Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Levinas, Kant
and the Problematic
of Temporality
Adonis Frangeskou
Alexander College
Larnaca, Cyprus
I would first like to thank Douglas Burnham, William Large, and David
Webb, who have aided me considerably by their philosophical expertise
and by their understanding of the problematic of Temporality. I would
also like to express my gratitude to my mother Maria Frangeskou, and
to Ann McGoun, for their continued guidance and support. Finally, I
wish to tell Lee Michael Badger how much his faithful friendship and
his example of intellectual integrity have sustained me in this difficult
enterprise called philosophy.
vii
Contents
1 Introduction 1
Bibliography 207
Index 211
ix
Abbreviations
The list below provides the abbreviations of all primary texts cited in the
main body and endnotes of this book. The pages of the original language
versions will be referenced along with their corresponding English trans-
lations where this is possible. Those English translations that have occa-
sionally been modified and interpolated will be marked ‘mod.’ Successive
citations of the same text will exclude its abbreviation.
Texts by Heidegger
The original language texts are those numbered volumes of Heidegger’s
Gesamtausgabe [G] published in Frankfurt am Main by Vittorio
Klostermann. An exception is made for Sein und Zeit [SZ], which is
cited following the seventh edition published in Tübingen by Max
Niemeyer Verlag.
xi
xii Abbreviations
Texts by Levinas
The original language texts marked with an asterix* refer to Le Livre de
Poche versions of those texts.
Texts by Kant
Citations of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason will be listed convention-
ally according to the pagination of both A and B editions, as pre-
sented in Immanuel Kant: Werke, Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Vols. 3 &
Abbreviations xv
knowledge [of being],’ and thus, beyond any possible ontology of the
subject.12 There are many interpreters who follow Chalier’s understand-
ing of what Levinas’s relation to Kant amounts to—i.e., their shared
admiration for the primacy of practical reason over theoretical rea-
son—and who also agree that Levinas maintains such a relation. Diane
Perpich, for instance, points out that: ‘In Kant’s insistence on the pri-
macy of pure practical reason, Levinas finds a parallel to his own philo-
sophical project, which he often sums up in the claim that ethics is “first
philosophy.”’13 This point is more fully developed by Peter Atterton,
who states that: ‘In his only essay dedicated entirely to Kant, pub-
lished in 1971 under the title “The Primacy of Pure Practical Reason,”
Levinas applauded the “great novelty” of Kant’s practical philosophy.’14
For Atterton, there can be no doubt that ‘the practical philosophy of
Kant stands closest to his [i.e., Levinas’s] own thinking in ethics,’ since
‘Levinas finds in Kant’s practical philosophy “un sens” (meaning, sense,
direction) that is irreducible to ontology.’15 Indeed: ‘By subordinat-
ing the interests of theoretical reason to those of practical reason […]
Kant’s doctrine of primacy signifies for Levinas a reversal of philosophy’s
traditional vocation to ground thought and action in knowledge and
truth. The ontological problematic […] is in this instance subordinated
to ethics as an independent and preliminary praxis.’16
John Llewelyn, however, has managed to situate Levinas’s relation to
Kant in a quite different context. For just as it cannot be doubted that
Levinas’s own ethical thinking stands closest to Kant’s practical philoso-
phy, and thus to the 2nd Critique, so too one can hardly avoid seeing
that it also stands equally close to Kant’s theoretical philosophy, and
in particular, to ‘those few pages of the Critique of Pure Reason where
he writes of imagination as schematization.’17 The main argument that
Llewelyn hazards here no doubt comes from his attempt to interpret
‘the ethicality of face-to-face saying’ as precisely ‘that moment of imag-
ination when it is surprised by its own radical exteriority,’ a uniquely
ethical moment of imagination which Llewelyn goes on to describe as
‘a moment where the synchronizable and recuperable time of memory
and the Critical imagination that synthesizes what it analyses is crossed
by the unsychronizable time of being hypoCritically addressed […] by
the other.’18 It therefore becomes necessary to argue, as Llewelyn does,
8 A. Frangeskou
Notes
1. For an excellent discussion of the philosophical priority of eth-
ics over ontology, see Jean Griesch, ‘Ethics and Ontology: some
Hypocritical Reflections’, Irish Philosophical Journal, Vol. 4, Nos. 1−2
(1987), 64−75.
