To translate is to betray
There is a problem at the heart of existential phenomenology. The very founding call of the tradition â Edmund Husserlâs appeal to go âback to the âthings themselvesââ (Husserl, 2001, p.168) â threatens to confound us. This call roused great hope at first. Later, Herbert Marcuse, among others, saw in Martin Heidegger the possibility of âa new beginning, the first radical attempt to put philosophy on really concrete foundationsâ. He saw the possibility of a âphilosophy concerned with human existence, the human condition, and not merely with abstract conditions and principlesâ (Moran, 2000, p.245).
Both phenomenologyâs vaunting aspirations and its Achilles heel are simultaneously present here â the yearning for concrete foundations and the assumption of a homogenous human condition upon which a general philosophy of existence may be based. Despite this admirable wish to go beyond abstractions, the very notion of a human condition (alongside, for instance, the doctrine of Dasein) places abstractions at the heart of the phenomenological project. Just because an idea is conceived in terms of a philosophy of existence does not make it any less abstract than any other thought that has passed through a philosopherâs mind.
The call to return to the foundational aspects of experience inspired Heidegger. Despite his rejection of Husserlâs transcendental idealism, he went on to resurrect the antique, pre-Kantian convention of hermeneutics, a practice which is at heart âa process of reading ⌠based on a prior pre-comprehension or proto-comprehensionâ (Laplanche, 1996, p.7, emphasis added). Indeed, not only does hermeneutics rely almost entirely on Auslegung (interpretation) rather than the enshrined phenomenological method of description; it is also firmly ensconced within that thoroughly idealist philosophy which phenomenology had set to demystify in the first place. Heideggerâs disinterment of the traditional practice of hermeneutics drew significantly upon Wilhelm Dilthey and Friedrich Schleiermacher, and it was the latter who reminded us of the close connection of interpretation and translation. Habitually overlooked within traditional existential therapy, translation is central to hermeneutics; it provides the interpretive code or key; there is no hermeneutics without translation. Two important ramifications emerge from this:
(1)The translator (the hermeneut) is none other than the old unreconstructed Cartesian cogito. No matter how inventively cloaked he/she may be (as shepherd of being, Dasein, herald of so-called authenticity, etc.), we are still faced with the same, inescapably self-bound adult human.
(2)Tradurre è tradire, as a proverbial Italian saying has it: to translate is (despite our best intentions) to betray. It inevitably appropriates and modifies (consciously or not) the clinical content the hermeneut attempts to interpret or describe.
A credible and ingenious way out of this impasse was offered by Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1968, 1942/1983, 1945/1989) through his constant reminder of the possibility of an embodied interpretation of the world, radically different to that of an abstract interpreter or cognitive âexperiencerâ. Regrettably, despite a handful of in-depth studies at the outer reaches of the existential tradition (e.g., Bazzano, 2014; Cayne, 2014; Harrison, 2014; Kennedy, 2014; Moreira, 2014; Synesiou, 2014; Welsh, 2014), plus sporadic intonations of favourite passages from Phenomenology of Perception (Merleau-Ponty 1945/1989), Merleau-Pontyâs coherent and far-reaching approach hasnât altered traditional existential therapy, particularly in the way it is taught and practised in the U.K. A close look at the studies cited earlier may help us understand why Merleau-Ponty offers real promise to those who feel constrained by the medical model and Cartesian/Kantian dualisms and who wish for a more experiential exploration of the life-world.
Was Heidegger a phenomenologist?
The manner in which Heidegger frames his question of Being casts a long shadow over the existential-phenomenological tradition. Simply put, in Husserl we have a transcendental subject that apprehends a transcendental object. Heideggerâs Dasein apprehends the disclosure (aletheia) of the world and the entities within it: a movement from truth as transcendent knowledge to the truth of transcendental revelation. Heideggerâs conceptualization of aletheia and the manner in which it relates to âtruthâ changed over time, and by the late 1960s, when he wrote Zur Sache des Denkens (Heidegger, 2002), we find aletheia as disclosure or an opening. This is the opening up to Dasein of presence, the presence of the world and the entities of the world. If aletheia is to be thought of as truth, it is truth in the ontological context of Daseinâs mode of being-in-the-world. Moreover, the existence of such âtruthâ and of Dasein itself are unified in the Being behind/within all beings â everything that âisâ shares in Being. Hence, Heideggerâs ontology, his theory of Being, is a unifying project with aletheia, despite Heideggerâs attempts to place it in the world, becoming effectively part of an overarching transcendental theory.
One may sensibly ask: âWhy should practicing therapists bother themselves with such abstruse metaphysical reflections any more than pursue the question of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?â Well, we hold that it is relevant because a Heideggerian perspective, despite its âworldingâ, threatens to disembody and tame experience in the service of an abstraction called âBeingâ. Though it is an entirely philosophical abstraction, âBeingâ is held as the fundamental and omnipresent reality, which supposedly grounds and unifies our experience of the world. Why do we label it an abstraction? Because while beings and processes are, in a sense, everywhere to be seen, âBeingâ proves to be more than a little elusive; it might just be a thought in a philosopherâs mind.
