Empedocles 1.1

Empedocles European Journal for
the Philosophy of Communication

Volume 1 Number 1 2009
Aims and Scope Editor
Empedocles aims to provide a publication and discussion platform for those work- Johan Siebers
ing at the interface of philosophy and the study of communication, in all its aspects. Senior Lecturer English
The editors believe that philosophical reflection and analysis regarding communi- Language and Linguistics
cation is an intellectually exciting enterprise in its own right, but also important for Course Leader, M.A. Rhetoric,
today’s globalising and increasingly mediatised societies. They also believe that School of Journalism, Media
approaching traditional philosophical disciplines, topics and questions from the and Communication, Fylde 409
point of view of the impact communicative action and practices have on them is a
University of Central
necessary but underdeveloped area of intellectual activity.
Lancashire
Preston, United Kingdom
Advisory Board PR1 2HE
Colin Grant – University of Surrey JISiebers@uclan.ac.uk
Nick Couldry – Goldsmiths College, University of London
Th.C.W. Oudemans – University of Leiden
Vincent Blok – Louis Bolk Institute
Associate Editors
Bas Van Aarle – European Business School, Wiesbaden Tino Meitz
University of Tübingen
Robert Craig – University of Colorada at Boulder
tino.meitz@uni-tuebingen.de
Francesca Vidal – Universitaet Koblenz-Landau
Naomi Segal – School of Advanced Study, University of London Bart Vandenabeele
Stanley Deetz – University of Colorada at Boulder University of Ghent
Ed McLuskie – Boise State University bart.vandenabeele@ugent.be
Onora O’Neill – University of Cambridge
Richard Lanigan – Southern Illinois University Vincenzo Romania
Dirk Baecker – Zeppelin University University of Padua
vincenzo.romania@gmail.com
Reviews Editor
Vivienne Boon
University of Surrey
v.boon@surrey.ac.uk
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Empedocles: European Journal for the Philosophy of Communication
Volume 1 Number 1 © 2009 Intellect Ltd
Editorial. English language. doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.5/2
Editorial
Of all things, communication is the most wonderful.
(John Dewey, 1939)
With this first issue of Empedocles, the editors hope to have created a
place and a process for the exploration of the interactions between phi-
losophy, communication as a phenomenon and a practice, and the
study of communication in the humanities and in science. Philosophy
has always been a love of speech, of voicing, of ‘saying what is’ or
‘making it explicit’ and has shown it can be a love of other forms of
communication too: writing, printing and electronic communication.
The ties between philosophy and communication are deep and linked
to the place language-use, communication, has in human life, in the
idea of shared humanity – either confirmed or contested – in the analy-
sis of the true, the good and the beautiful, in the who and what of relat-
edness. But (as Eli Dresner argues in this issue) the philosophy of
communication is not simply a sub-discipline of the philosophy of lan-
guage; the relation between the theory of language and the theory of
communication is a contested matter.
As with several forms of the ‘philosophy of …’, it is the historical and
cultural context that defines the urgency of philosophical reflection.
Philosophy of nature, religion, law, science and language reflected the
efficaciousness – as well as the problematical aspects – of certain and
they established themselves as philosophical disciplines in their own
right in this process. The philosophy of communication, reflectively
identified, is a new field – and its emergence today shows the vitality of
philosophy as it turns reflection on the phenomena of mediation and
communication, which are taking up an ever more important place in a
variety of strata of social and cultural life, the human and natural sci-
ences and art. Frankly, its emergence also shows, or is tainted by, the
institutionalized fragmentation of intellectual life – this tension is one I
wish to neither cover up nor assign a ready interpretation. But it appears,
I would say, in practice, for the academic researcher, that it is only in
this fragmentation that philosophy can, perhaps, retain its promise of a
thinking of the whole – in which, surely, its critical function must lie. To
the extent that this is true, the philosophy of communication would,
also, have to develop its own form of a ‘negative dialectic’ – of the
endeavour of thought, recommended by Hegel, to keep representation
at bay and thought open. The practices of communication offer, perhaps,
a particularly rich field for such an endeavour.
All of this is, of course, not to say that there has been no philosophy
of communication before. Several scholarly publications in the last dec-
ades carry these words in their titles; from Nietzsche’s speeches of
EJPC 1 (1) pp. 5–7 © Intellect Ltd 2009 5
EJPC_1.1_Editorial_05-08.indd 5 11/19/09 4:42:06 PM

Zarathustra to Adorno’s critique of the jargon of authenticity – to name
just two examples from one particular tradition – communication has
been, if implicitly, a theme. Kierkegaard has been called the first media
philosopher; speech-act theory thrives; Habermas has become the most
influential of all contemporary thinkers. But long before the beginning
of the European philosophical tradition, questions of communication
were being discussed by philosophers, and the understanding of the
nature and purpose of philosophical thinking itself has been influenced
by developments in communicative cultures and forms of mediation.
The quarrel between rhetoric and philosophy at the time of Athenian
sophism defined philosophy as a cultural form which remained
unchanged, at least until the end of the eighteenth century – in a sense,
it could be said that what, for most of European history, has been
understood by ‘philosophy’ is ‘the/an other of rhetoric’. But rhetoric is
the study and the art of communication – or, with a richer as well as
poorer term, speech. With Kant’s Copernican revolution, the status of
communication for philosophical thought changed, and became more
important – the community of intellectuals and philosophers became
the engine and criterion of the growth of knowledge; this elevated com-
munication to the status of the process by which insight advances and
through which the only workable conception of truth could be formu-
lated. Pragmatism is the clear heir to this communicative revolution
in the eighteenth century. At the same time the dialogical dimension
of language use and activity of thinking was conceptualized (from
Hamann onwards), and this strand of thought has continued to develop
in dialogical forms of philosophising and informing: for example, both
hermeneutics and the theory of communicative rationality. In phenom-
enology and (post-) structuralism, parole has long been, and continues
to be, a topos for thought. But there are many other discourses that bear
on communication, which all will have a place in this journal.
In the present context, as a global society is emerging on the basis of
the communicative infrastructure computer technology offers, philoso-
phy turns again to communication, its practices and institutions – to its
normative, ideological, epistemological and ontological dimensions, as
well as to an all-too-easy use of the word in politics as well as in intel-
lectual analysis. But also, as before, communication practices and cul-
tures, and the study of these practices and cultures, changes the practise
of philosophy. Empedocles hopes to act as a catalyst for discussion and
research across all dimensions of this interaction.
Empedocles, early democrat, inventor of rhetoric (according to
Aristotle), early dialectical thinker who understood the ontological sig-
nificance of the paradoxical unity of love and hate, harmony and strife,
unity and difference – and what is communication if not the precarious
engagement with this paradox? – is, to borrow a phrase by Marx, a saint
on the philosophical calendar. One whose time it always is.
He also prefigures a relation to non-human nature that, it seems to
me, is part and parcel of the philosophical reflection on and analysis of
communication. Its boundaries are not well understood, its place in
nature little more. When I proposed the journal name, one of our advi-
sory board members reminded me of the story of Empedocles, leaping
6 Editorial