2. That ethics could have, in the last analysis, a historical priority equal
to that of its philosophical priority, that is, a priority within the his-
tory of ontology, is what Jacques Derrida does not fail to consider—
I shall come to this in a moment. What he does not fail to consider
is ‘whether history itself does not begin with this relationship to the
other which Levinas places beyond history.’ Jacques Derrida, ‘Violence
and Metaphysics: An Essay on the Thought of Emmanuel Levinas’ in
Writing and Difference (London: Routledge & Keegan Paul Ltd, 1978),
116.
3. Ibid., 101.
4. Ibid., 139. Interestingly enough, it was during the course of a discus-
sion held with Salomon Malka on the subject of Levinas’s antagonism
towards Heidegger, that Paul Ricoeur also highlighted the endur-
ing necessity of destruction in Levinas’s ethical thought. ‘Did you
notice,’ he asks, ‘that the last published series of lectures is the one on
14 A. Frangeskou
death [Ricoeur has in mind here of course the lectures entitled God,
Death, and Time], where Levinas is still confronting Heidegger? He
never stopped explaining himself in terms of Heidegger.’ He contin-
ues: ‘Because he was the closest stranger. This was an ontology with-
out ethics. And the problem, for Levinas, was to exit ontology and to
make ethics the first philosophy. To do that, it was always necessary,
as I have said, to continually deconstruct the hegemonic pretences of
Heideggerian ontology.’ Paul Ricoeur in Salomon Malka, Emmanuel
Levinas: His Life and Legacy (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press,
2006), 198.
5. Jill Robbins alludes to the possibility of this ethical destruction when,
in her introduction to the English publication of a series of interviews
with Levinas, she states that: ‘Although nowhere do we find in Levinas
a systematic destruction in the Heideggerian style of the history of phi-
losophy from the vantage point of the forgetting of the ethical, we can
perhaps begin to envision—especially with regard to […] Kant—what
a “Levinasian” critical retrieval would look like’ [IRB 9].
6. Richard A. Cohen, Levinasian Meditations: Ethics, Philosophy, and
Religion (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 2010), 29.
7. Paul Davies, ‘Sincerity and the end of theodicy: three remarks on
Levinas and Kant’ in Simon Critchley & Robert Bernasconi (eds.), The
Cambridge Companion to Levinas (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2002), 162.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid., 168 & 165 respectively.
10. Catherine Chalier, What Ought I to Do? Morality in Kant and Levinas,
(Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2002), 4–5.
11. Ibid., 5.
12. Ibid., The quotations in Chalier’s text are taken from DMT 75/64.
13. Diane Perpich, ‘Freedom Called into Question: Levinas’s Defence of
Heteronomy’ in Melvyn New with Robert Bernasconi & Richard A.
Cohen (eds.), In Proximity: Emmanuel Levinas and the 18th Century,
(Lubbock: Texas Tech University Press, 2001), 303.
14. Peter Atterton, ‘From Transcendental Freedom to the Other: Levinas
and Kant’ in In Proximity: Emmanuel Levinas and the 18th Century,
327. The essay referred to here is PPR. The quoted phrase is taken from
p. 451.
15. Ibid., 328 & 347 respectively.
1 Introduction
15
and from out of which it is ‘in part quite genuinely drawn’ [21/43]. The
doctrine of the schematism is not to be taken traditionally as something
self-evident, but rather, is that which Kant himself is unable to render
problematic and which therefore requires a certain task of ‘destruction’
[23/44]5; namely, the task of retrieving the original possibilities of the
Kantian ground-laying, those “primordial sources” which elude Kant,
but at the same time, enable him to return to the tradition of ontol-
ogy in a positive manner and make it productive for working out the
problematic of Temporality.6 Like Kant, who in a characteristic destruc-
tion of his own, led the categories—which are perhaps in themselves
employed only timelessly—back to the phenomenon of their tran-
scendental determination of time, one must lead the schematism itself
and as a whole back toward its sources in the structure and function
of Dasein’s ‘temporality [Zeitlichkeit ]’ [17/38]. Indeed, ‘those very phe-
nomena which will be exhibited under the heading of ‘Temporality’ in
our analysis, are precisely those most covert judgements of the ‘common
reason’ for which Kant says it is the ‘business of philosophers’ to provide
an analytic’ [23/45]. The destruction of the doctrine of the schema-
tism already implies the identification of that obscure doctrine with the
failure to exhibit the phenomena of Temporality, and in return: ‘Only
when we have established the problematic of Temporality [Problematik
der Temporalität ], can we succeed in casting light on the obscurity of his
[i.e., Kant’s] doctrine of the schematism. But this will also show us why
this area is one which had to remain closed off to him in its real dimen-
sions and its central ontological function’ [23/45mod].
