed
identity dislodges the humanities from the structures of subjectivity, as well as
110 SAMANTHA BANKSTON
1. Introduction
The means women have had available to them to think, image, and make
actionable their experience have been made for [women] and not by us.
It means that our experience has not been represented in the making of
our culture. (1987, p. 19)
stifling position of being anchored to one’s body makes the question of sui-
cide inherently gender-relevant. Beauvoir’s method of expressing philosophy
in the vehicle of the novel not only situates her comfortably in the history of
existentialist thought but also necessarily weaves together feminism, sociolo-
gy, and literature. However, if meaning is bestowed upon woman, then the
manner in which she contemplates death and suicide are inherently different.
Several characters in Beauvoir’s novels contemplate death: Regina in All
Men Are Mortal, Paula and Anne in The Mandarins, and the protagonist in
“Monologue.” Why should we study works of fiction for philosophical dis-
course? The threshold of existentialist theory aims to unearth that which can-
not be captured by or reduced to what Beauvoir calls “pure understanding” in
her essay “Literature and Metaphysics” (2004a). By pure understanding,
Beauvoir means that which can be constructed through logic and objectivity;
however, the meaning of one’s life evades a rigidly defined format. The fabric
of existence alters with age, choice, and situation; thus, it could not be pinned
down to an absolute definition. Such an attempt would rob existence of its
central tenet, becoming. In contrast to pure understanding, the platform of the
novel can delve into issues of existence: “We ask novelists to evoke this
flesh-and-blood presence whose complexity and singular and infinite richness
exceed any subjective interpretation” (ibid., p. 270). What makes Beauvoir’s
work significant for the humanities is her employment of the methodology to
expound on the experience of being “other.”
In “Literature and Metaphysics,” Beauvoir wrote:
Beauvoir explains:
For Beauvoir, the pursuit of truth must be forged in such a way that not only
permeates the meanings of existence, but which avoids falling into a subjec-
tive or relativistic philosophy that would produce an ethics on which one can-
not rely or discover genuine meaning. Truth, according to Beauvoir, entails
recognizing the ambiguity of existence. By ambiguity, she means the present
moment, among other things; not the past nor the future, but the very moment
in which one exists (1976). Existence is ambiguous because it cannot be re-
duced to an “anything,” rather, it is a “nothing.”
One’s being constitutes more than a dualistic framework of body plus
mind/soul. One exists in the present ambiguously, and it is from that moment
of recognition that one moves forward genuinely. In contrast, reducing wom-
an to “nature” or something defined, the lines of ambiguity disappear. Thus,
wading in the throes of ambiguity requires freedom and allows for the mean-
ing of existence to be sought. Removing ambiguity is akin to accepting a pre-
ordered way of existing thereby curbing possibility of freedom.
The novel uniquely unveils this ambiguity, as opposed to asserting pure
understanding. It does not follow that truth is ambiguous, but simply that ex-
istence is ambiguous, and in turn, the ambiguity of existence is truth. The
extent of this ambiguity warrants an explanation and exploration. How does
one proceed to investigate something that is inherently ambiguous such as the
meaning of life? The investigation is not meant to detangle ambiguity but to
appreciate the ambiguity as such. By employing literature as opposed to a text
to convey that which appeals to pure understanding, Beauvoir suggests that
the text form would impose values and instructions, and thus fail to appeal to
Embodiment and Contemplation of Death: Beauvoirian Analysis 115
The deathly aspect of this world may, from a given standpoint, be re-
garded as a ceaseless incitement to denial and to suicide. It could even
be said in this sense that the fact that suicide is always possible is the es-
sential starting point of any genuine metaphysical thought. (1984, p. 26)
choosing to live, thus finding value in one’s existence. All other philosophical
inquiries presuppose that the subject involved in the inquiry has first said
“yes” to existence. It is in seeking an ordered life where the world is governed
absolutely and rationally that a spiral into despair could ensue. In contrast,
accepting the world as absurd, confronting the absurd, allows one to seek out
the meaning of one’s life. “The point is to live,” Camus writes (2000, p. 63).
We must “breathe with the absurd.” Exploring the absurd and the hypocrisy
of man, Camus’s Jean-Baptiste Clamence from The Fall (2005) invites the
reader for a journey through Amsterdam and a discussion on the plight of
mankind. “You are like me in a way,” Jean-Baptiste tells us.
In an intriguing fashion, Camus uses fiction to draw the reader into the
realm of the absurd, to experience it and reflect on it. While Camus’s work on
suicide and its relation to the absurd are important existential advancements,
his theory heavily depends on the assumption that the person navigating
through the labyrinth of the absurd is male. For example, when Jean-Baptiste
says, “you are like me,” the “you” is clearly male: “You are my age in a way,
with the sophisticated eye of a man in his forties who has seen everything . . .
you are well dressed” (ibid., p. 8). The only presence of woman in The Fall is
used as a tool to demonstrate Jean-Baptiste’s promiscuous tendencies and
therefore characterizes him as one who cannot commit. That woman is not a
character in her own right. Her only purpose is to advance the male protago-
nist’s journey. Granted, the protagonist’s attitude toward women is part of his
particular disposition. Nevertheless, the point of view of woman as being in
the realm of questioning her surroundings, being confronted by her freedom is
not disclosed.
This theme is not confined only to The Fall, but is also part of
Meursault’s character in The Stranger (1982). Meursault’s relationship to Ma-
rie serves as a means for Camus to assert the “truth” of embracing the absurd,
because like the sun and the sea, she is just another aspect of sensual feeling
that is to be cherished. For example, while in prison, Meursault reflects:
existential position that has largely been neglected. Her characters are more
diverse than those of her existentialist contemporaries because their develop-
ment hinges on profession, choice, and custom. Thus, being “woman” is not
in and of itself a sufficient character attribute. In her literature, Beauvoir ex-
plores the phenomenon of being “other,” and she re-examines the question in
The Ethics of Ambiguity:
Man exists. For him it is not a question of wondering whether his pres-
ence in the world is useful, whether life is worth the trouble of being
lived. These questions make no sense. It is a matter of knowing whether
he wants to live and under what conditions. (1976, p. 15)
The conditions of the world are not “static conditions,” but something that can
be re-shaped and transcended. Beauvoir’s philosophy, in part through the
method of the novel, calls attention to this and thereby empowers the reader to
realize one’s role in the world as something potentially active.
The question of defining “life” as such has historically been bifurcated
to accommodate the perceived differences in men and women. Modern phi-
losophers Mary Wollstonecraft and John Stuart Mill addressed the cultural
barriers and the ethical implications of making policy based on assumptions
of woman’s possibility. In their works—A Vindication of the Rights of Women
(Wollstonecraft, 1996) and On the Subjection of Woman (Mill, 1986)—they
dismantle the flimsy, yet prevalent, link between embodiment and the capaci-
ty for reason. Wollstonecraft’s argument for the education of women had to,
in part, undercut the thinking encroaching on women’s education in the first
place. She quite rightly pointed out that the “virtues” to which women were
told to aspire fell terribly short of what was meant by “virtue.”
The belief that women ought to be obedient and care about dress could
not be considered “natural” as proposed by Jean-Jacques Rousseau and John
Gregory, the intellectual elites to whom Wollstonecraft directs her argument,
if women were encouraged to cultivate these virtues. Furthermore, since virtue
requires the development of reason, and because reason is not identical to the
physical self, Wollstonecraft pressed that it would be absurd not to educate
women, for the claims against it stood on a faulty foundation. Warning against
the perils of maintaining the present course, “education” that encourages wom-
en to be dependent and seek the protection of man, she wrote:
I must declare what I firmly believe, that all the writers who have writ-
ten on the subject of female education and manners from Rousseau to
Dr. Gregory, have contributed to render women more artificial, weak
characters, than they would otherwise have been; and consequently,
more useless members of society. (1996, p. 21)
Embodiment and Contemplation of Death: Beauvoirian Analysis 119
Mill shared a similar sentiment when he argued that the legal subordination of
women was a hindrance to progress. Like Wollstonecraft, Mill upset the ra-
ther loose link between biology and reason that allowed for such laws to be
created, enforced, and culturally accepted as “true.” Despite philosophical
treatises such as Wollstonecraft’s and Mill’s, efforts to subordinate women
continue today, and these have the potential to actualize Wollstonecraft’s
foreshadowing of making women more useless members of society.
As Beauvoir illustrated in The Second Sex, the norm, and in this case
“life,” is equated with the concept of man, and man only. Thus, the difference
in viewing “life” is enough to spark an alternate means for looking at the
question of death, because, as noted, the question presupposes and implies an
understanding of “life” itself; however, if “life” is superficially defined as a
role, biologically, or statically, then the discussion must accommodate this,
for it propels a unique existential dynamic and struggle. In Camus’s investiga-
tion, the hurdle in reconciling the reality of the absurd primarily resides in the
illusion of an ordered world. However, Beauvoir envisions not only an or-
dered world, but one in which woman’s life is generally assumed by society
(culturally and legally) to be immutable or innate, albeit sometimes resulting
from choice.
3. Suicide
Contemplating death casts a spotlight on the way in which one is in the world,
something integral to embodiment and culture. Death as such is removed entire-
ly in the novel All Men Are Mortal (Beauvoir, 2003). It is in Fosca’s un-human
reality and Regina’s obsession with immortality that the intricate nature of
time’s relation to existence comes to the fore. Fosca desired to elevate himself
to the realm of the historical/universal at the cost of genuine engagement. For
example, the very human experiences of love and expressing courage are nulli-
fied without mortality. As immortal, Fosca’s potential for a loving relationship
is problematic because of the inherently insurmountable asymmetry it would
impose. The essence of a courageous action would also be diminished by re-
moving the possibility of risking one’s life.
On the other hand, Regina, an actress, longs for Fosca’s secret; her vision
of immortality stems from a wish to remain an object. Death and aging frighten
her not because they are unknowns, but because her only meaning is derived
from people validating her in the most superficial of ways—not based on her
action or projects. Regina’s manner and effort toward her objectification and
her view of death are inextricably connected. Underscoring her motivation are
self-love and self-adoration that, Beauvoir illustrates, stands opposed to reali-
ty. This is un-authentic action and motivation because she is not “casting”
herself into the world but rather turning herself into an object. The following
120 GWENDOLYN DOLSKE
[Regina] took a small mirror from her handbag and pretended to redraw
the arc of her lips. She needed to look at herself. She loved her face; she
liked the lively, subtle shade of her blonde hair, the haughty severity of
her high forehead and her nose, her winsome mouth, the boldness of her
blue eyes….“Ah! If only there were two of me,” she thought, “one who
speaks and the other who listens, one who lives and the other who
watches, then how I would love myself! I’d envy no one.” She closed
her handbag. At that very moment, there were thousands of women who
were smiling complacently at their reflections in mirrors. (2003, p. 4)
4. “Monologue”
In the short story “Monologue,” Beauvoir delves into the psyche of a woman,
Murielle, plagued by the suicide of her daughter and the resignation of her
own existence. Ursula Tidd writes, “Murielle’s journey into madness in
‘Monologue’ explores in distinctive ways the alienated experience that is at
the heart of the psycho-social construction of femininity” (2002, p. 369).
“Monologue” is written in stream of consciousness form, a sort of rant expos-
ing the chaotic inner turmoil of the protagonist. It is without commas, logical
Embodiment and Contemplation of Death: Beauvoirian Analysis 121
only an act . . . she had not meant to die but she had overdone the dose
she was dead how appalling! It’s too easy with these drugs anyone can
get just like that: these teenage girls will play at suicide for a mere noth-
ing: Sylvie went along with the fashion—she never woke up (Beauvoir,
1969, p. 114).
I’m bored black I’m bored through the ground it’s inhuman. If I slept that
would kill the time. But there is this noise outside. And inside my head
they are giving that dirty laugh and saying, “She’s all alone.” (Ibid., p. 99)
There is a way out that is open to the woman who has reached the end of
her resistance—it is suicide. . . . She plays at breaking off but in the end
remains with the man who is the cause of her woes; she pretends to quit
the life which hurts her, but it is relatively rare for her to succeed in kill-
ing herself. (1997, p. 622)
Beauvoir continues, “In a sense her whole existence is waiting, since she is
confined in the limbo of immanence and contingence, and since her justifica-
tion is always in the hands of others” (ibid.)
In “Monologue,” Beauvoir presents a haunting portrait of a woman
who, once having lost her set societal definitions, succumbs to an existential
loss. The organization of the world extends beyond her ability for movement.
