Degrees of Givenness

On Saturation in Jean-Luc Marion

Christina M. Gschwandtner

• Publisher: Indiana University Press
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9780253014283
• Topic: Philosophie
• Subtopic: Philosophie de la religion

"Beautifully written... advances scholarship on Marion, and offers a sustained and critical analysis of two weaknesses in Marion's phenomenology." —Tamsin Jones, author of A Genealogy of Marion's Philosophy of Religion The philosophical work of Jean-Luc Marion has opened new ways of speaking about religious convictions and experiences. In this exploration of Marion's philosophy and theology, Christina M. Gschwandtner presents a comprehensive and critical analysis of the ideas of saturated phenomena and the phenomenology of givenness. She claims that these phenomena do not always appear in the excessive mode that Marion describes and suggests instead that we consider degrees of saturation. Gschwandtner covers major themes in Marion's work—the historical event, art, nature, love, gift and sacrifice, prayer, and the Eucharist. She works within the phenomenology of givenness, but suggests that Marion himself has not considered important aspects of his philosophy. "Christina M. Gschwandtner has established herself as a valued reader of contemporary French philosophy in general and of Marion's writings in particular. She was the first to consider at length Marion's extensive reflections on Descartes and to evaluate their theological importance, and she has translated two of Marion's books from the French. This new study, Degrees of Givenness, extends her contribution to our understanding of this fecund philosopher." — Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews

ONE

Historical Events and Historical Research

Marion uses the term “event” in two different but closely connected senses in his work, especially in his presentation in Being Given. On the one hand, he speaks of the event as a characteristic of all given phenomena: phenomena give themselves as events, they are “being given.” He develops this in §17 of Being Given as the fifth characteristic of all phenomena alongside anamorphosis, arrival, incident, and fait accompli. Most prominently, however, the event is one type of saturated phenomenon, namely the phenomenon saturated according to quantity. The phenomenon of the historical or cultural event gives “too much” information, it can never be quantified, never be recreated. The event is overwhelming in quantity. This “giving too much” is, of course, to some extent also a characteristic of all saturated phenomena. Thus, although Marion draws distinctions between the four different types of saturated phenomena, depending on whether they saturate our sense of quantity, of quality, of relation, or of modality, at the same time all saturated phenomena give too much and are events in some sense.

This becomes particularly obvious in his treatment of friendship in In Excess as an example of an event, although it could be depicted equally well as an encounter with the other, characterized as an icon. And, in fact, friendship does feature in his later treatment of the erotic phenomenon.¹ The discussion of the event in In Excess develops the brief preliminary account given in Being Given. Certitudes négatives also contains a chapter on the event as the unforeseeable—interestingly enough, this is the final chapter, preceded by discussions of the human, of God, and of the gift. One may certainly also speak of an event of sacrifice or forgiveness. There is hence significant overlap between the gift or sacrifice and the event. The categories between the four types here appear to be much more fluid and the terminology of quantity, quality, relation, modality is far less prominent, although Marion briefly reiterates the distinctions among the four types in the conclusion to the book.

Marion’s discussions of phenomena of revelation blur the categories further. Do not prayer or the Eucharist constitute events of some type, maybe qualifying as “sacred events”? The event is hence not only one particular specified category of saturated phenomenon but a broader characteristic of saturated phenomena in particular and maybe all phenomena more generally. Mackinlay claims that “in its broad sense, event (referring to eventness) is a characteristic of phenomenality. When this eventness is assigned priority over other characteristics, event is normative for phenomenality.”² While he is right that the event ends up applying to all saturated phenomena in certain ways, as we see in later chapters, the work of art and the icon or face of the other and ultimately the Eucharist also become paradigms for the other saturated phenomena or even for all of phenomenality. This subtle conflation of what characterizes or distinguishes different types of saturated phenomena with what characterizes all of them, or might even be paradigmatic for all of phenomenality, may well be linked in important ways to the absolute and excessive nature Marion wants to claim for such phenomena.