That the problematic of Temporality should have remained closed
off to Kant is due to the fact that the phenomenon of a transcenden-
tal determination of time is governed principally by his own deductive
use of the categories, those concepts of traditional ontology which for
Heidegger are primarily responsible for the concealment of the dimen-
sions of temporality. The retrieval of the problematic of Temporality
therefore requires the task of destruction to reveal the extent to which
‘the chapter on the schematism and the Kantian doctrine of time’ oper-
ates with the concepts that the ontological tradition had laid out for
it, so as to then be able to reveal the newly established temporality of
Dasein that this chapter invariably conceals from us by its employment
2 The Ontological Destruction of the Schematism
23
was initially worked out in the doctrine of the schematism, that is, to
the absolutely decisive role the problematic of Temporality plays with
respect to the phenomenon of a transcendental determination of time.
The initial projection and the final completion of the ground-laying of
metaphysics come into an immediate historical connection: Kant’s met-
aphysical—and indeed, ontological—enterprise is identified as such by
leading everything that the schematism claims to be worked out as a
phenomenon of transcendental time-determination back to the funda-
mental ontology of Dasein’s temporality. This conclusion gives rise to
two arguments, which Heidegger delivers in 1929.
First, Heidegger argues that the constitutive ‘problem of the essence
of a priori synthetic judgements’ formulated in the Critique of Pure
Reason orients Kant’s metaphysical enterprise in no other direction
than toward ‘the question concerning the possibility of ontological
knowledge,’ and thus in no way contradicts the Copernican injunction
to establish the genuine limits of pure reason [14/9]. In fact, Part 1 of
Heidegger’s interpretation does not hesitate to recognise that the 1st
Critique, insofar as it admits of being a theory of knowledge ‘adjusts
itself to the ontological,’ that is, to the determination of ‘the essence
of “transcendental truth, which precedes all empirical truth and makes
it possible”’ [17/11].8 This revolutionary moment is carried out and
acknowledged as such when one realises that for Kant ‘the unveiling
of […] ontological knowledge’ turns on ‘an elucidation’ of the a priori
synthesis which, as common to all synthetic a priori judgements, first
makes this unveiling possible [14/9]. In short, Kant’s laying of the
ground for metaphysics consists in a ‘bringing-forth of the determi-
nation of the Being of the being [as] a preliminary self-relating to the
being. This pure “relation-to…” (synthesis) forms first and foremost the
that-upon-which [das Worauf ] and the horizon within which the being
in itself becomes experienceable […]. It is now a question of elucidat-
ing the possibility of this a priori synthesis’ [15/10mod]. This a priori
sense of the Copernican revolution augments the ontological direc-
tion of the 1st Critique all the more insofar as Kant himself explicitly
includes it: ‘Kant calls an investigation concerning the essence of this
synthesis a transcendental investigation. “I entitle all knowledge tran-
scendental that is occupied in general not so much with objects as with
2 The Ontological Destruction of the Schematism
25
Can you imagine all the railroads of the United States divided
into two systems, paralleling each other from our Atlantic coast to the
Pacific? Think of them as north of a line drawn from Baltimore
westward through St. Louis to San Francisco. Let the distance
between terminals be nearly four thousand miles, and the total
length of track ten times as great. Finally, suppose that the larger of
the two systems is owned and operated by Uncle Sam, and the other
by such a corporation as the New York Central. If you can do that
you will have the background of the railroad situation in Canada to-
day.