Murielle exclaims:
Wind! It’s suddenly started to blow like fury how I should like an enor-
mous disaster that would sweep everything away and me with it a ty-
phoon a cyclone it would be restful to die if there were no one left to
think about me: give up my body my poor little life to them no! But for
122 GWENDOLYN DOLSKE
My heart’s failing I’m going to die. It hurts it hurts too much they’re
slowly torturing me to death I can’t bear it any longer I’ll kill myself in
this drawing room I’ll slash my veins when they come back there’ll be
blood everywhere and I shall be dead. (Ibid., p. 120)
But, as the idea dissipates, she falls asleep. This quote echoes the manner in
which Beauvoir describes characters’ thoughts of suicide in her fiction, which
is imagining others finding them. For the narcissistic and juvenile characters
this extreme finale is entertained to gain a sort of recognition of their pres-
ence, indeed, it keeps one in the realm of objects like a withered doll. In lieu
of projecting out into the world, this option, as it will also be present in The
Mandarins (Beauvoir, 1999), remains at the back of the mind. If we are to
take Hume’s claim that a life worth living would not entertain such a scenario
seriously, then an evaluation of this concept of worth is imperative. Beauvoir
criticizes Hume’s claim and reveals the problem of confining worth to a life
without action. Woman may be more susceptible to believing limitations to
her worth when her condition is saturated with rigid cultural expectations de-
signed to distance her from authentic engagement outside of the home.
The characters Paula and Anne, in The Mandarins, approach suicide
with dichotomous attitudes of narcissism and resignation. Anne’s view:
I press my cheek against the warm grass; I say softly, “I want to die.”
The tenseness in my throat disappears, I suddenly feel very calm. . . .
I’m tired. Death seems much less terrible when you’re tired. (Beauvoir,
1999, p. 606)
Drawn to the stillness of the earth and relaxed at the idea of letting go of the
intensity of her life, she surrenders to a sudden calmness. Throughout the
novel, we find Anne’s character to be strong, emotional, professional, and ra-
tional. This contemplation Beauvoir describes does not come from a person
who is mentally ill. She elucidates, rather, the seriousness of the question, in
part, by having established a serious character who has lived fully. Paula actu-
ally appears to be the one most threatening to her own well-being. In fact, Anne
wrests a vial of poison from Paula to prevent her from committing suicide.
A juxtaposition of two very different “types” of woman forms: Paula,
the narcissist, finds her existence defined by her relation to Henri (her roman-
Embodiment and Contemplation of Death: Beauvoirian Analysis 123
tic interest in the novel), and once he leaves her, she essentially falls to pieces
and wants to end her life, because in her mind, her life is over. If life is action,
and Paula solely exists through Henri’s actions, then without Henri, Paula did
not exist. On the other hand, Anne’s character also takes up the question of
suicide, but why? Her character emerges on quite different grounds, yet the
issue of death invades her consciousness. This vial of poison, now in Anne’s
hands, haunts her; it serves as an impetus for her to evaluate the worth of her
own life, and in turn, whether she desires to participate in it any longer.
Would this thought have entered Anne’s mind had she never taken the
vial from Paula? This object present in her situation cannot be understood as a
cause, but Anne chooses to give the object a meaning, namely, a tool for
bringing about her own end. A person with another disposition might not have
arrived at the same question, or placed the same significance on the object at
hand. However, Anne did, and in the event, it turns out that a new chapter in
Anne’s life was about to be written: her daughter Nadine moved on with her
life and fell in love, while Anne’s aging husband would soon face death too.
What Anne grasped as meaningful alters; the time had arrived for her to either
engender new meaning in life or to simply quit it. She says:
Thus, Anne’s point of view had shifted from the idea of possibilities to the
plane of the infinite where individual existence cannot find a place of signifi-
cance—a parallel to the predicament of Fosca from All Men Are Mortal. With
age, and as her family matured, Anne’s reflection of her worth reveals a rather
myopic view of the future. Resting in her room, she holds the vial of poison,
and reflects: “death is dependent on me” (ibid., p. 608). This realization vali-
dates her as a being who chooses freely and steers away from the depiction of
suicide Beauvoir offers in The Second Sex, where suicide falls into the realm
of playing a part, because Anne pictures her corpse being discovered by her
family. She imagines herself being an object imposing on their situation (this
is in direct contrast to the protagonist’s position in “Monologue”). In this
light, death would not be hers, but theirs to witness:
I would see nothing, but they would see me. . . . I can’t. I stood up, I
took a few steps, I fell into a chair in front of my dressing table. It’s
strange. I would die alone; yet it’s the others who would live my death.
(Ibid., p. 609)
124 GWENDOLYN DOLSKE
Such an act cancels reciprocity and Anne therefore decides that she is not
alone in the world, or at least not as she supposed, which dissolves the impe-
tus for ending her life. Upon releasing the vial, she in turn lets go of the ques-
tion of suicide. Diving back into the struggle of existence she concludes:
Since my heart continues to beat, it will have to beat for something, for
someone. Since I’m not deaf, I’ll once more hear people calling to me. Who
knows? Perhaps one day I’ll be happy again. Who knows? (Ibid., p. 610)
5. Concluding Thoughts
LITERATURE AS LABORATORY
Eight
History has come to a stage when the moral man, the complete man, is
more and more giving way, almost without knowing it, to make room
for the…commercial man, the man of limited purpose. (Rabindranath
Tagore cited in Nussbaum, 2010, epigraph)
nevertheless, we are able to do” (ibid.). For this reason, we should not be mis-
led by appearances: the crisis in the arts and humanities is not merely academ-
ic; the crisis at hand is political. Axel Honneth (2013) reminds us:
The types, methods, and contents of [public] education may affect de-
mocracy either in positive ways, by fostering cooperativeness and indi-
vidual self-esteem, or in negative ones, undermining democracy by
teaching moral conformism and unquestioning obedience to authority.
Furthermore, Honneth mentions that only recently did pedagogy and po-
litical philosophy part ways. In the tradition that begins with Plato and finds
its correspondence in the works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Immanuel
Kant, Honneth explains, “the art of government and the art of education were
both socially created to fill the same function”: they were both created with
the intention to “effect a transition from a state of minority to a state of free-
dom” (ibid.).
It is in the spirit of freedom and in the quest for the political legitimiza-
tion of our cultural and moral capabilities that we should try to secure a place
for the arts and humanities in our societies. Nevertheless, that place will only
be safe once we prove the importance and the value of humanistic research,
by confronting the arts and humanities with the problems of our own time,
demonstrating their transformative potential. This potential is based on the
capability of the humanities to interact with other sciences and to inquire
about the meaningfulness of their mutual achievements. For this reason, it is
our task to ask the rest of the scientific community, “Hey! What are we do-
ing?” We should force the sciences to break with their technical jargon and
translate their achievements back into ordinary language, and, consequently,
return to the public domain.
One example of such inquiry can be found in the work of Simone de
Beauvoir. Its paradigmatic importance to our times lies not only in the way
she questions mainstream scientific achievements and the advancements of
technological society, but also in the way that she dwells on these achieve-
ments to enrich her artistic and philosophical perspective upon the world and
human relations.
The key to understanding Beauvoir’s intellectual project lays in the fun-
damental role that interdisciplinarity plays in her thought and how she builds
her philosophical questioning as one connected with the aesthetic concerns of
literature. A thorough study of Beauvoir’s work demands that scholars not
build their inquiries based solely on analysis of her essays or on the critical
reading of her novels. Instead, a true defense of the originality of Beauvoir’s
work—and of its pertinence to our contemporary philosophical debate—can
only be achieved once we try to internalize her thirst for novelty and reframe
our analysis to one that positions Beauvoir’s philosophy as embodied in the
way that she writes. Further, her philosophy and her writing are inseparable
Relevance of Beauvoir’s Ethic/Aesthetic Project to the Humanities 131
from her personal experiences. In this age, society is gradually losing faith in
the worth of the humanities and, more crucially, many claim that the humani-
ties has failed to furnish successful means to embrace an explanation of hu-
man behavior or to provide guiding standards for our life in the community.
Such a bleak context warrants a search in Beauvoir’s work and her philosoph-
ical attitude for pointers to alternative ways to do philosophy and ways to
shed light on the relevance of the humanities and the place that it should oc-
cupy in our everyday lives.
This chapter will analyze Beauvoir’s philosophical ideas as embodied in
Tous les hommes sont mortels (All men are mortal) (1946). My analysis will
attempt to communicate both Beauvoir’s singularity as the writer who express-
es herself through a work of art, and my singularity as a reader who attempts to
engage in a true adventure of the mind, allowing myself to experience and be
affected by the perspective of Beauvoir’s singularity.
I will try to preserve Beauvoir’s identity as an intellectual who sought
equilibrium between thinking-with a philosophical canon and establishing her
own philosophical autonomy. For this reason, I will remain open to the impli-
cations of how thinking-with G. W. F. Hegel influenced Beauvoir’s approach
to inter-subjectivity, and how at the same time, Beauvoir’s relationship with
the philosophy of Martin Heidegger affected her views. Beauvoir’s reading of
both Heidegger and Hegel, particularly of Heidegger’s criticism of Hegel’s
notion of progress, helped her to develop her own ethics/aesthetics of relation.
I maintain that, in Tous les hommes sont mortels,” Beauvoir develops a
living experience of temporality. The necessary affirmation of finitude allows
the emergence of the possibility of acknowledging the other and relating to oth-
ers through the fundamental ambiguity of our condition. In the novel, acknowl-
edgment of finitude accounts for one being able to build reciprocal relations
with others who are partaking in the same reality.
For Hegel, the particularity of human beings and their finitude are sub-
sumed in the universal. Beauvoir affirms that an existentialist ethics should
account for a plurality of finite human beings transcending in the direction of
their own projects, through the experience of their own situations, as individ-
uals within whom particularity is inseparable from their own subjectivity.
With Heidegger, Beauvoir maintains that her philosophy is based on differ-
ence and in a thinking that emerges and develops itself in finitude, in individ-
uals’ situatedness in the world (Beauvoir, 2004b, p. 114). As this analysis will
reveal, to Beauvoir, the bounds of love, the bounds out of which our ethical
and philosophical experience are made possible, can only happen with the
possibility of recognition of our fundamental separateness and finitude and its
acceptance by others experiencing the same—the reality of individuals’ fun-
damental existential structure as being-with-others.
How can this analysis contribute to the present debate about the rele-
vance of the humanities? Beauvoir offers a mind-blowing picture of the frag-
132 JULIANA DE ALBUQUERQUE KATZ
mentary reality of our times and how some strands of traditional philosophy
are unable to deal with it due to their duty to clarity of reason and identity.
Therefore, her treatment of the concepts of the other and of recognition bears
a peculiar dynamic based on her notion of ambiguity (the understanding that
our lives are the site of an overlap between freedom and facticity) and their
connection to her aesthetic project. Thus, in the real world, the meaning of an
object is not a concept graspable by pure understanding. What the study of
these notions is bound to show is that there exists no unsurpassable barrier
between objective and subjective knowledge as long as they both mean to
disclose the truth about the human condition.
By developing an ethic/aesthetic project founded in the quest to com-
municate what is most radically singular in the human condition, Beauvoir
related to the philosophical canon and, at the same time, searched for philo-
sophical autonomy. Through an understanding of this approach, one might
gain new insight into the possibilities of a new ethics in an age of conflict.
There is a need for a new theory where our relation to the world is, more than
ever, expressed as a detotalizing totality, or a recondition of singular parts that
does not disturb the whole. Establishing an ethics that may finally account for
the opacity that remains attached to human freedom and agency is required.
In a journal entry dated July 1927, Beauvoir commands herself to take philos-
ophy seriously, to systematize her thought, and to believe in the worth of ide-
as (2008, p. 378). She manifests a commitment to plunge into her reading as if
she has just obtained access to the texts for the first time. This is an approach
that she maintained throughout her life with regard to her relationships and
her work, revealing her deep commitment to a life dedicated to thought.
Beauvoir’s intellectual commitment is maintained throughout her stu-
dent journals, the pages of which are filled with psychological analysis and
philosophical questioning. Her all-consuming obsession in these journals re-
volves around her readings and her projects for future work as she tries to
establish her self-identity. In another entry from early 1927, she writes that
although she admires the passionate quest of scholars to dedicate a lifetime to
the understanding of a philosophical work, and despite her dedication to aca-
demia, her desire to act and to change her environment would not allow her to
fully succeed in a scholarly career (ibid., p. 322). For that reason, Beauvoir
envisioned her work as something that would disclose the drama of humani-
ty’s condition while unifying literature and philosophy to prove her main the-
ses regarding existential ontology, morality, and politics.
Conscious that her serious philosophical training had increased her abil-
ity to perceive all manifestations of the human spirit as aspects of the whole
Relevance of Beauvoir’s Ethic/Aesthetic Project to the Humanities 133
of reality, the young Beauvoir wrote in the first person singular, maintaining
that her investigations were much more engaging when written in accessible
language, which also allowed her to acknowledge herself in her work. This is
a concern that persists throughout her intellectual life, and which reoccurs in
“What Can Literature Do?” Here she writes, “there must be a language that
carries the mark of someone.” She asserts that through style and inventive-
ness, authors must impose their presence upon the reader (2011c, p. 200).
Therefore, the young Beauvoir had already noticed that scholarly work had
failed to apply a language that could reach the minds of people. She would
have to find her voice elsewhere. She adopted a style that allowed her to
overcome the dichotomy between everyday life and thought, and to mediate
between people’s lives and their metaphysical existence.