into the crater of mount Etna, leaving one of his sandals behind. A sign,
a semiotic convention, the watch on the beach – someone was here – but
more than that, a thought – communication as an ‘art of vanishing’.
Someone else reminded me of the journal by the same name, edited by
Albert Camus. The mediterranization of philosophy, its connection to
life as it is lived, in its own pace and with its own demands and move-
ments; the incommensurability, the absurdity, of a thinking of commu-
nication in the present conditions – I hope all this will, from time to
time, blow through the texts published here: “Speed is the mask of
inconsistency. Philosophy must propose a retardation process. It must
construct a time for thought, which, in the face of the injunction to speed,
will constitute a time of its own.” (Alain Badiou 2004, 51)
In this first issue, communication is conceptualized philosophically
in a variety of ways. There are contributions from both continental as
well as analytical philosophical traditions, and there are also contribu-
tions that approach their topic more from the angle of communication
and cultural studies. Elena Fell considers ontological questions in the
context of a sketch of a Bergsonian theory of communication; Bergson’s
concept of duration is presented as offering possibilities for an ontology
of communication, but as also requiring further development. Daniel
O’Brien considers issues of trust and testimony in an article that analy-
ses these topics in the context of an analytical philosophy of friendship
relations. Communication within philosophy is examined in Vincent
Blok’s study of Heidegger’s reading of Nietzsche, in which the meaning
of a confrontation in thought is brought to light. The fundamental ques-
tion as to the status of the philosophical theory of communication in
relation to language, the social and the mind, is addressed by Eli Dresner,
who, in a discussion of Davidson’s philosophy, argues for the thesis that
communication precedes language, mind and society – and therefore, so
should the theory of communication precede the theory of language, the
social and mind. Tsuriel Raschi and Juan Miguel Aguado consider phil-
osophical aspects of mass media processes and systems. Raschi consid-
ers the ethics of mass-mediated communication in a consideration of
different philosophical conceptualizations of the obligation to know and
the right to know; Aguado outlines a systems-theoretical epistemology
of the mass media. The polemical discussion by Lydia Sanchez and
Manual Campos concerns realism in the theory of communication, and
also addresses the biological and sensorial basis of communication for
communication theory. The topos of the Golem, and with it questions of
matter and spirit, nature and technology, are discussed by Daniel
Cabrera in an article in which the history of technological development
is placed in relation to contemporary attitudes to communication
media.
Johan Siebers
Editor
Reference
Badiou, A. (2004), Infinite Thought, London: Continuum.
Editorial 7

“ An idea
is a point of departure
and no more. As soon
as you elaborate it, it
becomes transformed
by thought.
Pablo Picasso
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”
Empedocles European Journal for the Philosophy of Communication
Article. English language. doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.9/1
Beyond Bergson: the ontology

of togetherness
Elena Fell University of Central Lancashire
Abstract Keywords
Bergson’s views on communication can be deduced from his theory of selfhood, Bergson
in which he identifies the human self as heterogeneous duration – a complex Ontology
process that can only be adequately understood from within, when we intuit Intuition
our own inner life. Another person, accessing us from outside, inevitably dis- Duration
torts and misunderstands our nature because duration is incommunicable. Heterogeneity
Does Bergsonism assert the failure of communication in principle? No, if we French philosophy
develop Bergson’s theory further and identify the process of communication as
heterogeneous duration. As such, it is intuited from within by its participants
who engage with each other in the process of dealing with the same object.
They intuit the process of which they are part and thus intuit each other’s
involvement in it as well. To appreciate the importance of this implicit mutual
communicative engagement we only need to imagine an empty airport with
just one passenger or a deserted pleasure beach.
Bergson does not have a theory of communication per se but his views on
communication can be extracted from his ontology and epistemology. These
views may account for some apparent failures of communication – conflicts,
loneliness, hostility – and Bergson uses them to suggest a way out towards
better and more harmonious intersubjective relations.
Bergson claims that we misunderstand reality in general and each other
in particular. Instead of trying to grasp human nature directly in intui-
tion we analyse its being and create a distorted view of one another. If we
were able to conceive the human self as it is, we would see it as duration
and might be able to reach the state of an open society where people’s love
towards one another is ontologically backed up by their openness towards
each other’s being.
However, the Bergsonian theory of duration and intuition, promising to
resolve the difficulties of communication, reasserts these difficulties meta-
physically. The idea of duration entails the impossibility of accessing it from
outside, as the genuine view of it is only possible from within. This paper,
instead of trying to salvage a model of communication where people strive to
intuit each other’s uniqueness, locates intuition in the very act of communi-
cation. Bergson himself finds intuition in artistic creation where the artist
and spectators communicate by intuiting a common object without learning
any personal details about each other. We find that communication is itself
duration and that the communicating participants are heterogeneous elements
of that duration. As such they are subservient to the act of communication
that displays features of autonomous existence. Our model of communication,
EJPC_1.1_art_Fell_009-026.indd 9 11/19/09 4:41:06 PM

although accepting the impenetrability of one’s person for a complete cognitive
penetration from outside, allows for the partial fusion of minds engaged in the
same act of communication and negotiating the same subject matter.
The solitude of selfhood: demonstration of analysis

and intuition
Bergson distinguishes two ways in which we can be acquainted with the
world and people in it: we can either immerse ourselves in their being,
sympathizing with them and grasping their true nature or we can observe
them from outside, analyse what we perceive and reconstruct the whole
object using the fragmented information collected along the way. The
view from inside, which Bergson calls intuition, gives us an instant and
simple vision of an infinitely complex reality. Regretfully, we most often
exercise the other approach and, remaining outside things and beings,
distort reality and modify it according to our practical requirements.
According to Bergson, reality is dynamic, diverse and abundant, but we
divide it up mentally into stable and static fragments that our mind is
capable of grasping and, when these fragments are rearranged again to
make a compete picture, we end up with a one-sided, simplified and
hence false representation of reality. When we communicate, we do not
address people as they are but as they appear through the prism of our
rational analytical interpretation. The real person is out of our reach, so
no wonder our communications entail misunderstandings and conflicts.
If instead we could master and practice intuition, we would gain an
insight into another person’s being, an insight that would bring along
mutual understanding and mutual sympathy.
In order to demonstrate the difference between intuition that is
faithful to the full and vibrant flow of reality and analysis that alters
and simplifies it, I will compare two literary texts that could be said to
exemplify these methods. In one of them events are presented in an
obviously fallacious manner, exaggerating the work of analysis. The
other endeavours to offer a matter-of-fact, realistic and detailed account
of the events as they may have happened for real, thus exemplifying
the tendency to intuit.
The texts in question, Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas and The
Chronicle of the Reign of Charles IX by Prosper Mérimée, have similar sto-
rylines. In both narratives young men (d’Artagnan and George Mergy
respectively), albeit separated by some two hundred years of the history
of Europe, are involved in adventures that revolve around France and
the French court. The authors often put their heroes’ lives in danger, but
whereas reading about d’Artagnan we may feel thrilled and excited,
Mergy’s predicaments are more likely to make us feel troubled and
uneasy, as predicaments actually do. In the swift and exhilarating narra-
tive of Three Musketeers we read:
[T]he gentleman drew his sword and swooped upon d’Artagnan; but he
had a strong opponent to contend with.
In three seconds, d’Artagnan had given him three strokes of the sword,
saying at each stroke:
10 Elena Fell