With a mile of track for every twenty-three people, Canada has
more railroads in proportion to her population than any other country
on earth. Only the United States and Russia have a greater total
mileage. Geographically, British America extends from our northern
border to the Arctic Ocean, but the active life of the Dominion is
mostly confined to a strip of territory averaging less than five
hundred miles wide from north to south and more than three
thousand miles long.
Our railroad development began in the East and extended
westward, but we have no system that reaches from coast to coast.
Canada, on the other hand, has two such systems. Neither have we
any such transportation service as the Canadian Pacific, which can
take a passenger on board ship at Liverpool, Hamburg, Cherbourg,
land him in Canada, carry him across the continent and across the
Pacific, and set him down in Japan or China, putting him up at its
own hotels whenever he wants to stop over.
Before the World War, the Canadian Pacific, with some fourteen
thousand miles of its own rails, and five thousand more under its
operation, was the world’s largest land and water transportation
system under one management. To go over all its lines would take
nearly three weeks of continuous travel behind a fast engine. Now it
has been eclipsed on land by the Canadian National lines, with
twenty-two thousand miles of track, owned and operated by the
Dominion government.
I have ridden for thousands of miles over both of the present
systems, and have made trips in Canada when some of the lines
were in the process of building. I have talked with the pioneers of
railroad development in the Dominion and the officials of the great
railway organizations of to-day. I have watched the wheat trains pull
out of Winnipeg, one every half hour, all day and all night. Both the
Canadian National and the Canadian Pacific are doing their jobs
well, and both furnish excellent equipment and service on their main
lines. As a rule, the trains run at slower speed than the best
expresses of the United States, and, excepting the Trans-Canada
Limited, they stop at places so small that they would get only a
shriek of the whistle from our fast railway flyers. Most of the lines
have only a single track, but this is generally sufficient to handle the
traffic. Both systems operate almost exclusively their own sleeping
and dining cars. Each has also its own express service, and
combined they have more than one hundred thousand miles of
telegraph lines open to the use of the public. The food I have eaten
on the dining cars here has averaged in quality above that served on
eastern trains in the United States. The prices are about the same,
though the portions, as a rule, are more generous.
With a population of less than two and one half
persons per square mile, strung out across a
continent nearly three thousand miles wide, Canada
has had to make enormous investments in railroads
to bind the country together.
“Selling the scenery” has become a great source
of revenue to Canada’s railroads, which are experts in
exploiting the natural beauties of the Dominion.
Americans furnish the bulk of the patronage over the
scenic routes.
The managements of both of these systems make strenuous
endeavours to cultivate the highest morale in their employees, and to
win their coöperation in the struggle for efficiency. Every man in the
Canadian railroad service understands that the Dominion needs
more and more people, and from managing vice presidents to
dining-car stewards, each seems to have constituted himself an
entertainment committee of one. I have never received anywhere
more courteous treatment from train men, and I notice that neither
the brakemen nor the sleeper conductors consider themselves
above helping me with my numerous pieces of baggage.
The Canadian Pacific has a chain of thirteen hotels
supplemented by eleven bungalow camps extending from St.
Andrews, New Brunswick, to Victoria in British Columbia. The
Canadian National lines operate half as many between Ottawa and
the Rockies. Both organizations are most enterprising in selling not
merely transportation, but all the attractions, business opportunities,
and resources of Canada. Either one will cheerfully locate a newly
arrived immigrant on the land, take an American sportsman on a
hunting trip, find a factory site or lumber tract for a group of
capitalists, or help a bridegroom plan his honeymoon journey. Both
are tremendous forces for advertising Canada.
Canada’s railroads have made the country. They have always
been, and still are, ahead of the population and the traffic.
Settlement in Canada has followed, instead of preceding, railroad
construction, and the roads themselves have had to colonize the
territories served by new lines. Uneconomic railroad building has
been a part of the price the Dominion has had to pay, not only for
settlers, but also for political unity. Both the Maritime Provinces and
British Columbia refused to become parts of the Dominion except on
condition that the Ottawa government build railways connecting them
with central Canada. From that day to this, political pressure has
been the force behind much of the railroad building in the Dominion.