However, literature has never been Beauvoir’s final goal; as early as
1927, she had given signs that literature would be a vehicle for philosophical
ideas which should be vaguely linked to fiction. This method would embody
her claim that philosophy should belong to life (2008, p. 387), a sentiment
that she later expresses in “Literature and Metaphysics,” where she writes that
there is no insurmountable distinction between literature and philosophy. Both
are different ways to achieve “an original grasping of metaphysical reality”
(2004b, p. 273). This reveals that metaphysical situations are concrete situa-
tions in which the whole meaning of one’s life is at stake.
In “Literature and Metaphysics,” Beauvoir gives birth to her theory of
the metaphysical novel as writing aimed at providing a “disclosure of exist-
ence unequalled by any other mode of expression” (ibid., p. 276), which
would also be able to portray philosophy as an attitude. In the metaphysical
novel, her philosophy appears to be in motion, and in its integrity, as part of
the whole of reality, as being disclosed in the “living relation that is action
and feeling before making itself thought” (ibid., p. 274).
According to Beauvoir, a metaphysical novel should keep readers at-
tuned to a mood while reconstructing an experience on a plane prior to any
elucidation. She claims that since the actual meaning of objects cannot be
grasped by pure understanding, they should be disclosed within the network
of relations that we maintain with things and, for that reason, the novelist’s
task rests in trying to evoke such “flesh-and-blood presence whose complexi-
ty and singular and infinite richness exceed any subjective interpretation.”
While the philosopher “wants to compel us to adhere to the ideas that the
thing and the event suggested to him,” novelists should use our freedom of
thought to their own advantage and fight against our tendency toward intellec-
tual docility. As there are readers who want to keep their freedom of thought,
she explains that they are actually encouraged to like “a story that imitates
life’s opacity, ambiguity, and impartiality” (ibid.).
Beauvoir’s remarks about the relation between literature and philosophy
are analogous to Heidegger’s analysis of poetry and the work of art. In his
134 JULIANA DE ALBUQUERQUE KATZ
mature work, Heidegger writes about poetry not so much as a literary genre,
but as a mode of thinking and relating to the world. Thus, he inquires about
the relation between poetic and philosophical thinking and explains that their
nearness is based on their world-disclosing character. Heidegger asserts that
poets—for our purposes, in the spirit of Heidegger’s work, novelists and poets
can be mentioned interchangeably since they both share the same mode of
thought—are just as important as philosophers in providing us with an under-
standing of Being. As Alexandra J. Pell observes, writers that share a poetic
mode of thinking “place ordinary objects in their context within the scheme of
Being and relate objects to a higher level. . . . Whereas philosophers contem-
plate and interpret being, poets rediscover its very nature” (2012, p. 22).
According to Heidegger, while philosophical thinking is explicitly con-
cerned with the sense of being, poetry remains implicitly concerned with it,
but does not make this issue thematic. Nevertheless, despite their differences,
there lies no insoluble contradiction in the relation between poetry and phi-
losophy. In its broader and original sense, poetic thinking is a mode of disclo-
sure of being that furnishes unity between artist (writer) and philosopher.
Poetic thinking is an invitation to allow things and the world into our
consciousness and, for this reason, any discussion of philosophy already in-
volves poetic thinking. Therefore, as Maurice Merleau-Ponty duly notes, “from
now on the tasks of literature and philosophy can no longer be separated”
(1964, p. 28). This is an understanding that correlates with Beauvoir’s analysis
of that relation, when she writes, “the more keenly a philosopher underscores
the role and value of subjectivity, the more he will be led to describe the meta-
physical experience in its singular and temporal form” (2004b, p. 274).
Yet, despite that Beauvoir’s theorization of the metaphysical novel and
her ideas about the relation between literature and metaphysics appear to be
anchored in a Heideggerian perspective, she does not mention any of
Heidegger’s works concerning that topic, allusions to which seem to be pre-
sent in “Literature and Metaphysics” and “What Can Literature Do?.” Accord-
ing to Eva Gothlin, Beauvoir’s silence concerning Heidegger is misleading; it
is rooted both in his affiliation with the Nazi regime and his criticism of Jean-
Paul Sartre’s interpretation of Being and Time. Nevertheless, Gothlin insists,
“reading Beauvoir with Heidegger can deepen our understanding of Beauvoir’s
view of human beings and their relation to the world and to others” (2006, p.
45). Gothlin asserts that to establish a philosophical connection between
Heidegger and Beauvoir, one should read Beauvoir’s texts attentively for ex-
plicit and implicit clues of Heidegger’s influence on her work (ibid., p. 46).
In “Literature and Metaphysics” and “What Can Literature Do?,” some
of the most interesting clues concerning that influence are implicit and relate
to themes other than the commonly explored mentions of being-with and in-
authenticity. Instead, in both texts, Heidegger’s influence is shown to be deep-
ly grounded in Beauvoir’s discussion about the role of literature in communi-
cating the disclosure of Being and the role of the author in setting up a world
Relevance of Beauvoir’s Ethic/Aesthetic Project to the Humanities 135
[The author] questions himself, takes sides, and run risks; and, at the end
of his creation, he will consider the work he has accomplished with
astonishment. He himself could not furnish an abstract translation of it
because, in one single movement, the work gives itself both meaning
and flesh. (2004b, p. 272)
A novel embodies truth and the unfolding of truth as the disclosure of that
which is hidden. Truth is what discovers the entity in itself; it enounces or lets
the entity be seen in its uncovered being. Heidegger explains:
To say that an assertion “is true” signifies that it uncovers the entity as it
is in itself. Such an assertion asserts, points out, “lets” the entity “be
seen” (apohansis) in its uncoveredness. The being-truth (truth) of the as-
sertion must be understood as Being-uncovering. (2008a, p. 261)
beings are thrown into the world and attached to it by an essentially structural
bond. Thus, the novel has the potential to call on us to re-educate ourselves in
how to see the world we touch at every point of our being. The metaphysical
novel can be understood as a privileged mode of expression that provides us
with an unequaled possibility to disclose the truth about our existence.
The projective and inventive feature of the novel and its situatedness
among beings clears an open space in which everything is other than before.
They allow us to gain perspective on human events in relation to the totality
of the world, “in evoking in its living utility and its fundamental living ambi-
guity, this destiny that is ours and that is inscribed both in time and in eternity”
(Beauvoir, 2004b, p. 273). Thus, Beauvoir claims that only the metaphysical
novel “can succeed where both pure literature and pure philosophy fail”
(ibid., p. 276). It can provide a conceptualization of human existence that
evokes humanity’s spontaneity to engage in the world and make it its own.
Beauvoir also identifies this freedom with a notion of projection or transcend-
ence. On Beauvoir’s notion of freedom, Debra B. Bergoffen writes:
(ibid.), envelops the world in a particular way and dictates that “each person’s
life has a unique flavor that, in a sense, no one else can know” (ibid., p. 200).
Beauvoir explains:
I who am speaking to you am not in the same situation as you who are
listening, and none of those who are listening to me is in the same situa-
tion as his neighbor. He did not come here with the same past, nor with
the same intentions, nor the same culture. Everything is different; all
these situations which, in a way, open onto one another and communi-
cate with each other, have, all the same, something that cannot be com-
municated through the means taken at this moment: lecture, discussion,
or debate. (2011c, p. 199)
The novel may carry within it a new system of thought or a new set of philo-
sophical ideas. However, as I have maintained with Heidegger, within the nov-
el itself, these ideas are not thematized; they remain a riddle to be accessed by
our moods and felt to the extension of our limbs as we immerse ourselves in
the world depicted by its imaginary account. In the novel, we allow ourselves
to be affected by our metaphysical dimension, internalizing the possibility of a
theory that may change our relation to the world and enrich our experiences.
Thus, as Beauvoir sought to develop an existentialist ethics, her literary and
philosophical projects overlapped to reveal that the ethical solutions she found
in her essays needed to be expressed in a style that, while imitating our
projectiveness, would strike both as more concrete and ambiguous.
As we consider the overlap between Beauvoir’s literary and ethical pro-
jects, we can ask ourselves what is at work in the metaphysical novel. To an-
swer this question, I will offer a brief analysis of the relevance of Tous les
hommes sont mortels in relation to its form. The formal structure evinces the
138 JULIANA DE ALBUQUERQUE KATZ
themes developed by Beauvoir in her ethical writings and her criticism of the
philosophical tradition that found its main expression in Hegel’s work.
As with any novel, the metaphysical novel tells the story of a character
in book-length prose. However, it does not merely set up a story or suggest
some general view of life in the manner of an edifying tale. Because of its
projective feature, the goal of the metaphysical novel is to directly reflect the
being of the world through opportunities presented by the facts and ideas that
comprise its narrative. Addressing Beauvoir’s enigmatic mention of a “pure”
literature, Debbie Evans explains:
The existential novel does not merely describe or express certain pre-
held abstract metaphysical truths. Neither is it, in its most crude form,
“disguised philosophy.” As Beauvoir points out, the “true” novel is met-
aphysical to the extent that it is concerned with exploring the historical
and temporal dimension of human experience, an experience that can
never be adequately conveyed through the universal abstractness of the
philosophical text. (2009, p. 91)
pp. 214–216). Unable to inspire love or solidarity, Fosca remains alone in the
world while conscious of the futility of his objectives. As Beauvoir writes:
All figures disappear; they are reduced to the universal ground whose
presence cannot be distinguished from absolute absence. Here also there
is no longer desire, no longer fear, nor hardship, nor joy. Nothing is
mine. Eternity joins with the instant; it is the same naked facticity, the
same empty interiority. (Beauvoir, 2004e, p. 101)
Fosca is abolished within the universal. “Spread out into infinity,” his
“place in the world is erased” (ibid.). For this reason, Tidd explains that when
Beauvoir refutes solipsism in Pyrrhus and Cineas, she claims that a relation
of mutual acknowledgment between self and other can only be achieved in its
potential reciprocity, “experienced as it is in All Men Are Mortal in a dialecti-
cal framework of history” (Tidd, 2006, p. 230).
But the mention of dialectics, history, and reciprocity already establishes
Beauvoir within the language of a tradition that she intends to criticize. She
may share with Hegel an idea that human beings belong to their own time and
that human acts are invested in the morality of their period of history. Howev-
er, her aforementioned criticism of “Hegelian optimism” does not allow her to
see history in anywhere near to Hegelian terms, i.e., as the story of the pro-
gressive achievement of human self-consciousness. Instead, Beauvoir was
strongly critical of a notion of progress that she identified with the philoso-
phies of Hegel and Auguste Comte and that incurred the risk of fusing hu-
manity’s ambiguous condition with a notion of the future that appeared both
to inscribe meaning to our transcendence and to represent the immobility of
being. The greatest achievement of Tous les hommes sont mortels is the por-
trayal of the failure implied by such a notion of history coined under Hegelian
influence. Fosca’s character embodies the illusion represented by the ontolog-
ical and moral optimism that Humanity and its future could be perceived as a
monolithic individuality:
But is this really the case? The myth of progress presupposes human continui-
ty and that “human transcendence would be entirely grasped again within
each moment,” unveiling an identity that would be established by dialectically
encompassing its preceding moments within the higher level of a historical
142 JULIANA DE ALBUQUERQUE KATZ
meaning. This meaning “would not become fixed in any of them, since pro-
gress always continues” (Beauvoir, 2004b, p. 109).
However, the myth of unity falls apart because, most fortunately, “the
detours, the setbacks and the misfortunes of history” are endowed with such
violence that it would be impossible for a consciousness to keep track of them
over the centuries without falling into despair (Beauvoir, 1965, p. 73). In this
context, human finitude is necessary not only to remind us that the basis of
our solidarity resides in our mortality. It is also required to make us realize that
“humanity is a discontinuous succession of free men who are irretrievably iso-
lated by their subjectivity” (Beauvoir, 2004e, p. 108). Therefore, when we lose
grip of our finitude, we become detached from society and consequently from
life in community and the possibility of realizing our existential freedom.
This is clear in a scene when, after centuries of immortality, Fosca finds
himself back in Carmona and notices that although nothing had changed,
there was no void in Carmona, nobody needed him—nobody ever needed
him. Unlike the princes buried in the cathedral, remembered by their people
for their actions, Fosca was already dead, but still around—a witness to his
own absence (Beauvoir, 1946, p. 276). As Beauvoir writes in La force des
choses (Force of circumstance), Fosca is unable to “create a living connection
between the centuries” (1965, p. 73). The reason is that every new creation
either in the life of an individual, or in the life of a species, presupposes a new
beginning that must already comport within itself the drama of our own sepa-
rateness. “If the desires that moved eighteenth century men would be
achieved in the twentieth century, the dead would not be able to reap what
they sow” (ibid.). This observation finds its ground in The Ethics of Ambigui-
ty, where she writes:
What we maintain is that one must not expect that this goal be justified
as a point of departure of a new future; insofar as we no longer have a
hold on the time which will flow beyond its coming, we must not expect
anything of that time for which we have worked; other man will have to
live its joys and sorrows. (2011a, p. 128)
movement which ends in its fulfillment. The tasks we have set up for
ourselves and which, though exceeding the limits of our lives, are ours,
must find their meaning in themselves and not in a mythical Historical
end. (2011a, p. 128)
4. Conclusion
We must constantly renew our bounds to the world; reinvent our modes
of action and our relation to others: that is the contribution of the eth-
ic/aesthetic project of Beauvoir that proves why the humanities still matter.