“One for Athos, one for Porthos, one for Aramis!”
At the third stroke, the gentleman fell in a heap.
D’Artagnan thought he was dead, or at least unconscious, and went up

to him to take the order; but just as he reached out to search him, the
wounded man, who had not let go of his sword, thrust the point into his
chest, saying:
“And one for you!”
“And one for me! Saving the best for last!” d’Artagnan cried, furious, and
pinned him to the ground with a fourth stroke through the stomach.
This time the gentleman closed his eyes and passed out.
D’Artagnan rummaged in the pocket where he had seen him put the order
of passage, and took it. It was in the name of comte de Wardes.
Then, casting a glance on the handsome young man, who was barely
twenty-five years old, and whom he left lying there, insensible and perhaps
dead, he heaved a sigh over the strange destiny that leads men to destroy
each other for the interests of people who are strangers to them and who
often do not even know that they exist.
(Dumas 2006: 216–217)
The above extract portrays an incident of an attempted murder in

such a light-hearted manner as if it were a demonstration of dexterity
and fencing skills, an impromptu dance. The ghastly content of the
story is masked so well by the cheerfulness of the narrative that danger
appears thrilling and not really dangerous, wounds do not hurt and it
does not hurt to wound. But this interpretation of fighting and injuring
someone is clearly incorrect, as the normal, attractive person that
d’Artagnan is supposed to be would not injure someone cheerfully
and light-heartedly. Dumas obviously tampers with the idea of a sword-
fight in order to produce an image of it that amuses and entertains; in
the Bergsonian terms, he breaks this idea down to its minute elements
and reconstructs it to serve the needs of his narration, inevitably stray-
ing from the truth.
The description of a swordfight in The Chronicle of the Reign of Charles
IX is more thorough, more distressing and more credible.
Before Comminges could draw back his sword, Mergy struck him with
his dagger on the head so violently that he himself lost his balance and fell
to the ground. Comminges dropped at the same time, so that the seconds
thought them both dead.
Mergy was soon on his feet, and his first motion was to pick up his
sword which he had let slip in his fall. Comminges did not stir. Béville
lifted him up, and wiping with a handkerchief his face, which was
drenched in blood, saw that the dagger had entered the eye, and that
his friend had been killed on the spot, the steel having beyond all doubt
pierced the brain.
(Mérimée 1906: 144–145)
Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 11

Whereas d’Artagnan, leaving comte de Wardes to bleed, merely
‘heave[s] a sigh’ and dashes off to continue his audacious expedition,
Mergy ‘stare[s] at the corpse with haggard eyes’ (Mérimée 1906: 145).
He ‘shiver[s] all over, and great tears beg[i]n to trickle down his
cheeks’(Mérimée 1906: 146), which is a more plausible reaction to hav-
ing killed a person than d’Artagnan’s ‘heaving a sigh’.
Despite defeating their adversaries, both men are themselves
slightly wounded. When d’Artagnan’s servant reminds his master of
the wound, d’Artagnan says: ‘It’s nothing. Let’s deal with what’s most
urgent; then we can come back to my wound, which anyhow doesn’t
seem very dangerous to me’ (Dumas 2006: 217). After that they ride
off ‘with great strides’ (Dumas 2006: 217). Mergy, on the other hand,
spends a few days convalescing and reflecting on his horrible experi-
ence, and Mérimée initiates us into his state of mind.
When you have killed a man, and when this man is the first you have
killed, you are haunted for some time, and especially at nightfall, by the
memory and the look of the last struggle that ushered in his death. The
mind is so full of gloomy thoughts, that it is hard to take part even in
the most trivial conversation; all talk wearies and annoys; while, on the
other hand, solitude is dreaded because it strengthens the oppression
of fancy. Despite the frequent visits of Béville and the captain, Mergy
spent the days immediately succeeding his duel in the deepest sadness.
A sharp touch of fever, brought on by his wound, kept him sleepless at
night, and this was his worst time.
(Mérimée 1906: 151–152)
Whilst reading Dumas’s hilarious tale, we tend to skim the surface of the
events. Reading Mérimée, we tend to become immersed in what is hap-
pening, sharing the characters’ moods and feelings as they may have
taken place. Neither narrative is a perfect example of either simplification
of reality or intuitive grasp, but each indicates a tendency towards one of
the epistemological standpoints proposed by Bergson. Of course,
Mérimée’s story is also written with a certain purpose, and imaginary
reality is selected and manipulated to produce a certain effect on the
reader, but the author aims at giving a realistic account of Mergy’s experi-
ences and tries to initiate the reader into the mind of a duellist and let him
or her learn how one really may feel after a successful contest. Whereas
Dumas analyses, simplifies and distorts facts, Mérimée tries to follow
them accurately in their complexity and originality, to intuit them.
Dumas’s attention-grabbing narrative, where a series of crimes is
skilfully presented as a string of breathtaking and enviable experiences,
shows to what extent we can manipulate reality in our minds; this,
according to Bergson, happens in our interactions with reality all the
time. Whilst perceiving something or someone, we present them to our-
selves in the way that it fits with our wants, simplifying their nature,
creating a one-sided picture of them and constructing an image exceed-
ingly removed from the truth.
Are the problems in our communications due to the fact that we
treat each other like Dumas treats d’Artagnan and comte de Wardes,
12 Elena Fell

without making an effort to understand what it is like to be someone
else? Would the situation improve if we attempted to get into the heart
of psychological events like Mérimée does? The Bergsonian answer
would be yes, intuiting each other would bring harmony and happi-
ness into society, and this paper tests the validity of this claim.
The solitude of selfhood: from intelligence and instinct

to intuition
According to Bergson, instinct and intelligence are not successive
degrees of one and the same tendency but two qualitatively different
epistemological tendencies that are linked to the practical needs of
their agents. Animals need their instinct to direct them towards sources
of food, and rationality is used to modify environment to suit the needs
of human beings.
Intelligence looks at matter – and consequently at everything else –
with the view of modifying it whilst building tools and thus regards it as
a substance capable of adopting any form. There is a limit to what extent
real matter can be decomposed and reassembled, but the mind disregards
the matter’s real limitations and treats it as decomposable in principle.
Thus ‘the intellect is characterized by the unlimited power of decompos-
ing according to any law and of recomposing into any system.’ (Creative
Evolution (CE): 165)
We have seen in Dumas’s example the unlimited agility of intellectual
analysis where a horrific event is reworked to produce a hilarious tale. If
necessary, the same event could be made into a funny, spooky or moving
story, depending on the author’s aim and regardless of the boundaries of
the event itself. All this is possible because on the metaphysical level, ‘[t]
he intellect represents becoming as a series of states, each of which is homo-
geneous with itself and consequently does not change’ (CE: 171; my
emphasis). If we attempt to reveal the internal change occurring within
one of those states, we break it up into another series of states, and so on,
and becoming and reality per se escape our understanding.
Instinct on the other hand can comprehend creation. It is moulded
on the very form of dynamic life and, while intellect employs a
mechanical approach to everything, instinct proceeds organically. The
work of nature that creates organisms is, according to Bergson, contin-
ued in instinct, which is a natural ability to use an inborn mechanism.
Instinct is a prolongation of the work of life and, if it were conscious,
‘it would give up to us the most intimate secrets of life’ (CE: 174).
Unfortunately, what is instinctive cannot be expressed in terms of
intelligence, because instinctive activity is unconscious. Bergson con-
cludes: ‘There are things that intelligence alone is able to seek, but
which, by itself, it will never find. These things instinct alone can find;
but it will never seek them’ (CE: 159).
Intuition appears on the scene as the epistemological faculty that tran-
scends both intelligence and instinct and compensates for their deficien-
cies. Intuition is described as ‘instinct that has become disinterested,
self-conscious, capable of reflecting upon its object and of enlarging it
indefinitely’ (CE: 186). An epistemological triumph over the rusty ways of
our imperfect rational reasoning, the intuitive insight initiates our mind

