Egocentricity and Mysticism

An Anthropological Study

Ernst Tugendhat, Alexei Procyshyn, Mario Wenning

• Publisher: Columbia University Press
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9780231542937
• Topic: Filosofía
• Subtopic: Existencialismo en filosofía

In Egocentricity and Mysticism, Ernst Tugendhat casts mysticism as an innate facet of what it means to be human—a response to an existential need for peace of mind. This need is created by our discursive practices, which serve to differentiate us from one another and privilege our respective first-person standpoints. Emphasizing the first person fuels a desire for mysticism, which builds knowledge of what binds us together and connects us to the world.

Any intellectual pursuit that prompts us to "step back" from our egocentric concerns harbors a mystic kernel that manifests as a sense of awe, wonder, and gratitude. Philosophy, the natural sciences, and mathematics all engender forms of mystical experience as profound as any produced by meditation and asceticism. One of the most widely discussed books by a German philosopher in decades, Egocentricity and Mysticism is a philosophical milestone that clarifies in groundbreaking ways our relationship to language, social interaction, and mortality.

PART I

Relating to Oneself

1

PROPOSITIONAL LANGUAGE AND SAYING “I”

To be sure, not everything about the structure of human self-relation [Sich-Verhalten] can be understood by analyzing the use of the word “I.” Nevertheless, a great deal follows from such an analysis, and, to my mind, it is a worthy starting point. In chapter 3, I will return to this point and develop its implications by analyzing a peculiar semantic nuance revealed by the practical usage of this word. The investigations into the notion of the good in chapters 2 and 4 should flesh out this conception of self-relation [Selbstbezug]. A consideration of the relationship to oneself [Verhältnis zu sich] will then in chapter 5 go beyond what can be clarified by examining the uses of the word “I.”

From a certain age onward, humans are “I”-sayers. But they are only capable of saying “I”—and indeed must also be so able—because they express themselves in a propositional language. The analyses of self-relation [Selbstverhältnis] that I will offer in part 1 are motivated by an idea of anthropological reflection, according to which the structure of propositional language is viewed as a product of biological evolution. From this vantage, many (though not all) of the defining features that we habitually use to characterize the difference between humans and animals—rationality, freedom, objectification of self and environment [Umwelt], awareness of values and norms, “I”-saying—become intelligible.¹

1.

Aristotle was the first to see that the fundamental differences between humans and other animals could be formulated in terms of linguistic structure. Indeed he makes this case in an isolated chapter at the beginning of his Politics (1.2.1253a7ff.). For the clarification of my own approach it is helpful to recall Aristotle’s position expressed in this passage. He compares the social structure of humanity to that of other animals, such as bees, and uses the difference in linguistic structure to illuminate the distinction between them: first, human language is a medium that enables individuals to form a social structure by relating to one another through representations of what each takes to be good; hence the question of justice always plays a role when considering human societies. Second, the fact that humans can relate to the good is grounded in the predicative structure of their language (logos). One can only have a conception [Vorstellung] of the good, as opposed to a mere sense of what is pleasant, if one understands what is good in the predicative sense of the term.

From a contemporary perspective, one could further pursue this thought as follows: whereas the behavior that makes possible social cohesion in a bee colony is genetically predetermined and operates by means of chemical triggers, the connection of individuals in human social structures depends on those individuals’ representations of what is good for them. Evolutionarily, this can be understood as a gain in the adaptability of social organizations to new environmental conditions. If the manner in which individuals are related in a social structure depends on their representations of what is good for them and hence on norms, which (like anything that is taken to be good) are in need of grounding (Aristotle’s reference to justice says this much), then the social behavior [das soziale Verhalten] for this species is not genetically predetermined, but rather verbally and culturally conditioned: social structures can be dissolved and re-created according to the contingent conditions of each case.² Aristotle’s insight that the consciousness of the good is grounded in the predicative structure of human language seems to me to have been a brilliant intuition, and I will return to it in chapter 2.

That Aristotle did not more fully develop this intuition that he presented in his Politics is a consequence of the fact that his view of the structure of human language was not yet well worked out. Nevertheless, I believe that his point of departure in the predicative structure hits on the essential.³ Only today one must speak more generally about the propositional and not merely the predicative structure of language.

2.