Beauvoir’s work is the living proof that neither moral, nor intellectual con-
formism should rule over humanity. By questioning a philosophical tradition,
she acts like a true humanist and teaches us to attentively read the texts that
inform our cultural expressions. It is this attentiveness to detail in scholarly
investigation, combined with the refreshing pursuit of an original way to es-
tablish communication with others through an artistic medium, which propels
146 JULIANA DE ALBUQUERQUE KATZ
interest in Beauvoir’s work among future generations inside and outside aca-
demia. It brings knowledge back to the public discourse and transforms it into
the principle that legitimizes political practices in a democracy. Her emphasis
on our radical singularity, which, nevertheless, reaches communion with the
other through the complementarity in the difference of our expressions, is
what may account for a democratic discourse on diversity—a discourse that is
more than ever needed to found the structures of tolerance in multi-cultural
and multi-ethnic societies.
Nine
1. Introduction
Literary studies is a key part of the humanities. Careful analyses carried out
on pioneering fictional works enable scholars to acquire knowledge about
various cultural features and values. They also add to our understanding and
awareness of the complexity of human characteristics, such as emotions,
beliefs, and self-perceptions, all of which are subtly expressed through literary
writing. Experiences and expressions of time and temporality are no excep-
tion, and with the advent of modernism in literature (in this chapter, my use of
this term will refer to the period from the late nineteenth to the mid twentieth
century), these issues are more extensively explored than ever. The achieve-
ments of humanistic research in the matter of time and temporality enable us
not only to enter more deeply into the human mind and human psychology,
but also to gather knowledge about how human beings act and interact with
their surroundings in different historical epochs, contexts, and situations.
As an existentialist, Simone de Beauvoir regards history as a fundamen-
tal context for the making of the self. To her, we are not timeless essences:
existence in itself is self-making in situation. When Beauvoir set out to write
148 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
Les Mandarins, first published in 1954 (2005, cf. 1968a), she had just pub-
lished her groundbreaking Le deuxième sexe (The second sex), where the
essential message is about the importance of situatedness. The key statement,
“On ne naît pas femme, on le devient” (One is not born a woman, one be-
comes one) (1949, p. 2:13, cf. 2010b, p. 283, translation modified), conveys
the decisive role of culture in shaping people’s minds in a way that has set the
agenda for subsequent feminist politics.
Preoccupation with time and temporality runs through Beauvoir’s philo-
sophical and literary writings. In her article, “For the Time Being: Simone de
Beauvoir’s Representation of Temporality,” Ursula Tidd explains how Beau-
voir’s preoccupation with temporality is closely linked to her broad ethical
concerns, her phenomenological position in philosophy, and her philosophical
training in the French Cartesian tradition (2001, pp. 107–126). As opposed to
the chronological approach Beauvoir uses in her autobiographical work, the
perspective on time in her fictional work is existential. There, she represents
and explores time as it is lived and perceived by the subject: every human
being experiences time within a complex set of relations to the world.
In their introduction to a collection of philosophical essays on The Man-
darins, Sally J. Scholz and Shannon M. Mussett attest to the importance of
this novel in our contemporary world:
The aim of the present chapter is to show how Beauvoir’s literary writings, in
this case her novel, The Mandarins (2005), contribute to a better understand-
ing of how some important aspects of temporality are experienced and de-
fined in the post-war period that she writes about. I will focus on the portrayal
of Anne Dubreuilh, the novel’s main female character. She feels great unease
about the times in which she lives, both with regard to the concrete historical
epoch that situates the events recounted in The Mandarins, and to her own
personal sensation of temporality. Reflections on temporality developed by
two key humanist thinkers of our time who were Beauvoir’s contemporaries,
French philosopher, Paul Ricœur, and German historian, Reinhardt Koselleck,
as well as Beauvoir’s own theoretical considerations, will constitute the theo-
retical and methodological framework of my reading.
Although temporal dimensions and their interrelations are inseparable in
the consciousness of an individual, they can be distinguished in narratives.
Therefore, narrated stories allow us, among other things, to study the individ-
ual’s relationship with various modes of time, and, to some extent, to measure
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 149
The Mandarins is the longest and most complex of all Beauvoir’s novels. She
was already a famous writer at the time that the novel was published, so she
was at the peak of her career when she received the prestigious Prix Goncourt
for it in 1954. It took her four years to write; she completed a first version in
1951, but altered it after Jean-Paul Sartre read the manuscript. Elizabeth
Fallaize gives an account of the novel’s coming into being (1988, pp. 88–92),
and Scholz and Mussett give a summary of the basic background and context
for the writing of the novel in The Contradictions of Freedom (2005, pp. 1–29).
The Mandarins is set at a crucial moment in the shaping of French histo-
ry. It tells the story of a group of French intellectuals during the period imme-
diately after World War II, stretching from 1944 to 1948. The experience of
the war and all that it brought about in terms of shattered illusions, new values,
and changing visions earned Beauvoir an awakening, and it is this change that
she explores in her novel. Beauvoir talks about the genesis of The Mandarins
in her La force des choses (Force of circumstance), originally written in 1963.
Describing her own state of mind at the time when she set out to write the
novel, she says:
The time that she describes in The Mandarins is thus one of rupture and tran-
sitional difficulties: the losses and sufferings caused by the war are still pre-
sent in people’s minds, yet a new future has to be shaped. Those who survived
the horrors of war feel a combination of guilt and gratitude toward those who
sacrificed their lives for freedom. Subsequently, this is also an unsettled time,
which leads the characters constantly to question and to reorient themselves in
the new situation they face. The future seems uncertain as their models of
thought and judgment are rooted in a very different, pre-war historical setting.
Two narrators alternate regularly in The Mandarins: The novel begins
with Henri Perron’s narrative, presented in the third person. Anne Dubreuilh, to
whom the reader is introduced after forty pages, is a first person narrator, and it
is her narrative that concludes the novel. Two modes of narration are combined
150 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
in what can be called Anne’s part of the novel: the interior monologue, occur-
ring in the present, and the first person narrative held in the past tense.
It is Henri Perron who represents the values that the novel seems to
cherish, such as strength of character, active commitment, and integrity. In
La force des choses, Beauvoir talks about the division of roles and the charac-
ter she gave to each of The Mandarins’s two narrators. Anne is turned to the
past, to war with all its death and pain, while Henri represents hope for the
future: “Anne provided me with the negative of the objects that were shown
through Henri’s eyes in their positive aspect” (1965b, p. 276, cf. 2004a, p.
1:360). Beauvoir states that she wants to present different perspectives on life
in the post-war period, “giving Anne the sense of death and its concomitant
taste for the absolute—which suited her passivity—while Henri contents
himself with existing” (1965b, p. 265, cf. 2004a, p. 1:361). As she summariz-
es, “It was mainly the negative aspects of my experience that I expressed
through her: the fear of dying and the panic of nothingness” (1965b, p. 268,
cf. 2004a, p. 1:365). The author has thus prepared for a certain rivalry of
perspectives whose dynamic unfolds in the stories relayed through the narra-
tors’ discourse, where from the outset Anne’s status seems to be less valued.
The narrative form of these stories emphasizes the structure of values as pro-
claimed by the author: where Henri opens outward in his narrative, discussing
and engaging others in the questions that torment him, it is in her interior
monologue—in an introverted discourse, intimate, silent, and secret—that
Anne gives us her most profound thoughts.
Revealing the state of mind of the narrators, who speak of their inner
life, Beauvoir uses the technique of the interior monologue to render charac-
ters’ stream of consciousness. The terms “interior monologue” and “stream of
consciousness” are often used interchangeably, although the first refers to the
narrative technique while the second more extensively points to the actual
flow of thoughts or words. Beauvoir’s use of the interior monologue is worthy
of closer attention and deserves a more detailed discussion than what can be
achieved within the space of this chapter. In a collection of short stories origi-
nally published in 1967, entitled La Femme rompue (The woman destroyed),
a story titled “Monologue” (1980) is perhaps the text where Beauvoir comes
closest to reproducing the character’s stream of consciousness in a poignant
portrayal of a woman on the edge of madness (see Bjørsnøs, 2005). In an
exhaustive analysis of the narrative structure in The Mandarins, Fallaize sug-
gests that the two kinds of narrative mode in Anne’s case relate to her “expe-
riencing self” and her “narrating self”:
and first person narrative of past events (in which the dissociation of nar-
rating from experiencing self can more easily be inferred). (1980, p. 227)
Fallaize further holds that the use of the monologue has the advantage of creat-
ing “the impression of direct communication between the character’s con-
sciousness and the reader” (ibid.). Even though the monologue is not dominant
in terms of number of pages, I share Fallaize’s view that its strong appeal to the
reader gives it a privileged status in Anne’s narrative when it comes to cogency.
In line with Beauvoir’s own views and intentions, Anne demonstrates all
aspects of a rather negative character. However, it seems to me that she voices
intensely a major theme that characterizes the epoch in which she lives con-
cerning the experience of time and of how changing times may impinge upon
the individual. While the issues of concern to Henri are more acute when it
comes to actual political relevance to French society at the time, including
clearly defined moral questions, the issues raised by Anne, such as uncertain-
ty about the future and about meaningless suffering, potentially have a wide
appeal without being less ethically important. Her repeatedly asked questions,
insistent and desperate, about the senselessness of death on such a vast scale
are likely to resonate with the numerous readers who have recently experi-
enced loss and pain similar to hers. The monological form, which draws the
reader into her universe, adds considerable strength to this effect.
From the first part of her story, Anne settles into what I just characterized
as a temporal disorder. As I pointed out earlier, time is not an unfamiliar issue
for writers of Beauvoir’s generation. Thematically, the feeling of alienation is
also basic to her contemporaries and not a privileged topic for existentialist
thinkers only. Anne’s own problems with time are always and everywhere at
the heart of her thoughts; she seems obsessed by the issue. She repeatedly
seeks to connect her experience of lived time with daily life in post-war socie-
ty, and with her own visions of the future. But she does not manage to situate
herself, either in relation to the present or to the future—that is to say, she is
reconciled neither with the new era that is emerging nor with her own inti-
mate feeling of confused temporality. Her thoughts and feelings seem caught
up with the horrors of the war through which she has just lived, preventing
her from engaging with the future in a way that seems natural to many of the
other protagonists, such as Henri.
Henri focuses on questions that are eagerly debated in the public arena,
and particularly within the group of intellectuals to which they both belong:
What should the intellectual’s position be when it comes to political action?
How far does political commitment take you? What happens to your moral
principles when a situation demands pragmatic solutions? These and similar
questions occupy the minds of Anne’s fellow intellectuals. She, too, is drawn
into discussions that sometimes turn into violent dispute and create rupture
within the group.
152 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
Even though Henri also voices problems about his relationship with
Paule in the private arena, his primary role is played out in public. With Anne,
it is the other way round: her most compelling narrative concerns her individ-
ual thoughts and feelings, whose nature is existential, metaphysical, and psy-
chological, wrapped in the monologue whose formal characteristic underlines
what Fallaize calls her “experiencing self.” I do not find that the two identi-
fied modes of narration represent any split between Anne as a social actor and
Anne as a private person. They simply create a tension in her narrative, which
deepens our understanding of her struggle to maintain a normal life under
such circumstances.
The two protagonists represent different ways of dealing with post-war
traumas; their respective solutions are valued unequally—as the author in-
tended. Moreover, the portrayal of Anne and Henri seems to follow a tradi-
tionally gendered, dualistic pattern, where Anne’s private, emotional reactions
oppose Henri’s public, rational orientation. Anne’s inner reflections on the
meaning of sufferings are of no less moral value than Henri’s discussions on
ethical issues in public, yet her character’s significance is easily superseded
by Henri’s potent behavior. Anne’s lingering on individual pain and her un-
willingness to share her thoughts with others may make her less inclined to
overcome her situation. I will argue that despite the burden of negativity at-
tached to Anne’s character from the outset, which is sustained by the narrative
structure, she exposes compelling existential challenges, such as how to con-
ceive the inconceivable and to seek meaning in the midst of meaninglessness.
Anne’s reflections on these issues are linked to temporality. Significant-
ly enough, Anne opens her story by musing on death:
No, I shan’t meet death today. Not today or any other day. I’ll be dead
for others and yet I’ll never have known death . . . . Why had death en-
tered my dreams once more? It is prowling inside me; I can feel it
prowling there. Why? (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 34, cf. 1968a, p. 26)
On the following page, she gives the reader a glimpse of the abyss upon
whose borders she hovers daily, and suggests how it is rooted in her past,
even before the war broke out. When she was a child, God reassured her
against death. As a teenager, she chose to live without the aid of religion,
facing the certainty of death but not knowing how to control the anxiety that
accompanies this certainty. When she was very young, she met Robert, who
effectively took the place of God, protecting her and making her feel safe.
Robert represents eternal stability for her.