into the essence of the object, which makes intuitive knowledge independ-
ent from a subjective point of view. Whereas in analysis we remain out-
side the object and move round it, in intuition we use our imagination to
immerse into the object. In analysis we break the object down to familiar
elements and then attempt to reconstruct the original, but in intuition we
coincide with the object as a whole. Thus intuition is a simple act, whilst
the stages of analysis can go on indefinitely. Intuitive knowledge reflects
the real, dynamic thing, superseding conceptual knowledge, which crys-
tallizes the moving object into artificially constructed but practically man-
ageable schemas and symbols.
Bergson demonstrates the possibility of evoking intuition in the per-
ception of motion. When we lift the arm, our mind, in its intellectual
mode, does not imagine beforehand nor perceives ‘all the elementary
contractions and tensions this act involves’ but ‘is carried immediately
to the end … to the schematic and simplified version of the act supposed
accomplished’ (CE: 315–316). The movement of the arm takes place by
itself without the accompaniment of the conscious attention and fills the
gaps between the imagined points of rest. To evoke an intuitive percep-
tion of this movement our consciousness must detach itself from the
anticipated image of the completed act and concentrate on the move-
ment that is going on at the time of perception. One must become aware
of the immediacy and resist the temptation to reflect on the past phases
and anticipate the following ones. As the movement unrolls, our con-
scious awareness must flow with it, coinciding with its unfolding. This
would give us an immediate and uncontaminated insight into reality,
disclosing to our mind duration as an indivisible fusion of successive
moments. Unlike conceptual recognition, intuitive perception itself is a
simple and indivisible act, the duplicate of duration, which it mirrors in
an act of conscious awareness.
The exercise described above is within the range of human abili-
ties and shows that intuition is attainable in principle. But if we can
intuit the movement of one’s own arm, does it follow that we can
intuit conscious processes and thus enhance communication with fel-
low humans?
Intuiting psychological duration

Our misconception of concrete people and events stems from a deep-
seated tendency to treat fleeting reality, including consciousness, as
static things; if we could effortlessly intuit human consciousness, we
would see it for what it is: a multiplicity of states that permeate one
another and do not exist in separation. For example, we would not sep-
arate our being sad an hour ago and being happy now but we would
recognize that our earlier state of mind contributes something to our
later state of mind: perhaps an event that has made us smile now would
not have made us smile had we not been sad previously.
An inner multiplicity, generated within consciousness, is distinct
from extensive, measurable magnitudes found outside consciousness.
An externally, spatially posited multiplicity contains countable units,
whereas the inner multiplicity is a qualitative diversity and cannot be
considered in numerical terms. Enumeration implies countable items,
14 Elena Fell

identical in nature but distinct from one another in their spatial posi-
tion; otherwise they would merge into a single unit. Counting, Bergson
argues, involves juxtaposition of units, setting them alongside one
another – the procedure only being possible in space and not in time.
Consciousness, on the other hand, belongs to the domain of time,
‘pure duration’: this is the realm of the unextended and the intense.
True time, consciousness, duration is ‘nothing but a succession of
qualitative changes, which melt into and permeate one another, with-
out precise outlines, without any tendency to externalise themselves
in relation to one another, without any affiliation with number: it [is]
pure heterogeneity’ (Time and Free Will (TFW): 104).
Bergson asserts the dynamic self which does not endure through
time, preserving some stable core of its identity – it is time in the way
that it captures inner processes as they are and incorporates them into
itself. Psychological duration is not a succession of clearly defined and
mutually external units but is a heterogeneous continuity of qualita-
tively diverse successive phases ontologically bound with one another.
There is no distinction between the duration itself and its content, and
processes that constitute duration constitute embodied time in their
ceaseless emergence.
We can intuit our own conscious processes if we stop thinking of
our own self as made up of separate perceptions, memories and feel-
ings and accept that our self is a continuous flux of interconnected
processes, recognizing that ‘[t]here is a succession of states, each of
which announces that which follows and contains that which pre-
cedes it’ and that ‘[n]o one of them begins or ends, but all extend into
each other’ (An Introduction to Metaphysics (IM): 25).
We must let our consciousness fix its attention on the immediate
phase of our psychological life without trying to name our current
state, without reflecting on the past, however immediate, and without
anticipating the future, however proximate. Our conscious awareness
would then temporally coincide with the actual being of our psyche
and follow emotions and sensations as they unfold. For Bergson, this
is the only way we could grasp duration, which ‘can be presented to
us directly in an intuition’ and ‘can never … be enclosed in a concep-
tual representation’ (IM: 30).
Bergson asserts that primarily we do grasp our own conscious states
as they occur – permeating one another, melting into one another and
forming an organic whole. Our feelings, perceptions and sensations
emerge as ever changing and fluid, and only the necessity to rationalize
and verbalize our conscious life brings about the edited, distorted pic-
ture of selfhood. We acknowledge our states of mind at the same time
as they occur, but our thought does not remain dissolved in the emo-
tional and sensual flux. Our orienteering in the world requires attention
to the objects of thought, and if the object of thought is our own feel-
ings, we need to pay attention to them. An attentive act takes some
time: if we focus on our inner psychological event that is happening at
time t, our thought of it does not expire when the time t passes. We
continue pondering on the event that happened at time t during time t’,
and our attentive act has inevitable side effects. Firstly, we miss events

that happened after time t and which are happening at time t’. Secondly,
our representation of time t and of the events that happened at time t is
distorted because we no longer perceive these events in their fluidity.
Rational attention, it seems, necessarily involves this misshapen per-
ception of the world and people in it.
The primary experiencing of the self in its fundamental and most
true form occurs in dreams, or in inattentive perception of sounds – in
other words, at a pre-reflective stage, when the self lets itself relax. Then
the self is detached from the external world and can just be itself with-
out coordinating its fleeting elements with external markers. But as soon
as we ‘wake up’, we align the events of our inner life with the external
phenomena, breaking duration into segments. It is extremely difficult to
counteract the habitual way of dealing with our own self, but if success-
ful, one is rewarded with the manifestation of one’s own uniqueness
and exclusivity. One gains a view of oneself where he or she is not meas-
ured or judged against any superimposed criteria and where one’s value
as an inimitable individual is not betrayed by standardization.
The opposition of two epistemological faculties, intuition and analy-
sis, involves two alternative ways in which human beings treat one
another. We can analyse, spatialize and simplify, or intuit and under-
stand. Although we spatialize each other under ordinary circumstances,
one get a feeling that at least Bergson indicates an ideal philosophical
model of communication. This ideal implies intuiting one’s own and
another person’s selves in their purity, as durations and neutralizing
antagonisms, which are due to the ignorance and estrangement between
people.
But, as demonstrated in TFW, mind as duration can only be ade-
quately accessed from within, by itself, and this makes one mind inac-
cessible to other minds. Bergson’s example of Paul and Peter confirms
the impossibility of grasping another person’s true nature (TFW: 184–
189). Paul, wishing to grasp Peter’s state of mind, may learn all the facts
about Peter’s life and form an idea of his character. But this knowledge
will necessarily be incomplete because when Peter passes through a
certain psychic state, only he knows fully the intensity and the impor-
tance of this psychic state whereas Paul would reconstruct it by meas-
urement or comparison. ‘[T]he intensity of … a deep-seated feeling is
nothing else than the feeling itself’ (TFW: 185) and no amount of recon-
structed information can replace the actual experiencing of that feeling
firsthand. One can never be skilful enough to explain the importance of
one’s feelings to another person either, because the experienced state of
mind is given to us directly ‘as an inexpressible quality’ (TFW: 186) and
our explanations will necessarily draw on argumentation and compari-
son. Our attempts to understand another mind by replacing real con-
scious experiences with symbols and images could only give us an
accumulation of imperfect data, so the only way Paul could get to know
Peter for real is by living Paul’s life and feeling his feelings like an actor.
The impersonation would have to be complete to minute details because
‘the most common-place events have their importance in a life-story’
(TFW: 187). But if Peter and Paul had the same experiences at the same
time and in the same place, they could not be two separate people. They
16 Elena Fell