Another curious feature of Marion’s discussion of the event is the fact that although Marion most often speaks of the first type of saturated phenomenon as a historical event, his examples for such historical events are almost exclusively taken from poetry and literature and not from historical writings. Thus, despite Marion’s claims that any account of history would require an “endless hermeneutics,” he does not actually engage historiography or historical writing. What I seek to argue in this chapter is that Marion’s account of history so far is too total and absolute, that historical research instead requires approximations and degrees instead of an absolute either- or account. Although we can never know what happened completely or entirely, we certainly can give better or worse accounts and need to be able to distinguish between them. To conceive of all historical events as completely saturated phenomena in some sort of absolute sense seems to make any historical research impossible, which has serious repercussions not only for historical writing, but especially for a history of the oppressed, for justice for the victims of violence in history. The injunction not to forget requires at least an approximate account of what happened, an account that gives voice to the victims by providing some kind of witness to the events.

At the same time, the notion of the saturated phenomenon does express an important aspect of historical phenomena, one difficult to grasp when treating historical research as simply “scientific.” The events of history are not identical to the “facts” of documents and archives. Historical events come in varying levels of complexity, some indeed so complex that speaking of them as “overwhelming” or “saturated” can provide important insight and remind of the dangers of over-simplification. Yet, we cannot stop there, but must go on to spell out more fully all the ways in which phenomena are more or less saturated. And while, in response to criticisms like those of Greisch, Grondin, and Kearney explored in the introduction, Marion increasingly recognizes that some element of hermeneutics may well be required for such phenomena, I want to argue much more strongly for the central and positive role of hermeneutics in the context of historical research. It matters profoundly to the victims of genocide and slaughter what sort of account we provide of what happened to them and their loved ones. The first section of this chapter discusses the more general event-like character of phenomena, and the second section focuses more specifically on the event as a saturated phenomenon. The third section turns to Marion’s discussion of the event in the context of “negative certainties.” The chapter concludes by drawing out the implications of this treatment for historical events and research, although I also comment on this throughout the chapter.

The Event as Characteristic of the Phenomenon

In his first discussion of the event, Marion distinguishes between the “in-it-self” of the object (as described by Kant) and the “self” of the phenomenon, which gives itself but not as an object (BG, 159; ED, 225). The phenomenon imposes a weight on us that hinders us from mastering it. This “self of the phenomenon is marked in its determination as event” (BG, 159; ED, 226; original emphasis). The event comes to surprise me, affects me, marks me, but cannot be produced, provoked, or controlled. The main characteristic of the event here is its lack of causality—which of course is neither a lack nor a deficiency, but a strength: it cannot be constituted in terms of cause and effect. The effect here actually precedes the cause, as we search for the cause only because of the effect—the impact the phenomenon has had on us. This event escapes metaphysics, inasmuch as it is not subject to a principle of sufficient reason, cannot be foreseen or made intelligible (BG, 160; ED, 226–27). “Event-ness” characterizes phenomena more profoundly than “object-ness” or “being-ness.”

The discussion of causality frames Marion’s account here in important ways. His goal in showing the event-character of all phenomena is primarily explicated in terms of their not being subject to causality. As causality is the most fundamental ground of the object, unforeseeability is the most fundamental characteristic of the given phenomenon. The concern about causality is firmly based on Marion’s interpretation of Descartes, where he develops a careful definition of modern metaphysics via an analysis of the onto-theo-logical nature of Descartes’s system and its various aspects. It should always be kept in mind that Marion’s writings on Descartes prepare and ground many of his phenomenological claims and insights.³ Marion repeatedly contrasts the phenomenon to the Cartesian object in terms of the principle of causality: “I suggest that phenomena as such, namely as given, not only do not satisfy this demand, but far from paying for their refusal with their unintelligibility, appear and let themselves be understood all the better as they slip from the sway of cause and the status of effect. The less they let themselves be inscribed in causality, the more they show themselves and render themselves intelligible as such. Such phenomena are named events” (BG, 162; ED, 229). Here Marion seems to indicate that intelligibility and even knowledge of such phenomena would indeed be possible. Describing them as given phenomena, as events, enables them to be understood and made intelligible—and apparently more successfully so than if they were described as objects. Yet Marion does not tell us what this understanding or intelligibility consists of, and in fact in Certitudes négatives, he seems to suggest precisely the opposite, namely that no knowledge can ever be possible and that we can be certain of this fact, certain about the continued (and infinite) incomprehensibility of such phenomena.