However, in the period following the end of the war, Robert’s presence is
no longer enough to suppress her distressed thoughts; the world feels disrupted
and meaningless, truth has slipped away, and Anne’s anguish increases:
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 153
For me the measure of all things was Robert. . . . But suddenly, I’ve lost
all confidence—in everything. No fixed stars, no milestone. Robert is a
man, a fallible, vulnerable man of sixty whom the past no longer protects
and the future menaces. (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 58, cf. 1968a, p. 44)
Unlike other women in the novel, such as Paule and Nadine, Anne is too
concerned with everyone else’s problems to talk with anyone about her own.
In this respect, Anne’s character corresponds to Beauvoir’s intention when
creating her: “the axis of her life is the life of others” (Beauvoir, 1965b,
p. 264, cf. 2004a, p. 1:360). Anne’s profession as a psychiatrist also contrib-
utes to her tendency to keep her depressive thoughts to herself, but which she
expresses in her monologue; because others are supposed to entrust them-
selves to her, there is a barrier to the reciprocal exchange that might enable
her to open up. Her anguish is intensified by traumatic images of war and by
the memories that she cannot eclipse:
But with the horrifying past behind us, how can anyone have any faith in
the future? Diego[, her daughter’s boyfriend who was killed during the
war,] is dead, too many others have died; shame has returned to the
earth, the word “happiness” has lost all meaning. All around me, nothing
but chaos again. Maybe the world will pull out of it. But when? (Beau-
voir, 2005, pp. 62–63, cf. 1968a, pp. 47–48)
Her initial outburst, cited above, is repeated: “What is it, then, that’s differ-
ent? Why has death come prowling again in my room? It continues to prowl.
Why?” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 62, cf. 1968a, p. 47). Only the past seems to exist
for Anne with any existential depth, and so it invades and absorbs her, and
seems to be the only point from which she is able to consider present time.
Observing the world from this narrowed position, she does not—as the other
participants do—consider the Christmas party at the beginning of the story to
be a celebration of victory and a positive affirmation of the present. In Pour une
morale de l'ambiguïté (The ethics of ambiguity) (2003), Beauvoir uses the ex-
ample of the liberation of Paris from the Germans in 1944 to highlight the im-
portance of confirming existence through the exaltation of the present moment:
Men feel the need of denying the indefinite flight of time and of holding
their present between their hands. Existence must be asserted in the pre-
sent if one does not want all life to be defined as an escape toward noth-
ingness. . . . The hours following the liberation of Paris, for example,
were an immense collective festival exalting the happy and absolute end
of that particular history which was precisely the occupation of Paris. . . .
That is the modern meaning of the festival, private as well as public. Ex-
istence attempts in the festival to confirm itself positively as existence.
(2011a, pp. 124–125, cf. 2003, pp. 155–156)
154 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
To Anne, however, the party represents “the first Christmas Diego hasn’t
lived through,” and she observes that “there were many, oh, so many, who
weren’t there” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 36, cf. 1968a, p. 27). She admits:
I wouldn’t have wanted to relive those past four years for anything in the
world. And yet from a distance they seemed to take on a sombre sweet-
ness. I could easily understand why Lambert was bored with this peace
which gave us back our lives without giving us back our reasons for liv-
ing. (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 89, 1968a, p. 68; emphasis added)
the odd in-between period which sometimes inserts itself into historical
time when [one] become[s] aware of an interval in time which is alto-
gether determined by things that are no longer and by things that are not
yet. In history, these intervals have shown more than once that they may
contain the moment of truth. (1961, p. 9)
To examine more closely the sense of time conveyed through the depiction of
Anne, in the following analysis I will make use of some key concepts devel-
oped by Ricœur and Koselleck.
Ricœur has given substantial attention to the importance of literary form.
In his three-volume Temps et récit (Time and narrative) (1984–1985), and
later in Soi-même comme un autre (Oneself as another) (1994), Ricœur’s
discussions about human time emphasize the importance of narrativity as an
essential element to human self-understanding. In consonance with the existen-
tialist anti-Cartesian view of the self as always in situation, Ricœur advocates
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 155
between the activity of narrating a story and the temporal character of hu-
man experience exists a correlation that is not merely accidental but that
presents a transcultural form of necessity. To put it another way, time be-
comes human to the extent that it is articulated through a narrative mode,
and narrative attains its full meaning when it becomes a condition of tem-
poral existence. (1984–1985, p. 1:52, cf. 1983, p. 85, italics in original)
Similarly, Beauvoir reflects on the parallels between art and lived life, and
how the structure of narratives may help to fix the assertion of existence in a
durable way: “In telling a story, in depicting it, one makes it exist in its par-
ticularity with its beginning and its end, its glory or its shame; and this is the
way it actually must be lived” (2011a, p. 127, cf. 2003, p. 157).
Ricœur’s approach originates in phenomenological philosophy, while
Koselleck is inspired by cultural history. Examining the historical develop-
ment of a specific human attitude toward time, Koselleck emphasizes the
significance of conceptions of time and space in the construction of historical
meaning. Koselleck makes the claim that during what he called die Sattelzeit
(the Saddle Period, between 1750 and 1850), the conception of time under-
went a change and subsequently gave birth to the concept of progress. From a
156 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
closed and cyclical worldview, where it was still possible to draw conclusions
from the past for the future, “progress opened up a future that transcended the
hitherto predictable, natural space of time and experience” (2004, p. 22). This
new temporality, modernity, experienced as accelerated time, “abbreviated
the space of experiences, robbed them of their constancy, and continually
brought into play new, unknown factors” (ibid). Thus, Koselleck’s most re-
nowned theory concerns changes in the relation between past, present and
future and between experience and expectation during modernity. A major
point in his theoretical reflections is the importance of the historical actor.
Furthermore, he underlines how human perception of time is closely linked to
the relation between the two concepts or anthropological categories that he
labels space of experience and horizon of expectation:
Although both experience and expectation necessarily take place in the pre-
sent, according to Koselleck they are of different orders, the present of the
past being distinct from the present of the future: “Experience is present past,
whose events have been incorporated and can be remembered. . . . expectation
also takes place in the today, it is the future made present; it directs itself to
the not-yet, to the non-experienced, to that which is to be revealed” (ibid., p.
259). Koselleck argues that the categories mentioned—space of experience
and horizon of expectation—can help us to understand the three dimensions
of time—past, present and future—as being inextricably linked together:
Koselleck uses a forceful image here to stress how intensely life lived in the
“present past” can continue to impregnate the present: Anne’s discourse is a
good example of this mechanism. Anne presents her present life as a space
consisting of accumulated, apocalyptic images: “The earth splits open under
our feet, and above our heads there is an infinite abyss. I no longer know who
we are, nor what awaits us” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 35, cf. 1968a, p. 27).
The rivalry of perspective between our two narrators that I mentioned
earlier serves to highlight another aspect of Anne’s concept of time. In La
force des choses, Beauvoir emphasizes the difference between Henri and
Dubreuilh on the one hand, and Anne on the other when it comes to picking
up the threads of their lives after the war. All of them will have to start by
reinvesting in the same things as before. To explain her choice of characters,
Beauvoir makes a brief reference to Søren Kierkegaard and the sense he gave
to the word “repetition,” which she summarizes as “truly to possess some-
thing, one must have lost it and found it again” (1965b, p. 282, cf. 2004a,
158 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
And how absurd it all was! Those days which repeated themselves from
week to week, from century to century, without ever getting anywhere.
Living was simply a matter of waiting some forty or sixty years for
death to come, trudging along through emptiness. (Beauvoir, 2005,
p. 61, cf. 1968a, p. 46)
Her love affair with the American Lewis Brogan, however intensely it is
lived, does nothing to alter her attitude. In consonance with her own choice,
their love story is isolated in time and space. Anne is acutely aware of the fact
that their effort to rejoice in the love they have found will only encircle them
in a limited space, in an eternal present. As Beauvoir writes, “Our past
reached back only thirty-six hours, our horizon was reduced to a face, and our
future was our bed” (2005, p. 412, cf. 1968a, p. 320), and “The past, the fu-
ture, everything that was separating us died at the foot of our bed. . . . For two
weeks we lived without a future and without questioning ourselves; from our
past, we drew stories and told them to each other” (2005, pp. 412–421, cf.
1968, p. 328).
The shadow of death hanging over Anne’s present also darkens her vi-
sion of the future. The text gives us many examples, such as her choice of
words in the following quotation: “those future corpses who were drinking
their coffee in silence appeared ashamed to be so alive” (Beauvoir, 2005, p.
81, cf. 1968a, p. 62). Being surrounded by intellectuals who constantly dis-
cuss political and ethical choice, Anne certainly also feels the need to reflect
upon these issues, but political engagement is no solution for her:
I have to admit that I lack patience: the revolution is on the march, but
it’s marching so slowly, with such tiny, uncertain steps! . . . And then
the future seems so very far off; I find it hard to become interested in
men who aren’t born yet. (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 61, cf. 1968a, p. 47)
The future for her feels like a void: “The dead are dead; for them there are no
more problems. But after this night of festivity, we, the living, will awaken
again. And then how shall we live?” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 39, cf. 1968a, p. 30).
Her job is to help others—but “What will they all do with those pasts of
theirs, so grievous and so brief? And what will they do with their shapeless
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 159
futures? Will I know how to help them?” (Beauvoir, 2005, pp. 39–40, cf.
1968a, p. 30). She works to make patients able to face their problems, but
“it’s all based on the premise that every intelligent being has a part to play in
a history that is steadily leading the world toward happiness. Today I no long-
er believe in that beautiful harmony. The future escapes us; it will shape itself
without us” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 76, cf. 1968a, p. 58). These quotations all
belong to the first part of The Mandarins, but there will be no significant
changes in the last part of the novel: “You have to kill time. But time will kill
me too . . . . Things are never as important as they seem; and they change,
they end, and above all, when all is said and done, everyone dies. That settles
everything” (Beauvoir, 2005, pp. 432–433, cf. 1968a, p. 337). She says of her
friend Paule at the psychiatric clinic that “I asked myself anxiously, ‘And
afterwards, who will she be?’ Oh, after all, it wasn’t difficult to foresee. She’d
be like myself, like millions of others: a woman waiting to die, no longer
knowing why she’s living” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 538, cf. 1968a, p. 420). To-
ward the end of the novel, the theme of circuitous repetition is emphasized:
the expression “tout recommencera” (everything will begin again) is repeated
three times (in the original French version) over a half-page in the very last
part of the book, and serves to highlight Anne’s feeling of hopelessness
(Beauvoir, 2005, p. 734, cf. 1968a, p. 577).
Anne’s negative vision for the future seems to have a retroactive effect
on her present. In La force des choses, Beauvoir makes an interesting reflec-
tion about the importance of what we can call the personal mood, or the atti-
tude in which anticipations take place, and the subsequent propensity for
thinking either positively or negatively about the lived present:
Not only was I not weaving my life, but its shape, the shape of the time I
lived in, the shape of all I loved, depended on the future. If I thought that
humanity was on the road to peace, justice and plenty, my life would be
coloured very differently than if I thought it was rushing towards war or
wading through seas of pain. (1965b, p. 263, cf. 2004a, p. 1:359)
Strongly affected by the horrors of the near past, Anne’s space of experience
is indeed drenched with a brutal reality, to borrow Koselleck’s expression.
Shaping her present frame of mind, the events of the present past are not like-
ly to induce a different and more confident perspective on the future. Whereas
the future is open to many possible projects and paths to be explored, events
that have taken place in the past are of course settled and completed, they are
there for us to remember and reflect upon but they are closed to change. Still,
events in the past are always open to new interpretations; they can be under-
stood through different perspectives and through different combinations of
perspectives. According to Koselleck—and this is an important point in his
thinking, attached to his concept of doing history—we have a tendency to
160 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
I will now take a closer look at some significant parts of Beauvoir’s non-
fictional writings where she reflects on time and temporality, and discuss to
what extent these reflections find resonance in the character of Anne
Dubreuilh. First, how does Beauvoir relate to temporality as a modern, liter-
ary topic? Beauvoir was, for many years, in charge of the literary works pub-
lished in Les Temps Modernes, a French journal that first appeared in 1945,
and which is still published today. In that capacity, she introduced many for-
eign, modernist writers to its readers. Both here and in her other publications,
she gives a great deal of attention to new tendencies in contemporary litera-
ture, noticing how they were able to address questions faced by her genera-
tion. In 1934, she wrote:
Sartre and I both continued to keep abreast of new writing. That year
was notable, as far as we were concerned, for two names. The first was
Faulkner . . . . There had been several earlier writers, Joyce, Virginia
Woolf, and Hemingway among them, who had rejected the false objec-
tivity of the realistic novel and chose to interpret the world by means of
a more subjective approach. . . . The second name was that of Kafka,
who assumed even greater importance for us. . . . Kafka called into ques-
tion the purpose not only of man’s artefacts, functions, and activities qua
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 161
These remarks suggest that Beauvoir’s preoccupation with time might originate
from a different source and thus might have given her a different viewpoint on
the subject than that which is conveyed by the modernist authors whom she
refers to. Her “personal preoccupation” with aging and death is attested in many
of her writings, such as in Force of Circumstance, where she states:
How is it that time, which has no form nor substance, can crush me with
so huge a weight that I can no longer breathe? How can something that
doesn’t exist, the future, so implacably calculated (sic) its course? . . . I
loathe my appearance now: . . . Perhaps the people I pass in the street see
merely a woman in her fifties who simply looks her age, no more, no less.