would be one and the same person who is Peter when he acts and Paul
when he reiterates his history.
Our need for communication makes us spatialize duration. Bringing
our conscious states outwards, we separate them from one another
and express them in words, which is a precondition for communica-
tion. As Bergson admits, ‘[T]he intuition of a homogeneous space is …
a step towards social life’ (TFW: 138) and the clarity that the process of
spatialization and externalization of the self entails is essential for com-
munication, whereas the truly genuine existence of selfhood is possi-
ble only in isolation from other selves.
Bergson concludes that the regular perception of one’s own con-
scious life as duration would be only possible in a hypothetical indi-
vidual who, immersed in his or her own being, would live a socially
isolated life, where society and language would not force him or her to
interpret his or her conscious flow as a series of individualized phe-
nomena (TFW: 137–138). In its fundamental form the self is locked
within itself and is incommunicable since any attempt to externalize
psychic events involves their juxtaposition and spatialization.
Bergson’s theory of duration and intuition leaves us with a disap-
pointing result. After reading Time and Free Will, Matter and Memory or
Creative Evolution, one becomes convinced that the term duration illu-
minates some aspects of reality, which could otherwise be left unno-
ticed. Duration accounts for the continuity of temporal reality,
heterogeneity highlights its complexity and its unity, and intuition is a
process in which duration and heterogeneity are recognized as such.
In the sphere of intersubjective relations intuition promises a deep
mutual understanding that would remove the usual antagonisms
based on the ignorance and rejection of other people’s concerns and
aspirations. But intuiting someone else in the Bergsonian sense would
involve a complete identification with that person. One can only intuit
one’s own soul, but even that is not easy. Communication is based on
conceptualization and if the intuitive grasp of another mind were pos-
sible, it would involve a collapse of two individuals into one. Bergson’s
theory at this stage leaves us in a no win situation: people could have
perfect relationships if they communicated as true selves, but in order
to communicate at all, they must falsify their own and other people’s
nature. Instead of offering a model of perfect communication, Bergson’s
theory of duration and intuition contradicts the very idea of communi-
cation as a valid social phenomenon. If we were hoping to receive
guidance for finding happiness through better understanding of each
other, then what good is this ontologically illuminating but existen-
tially pessimistic theory to us?
If in communication we seek mutual appreciation and the com-
plete understanding of each other’s nature then Bergson’s theory of
duration and intuition leads us to a dead end. The ultimate harmony
of intersubjective relations would require an absolute immersion
into another person’s mind, but if it were possible, it would be done
at the expense of the privacy of our inner life, defying the sover-
eignty of our subjectivity and our psychological autonomy. But does
this mean that intuition is not achievable in communication at all? Is

loneliness the price that we must pay for our subjectivity and our
psychological autonomy? It seems so if we understand communica-
tion in a narrow sense as a dialogue, where the parties stand face-to-
face with one another and talk about each other, excluding from this
discourse their wider interactions with the world. But if communica-
tion is not only an intense exchange of questions and answers about
ourselves, then mutual understanding and intuition could be sought
in joint action, in shared experiences, in creating and perceiving art,
in teamwork, in belonging to a group, and other types of implicit,
non-verbal communication.
Bergson himself examines art as a form of communication where
the artist communicates with the spectators via his or her intuitive crea-
tion, although this does not involve an exchange of personal data
between the artist and the audience (TFW: 186) . For Bergson, artistic
creation is that ontological niche where human beings actualize their
ability to intuit. Art connects the artist and the viewer, as both intuit the
work of art, which is something other than their own personal history,
something that belongs to both of them and at the same time exists
independently from them. The same work of art may evoke different
response in different viewers and it may be contrary to the artist’s own
disposition, but ontologically it will belong to the same unity as the art-
ist’s emotions, and will involve intuiting the same duration as the artist
and other viewers. Thus the artist’s personal input and the viewer’s
response are elements of one heterogeneity and, as such, are intercon-
nected. By intuiting that unity, the viewer may feel the echo of the art-
ist’s presence, and the contemplation of the work of art may bring deep
personal satisfaction through the artist’s power of communication. The
satisfaction may not necessarily be jovial. Art can move and disturb,
but it gives us the feeling of mutual understanding that is distinct from
the understanding of articulated concepts. In this intuitive understand-
ing one accesses a psychological field other than existing within one’s
own mind but which echoes one’s own mind. In art we intuit reality
that others intuit too and this can give us a sense of belonging, comfort
and inspiration, even though the belonging may be totally anonymous,
as when listening to a piece of music by an unknown composer.
But what has been said about art can be said about any other act of
communication. In art we have a materialized, definite manifestation
of one person that is powerfully presented and makes an impression
on other people. Art is in its ideal form a disinterested activity, but any
other communication also creates a field of shared experience not
entirely reducible to a streamlined exchange of functional information.
Every practical interaction is surrounded by a halo of the personal, in
which people appear unique and irreplaceable, even when they are
treated as merely performing a certain function.
All Bergsonian characteristics of duration are applicable to instances
of communication, we must conclude. Communication is an internally
coherent process that has history and prehistory; it evolves and engages
its participants in a flow of its own existence. We can treat communica-
tion as heterogeneous duration in its own right and people’s contribu-
tions to it as the elements of this heterogeneity. Then we can talk more
18 Elena Fell

positively of effective and satisfactory communication, as we realize
that the boundaries of people’s minds open up to one another if they
are involved in the same process of communication.
Communication as heterogeneous duration