It is certainly true that establishing “causality” in any straightforward fashion is not the aim of historical research. Historian Ludmilla Jordanova points out the “loss of confidence in causal explanations” in historiography. Yet, while it is far from clear that historical research always aims to establish causality, it certainly does aim at providing increased understanding and intelligibility of events. Jordanova continues: “We no longer imagine that causes were either political or economic or social, but rather see all of these at work, and find them all dependent upon, or at the very least bound up with, cultural shifts, with changes in ways of understanding and feeling about the world. . . . Nor do we like the idea of invoking single causes or one type of cause, preferring to chart a wide range of factors” (original emphasis). While “confidence in causal explanation” has eroded and a variety of approaches are now pursued by historians, they still aim at “appropriate and satisfying historical explanations,” even if the criteria of “appropriateness” and “satisfaction” have shifted.⁴ One must ask, therefore, how describing the events the historian investigates as saturated phenomena might enable or at least aid such greater comprehensibility. How does this category illuminate the phenomena instead of obscuring them?

While a historical event may indeed “bedazzle” and even overwhelm us, we cannot stop there. Certainly to some extent historical research “objectifies” what it treats through the careful gathering of data and precisely by considering it as an “object” of research and investigation. Yet, a historian also recognizes that one does not come to the topic or the data without presuppositions or from a completely neutral stance. And the data and texts shape perception and comprehension of historical events in important ways. They certainly do impose themselves on the researcher in some fashion. Historians know that their investigation and depiction of historical events will never be total and will never lead to complete comprehensibility of a period, a person, or an occurrence.⁵ Historical phenomena are far too complex for simple accounts of straightforward causality or complete transparency in regard to what might have occurred. Yet it is certainly possible and a significant aim of research to shed greater light on an event, to establish some connections of correlation, and to strive for greater coherence and intelligibility, even if it can never be total or absolute. For example, after warning about “simple formulae and blanket definitions” in historical research, Jordanova reminds the reader that “just because there is an element of taste does not mean that no general criteria of judgement exist.”⁶ I return to these issues later in the chapter.

Marion does not describe the move from poor to saturated phenomenality as a process of increase in complexity or decrease of objectification. Rather, he speaks of “paradox” and “reversal” (BG, 163). We do not have less causality or more complexity, but we have its total opposite: no causality at all (he calls this “negentropy” in this context). In terms of phenomenality, the effect is first and is what makes a phenomenon appear or show itself. It hence has temporal and spatial privilege (BG, 164; ED, 231–32). The cause becomes “effect of the effect” (BG, 165; ED, 232). This is an important insight. Indeed, historical scholarship does in a sense work “backward” from effects to the tentative establishment of or at least conjecture about possible causes. Because a phenomenon occurred as a historical “event,” we are moved to try to understand it and investigate what brought it about, hence we move from effect to cause. Marion claims that effects trump causes and give them their rationality: “Causes offer reasons for effects, but solely in terms of intelligibility” (BG, 165; ED, 233). For this Marion first gives examples of technical objects, which are assessed as they “work” and not in terms of their causality.