The Canada that we know to-day may be said to have had its
beginning when the Canadian Pacific Railway was put through to the
west coast. In 1880 the job was turned over to a syndicate that soon
became world famous. Its contract called for completion of the line in
ten years, but it was finished within half that time. This saved British
Columbia to the Dominion, and gave the British Empire another link
in its world communications, including a direct route through its own
possessions to the Far East and Australia. Within two years after it
reached the western ocean, the Canadian Pacific began its
steamship service to Japan and China, and tapped the Orient for
cargoes to furnish traffic on its land line. Sixteen years later it
bridged the Atlantic. It now has on both oceans a fleet of more than
thirty vessels, including some of the finest passenger steamers
afloat. In its lake, river, and coastwise services it operates fifty
additional ships. It offers now a favoured route between London and
the Far East. The distance from Canton, China, to Liverpool, via
Canada, is fifteen hundred miles shorter than by way of San
Francisco and New York, and the journey takes much less time than
that by the Suez or Panama all-water routes.
Much of the main line between Montreal and Vancouver is being
double tracked; the mountain grades are constantly being reduced;
tunnels are taking the place of construction exposed to the snows;
branches and connections have been extended northward into new
country, and southward to connect with United States lines. To pay
its nearly seventy-five thousand employees takes almost eight
million dollars a month. Its car shops at Angus, near Montreal, are
one of the largest works of the kind on the continent, and they
employ more than six thousand men. Its freight yard at Winnipeg is
among the biggest in the world. Though the company is not fifty
years old, its total assets were recently valued at a figure in excess
of one billion dollars. It is, next to the government, the most powerful
single organization within the Dominion, and its influence is felt in
Europe and Asia.
The success of the Canadian Pacific, and the development that
followed, started in Canada the fever for railroad construction that
burned itself out only a few years ago. The provincial and the
Dominion governments and even municipalities eagerly backed
almost any railroad project that promised to open up new territory.
Not only were charters granted freely, but the obligations of the
constructing companies were guaranteed, and cash subsidies
advanced to the promoters of new lines. The actual transportation
needs of large areas were discounted decades in advance, and
competing lines were built parallel to one another in districts
producing hardly enough traffic for a single railroad.
In 1903 the Grand Trunk, the oldest railroad system in Canada,
contracted with the government for the construction of a new
transcontinental line from Quebec to Winnipeg and from Winnipeg to
Prince Rupert, a new terminus on the Pacific Coast, a total of 3559
miles. In the meantime, another road, the Canadian Northern,
starting in Manitoba, spread itself through the prairie provinces,
crossed the Rockies, and entered into competition with the Canadian
Pacific at Vancouver. By 1914 it had bought and built a total of 9400
miles of railway. The Grand Trunk also had grown, and it then had
7500 miles of tracks, a chain of hotels, steamship lines on the Pacific
coast, and grain elevators and terminals in the Dominion and the
United States. Both roads crossed the Rockies at the same point,
giving Canada two transcontinental lines over the northern route
where one would have been plenty.
It was in 1914 that these railroad chickens came home to Ottawa
to roost, and the end of the World War found the government up to
its neck in the transportation business. This did not come about by
anybody’s choosing, but through the working of forces set in motion
years ago. The Dominion government was first led into running
railroads by its bargain with the Maritime Provinces. Out of this came
government operation of the Intercolonial Railways serving the
eastern provinces and joining them to the St. Lawrence basin. This
system never earned any profits. The government built the National
Transcontinental from Quebec to Winnipeg on the understanding
that the Grand Trunk would lease it for fifty years. When it was
finished, the corporation begged off, and the government was
compelled to operate the line. In 1914, the owners of the Canadian
Northern announced that unless they received sixty million dollars at
once they would have to suspend. They got the money. Two years
later it was the Grand Trunk Pacific that appealed to Ottawa for
financial aid. Sustaining these railroads was such a drain on the
public treasury that finally the government assumed responsibility for
all their obligations and absolute control of the properties. It then
began to weld them into the single system now known as the
Canadian National Railways.
For years the Canadian Pacific Railway has paid dividends
regularly. The lines making up the Canadian National have, for the
most part, never paid anything, and they were unloaded upon the
government because they were regarded more as liabilities than as
assets. As the largest taxpayer in Canada, the Canadian Pacific
Railway Company must contribute indirectly to the support of its
competitor, unless the government lines are able to earn their own
way.