Communication underpins every instance of a joint purposeful action,
and messaging is so intertwined with action that it would require a
special investigation to establish at what point communication ends
and action begins. This enquiry is not concerned with the relation of
communication and action, but with the relations between communi-
cating individuals, so we can overlook the difference between commu-
nication and action and let the two terms overlap.
Understanding communication in a wider sense than merely a ver-
bal exchange that precedes some action, we could say that communi-
cation includes situations where individuals acknowledge a message
and react to it. There may be a wide range of reactions, not excluding
silence and inaction, for instance when students listen to a lecture. In
this case the apparent inactivity of the contributors to the act of com-
munication entails latent response and is a necessary component of
that kind of communication. Indeed, the lecture as an act of communi-
cation requires a silent listening audience as well as the speaking lec-
turer, because if the lecturer is speaking in an empty room it is not
communication.
In the act of communication the interacting parties, whilst releasing
and receiving information, do not need to acknowledge each other.
When reading a message we do not need to know exactly who wrote
it. If we see a sign ‘Keep out’ and do keep out, then the successful act
of communication has taken place and the personality of the author is
of little importance. Travellers passing through an uninhabited land
would be excited to find any man-made objects – remains of a tent, or
empty tins – with an immediate feeling of having some communica-
tion with human beings who made and used those objects, although
their names may never be known. Bergson himself talks of Robinson
Crusoe providing an example where messages do not contain informa-
tion about their authors and yet communication takes place. Robinson
‘remains in contact with other men’ by means of ‘the manufactured
objects he saved from the wreck’ (The Two Sources of Morality and
Religion (TSMR): 16). These communications contain implicit messages
of society encrypted in man-made objects conveying their man-made
purpose and their man-made history. The manufacturers’ role here
amounts to being the carriers of that information. Their personalities
are ontologically secondary and subservient to this flow of informa-
tion, just as the elements of heterogeneity are subservient to the whole.
What seems to be essential to communication is the meaningful fusion
of the message and the response to it. The personalities of the individ-
uals involved are secondary to this flow of content, as the participants
can be left out of focus and yet the communication would still flow.
What remains is the flow of content that relies on the conscious par-
ticipants as conductors of information and as agencies that make ideas
materialize.

1. See the discussion Communication is generated by the joint conscious effort of its par-
of living matter as
containing features
ticipants and in this sense it as a conscious process, despite the fact
of consciousness. that normally we think of a conscious process as the work of one mind.
(CE: p. 80) (Bergson teaches us to be flexible with our definitions and descrip-
tions, convinced that it is better to violate and rework concepts, adapt-
ing words subtly to reality, than to ignore the intricacy of reality and
squeeze it into an established conceptual framework. Bergson himself
talks of degrees of consciousness in a different context1 but this
approach justifies us attempting to explain the ambiguous reality of
communication as conscious reality, although it is not conscious in the
usual sense as belonging to one mind.)
It is essential for the nature of communication that it is generated
by more than one person. It is made up of the acts of consciousness,
which are released from their private, inaccessible mode of existence
into the public domain. Externalized in a verbal form, conscious acts
emanate from different subjects, interact and produce a new psycho-
logical reality, which is a making of the contributing minds, of the
combination of their verbally externalized thoughts. This makes it a
psychological phenomenon without a subject that could perceive the
whole process from the first person perspective.
The combining of thoughts cannot be controlled by either partici-
pant individually because the emanations come from different will-
ing subjects. The process of communication is decentred, flows from
one agent to another and, for the lack of the omniscient mind, evolves
spontaneously, irrationally and involuntarily, at the same time
appearing as an individualized and logically coherent event of a psy-
chological kind.
Considered in the light of the traditional subject-object schema, the
nature of communication is ambivalent because communication shows
both objective and subjective features but is not quite either objective
or subjective. On the one hand, facts of communication exist externally
from one’s mind and are recognised by other minds, and this makes
them something objective. On the other hand, they exist only for con-
scious entities – subjects – and evaporate with their absence. This
makes communication something subjective, something that is a prod-
uct or a by-product of psychological activity.
When I communicate, I externalize my thoughts and they become
less personal than when they were my inner thoughts. When I articu-
late them, I forfeit the confidentiality of my inner life, and I no longer
have the sole possession of my thinking, which I have when I think my
thoughts to myself. As I speak, I lose the authority over my thoughts
and become subservient to my own words. Beginning to articulate my
ideas, I commit myself, at least, to completing the sentence and to
maintaining the train of thought that I initiated. I am also compelled to
respond to the remarks and questions that my statements evoke and,
in the course of the conversation, I may even feel that the dialogue has
drifted away from my original point and that I am not in command of
its further development. Other participants are not in command of the
dialogue either. The series of ideas moves forward by means of our
unceasing contributions, but as there is no single author or editor that
20 Elena Fell

could censor it, adjust it and decide on its final form, it grows natu-
rally, unedited and unrehearsed, all by itself. The narrative of the con-
versation bounces from one author to another and is constantly
altered.
Radiating from the subjects, verbalized conscious states gain objec-
tive features. Thoughts that become words are accessible for percep-
tion and available for rational consideration and external scrutiny.
They have an effect on the world and on their own speaker. But com-
munication is not fully objective in the sense that it does not exist sepa-
rately from conscious minds like physical objects do; its
mind-independent existence amounts to the physical phenomena
accompanying speech and writing but its existence as communication,
as an exchange of meanings, vanishes if the minds that create it turn
away from this exchange.
One could describe communication as the duration of conscious
activity of a number of interacting individuals, typically externalized
in a verbal form, but also possibly made up of gestures and including
non-verbal signals. Externalized facts of consciousness – ideas, opin-
ions, emotional responses, requests – and the replies that they receive
amalgamate and produce a specific kind of intersubjective reality that
gains some independence from its individual authors but depends on
them for its existence.
Communicating subjects as elements of heterogeneity

Instead of being authoritative subjects of communication, able to
switch dialogues and relationships on and off, people have no sover-
eignty over these processes that they themselves initiate and maintain.
We commit our rationality and our emotions to serving the flow of
communication. On a minimal scale, if a question is asked, we are
compelled to answer it. We may respond positively or negatively, but
we naturally feel the urge to react, and refraining from reacting, ignor-
ing a question, an accusation or an invitation may be harder than
answering it.
When one is involved in the flow of communication, it can take
over one’s mind and one may be bound to continue that flow, to serve
it. Engrossed in certain types of communication, one may not be able
to stop this flow and break the ties that connect him or her with other
conductors of that flow, because the flow is itself an internally coher-
ent duration with its own drive to exist and to evolve by means of
individual minds. The duration of communication is an enduring proc-
ess asserting its own existence and resisting its own destruction; the
initiators and participants of, for example, romantic affairs, family cir-
cles, social groups etc., let these communicative settings manipulate
their minds, and become drawn into certain types of communication,
captivated by them.
Involved in the flow of communication, we find it easier to support
communication than to produce a response that hinders that coherent
flow; we may find it easier to continue an unhappy relationship than to
end it: we may struggle to stop a conflict or end an unpleasant conver-
sation, even though we may know that our continuous involvement in