I speak of human language—in general—because the structure that we are concerned with is characteristic of all human languages. Apart from other aspects such as their syntactic structure, or the fact that they must be learned, all human languages distinguish themselves from the rudimentary languages of other species through the propositional structure of their semantics, whereas the languages of all other species are situation-relative signal-languages [Signalsprachen].

The paradigmatic features of propositionality are: first, that the elementary symbolic units of this language are predicative utterances—that is, they consist of a predicate (the “general term”) and one or more singular terms; second, that these utterances, and more complex ones as well, come in a variety of moods, the most basic of which being the assertoric and the practical (imperative, optative, or prepositional utterances expressing purpose [Absichtsätze]); and third, that these utterances can be negated, meaning that communication partners can relate to themselves and thereby to each other through Yes/No stances [Stellungnahmen].⁴

What the singular terms make possible is the situation-independence that is characteristic of propositional language. I will take up this issue in more detail in the next section of this chapter. The predicative utterance, and hence also every other higher-level propositional utterance, stands for something, a state of affairs, to which speaker and listener can relate—affirmatively or negatively, assertorically, or in the optative or imperative moods—as to something self-identical. Speaker and listener inform each other reciprocally about one and the same thing. No such commonly held thing is to be found in the languages of other species. For them, communication consists in a one-way transfer that follows a stimulus-response schema. In propositional languages the Yes/No stance taking takes the place of this stimulus and response. Even in the case of an imperative, whose use—one might think—should, in the manner of a stimulus, trigger an action on the part of one’s partner, the possibility of answering “No” effectively precedes the action, and here too the “No,” just like the “Yes” implicit in the action, refers to the very same thing that the speaker has in view.⁵ Both understand one and the same thing, which can, especially in an assertoric sentence, be something that has no bearing whatsoever on the speech situation at hand.

A series of further aspects is tied up with this. First, one can take a stance not only by saying “Yes” or “No,” but also by abstaining, or by questioning and, based on this questioning, also by expressing doubt or deliberation. Second, insofar as that is true, the sign acquires a function outside of communication as well—one might say for thinking the individual, but that is precisely how something like thinking arises in the first place. (Nowadays the communicative character of human language is oftentimes stressed, and in certain contexts it makes good sense to do so; but the facts of the matter [Sachverhalt] are thereby stood on their head. For the languages of all other animals are communicative, but the special achievement of propositional language is that it also has an extracommunicative function.) Third, in both theoretical and practical deliberations, what is being asked is what speaks for or against that which is said in a proposition, and that which is being inquired into in this manner is reasons.⁶ The possibility for an inquiry into reasons is built into the semantic structure of assertoric propositions [Sätze]. Wittgenstein’s famous dictum that we understand an assertoric claim [Satz] when we know what is the case if the claim is true (Tractatus 4.024) can be supplemented by saying: and this we know when we know what counts as a reason for or against it. What is being learned when we learn the semantics of a language is not simply the association with objects, but rather the identification and justification rules informing such associations. It belongs to the structure of this language that the states of affairs given in the comprehension of propositions constitute objects of possible deliberation—of a possible inquiry into reasons.

At this level of generality already certain central aspects of human behavior become comprehensible. The ability to deliberate [Überlegenkönnen], and hence to inquire into reasons [Gründen] for and against (Lat. rationes, Eng. reasons), is what is meant by rationality. Theoretical deliberation is concerned with the question of what is true, while practical reflection is aimed at the question of what is good or—as the case may be—better. (Practical reasoning arises when elementary practical utterances—expressions of purpose—are transformed into assertoric claims via the predicate “good.”) I will examine the significance that the word “good” holds for self-relation [Selbstverhältnis] in chapter 3.

Deliberation and position taking [Stellungnehmen] have in common the consciousness of having options, and this awareness underwrites what we call human freedom: I will take up this problematic in chapter 4.

It thus seems hardly plausible to see “reason” [Vernunft] as a power or faculty that humans simply “have,” given that humans manifestly can and must inquire into reasons because they inhabit the propositional structures of language. One may also find it noteworthy that, in the twentieth century, there were philosophical currents for which human freedom, or the objectification of self and one’s environment, was the reference point or benchmark of anthropological reflection (Existenzphilosophie, philosophical anthropology). Of course, it must remain an open question just how far one can go in imputing the mental traits of the human species in general to one central phenomenon, but insofar as this is possible, the propositional structure of language seems to approximate this role to the highest degree. Recently, Roger Scruton has adduced solid grounds in support of the idea that even the human understanding of music must be interpreted in terms of linguistic structure.⁷ In chapter 6, I will try to show how the phenomena of religion and mysticism can be seen in light of this structure. Naturally, there are human phenomena—one need only think of a smile—that children manifest before they have learned a language: among others, the very ability to learn such a language. This example helps make clear that there must be phenomena that do not depend upon language, but rather are genetically linked to it.