He then illustrates this lack of causality further with an actual historical event: World War I had no clear cause, because there is an overabundance of information, an accumulation of a huge variety of facts and data (BG, 167; ED, 235). In fact, the causes for the war compete with each other and therefore no cause is adequate, nor does a combination of causality work: “The event therefore accepts all the causalities one would assign to it” (BG, 168; ED, 237). Yet, although it is certainly true that for many historical events no clear cause can be firmly established or that there are many causes that all work together in some fashion, does this really mean that there is actually no cause of any sort, that the event occurs without any causality at all? And does this imply that any cause whatsoever can be assigned to the event? That seems an arbitrary conclusion. Historical research on World War I certainly points to the complexity of this event and agrees that no single or simple cause can be assigned to the conflict. That does not mean, however, that it had no cause at all or that any cause can be given for it. Rather historians seek to illuminate the ways in which a variety of conditions, none of which are sufficient by themselves, came together and interacted with each other in manifold ways that culminated in the outbreak of war. New interpretations continually emerge that examine new aspects of the problem and may well change previous understandings and conceptions. Yet it is their goal to provide an increase in comprehension and intelligibility, not merely to confuse things further. Mere awe or bedazzlement in face of the event is not an acceptable response.⁷ I return to this contention in the final section of the chapter.

Marion asserts that the event combines necessity and contingency. It is utterly contingent in that no satisfying account of it can be given—it arises in surprising, unforeseeable, and unpredictable ways, yet it is fully accomplished and in that sense it is necessary and nonarbitrary, the center around which everything else is organized (BG, 169; ED, 238–39). And this is not just due to the complexity of the event, as Marion tries to illustrate with the taste of a piece of cake as described by Proust, a miniature event that is not on the level of great historical complexity and yet gives rise, in Marion’s view, to the same sort of surprise.⁸ The event “sums up” all the other “determinations” of the given phenomenon, precisely in its lack of causality, its unrepeatability, its excessive character. Marion insists that the event-like character of the phenomenon shows it to be a sudden and paradoxical occurrence: “The event passes directly from impossibility (in the concept, according to essence) to the fait accompli (holding the place of existence and the effect) without passing through phenomenological possibility” (BG, 173; ED, 243). In this context, the description still applies to all given phenomena, that is, to all phenomena. Later it will apply primarily, if not exclusively, to saturated phenomena.

Most interestingly, Marion here claims that the event gives rise to a “world” or even to “the world” (BG, 170; ED, 240). So there is a sense in which the event initiates a completely new way of living and experiencing and a different way of making sense of the world. Marion puts this in rather excessive terms: “The event prompts . . . the total world of history” (BG, 170; ED, 240). The event therefore becomes the origin and maybe in some sense even the cause of what goes before it. The more excessive the event, the more fully is the past experienced in light of it: “The level of eventness—if one can speak thus—is measured by the amount of the phenomenon’s excess over its antecedents” (BG, 171; ED, 241). The event is hence defined in terms of excess: it exceeds any cause or predictability and any quantity or measure. And this excess is seen to be working backward. It influences how we experience the past and interpret it in light of the event. And it is obviously the case that certain excessive or extreme events can indeed radically reshape the “world” and even profoundly influence how we view what comes before it.⁹ The event of the Holocaust fundamentally altered how German history before Hitler is interpreted. Similarly, 9/11 has reshaped U.S. self-understanding and view of the world in a significant manner. Marion himself points to this in respect to 9/11 in an interview with Dan Arbib (RC, 145, 271).¹⁰ His analysis might enable us to appreciate the profound impact of such apparently singular events in deeper ways. To call them “saturated phenomena” may well be an apt description of their “phenomenal” significance.

The Event as Saturated Phenomenon

“The saturated phenomenon is attested first in the figure of the historical phenomenon, or the event carried to its apex,” Marion affirms. It is saturated precisely because “nobody can claim for himself a ‘here and now’ that would permit him to describe it exhaustively and constitute it as an object” (BG, 228; ED, 318). This contrast to the object is central also to Marion’s later discussions of the event, including the account given in Certitudes négatives. The example he uses in both Being Given and Certitudes négatives (though not in the chapter on the event in In Excess) is the battle of Waterloo,...