this type of communication is damaging to us. Although communica-
tion is generated by the externalization of people’s conscious activity,
in relation to all its participants it is independent reality that conditions
their subsequent moves just as physical circumstances do. Communication
acts in relation to its participants as an autonomous entity, which sum-
mons them to generate behaviour that would continue the given epi-
sode of communication. The very existence of a concrete communication
is dependent on the activity of conscious participants but its ultimate
content is autonomous from them and subdues those who create it.
Purposeful joint human activity generates its own duration that
appropriates and absorbs the input of individual contributors. It can
exist on a small or large scale and can amount to any social process: a
conversation, meal, war, family, state. This conscious super-individual
duration is initiated and maintained by individual people, but the
same people who maintain its existence are dominated by it and must
obey its principles. This man-made formation reflects on its creators
and acts in relation to them as an independent, objective formation
that dictates the rules and shapes their behaviour.
In the heterogeneity of communication the interacting people are
not its only elements, the environment contributes as well. Different
circumstances contribute to different relationships because inanimate
objects and our responses to them are part of the same duration as the
people that communicate in these circumstances, because one does not
communicate with a pure person detached from their surroundings. If
we change the environment, the location where we meet and the way
we dress, the nature of communication will change as well. For exam-
ple, a holiday romance may blossom on a seaside, but die out if the
lovers meet again in their home town, because their original interest in
each other would not have been isolated from the feeling of liberty and
bliss felt whilst sunbathing and splashing in the sea.
As elements of heterogeneity, we are not self-sufficient, and our
identity is defined via relations with other participants of communi-
cation, via their actions, via their reactions to our performance. We
lend a part of our being to a particular duration of communication,
and that part, merged with the entire process, is intuited by others as
part of the process that they intuit. That part of us is created and
developed in interactions with other participants and they help create
it and intuit it whilst creating it. Engaging ourselves in communica-
tion, we channel the development of our being, which to some extent
is developed in communication with the involvement of other people.
Unaware of our past and of our life beyond the realm of our commu-
nication, they nevertheless participate in its creation while we com-
municate and they are able to intuit that part of our being that they
themselves help to create.
Intuition in communication
Communication is duration in its own right, with its own internal
structure, with strong ties between its phases, so the people involved
in the process of communication are not the full masters of this proc-
ess but are subservient to this process and are driven to sustain and
22 Elena Fell

complete communication in which they are involved. From this we
may conclude that the success of communication does not necessarily
equal the benefit and satisfaction of the contributors; neither does it
equal the complete mutual understanding of the contributors. People
may feel completely misunderstood and yet communication may still
successfully evolve and result in some productive outcome that is not
necessarily benign in relation to the people involved but is ontologi-
cally a coherent process. For example, a sad love story, destructive
existentially for the people involved, is a complete and ontologically
successful event. In a sense its participants must be unhappy or the
character of this particular communication will be different. Also, if in
communication we fail to understand each other, this does not neces-
sarily mean the failure of communication, because we often commu-
nicate in order to achieve something else rather than specifically to
understand each other’s nature.
What is the role of intuition in communication? Is intuition an unre-
alistic solution to our epistemological problems, whose significance is
limited to being an ideal model of awareness? Or, following Bergson,
is it a latent ability that can be developed and exercised? It seems that
focusing on each other, no matter how intensely, would not give us the
desired immersion into another person’s soul. Any attempt to under-
stand each other’s nature is destined to failure, and the more intensely
we focus on each other and obsess over the idea of mutual identifica-
tion, the more we become frustrated, unable to express our inner
nature sufficiently for another mind to achieve a complete sympathiz-
ing with what they are. Two human beings facing each other remain
individual durations. In fact, their facing each other reinforces the
impenetrability of their being and secures the privacy of their fleeting
thoughts and subtle feelings which, unedited and uncensored, can
only appear inside one’s own mind.
We have to agree that only the person himself or herself can intuit
their inner being in full, but we find that the communicative whole is
intuited by its participants who have the intimate and factual under-
standing of that duration from inside. A family member intuits his or
her family, although not in the sense that he or she sympathizes with
and understands the uniqueness of each family member. He or she
intuits the family as a dynamic system of relations created by its senior
members at the point of marriage and recreated, reinforced and main-
tained by certain types of communicative behaviour by each member.
When we exchange messages, we acknowledge more than the fac-
tual information. We absorb masses of unarticulated information about
our shared environment and experiences. If someone mentions
Buckingham Palace to a person who had visited London, this evokes
images of the specific atmosphere that surrounds the building, of British
weather, of the crowds on the square. The imagery will be rich in con-
tent but instantly grasped, so that the conversing people would be intu-
iting the same thing and in this shared intuition they may find mutual
understanding. It would be based on shared information that people do
not articulate but which is assumed and which forms a background to
their interactions.

The sense of mutual understanding can be achieved between the
people who have a history of belonging to the same duration even if
they had not met in person at that time, such as graduates of the same
university, people of the same ethnic and cultural background, of the
same age group and those who have similar problems. Under these
circumstances people are intuited by one another not because they
focus on each other and manage to perforate each other’s minds but
because they belong (partially) to the same duration in their past or
present and see one another as participating elements. That part of
their experiences, which is left outside the shared sphere, may find no
response or understanding. For example, two women may sympathize
with each other as mothers of young children, but if one of them has
been in prison and another one has not, they could not share a sense of
belonging when talking about that side of life.
This is a kind of understanding that can only be achieved by shar-
ing experiences because the totality of any experience is too complex
to translate into words and, say, a video recording would give a one-
sided visual and audio imagery, omitting olfactory and tactile images
etc.; the duration of shared experience, or joint action, is intuited only
by those who create it and contribute to it.
In communication people intuit each other’s involvement as het-
erogeneous elements of duration. It could be said that we intuit each
other partially via intuiting the process of which we are part. In this
sphere we gain a sense of intuitive belonging without forfeiting the
privacy of our inner life, and this feeling of belonging can be achieved
by simply being in the same environment as other people. Passengers
on the plane, holidaymakers on the beach, students in the class –
even if they do not exchange a single word, they know that they are
exposed to the same risks and share the same goals as others in the
group. The mere presence of other people who simply share the
same time and place with us can be positive emotionally and exis-
tentially. One only needs to imagine a deserted beach or an empty
airport with just one passenger to appreciate the social importance
of human presence, unaccompanied by intelligent interactions but
felt and intuited.
References
Bergson, Henri (1896), Matière et mémoire, Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France.
Bergson, Henri (1889), Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience, Paris:
Presses Universitaires de France.
Bergson, Henri (1903), ‘Introduction à la métaphysique’, Revue. de Métaphysique
et de Morale, January.
Bergson, Henri (1907), L’évolution créatrice, Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France.
Bergson, Henri (1910), Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of
Consciousness, (F.L. Pogson trans.), London: George Allen and Unwin.
Bergson, Henri (1932), Les deux sources de la morale et de la religion, Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France.
24 Elena Fell

Bergson, Henri (1964), Creative Evolution, (Arthur Mitchell trans.), London:
Macmillan & Co Ltd.
Bergson, Henri (1986), The Two Sources of Morality and Religion, (R. Ashley Audra
and Cloudesley Brereton trans.), Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre
Dame Press.
Bergson, Henri (1991), Matter and Memory, (Nancy Margaret Paul and W. Scott
Palmer trans.), New York: Zone Books.
Bergson, Henri (1999), An Introduction to Metaphysics, (T. E. Hulme trans.),
Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company.
Dumas, Alexandre (2006), The Three Musketeers, (R. Pevear trans.), London:
Penguin Books.
Mérimée, Prosper (1906), A Chronicle of the Reign of Charles, (Palmer trans.),
New York and Philadelphia: Frank S. Holby
Suggested citation
Fell, E. (2009), ‘Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness’, Empedocles
European Journal for the Philosophy of Communication 1: 1, pp. 9–25, doi: 10.1386/
ejpc.1.1.9/1
Contributor details
For Elena, the problem of communication is not just a matter of a purely aca-
demic interest. Thanks to her own experiences, she is aware of real issues
that affect communication between people, especially if they belong to differ-
ent cultural and communicative settings or if such settings change. Born in
Leningrad and brought up as a Soviet child, in her mid teens she lived through
the collapse of the USSR and was involved in the breaking-and-making proc-
ess of a societal value changing. She obtained her first degree in philosophy
from St. Petersburg State University and a Doctorate in philosophy from The
University of Central Lancashire in Britain, thus experiencing an exposure to
two very distinct educational traditions. Also a professional linguist, Elena has
taught languages both in Russia and in England, as well as interpreting and
doing translations. She is currently working on an ontology of communication
that uses Bergson’s philosophy as a foundation.
Contact:
E-mail: elena.fell@ntlworld.com