Today one ought not to proceed from a phenomenon that cannot be linked to a coherent evolutionary hypothesis.⁸ If the phenomenon of freedom were independent of language and rationality, we could not understand it descriptively (chapter 4). Moreover, even if it could be described, it would not have any intelligible biological function.

We know nothing about how human languages came into being. Among the approximately six thousand languages still in existence, there is none that is more primitive than the others. We therefore have no molds, or antecedent forms [Vorformen], for these languages. We do not know, and will probably never know, how the chasm between the languages of other species and the propositional language of humans was crossed over a period of perhaps several hundred thousand years. If we start from the finished product, however, its viability becomes manifest: with a rationality—or ability to inquire into reasons—made possible by propositional language, the species has reached an incomparably high cognitive level.

3.

Singular terms are an especially important achievement of propositional language. They make the context-independence of language possible. Without them it would be impossible for speaker and listener to intend [meinen] the same thing. Whereas the signs used in other languages can be described as quasi-predicates, which remain context-dependent [situationsbedingt],⁹ the elementary signs in propositional language (the singular predicative sentences) become—through the use of singular terms—context-independent propositions: the object designated by the singular term effectively takes the place of context [Situation].¹⁰ Humans no longer react—like other animals do—to their environment (and the linguistic signs belonging to it), but rather “refer” to individual objects that we can objectively identify in space and time, in order to say something about them via predicates. As an individual, every object is distinguishable from every other, and hence any reference to it presupposes an awareness of a universe, of a world of objects. It also presupposes the meaning of the identity sign, which is constitutive for reference (for all singular terms a, b, c, etc., we must be able to know whether a = b, etc.), as well as the unitary reference system for space and time: we would be unable to refer [referieren] to objects, if we could not make reference [bezugnehmen] to their spatiotemporal position.

This system of reference owes its existence to the fact that there is a lowermost stratum of singular terms, whose function it is to refer in a context-relative [situationsrelativ] and ultimately speaker-relative manner: “deictic” or “indexical” expressions. Singular terms would not be able to fulfill their function—namely, to make reference to spatial and temporal positions [Raum- und Zeitstellen] as well as things context-independent—if they did not comprise expressions that already refer to both spatiotemporal positions and things in such a way that they mark them as relative to the speaker’s context. The ensuing situation relativity is grounded in the fact that deictic expressions always belong to a substitution system: the day that today we designate as “tomorrow” must be designated tomorrow as “today,” and both expressions must be replaceable by “objectively localizing” expressions. The referenced day is, for example, 3/5/1936. It is thereby integrated into a system of coordinates with a specific zero-point, but no absolute values: it is identifiable for the speaker insofar as it stands in an ever-changing relation to “now” and “today” (and similarly to “here”). It is this interchangeability between deictic and objectively locating expressions that enables the speakers of a predicative language to refer to an objective universe of individuals, that is, a universe of spatiotemporal positions and objects to which one can always return from within one’s ever-changing situation as a speaker as unique and independent of this speaker-relative situation.¹¹ The reference of a proper name is only to be understood with recourse to the substitution system just described. One therefore is only able to refer to individuals if one at the same time relates to a world.

The reference to context-independent and existing individual objects occurs of course for the purpose of communication in a community of speakers. Only because a community can agree, within a world of objects, which object is intended in each case can they—in that which is said about this object—intend (or negate and so on) the same thing. The community of speakers is itself part of the universe of objects (even persons are objects in this wide sense). One can imagine both the universe of objects and the subclass of speakers as varying in size. To better illustrate: the community of speakers can very well be a family and the universe of objects a room. Family members are able to identify and distinguish among the objects in this room, and are themselves a subset of these objects. Therefore they must also be able to identify and distinguish reciprocally among themselves. A corner of the room could serve as the zero-point of spatial coordination. And then one can imagine this miniuniverse infinitely expanded, and speak of any objects in space and time. In the same way, the community of speakers can be further enlarged, beyond family members, to anyone with whom one can reach an agreement about anything at all.

One can ther...