After the war, one year’s deficit on the government lines was
sixty-seven million dollars. In railroad subsidies, Canada has paid
out nearly three hundred million dollars. Bonds and other railroad
obligations to the total of four hundred and fifty-five millions have
been guaranteed, while four hundred and seventy millions of public
moneys were spent in building roads for the government. One
student of Canada’s railroad policy tells me that the national treasury
would now be four hundred millions to the good if the government
had given the National Transcontinental, the Canadian Northern, and
the Grand Trunk Pacific to some corporation, and had thrown in a
cash bonus of two hundred millions besides.
The government railroads now furnish a complete service to
virtually all parts of Canada, including the chief ports, from Halifax on
the east coast to Vancouver and Prince Rupert on the west. The
Canadian National Railways operate the Grand Trunk hotels and
west coast steamers, and also the sixty-five ships of the Canadian
Government Merchant Marine, which sail the seven seas. The
curious situation exists of railroads owned by the government of
Canada using two thousand miles of track in the United States.
Nothing was thought of the Grand Trunk having terminals at
Portland, Maine and New London, Connecticut, and Chicago, but the
government ownership of these properties raises the possibility of
conflict between the two countries in railroad matters.
The government is fortunate in having in charge of the Canadian
National lines Sir Henry Thornton, one of the great railroad men of
the time. To him all Canada is looking to find the way out of the
wilderness into which circumstances have brought the Dominion.
Under his administration duplicated services are being eliminated,
and the deficits have been greatly reduced. He is confident the lines
can be made self-supporting. He said the other day:
“The world expects the Canadian National Railways to fail. It
does not believe that we can make them succeed. I do. I believe that
if the army of workers lines up behind us, we shall achieve the
greatest success the annals of transportation have ever recorded.”
Though he is to-day a British subject, Sir Henry was born an
American. His boyhood home was in Lafayette, Indiana. From St.
Paul’s School in New Hampshire and the University of Pennsylvania,
he went to the Pennsylvania Railroad. He rose to be manager of the
Long Island Railroad, where he had much to do with the construction
and operation of the Pennsylvania Terminal in New York City.
England sent for him in 1914 to manage the Great Eastern Railway,
which has the largest passenger traffic of any railroad in the world,
and during the war he was in charge of all British army transportation
in Europe.
Sir Henry is not the first railroad genius America has furnished to
Canada. Lord Shaughnessy, for many years the president and then
the chairman of the Canadian Pacific, was born in Milwaukee. When
he was a boy of fifteen he went to work for the Chicago, Milwaukee
and St. Paul Railroad. I once spent a morning with him in his office at
Montreal, where he told me of his early career and his vision of the
future of Canada and the great transportation system that he had
raised up from infancy. His successor, E. W. Beatty, is the first
Canadian-born president the Canadian Pacific has ever had.
Thomas Shaughnessy came to Canada at the invitation of
William Van Home, another American. Van Home became the
manager of the project after the government had given up hope of
building a road across western Canada. It was he who carried it
through the early period of desperate struggle with the wilderness
and the equally desperate fight for money with which to meet the
payroll. Years ago he established the present policy of courtesy to
passengers, and placarded the system with a demand for “Parisian
politeness on the C. P. R.” During their régime, both men had
associated with them many other Americans whom they called to
Canada to lend a hand in one of the greatest transportation jobs the
world has ever known.
CHAPTER XXII
THE LAND OF FURS
For four hundred years furs from Canada have been warming
the flesh and enhancing the charms of feminine beauty. It is to-day
the chief breeding place of animals valued for their skins, and it is
likely to remain so for centuries to come.
When the settlement of North America was at its beginning, the
French adventurers making fortunes in furs did their best to
discourage the incoming colonists, for they knew that this meant the
death of the wilderness. If they could have had their way, all that is
now Canada would have been left to the Indian trappers and the
white traders who relieved them of their annual catches. As it is,
improved methods of transportation, trapping, and hunting are
reducing the available supply, and the demand is such that the
furriers have had to popularize skins formerly despised as too
common, and many Canadians have gone into the business of
breeding fur-bearing animals.