It is because of the purported unity of Being and Dasein that the latter can allegedly experience things as they present themselves to be experienced. It appears to guarantee that a âphenomenonâ can be something more than âmerelyâ a transient phenomenon (because it has Being behind its being, so to speak). The phenomenon, thus, can become disclosed and truly present and thereby understandable and interpretable, not just any-old-how, but in a grounded and authentic way. Thus understood, Heidegger is not, strictly speaking, a phenomenologist, for his interest in any given phenomenon (literally âthat which arisesâ in the process of becoming) is only as a preliminary study, as it were, to the disclosure of Being. Our engagement with the world, by this view, becomes authentic when it acknowledges and embraces the nature of Being, of our existential mode of being-in-the-world. With Heidegger, the very language of experience and existence becomes a language of Being. Being-with, Being-towards, etc. and with this, as Derrida observed, comes the imagery of presence and immediacy that Derrida (1978) critiques as metaphysics of presence.
Derrida valued much in Heidegger, agreeing with him that philosophy, thinking and, indeed, language were impossible without some form of metaphysics â a going beyond, or transcendence, and a going âbackâ towards some ultimate ground or root. However, although Derrida held that we cannot exit metaphysics, his deconstruction constantly sought to show the ultimate contingency and groundlessness of overarching metaphysical systems. In all forms of discourse, he sought that which is privileged or raised above, and what is deployed as a foundation. These tell us a great deal about the founding, and normally unacknowledged, values implicit to the discourse.
Even here he was profoundly influenced by Heidegger, with Derridaâs âdeconstructionâ finding its inspiration in Heideggerâs destruktion. Destruktion was, itself, aimed at earlier ontological thinking. However, what this earlier thought shares with Heideggerâs new existential ontology is its desire for wholeness, truth and presence â the unifying wholeness demanded in all metaphysics. Like all holism(s), however, Heideggerâs project finds its very wholeness not simply through what it prioritizes and valorizes but in what it excludes in forging this unity. A unity is simply not possible that encompasses all difference. Something is always jettisoned for the sake of coherence and consistency.
Motherâs cooking
Heidegger extols a return to Being, a homecoming in which our mode of being and even our language comes closer to the reality of aletheia itself. It is not difficult, though, to see the contingency of some of Heideggerâs core notions, with some of his values simply elevating his predilections to an unwarranted status. One finds, we believe, a frankly absurd example of this in Heideggerâs examination of the relation of language to Being. According to Heidegger, the Ancient Greek and German languages have a closer, more immediate relationship to Being than do other, dare we say degenerate, languages. Even the German language, however, has become tired and fallen. In Being and Time, Heidegger writes that âthe ultimate business of philosophy is to preserve the force of the most elemental words in which Dasein expresses itselfâ (1927/1962, p.262). To deconstruct this is not difficult. Heidegger preferred German and Ancient Greek, language, ideas and values. Bravo, but donât try to sell this to us as a fundamental truth about being-in-the-world!
His stance is obviously at odds with the tradition in philosophy, semantics and semiotics initiated by Saussure, in which language is regarded by its nature as separate from being. It is the wonder and the creative potential of language that there are not âelemental wordsâ. Words find their meaning, according to Derrida and others, through a dynamic, unstable, unfolding web of associations. No word is elemental, and no meaning should be clung to as if it were, in itself, âthe real thingâ.
The notion of elemental language is, at heart, a mystical one and we certainly find it in many traditions. For instance, if we wander a little from European shores, the Vedic tradition regards Sanskrit as sacred and the utterance of sacred words, vac, are non-different from the divine reality itself. From this we get the chanting of mantras, etc. The vibration of the word âKrishnaâ is Krishna. Heidegger may not go this far but he believes that certain words and certain languages have a more direct connection to Being. They disclose the world in a more immediate manner, make it more authentically present.
We believe that this is one of the reasons that Heidegger still appeals to many humanistic and existential psychotherapists who have a yearning for âthe sacredâ, for the ground of Being. Despite his dance of a thousand veils that shroud aletheia, Heidegger still tantalizes us with the anticipation of direct contact with Being and, perhaps, with the prospect of âbeing fully present in the here and nowâ. His evident bias towards Ancient Greece and Germany, however, is informative. It affirms how pervasive nationalistic and parochial attitudes can be. My language is special, authentic; it must be protected from outsiders and degeneration. But there is nothing âontologicalâ about this. It is the preference of one man for his motherâs cooking.
This âmetaphysics of presenceâ contains the prospect of an immediate (i.e., unmediated) access to Being or even to the presence of oneâs own Dasein, and is quite at odds with Derridaâs diffĂŠrance â the idea that meaning is always deferred into the web of meaning and cannot be disclosed in its âownmostâ being or possibility (Derrida, 1978). The âsystemâ of meaning, moreover, is also contingent and incomplete: neither in the most exhaustive dictionaries nor in the most revelatory revelations do we uncover uniquely true or original meanings. The world and our own selves, therefore, maintain a dimension of unknowability, strangeness and of emergent possibility.
And herein lies the danger of âback to the things themselvesâ. The âthings themselvesâ in-themselves are not available to us, except in fantasy. Phenomena are mediated and become âthemselvesâ in relation to other âthingsâ in the context of a âworldâ of experience. Perhaps, then, a phenomenologist might better ground understanding not through direct access to phenomena, but rather, through the system of signification itself, the âlife-worldâ. Here the focus is not upon individual phenomena but upon the meaning system in which phenomena emerge. This, however, may simply bump the problem down the road â to find the true meaning in the system itself and, perhaps, in the human capacity to systematize. This, for example, is how the influential structuralist Claude Levi-Strauss approaches the meaning of diverse myths in his seminal study Myth and Meaning (1978/2005) and this is, of course, typical of âstructuralismâ.
Relatedness as normative ideal
âWorld viewâ and âworldingâ â with the attendant structures of meanin...