But when I look, I see my face as it was, attacked by the pox of time for
which there is no cure. (1965b, pp. 672–673, cf. 2004a, pp. 2:505–506)
162 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
From early on, the topic of time and temporality is of particular concern
to Beauvoir. In the Introduction to Cahiers de jeunesse (Notebooks of a
young girl), Sylvie Le Bon de Beauvoir says that a tragic concept of time runs
through the work of Simone de Beauvoir. In the Cahiers, Beauvoir strongly
expresses a particular sensitivity to time: “Je n’ai pas une minute à perdre” (I
don’t have a minute to lose), says her diary entry for Friday, 29 July 1927
(2008, p. 387; translation mine). This outburst is emblematic of Beauvoir’s
attitude to time and seems to have set a life-long standard for her activities.
Later, her attitude takes the form of a tension in her work, whether in her
philosophical writings or in her fiction. A vital intensity and a remarkable joy
of living opposes what I would call a darker current, characterized by the
anguish linked to time that passes and that brings the harsh realities of old age
and death closer. In The Mandarins, Anne clearly represents this darker cur-
rent, and “the horror of decay” is abundantly present in her discourse.
I agree with Tidd when she writes that we should not reduce Beauvoir’s
interest in temporality to a question of her personal inability to cope with old
age and death:
But in my view, we should also be aware of the fact that personal anguish
along with experiences and preferences of many kinds are important parts of a
person’s situation, and cannot but play a role in any philosopher’s work. In
the end, what counts is how her personal experience and attitudes, along with
her professional interests as a philosopher and a writer, combined to convey a
pertinent totality.
However, even though Beauvoir’s lifelong interest in the issue of time
and temporality contains strong autobiographical elements, her concern is not
merely personal. Her interest is also clearly professional, that is to say philo-
sophical, as we may observe in her essays Pyrrhus and Cineas (1944) and The
Ethics of Ambiguity, in which she develops important aspects of existentialist
ethics that are strongly related to questions about temporality, and where the
(inevitable) passing of time toward the future is more positively valued. Es-
sentially, freedom is “the source of all values” (2011a, p. 17, cf. 2003, p. 23),
and closely linked to the concept of transcendence. Transcendence is the
condition of possibility for freedom through our projects, which enable a
constant movement toward the future and future opportunities.
Furthermore, for our projects to be meaningful and not fall back into pure
facticity, we need other people, and we need to engage in making freedom for
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 163
It must first be observed that this will is developed in the course of time.
It is in time that the goal is pursued and that freedom confirms itself.
And this assumes that it is realized as a unity in the unfolding of time.
(2011a, p. 26, cf. 2003, p. 35; emphasis added)
According to Beauvoir, there is a need to integrate the past in this ongoing pro-
cess: “Setting up the movement of my transcendence requires that I never let it
uselessly fall back upon itself, that I prolong it indefinitely” (2011a, p. 27, cf.
2003, p. 36). Further on in The Ethics of Ambiguity, she develops this view in
more detail:
the fact of having a past is part of the human condition; if the world be-
hind us were bare, we would hardly be able to see anything before us but
a gloomy desert. We must try, through our living projects, to turn to our
account that freedom which was undertaken in the past and to integrate
it into the present world. (2011a, p. 92, cf. 2003, p. 116)
But this is precisely where Anne struggles most. The world she has left be-
hind is too crowded with grim experiences, stories, and images for her to be
able to found her future on it, here and now.
In lived time, the present moment is where life unfolds, where it is
sensed and experienced. This is something that Anne feels strongly, as she
shows by living out her love for Lewis. Still, action is impossible without the
ongoing, tensional play between the space of experience and the horizon of
expectation, as Koselleck would have it. The quality of the present time and
164 ANNLAUG BJØRSNØS
Whenever Anne tries to look beyond the pains of the present, she sees the
future as something distinctly separate from the here and now—either as an
endless repetition of present instances, or as a remote place with which she
has no ties. In Beauvoir’s view, the future can be considered from several
perspectives. There is one type of future, that can be regarded as a mythical,
distant place for the fulfillment of dreams and possibilities, and that can only
be reached by making sacrifices in the present. However, without any bonds
with the present and the past, this kind of “foreign” future cuts the continuity
of time; it is, so to speak, timeless. “In this perspective all moments are lost in
the indistinctness of nothingness and being” (Beauvoir, 2011a, p. 120, cf.
2003, p. 149). Then there is another type of future that keeps the present mo-
ment alive and gives it meaning, extending and justifying it:
Death is here. It’s masking the blue of the sky; it has swallowed the past
and devoured the future. The earth is frozen over; nothingness has re-
claimed it. A bad dream is still floating through eternity, a bubble which
I shall burst. (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 732, cf. 1968a, p. 576)
Lost in time, she has never found any answers to her desperate call for the
meaning of existence. Despite constant introspective exploration, she ends up
with nothing, surrendering to what she claims to be “the truth”—namely, the
truth of death:
I’ve denied enough, forgotten enough, fled enough, lied enough. Once,
one single time and forever, I want to make truth triumph. Death has
won; death is now the only truth. A single move and that truth will be-
come eternal. (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 734, cf. 1968a, pp. 577–578)
Anne’s interior monologue shows how her quest to find absolute answers
to eternal existential questions depresses and immobilizes her, preventing her
from seeing, let alone assuming, the paradoxes that make up the ambiguity of
the human condition to which Beauvoir points in The Ethics of Ambiguity.
Beauvoir expresses this ambiguity in many ways in her essay, for instance in
the following comment, where she relates it to the epoch in which she lives:
At the present time there still exist many doctrines which choose to leave
in the shadow certain troubling aspects of a too complex situation. . . .
Perhaps in no other age have [men of today] manifested their grandeur
more brilliantly, and in no other age has this grandeur been so horribly
flouted. In spite of so many stubborn lies, at every moment, at every op-
portunity, the truth comes to light, the truth of life and death, of my soli-
tude and my bond with the world, of my freedom and my servitude, of
the insignificance and the sovereign importance of each man and all
men. (2011a, p. 8, cf. 2003, pp. 13–14)
Anne’s obsession with death can also be seen in this light. Discussing peo-
ple’s need to feel that they exist absolutely, Beauvoir emphasizes the necessi-
ty of assuming the ambiguous character of existence—and of death:
Representing Time: On the Experience of Temporality in The Mandarins 167
What stops them is that as soon as they give the word “end” its double
meaning of goal and fulfilment they clearly perceive this ambiguity of
their condition, which is the most fundamental of all: that every living
movement is a sliding toward death. But if they are willing to look it in
the face they also discover that every movement toward death is life.
(Beauvoir, 2001, p. 127, cf. 2003, pp. 157–158)
The Mandarins does not conclude as one might have expected: there is
an openness in the final chapter that signals some kind of feeble hope in the
midst of despair; Anne does not commit suicide. At the last moment, she is
saved by the sound of familiar voices: “I am here. They are living, they speak
to me, I’m alive. Once more, I’ve jumped feet first into life. Words are enter-
ing my ears; little by little, they take on meaning” (Beauvoir, 2005, p. 736, cf.
1968a, p. 579).
5. Conclusion
Present must die so that it may live; existence must not deny this death
which it carries in its heart; it must assert itself as an absolute in its
very finiteness: man fulfils himself within the transitory or not at all.
(2011a, p. 127, cf. 2003, p. 158)
Anne’s narrative thus demonstrates the need to assume the past so as to reorient
present expectation and give the future a chance. But at the same time, her
story attests to the difficulties we face in living our ambiguous freedom.
Humanistic scholars have repeatedly reflected upon and discussed hu-
man beings’ relation to temporality. Historians, philosophers, and literary
scientists alike have thus increased our understanding of what it means to be
human. Obviously, conceptions of time differ according to context: being a
genuine humanist thinker, throughout her work, both literary and philosophi-
cal, Simone de Beauvoir draws attention to the situatedness of perspective. As
The Mandarins clearly demonstrates, conceptions of time, as well as their
existential implications, are necessarily linked to the way in which the world
takes on meaning for you through the particularity of your situation and your
lived experience.
Ten
Recently, several books and articles have appeared to prove the relevance of
studying the humanities to current society. The humanities address the mean-
ing of life, what it means to behave ethically and to be respectful to all, re-
gardless of gender, ethnicity, or class (Gardner, 2010, p. 11). The humanities
teach critical thinking and effective reading, speaking, and writing skills. They
illustrate how to achieve successful global integration (Jay and Graff, 2012).
World literature, an essential part of the humanities, fictionalizes problems and
solutions that plague societies of all times and shows how the imagination of
one culture influences future cultures. Novels provide concrete re-enactments
of the disasters that ensue when communication breaks down, such as when an
individual unthinkingly dismisses or denigrates another individual based on
gender, class, or experiences.
Many ongoing international activities subordinate females. For example,
despite China’s education law forbidding discrimination based on gender,
China’s Education Ministry says that it is in the “national interest” not to im-
pede the growing trend in Chinese universities in which women must increas-
ingly score several points higher than men on entrance exams to be accepted
into programs (Tatlow, 2012). Gender bias can also be seen in Pakistan:
Malala Yousafzai, a fourteen-year-old Pakistani student, was shot in the head
by a Taliban militant in her own country because she spoke out in favor of
education for women and girls. The Taliban does not want women and girls to
be educated and has repeatedly said it will continue to try to kill Malala
170 BARBARA KLAW
(Cowell and Hauser, 2012). Similarly, certain anti-abortion groups who call
themselves “pro-life” will readily cause the mother’s death to save a fetus.
For example, a mother in Ireland recently died because vague anti-abortion
laws encouraged hospitals not to save the mother although the fetus was obvi-
ously dying within her and would potentially cause her death if not removed
(Pollak, 2012). How can we stop the irrational worldwide denigration, mis-
treatment, maiming, and killing of girls and women? How can we learn to
create a society of true justice, freedom, and equal educational opportunities
for all regardless of gender and social class?
Two early twentieth-century novels that serve well as illustrations of
how the imagination of one culture influences another, how to communicate,
read and write effectively, and how an ethical and respectful mind might de-
velop are Virginia Woolf’s novel, Orlando (1956, original 1928), and Simone
de Beauvoir’s novel, Tous les hommes sont mortels (All men are mortal)
(1946, cf. 1955). In her biographical work La force de l’âge (The prime of
life), Beauvoir reports that she read all of Woolf’s work in the early 1930s
(1962, pp. 37, 46, cf. 1960, pp. 48, 61).
No literary critic has yet published a detailed study of the influence of
Woolf’s Orlando on Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels, or an analysis
of the ways in which these novels are still relevant to today’s world. This
chapter will discuss the probable influence of Orlando on Tous les hommes
sont mortels and explore the pertinence of these fictions and of the narrative
structures that created them to our society today.
Both of these novels portray characters who struggle to advance beyond
the gender roles typically expected from them in a society with strict definitions
of acceptable male and female behaviors. Both novels could be considered as
forerunners of the ideas of the American scholar and philosopher, Judith Butler
and of the entire field of queer studies, which now proliferates the thought
that gender is always a performance and that an individual’s identity constant-
ly changes. Butler writes, “what we take to be an internal essence of gender is
manufactured through a sustained set of acts, posited through the gendered
stylization of the body” (1999, p. xv). Current studies in brain science support
the notion that identity is always in flux (Eaglemen, 2012, pp. 101–150). Yet,
gender stereotyping continues to influence the daily decisions of individuals
and their attention to the power of language and discourse, which create moral
issues, and support the unwarranted privileges that remain in the world.
A critical reading and discussion of Orlando and Tous les hommes sont
mortels in high school and college classrooms could aid in the transition to
gender-neutral policies in the world. In A Room of One’s Own (1957, original
1929), written at the same time as Orlando (original 1928), Woolf promotes
reading each woman writer’s work as a continuation of a long series by wom-
en writers that inherits or overcomes the characteristics and restrictions of
other woman-authored texts that came before it. She also entreats women
writers to develop what other women writers have done (1929, p. 76). In
Woolf’s Orlando and Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels 171
Orlando, Woolf moves toward a balanced view of women and men in which
each individual is actually a unique combination of part man and part woman
and in which she implies that cultural expectations restrict the behavior of a
person who appears to be male or female.
Seemingly in response to Woolf, Beauvoir’s most celebrated work, Le
deuxième sexe (The second sex) (1949), which was published three years after
Tous les hommes sont mortels, summarizes and critiques much of what previ-
ous women writers accomplished. Moreover, she openly discusses subjects
Woolf only alluded to, such as precise lived experiences of women from di-
verse cultures and habits including lesbians.
Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own (1929, pp. 83–84) and Orlando (1928, p.
184) allude to same-sex love, but do not clearly develop the subject. Indeed,
Alexandra Harris views Orlando as a disguised love letter to Woolf’s female
lover, Vita Sackville-West (2011, p. 104). As I will demonstrate, one can also
read Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels as thinking back through fa-
mous portraits of women and Woolf’s Orlando as offering a portrait of men
who support and love other men more than they love women. Beauvoir builds
on Woolf’s work by showing the negative effects on women and society, of
the unwarranted privileging of one group, gender, or class. I have suggested
elsewhere that one could read Tous les hommes sont mortels “as a rewriting of
male-created feminine types that shows how these representations currently
harm women and as a text that works to correct these images so as to help
females” (Klaw, 1998, pp. 549–550). Woolf’s Orlando treats immortality as a
given and shows that change and living in the present are good and enjoyable
(1956, pp. 239–241). Beauvoir shifts the focus on the importance of living in
and for the present moment through Fosca’s story, which illustrates why im-
mortality (and in particular the immortality of a man who cannot really
change) deprives one of the ability to live in and enjoy the present (1955, p.
339, cf. 1946, p. 521).
An overview of the plot of each novel reveals important similarities and
differences that clarify how one might read Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont
mortels as an answer to Woolf’s Orlando. Orlando opens at the start of the
sixteenth century, when Orlando is sixteen years old. A talented and well-
liked adolescent, he matures to be an even more gifted and highly regarded
man: rich, intelligent, a man of letters who studied the humanities, and one
who finds success with many women; he won the admiration of all. One day,
he falls in love with Sasha, a Russian princess, who soon betrays him and
causes his disgrace, all of which one might read as the typical misogynist nar-
rative of the perfidy of women or as the story of cultural clashes that incite
wars and new policies between two countries or castes, were it not for the plot
twist that teaches him about other genders and cultures. After falling into a
seven-day trance, Orlando awakens with vague memories of his past, and
soon believes that at age thirty, he has experienced everything. He decides
that all is worthless and begins to indulge in rash adventures that end in his
172 BARBARA KLAW
that really counts to realize love and meaning in life. Armand is able to love
Fosca without jealousy because he remembers that only the present counts:
To clarify what these novels bring to students who read them and to the
humanities in general, my approach also compares the way advertising pro-
motes products with attention-deflecting techniques learned from cognitive
science to the way novelists have always disseminated controversial ideas
with narrative techniques that camouflage them. Advertisers seek to under-
stand attention blindness, the way the human brain misses almost everything
else when it is concentrating intensely on one task (Davidson, 2011, p. 1). The
advertising industry spends millions of dollars to study how the juxtaposition
of two elements in the right combination causes their audience to focus on
one and ignore the other. For example, current research indicates that a typical
television viewer pays attention to only 6.5 seconds of any TV advertisement.
Therefore, pharmaceutical companies devote considerable energy to structur-
ing each advertisement so that warnings of possible side effects of drugs are
not included in the crucial 6.5 seconds (ibid., p. 24).
Before the advent of television advertising, novelists developed special
techniques to promulgate certain messages while seeming to deny them.
Writers often used such tactics to ensure their own safety and the publication
of their criticism of political powers that would have censored them without
such subterfuge. Today’s public would develop critical thinking skills by ex-
ploring these techniques systematically in a variety of good novels in high
school or university classes. If new generations read and studied good litera-
ture continuously throughout their high school and college classes, they could
learn to avoid attention blindness, master the interpretation of current society
and its behavior, and be less susceptible to advertising ploys.
One worldwide example of attention blindness that Beauvoir and Woolf
attempted to unveil is the acceptance of the views of the patriarchy, which is
the overall mindset in world cultures that promulgates the idea that women
need men’s protection, guidance, and control to survive. It is most often a
system of male domination that socially devalues and oppresses women
through its social, political, and economic institutions (Johnson, 1997, 84–85;
Humm, 1990). This is not to say that all men work to control or debase wom-
en, or to say that some women, who prefer to achieve status by buying into a
system that controls women, do not also publicly lobby to maintain male su-
periority. However, the assumption that men are more worthy or more intelli-
gent than women is implicit in the very fabric of our social education, which
subconsciously influences us all to privilege males. The continued presence of
Woolf’s Orlando and Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels 175
place in the present moment, and provides the sole motivation for Fosca’s
narration, which becomes a parasite that depletes her present life.
Both Woolf and Beauvoir focus on the power of language by creating
unreliable narrators or focalizations that question the historical accuracy and
ideological motivations of narratives and gender performances. Both authors
thereby imply that we should be more skeptical as readers and listeners.
A few definitions of narrative techniques will help readers to understand
the way in which Woolf and Beauvoir divert our attention. Mieke Bal states
that an external narrator with an embedded focalization does not have a role
in the narrative as a character, but sometimes has the viewpoint of the narra-
tive agent and at other times has that of the character to which it is partial
(1985, pp. 124–126). Furthermore, as a text presenting a story through the
mediation of such an angle of vision that includes cognitive, emotive, and
ideological orientations, which privilege a single character’s viewpoint, the
reader will be inclined to accept the bias and limitations of this character
(Rimmon-Kenan, 1983, p. 71). However, the use of yet another narrative
technique, that of an unreliable narrator, encourages a reader not to take this
narrative at face value and allows an author simultaneously to disseminate
and deny controversial ideas. A narrator may be deemed unreliable if the nar-
rative reveals inconsistencies between the narrator’s action and words or self-
interest of the narrator (Smith, 1991).
In Orlando, there is some evidence that supports the idea that the exter-
nal narrator with an embedded focalization is reliable, and yet other evidence
suggests the narrator’s unreliability. This contradictory evidence serves to
confirm and refute the biography presented. Thus, the premise of the story,
which shows that if a man were to become a woman, he would change his
opinion of women and would not meet with success as easily in the world is
called into question. As indicated, statements referring to knowledge outside
the series of logically and chronologically related events that are caused or
experienced by characters may have a convincing effect as they are presented
not as personal, but as self-evident truths (1985, pp. 5, 128). By simply stating
what good biographers try to accomplish, the narrator persuades the reader
that such behavior is a self-evident truth and that Orlando will be a good bi-
ography: “Directly we glance at eyes and forehead, we have to admit a thou-
sand disagreeables which it is the aim of every good biographer to ignore”
(Woolf, 1928, p. 13).
But the unreliability of biographies in general and this one in particular
is also presented as if to reassure the reader of the narrator’s honesty: “We
have done our best to piece out a meagre summary from the charred frag-
ments that remain; but often it has been necessary to speculate, to surmise and
even to make use of the imagination” (ibid., p. 88). This honest disclaimer,
presented after the subliminal message convincing a reader that this is a
“good” biography, functions to shift the reader’s focus from the fabricated
parts of the tale to the trustworthiness of the narrator.
Woolf’s Orlando and Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels 177
Beauvoir uses similar narrative tools to indict the patriarchy more clear-
ly than Woolf does. Whereas Woolf uses an unreliable narrator and embedded
focalization to tell Orlando’s entire story, Beauvoir creates a character-bound
unreliable narrator, in Fosca, who tells about himself in the lengthier embed-
ded narrative, and parasitically overpowers the other character, Régine’s will
to narrate her own life. Fosca claims that he does not want to tell his story and
that everything will be changed if he tells his story, but the logic of events in
the novel reveal his unreliability (1955, pp. 24–25, cf. 1946, p. 46). He needs
to tell his story to dominate Régine. Before meeting Fosca, Régine has doubts
about how she can prove her greatness and her uniqueness as an actress. She
is fiercely jealous of other successful actresses, but overall she believes in
herself, her talent, her unique ability to create worlds for herself and for oth-
ers, and her struggle to achieve all this fills her existence with energy and
pride, “‘I’m getting there,’ she thought. She smiled. So often, lying before the
fire. . . . she had sworn to herself: I will be loved, I will be famous” (Beau-
voir, 1946, pp. 41–42, translation mine). At first, contact with a seemingly
lifeless and crazy Fosca is nothing but a new challenge for her: “I want to
cure him” (Beauvoir, 1955, p. 16, cf. 1946, p. 32). Yet, once he is reawak-
ened, once he becomes obsessed with her, she looks for other challenges. It is
because Régine no longer finds Fosca of interest that he begins to tell his sto-
ry within the embedded narrative; he must regain control of her and her time
by any means: “You won’t get away from me so easily. If you stop coming to
see me, I’ll come to you. If you shut your door to me, I’ll get in through the
window” (Beauvoir, 1955, p. 23, cf. Beauvoir, 1946, p. 44). Thus, Beauvoir’s
Tous les hommes sont mortels implies more clearly than Woolf’s Orlando that
the patriarchy consistently attempts to maintain the status quo by inventing
new arguments, laws, and images each time women start to understand their
own greatness and realize that dependence on men is not necessary.
An overview of laws and habits in the post-World War I historical mo-
ment in which each novel was written helps us understand that both novels
embody the difficulties women might experience in a world where they lack
self-confidence and in which others have not yet fully accepted women’s sta-
tus as equal to men. Orlando (1928) was written in England in the decade
immediately following World War I, when women in the United Kingdom
were experiencing new independence and subsequent reversals of that inde-
pendence. As of 1916, women enjoyed such stereotypically masculine occu-
pations as engineering and transport; only ten years after the war, these jobs
were predominantly male again. Similarly, trousers for women were accepta-
ble for English women during World War I, but no longer acceptable again
until after World War II, although women in England had finally won suf-
frage by 1928 (Tylee, 1990, p. 258; Di Battista, 2006, p. xxxi).
Tous les hommes sont mortels (1946) was published in post-World War
II Paris when, after the French Senate had rejected proposals for women’s
suffrage in 1919, 1929, 1932, and 1935, women finally obtained the right to
178 BARBARA KLAW
vote in 1944 (Marks and Courtivron, 1981, p. 22). Despite being allowed
more independence and better jobs during the war and winning suffrage, pre-
and post-war discourses and laws reveal extreme efforts to keep women sub-
ordinate to men.
In 1945, Pope Pius XII gave a speech entitled “Women’s Dignity,” in
which he asserted that equal rights were causing women to abandon the home
and undergo undue strain in the outside world. This depreciated their true
dignity and kept them from their right to fulfill their characteristic feminine
role and the end intended by God (cited in Bell and Offen, 1983, pp. 413,
415–416). This speech advocated a return to a society with antiquated laws,
such those on the books in the 1920s that prohibited having, aiding, encour-
aging, or speaking favorably about abortion, or even accompanying someone
to get an abortion. Sentences for these offenses ranged from six months to
three years of prison and fines ranging from 100 to 3000 francs. Anyone who
helped others to understand methods of contraception risked six months of
prison and a fine of 100 to 5000 francs (Bell and Offen, 1983, pp. 309–310).
To combat post-war female independence, in 1930, the movie industry
began to feature female protagonists who abandoned their independence to
find true love with a father figure who would protect them. This helped the
patriarchy to reassert in the social imagination, the authority it still maintained
legally (Bard, 1998, p. 138). Before 1938, French law stated that a married
woman in France was not legally of age and could not vote or have any civil
function except that of owing obedience to the head of the family, her hus-
band, in exchange for being protected by him (Tartakowsky, 1986, p. 32).
Thus, Orlando’s reactions first as a man and then as a woman and
Régine’s interactions with Fosca can be read as emblematic of a woman’s rela-
tionship with past and present society. Woolf’s male Orlando might be viewed
as the independent woman of war times, who is allowed to perform a gender
identity similar to that of a man, but who must return, despite her abilities and
intelligence, to performing the role of a submissive woman after the war.
Beauvoir further accentuates that it is discourse touting male privilege
that forces women into identifying with subordinate roles. She creates a narra-
tive dynamic, in which Régine weakens through contact with Fosca, who
claims to be interested in her but soon reveals himself to be immortal (privi-
leged in a way that she can never be) and rather uninterested in Régine, who
is just like other women. A careful reading of the text reveals this change:
only moments after she has learned of his immortality, she begins to lose con-
fidence in herself and her projects: “The world is his, time is his, and I’m
nothing but an insect” (Beauvoir, 1955, p. 28, cf. 1946, p. 52).
Even today, the double standard concerning sexual behavior for men and
women, very apparent in language, pressures women into remaining submis-
sive and insecure despite the laws proclaiming their equality with men. For
example, popular culture still has many negative labels describing females who
have many sexual partners and often belittles females’ intelligence, suggesting
Woolf’s Orlando and Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels 179
that they are incapable of tasks such as driving, navigating, and spatial recogni-
tion, but it sanctions similar behaviors in males without ado (Schnyer, 2013).
Whereas it is through Orlando’s thoughts and changing attitudes and ex-
periences that Woolf uses humor to present how language is wielded to se-
duce the masses into sanctioning male privilege, Beauvoir introduces many
characters in tragic situations to illustrate how language can be seductive.
Within Fosca’s narration, a reader witnesses the thoughts of the present-day
rising actress Régine, the narration of the immortal Fosca who has lost hope
that anyone or anything will ever be worthwhile or special, and the reactions
of the women he has loved and forgotten. The part focalized by Régine shows
her increasingly depressed reaction to Fosca’s version of the story. Although
Régine is independent, talented, ambitious, and persevering as the reader
meets her, it is her contact with Fosca’s continual denigration that causes her
to lose all sense of her own worth. He discounts her opinions: “Soon you’ll be
dead and all your thoughts with you” (Beauvoir, 1955, p. 23, cf. 1946, p. 44).
He dismisses her desire to excel saying, “Act well, act badly—I haven’t the
least idea what meaning those words have” (Beauvoir, 1955, p. 60, cf. 1946,
p. 100). He defines her very way of being as nothing special, “You’re blonde,
generous and ambitious. You’re horrified of death. . . . Poor [Régine]!”
(Beauvoir, 1955, p. 55, cf. 1946, p. 93).
It is because Régine is awaiting Fosca’s interpretation of the world, and
above all, of herself, that she has lost faith in herself and her ability to act in
the world: “She did not really care what he did; she knew only that he was
right. As long as he spoke, as long as she listened to him, there were no ques-
tions to ask” (Beauvoir, 1955, p. 231, cf. 1946, p. 359). Although Fosca has
accomplished little of value for decades, as long as Fosca continues to talk
about his own superiority, she remains hypnotized by his narrative, his proc-
lamations, and his superior position as privileged. She cannot break away to
live her own life: “It was a mechanical thought; the words had already lost
their meaning. She no longer had a childhood, a future; for her, too, light,
colors, odors, were gone from the world” (Beauvoir, 1955, pp. 285–286, cf.
1946, p. 441).
Another prominent theme present in both novels that persists in today’s
society is that of the questioning and dismantling of gender roles and stereo-
types. Today, our lives are still satiated with commentaries from the media
about how girls and boys should behave and dress. For example, in Egypt, Pa-
kistan, and France, debate continues over whether women should wear a head-
scarf in public. As journalist Ilene Prusher reasons, although women often claim
that they choose to wear the headscarf because it makes them feel secure, if
society makes women who are unveiled feel insecure, this is not really a choice
(2012). Both Orlando and Tous les hommes sont mortels could be studied for
their commentaries on and allusions to plays that concern dress and appearance
to learn that societal expectations based on gender are truly unfounded.
180 BARBARA KLAW
Legs, hands, carriage, were a boy’s, but no boy ever had a mouth like
that; no boy had those breasts; no boy had those eyes which looked as
though they had been fished from the bottom of the sea. (ibid., p. 28)
Later, as a woman, Orlando realizes how falsely women must often behave to
capture a wealthy man who offers an easy life:
This negative depiction of such behaviors functions to poke fun at the behav-
iors society expects from women. Furthermore, Orlando’s adamant rejection
of these same behaviors indicts any society for encouraging such play-acting
from women as it encourages them to escape from using their talents to
change the world for the better. The thought of having to indulge in such fool-
ishness culminates in a desire to run away from society and join the anti-
society represented by the gypsies.
Wry comments from Orlando’s narrator also point out how fashions im-
pede women from realizing their full potential and indeed keep socially-
respectable women in a submissive role: “The man has his hand free to seize
his sword; the woman must use hers to keep the satins from slipping from her
shoulders” (ibid., p. 138). Other narrative interventions function to warn the
reader against judging capabilities or tendencies on appearances, suggesting
instead that each individual has traits that stereotypically belong to both gen-
ders, “In every human being a vacillation from one sex to the other takes place,
while underneath the sex is the very opposite of what it is above” (ibid., p. 139).
Whereas Woolf uses humor to indict women’s socially prescribed dress
and behavior as responsible for creating often criticized feminine traits such
as helplessness and artificiality, Beauvoir shows even more concretely
through several female characters in the embedded and embedding narrative
Woolf’s Orlando and Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels 181
that patriarchal dictates for female appearance cause anger and self-hatred that
impede self-realization. For example, part of Régine’s anger stems from hav-
ing to present a false version of her self to become successful and be consid-
ered beautiful: “Roger advised me to tone down my originality. They like
only banal beauties. . . . Once I have made two or three movies, I will force
them to accept my real face” (Beauvoir, 1946, p. 38, translation mine).
Béatrice, Fosca’s wife by force, wants nothing to do with all the riches and
luxuries that Fosca offers her to compensate for stealing her freedom; she
would prefer to have chosen her own role in the world (Beauvoir, 1955, pp.
119, 123–125, cf. 1946, pp. 192, 199–200).
This discussion has illustrated that novels, and more particularly these
two novels by Woolf and Beauvoir, could be used as case studies in the hu-
manities to inform our future leaders of the benefits of treating men and
women as fully equal legal and social beings in society. In such a contentious
climate, lawmakers might view Orlando as a case study proving that the most
successful society must learn to experience the plight of each gender so that
prejudices might disappear. Tous les hommes sont mortels goes further than
Orlando in illustrating the ways that the continuing system of male privilege
destroys women’s efforts to contribute their true talents to advance the world.
From these novels, we become aware of discursive devices in speech
and writing that camouflage important information. We learn that the patriar-
chal mindset, which continues through the subconscious idea of male privi-
lege that pervades society, can only be detrimental to society as a whole. We
learn that cultural imaginations nourish each other.
Appropriating Shakespeare’s plot of a woman who disguises herself as a
man, Woolf uses humor to create a lighthearted and optimistic fantasy in the
form of the biography of a man transformed into a woman. Her purpose was
to unmask the narrative and sociological codes that aid in promulgating male
privilege. Beauvoir seems to build on these portraits to create a tragedy that
illustrates how an attitude of male superiority has destroyed women of the
past and continues to condemn women of the present to lives of anger and
imprisonment.
Society must stop harming women with discourse that reinforces men’s
superiority or women’s inferiority. It is only through the experience of our
shared humanity—a humanity shared with men and women alike as equals—
that we can continue to shape the world for the better. For all these reasons,
having students read Beauvoir’s Tous les hommes sont mortels as a develop-
ment of Woolf’s Orlando would be an excellent way to remind them of the
struggles that preceded current world debates, and of the progress that has
been made. Such studies would remind them that the war for equality for all is
not over, and that we must not sink into complacency that allows any individ-
ual to mistreat another or enjoy unearned privileges.
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
JULIANA DE ALBUQUERQUE KATZ is a graduate student in Philosophy at Tel
Aviv University, Israel. She writes about the relation between literature and
philosophy with emphasis on the notions of self and recognition. She devotes
special attention to Simone de Beauvoir and the metaphysical novel whilse
trying to locate Beauvoir within a philosophical tradition that stretches from
Hegel to Heidegger, but whose origins remain indebted to Leibnizian philos-
ophy and aesthetic rationalism. She is currently working on a dissertation
entitled, “Towards a Philosophy of Tragedy: Following Leibniz’s traces in
German Idealism.” Albuquerque Katz is a member of the JuriLog Project
(Universität Konstanz/Université Lille 3) and has taught undergraduate semi-
nars about Hegel’s Philosophy of Right.
BARBARA KLAW earned her PhD in French Literature in 1990, from the Uni-
versity of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States. Currently,
she is Professor of French at Northern Kentucky University, Highland
Heights, Kentucky, United States. Author of the bilingual book, Le Paris de
Beauvoir/Beauvoir’s Paris (1999), she is also co-editor, co-transcriber, and
the sole annotator and translator of the first volume of the English translation
of Simone de Beauvoir’s study diary, Diary of a Philosophy Student (2006).
She has published articles in juried periodicals and book chapters on the nov-
els, autobiographical works, and diaries of Simone de Beauvoir, on the writ-
ings of Colette and Mariama Bâ, and on the history and the global pertinence
today of North African and Middle Eastern dance. From 2006–2008, Klaw
served as president of the Alliance Française of Cincinnati. She is currently
About the Authors 203
Marxism, 76 novels:
masochism, 44, 48, 50, 53 and poetry, 134
masturbation, 49, 50 metaphysical, 132–138, 143
materialism, 45, 46 philosophical ideas in, 137
dialectical, 140
meaning: objectification and choice, 79
existential, 77 Oedipus complex, 51, 54
and freedom, 42, 116 onanism. See masturbation
lost and new, 158 ontology:
pure understanding and, 132 inchoate post-structural, 99
meaninglessness, 77, 78, 88 representational vs. immanent, 94
me-others relationship, 75 o. status, 107
metaphysics, 133, 134, 137 oppression, 71, 79, 82, 94, 103, 106, 108
Heidegger’s criticism of, 12 Beauvoir’s commitment to fight, 6
modernity, 156 illuminated by literature, 12
moment, 96, 97, 99, 106, 108, 109, 110 other, 9, 99, 132
Beauvoir’s definition of, 107 Beauvoir’s depiction in novels, 113
relationality of, 101 possibility of acknowledging, 131
temporal split of, 98 and self’s transcendental movement,
monologue, 151–153, 157 140
interior, 150, 164, 166, 168 women more than, 126
morality:
m. choice, 34, 36, 37 passivity, 45, 49, 74
motivation for m. action, 75 girls encouraged toward, 50
multiplicity, 9, 96, 103, 104, 107–110 past, 96, 159
ontological, 99 patriarchy, 174, 178
myth: Beauvoirian indictment of, 177
de-masking, 69, 85 pedagogy, 130
of progress, 141 penis envy, 42, 48–51, 54
of unity, 142 perception, constituted present of, 97
phallocentrism, 104
narcicism, 54, 122 phenomenology, 5, 7, 45–47, 54,
experienced by women, 120 p. attitude, 42, 43, 52, 55, 56
narrativity (narrative devices), 154, 155, German, 19
174, 176 p. methodology, 22
that promote male privilege, 181 philosophy, 24, 27
natural versus phenomenological as attitude, 133
attitude, 9 Beauvoir’s, 130, 131
Nazi occupation, 89 existentialist, 136
negativity, 98 feminist, 27
neuroticism, 96 Heidegger’s and Beauvoir’s, 134
nihilists, 87 humanist contribution to, 20
nomadism, epistemic, 21 Kristeller and Randall’s definition, 19
normative thinking, Beauvoir’s, 9, 10, and life, 39
69, 70 literature/poetry and, 11, 134
norms, imposed vs. consented to, 77 phenomenological, 155
nothing(ness), 96–99, 104, 108, 109 political, 130
Nouveau Roman Movement, 161 post-structural, 95, 105
214 SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR—A HUMANIST THINKER
plurality of women’s experience, 52 reciprocity, 76, 81, 90, 124, 140, 141, 144
poetry, 133 recognition, 12, 73, 82, 83, 87, 89, 90,
politics, 26 129, 131, 132
p. activism, Beauvoir’s, 17, 20, 25 free, 80
p. agency, 94 mutual, 81, 139
ethics and, 27 Red Scare, 59, 63
p. legitimization, 130 reductionism, anatomical, 50
right wing, Beauvoir’s critique, 29 relation(ality)(ship)(s) 85
possibility vs. status quo, 51 conflict in, 139
postcolonial theory, 105 primordial, 107
post-structuralism and Beauvoir’s phi- pure, 97, 99, 105, 107
losophy, 7 reciprocal, 139, 143
post-war coping, 152, 170, 175, 177 sub-representational, 99
potential, gender-influenced, 55 relativists, 72
poverty, 4, 5 ethical, 87
power, 170, 175, 176 religion, Beauvoir’s rejection of, 86
puissance vs. pouvoir, 106 Renaissance Man, 20
present, 153, 163, 166 repetition:
privilege: of difference, 101
male, 174, 175, 178, 179, 181 of infinitely new, 100
negative effects on women and representation:
society, 171 ontological field beyond, 99
projectiveness, 137, 140, 143, 144 ossifying effects of, 96
vs. progress, 139 reifying logic of, 108
projects, 73, 77, 78, 80, 83, 87, 88 transition to sub-r. relations, 99
common, 89 resignation, 120, 122, 126
meaningful, 85 responsibility:
women’s, 112, 119, 124, 126 ethical, 78
psychoanaly(sis)(tic theory), 5, 7, 9, 41, moral, 79, 89
45, 47, 48, 54, 55 rights, 71, 81, 86, 89
Beauvoir’s criticism of, 46
Beauvoir’s use of, 42, 50, 51 die Sattelzeit (the Saddle Period), 155
sciences, technical jargon vs. ordinary
queer studies, 170 language in, 130
self-consciousness, 139, 141
Rassemblement Démocratique Révolu- separateness, 129, 131, 139, 142, 143,
tionnaire (RDR), 57 144, 145
rational(ism)(ity), 71, 85 ontological, 135
Descartes’s, 19 sexism of the philosophical canon, 6
real(ism)(ity), 18, 22–24, 26 sexuality, 45, 52, 53
fragmentary, 132 signifiers, transcendental, 102
French literary, 113 silence, give voice to, 31
socialist, 64, 66 singularity, human, 98, 131, 139, 145, 146
reason(ing), 116 situatedness, 131, 136, 143, 148, 168
ancient Greek references, 1 slaves, 73, 79, 85
instrumental, 93, 94, 95, 98, 99, 109 social:
private vs. public use of, 105 change, 26
technocratic, 108 conditioning, 18
Subject Index 215