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Communication between friends

Dan O’Brien Oxford Brookes University
Abstract Keywords
One kind of successful communication involves the transmission of knowledge Testimony
from speaker to hearer. Such testimonial knowledge transmission is usually Partiality
seen as conforming to three widely held epistemological approaches: reliabilism, Evidentialism
impartialism and evidentialism. First, a speaker must be a reliable testifier in Reliabilism
order that she transmits knowledge, and reliability is cashed out in terms of epistemology
her likelihood of speaking the truth. Second, if a certain speaker’s testimony
has sufficient epistemic weight to be believed by hearer1, then it should also
be believed by hearer2. Third, the normative constraint here is evidentially
grounded: whether or not a hearer should believe a speaker depends on the evi-
dence the hearer has that the speaker is telling the truth. I argue that there are
cases of testimonial knowledge transmission that are incompatible with these
three claims. This is when one accepts the testimony of an intimate friend.
1. Testimonial knowledge and reliability

It is generally assumed that a speaker (S) must be a reliable testifier in
order for a hearer (H) to acquire knowledge from her. More precisely, for
S to transmit her knowledge that p to H, S must be a reliable testifier with
respect to p, or to subject matter relevant to p. And reliability amounts to
some kind of modal connection between S saying that ‘p’ and p. This
connection is construed in various ways. It has been argued that S’s utter-
ances that ‘p’ must be safe, that is, they could not easily be wrong: in most
nearby possible worlds S only utters ‘p’ when p (Sosa 1999). Alternatively
they must track the truth: roughly, S should say that ‘p’ when p, and that
‘not-p’ when not-p (Nozick 1981). For the purposes of this article it does
not matter which type of account you favour. The basic idea is that it is
not lucky that H comes to believe that p from hearing S say that p, and
this is because S’s utterances are not true by accident. It would therefore
seem that reliability on the part of S is necessary in order for testimonial
knowledge transmission to take place, and this is because luck and the
acquisition of knowledge are incompatible.
Certain kinds of externalists argue that reliability is all that is
required for knowledge: to know that p is to arrive at a belief that p via
a reliable belief-forming mechanism, and for this it is necessary that S
is a reliable testifier. Such reliability eliminates what Pritchard (2005)
calls ‘veritic luck’, where, that is, a thinker’s beliefs are true by acci-
dent. Internalists are also concerned with reliability. They aim to rule
out luck from their epistemologies by arguing that H must be aware of
EJPC_1.1_art_O'Brien_027-042.indd 27 11/20/09 10:27:28 AM

reasons to think that S’s utterances are correct. They are concerned
with ‘reflective luck’, where it is lucky from H’s perspective that her
beliefs are true given what she is capable of reflecting upon. A particu-
larly satisfying strategy would therefore be to eliminate both kinds of
luck, and hybrid accounts have been suggested that do this. These are
epistemologies in which veritic luck is ruled out by reliabilist factors,
and reflective luck is ruled out by H’s awareness of reasons to think
that S’s beliefs are true. Jennifer Lackey is such a hybrid theorist. She
argues, first, that rationality requires that a thinker is aware of good
internalist reasons for her beliefs. This alone, though, is not sufficient
for knowledge: one’s beliefs also require a reliable source, the latter
being an external epistemic condition.
[I]t takes two to tango: the justificatory work of testimonial beliefs can
be shouldered neither exclusively by the hearer nor by the speaker.…
the speaker-condition ensures reliability while the hearer-condition
ensures rationality for testimonial justification.
(Lackey 2006: 16)
It is important to be clear that in this article I am only interested in the

external condition, and in whether S’s reliability is a necessary con-
straint on knowledge transmission. One should note, though, that
since knowledge transmission is being discussed, it is assumed that S
has knowledge to pass on; I shall not therefore be discussing whether
some kind of reliability is required for S to have this knowledge. I am
only concerned with whether or not S’s testimony has to be reliable.
I shall claim that it does not: sometimes you can have testimonial
knowledge transmission without S being a reliable testifier.
Before we begin, it is worth saying something about just how unre-
liable S needs to be for my argument to run. If you come to find my
claims implausible, it may be because you are conceiving of S as more
unreliable than she needs to be. If S’s testimony is almost always
wrong, then it may be hard to accept that she can transmit knowledge.
However, all I require is an S who is just unreliable enough to fall
under the threshold required by reliabilist accounts. Very crudely, if a
reliabilist requires S to have a 90 per cent probability of speaking the
truth, then all I need to claim is that S is 89 per cent reliable and yet
still she transmits knowledge. Or, if reliability is spelt out in terms of a
thinker having true beliefs in certain nearby worlds, then all I need to
claim is that a thinker’s beliefs would not be true in just one of the
worlds cited by this kind of reliabilist. Reliabilism is invariantist in
spirit and I shall argue here against invariantism, that is, against epis-
temologies that demand the same epistemic standards for all cases of
knowledge transmission.
In the next section I shall introduce the kind of examples that drive
my argument. Section 3 argues for a knowledge transmission account of
testimony rather than for one that involves just the transmission of belief;
this undercuts certain objections to my account. Section 4 discusses epis-
temic trust: this is what the hearer must contribute to the testimonial
exchange. I shall distinguish several kinds of trust, including ‘intimate
28 Dan O’Brien

trust’, a form of trust that is crucial to my argument. Sections 5 and 6
describe how this kind of trust plays an epistemic role and how it is
involved in the transmission of knowledge even when S is unreliable.
I also highlight how my account is at odds with evidentialism and how
it is impartialist in approach. And lastly, section 7 replies to the objec-
tion that in my examples true beliefs are acquired by accident and thus
do not amount to knowledge; I argue that my examples involve a
benign form of epistemic luck.
2. Unreliable friends
In the following scenarios I would like to say, first, that testimonial
knowledge is acquired, and second, that a reliabilist reading cannot be
given of this knowledge. In order to make my examples more plausible
(and to avoid possible problems concerning self-deception), it shall
always be the case that H does not know of S’s unreliability: S might
be a new friend, or one who has not spoken about p to H before, or one
whose previous statements about p have not been verified by H.
Dylan, a friend of mine, is very unreliable when it comes to testi-
mony concerning what he has eaten, when and where he had his last
meal, and where his food comes from. Today, however, he claims not
to have stolen the missing sticky toffee pudding from the fridge –
although I know that someone has – and, as it happens, he did not take
it (p), he knows he did not (S knows that p), and he tells me that he did
not. Having no reason not to, I believe him (H believes that p). The
claim that I shall defend in this paper is that it is correct to say, not that
I have a lucky true belief that p, but that I have learnt that p from Dylan,
that I have acquired knowledge from him.
Here is another example. Paul, formerly a Seventh-Day Adventist,
is not a reliable testifier about his religious views (unbeknownst to his
close friend Elizabeth). Elizabeth is a devout Catholic and Paul tells
her that he has converted to Catholicism. And he has – and I would
like to claim that Elizabeth can now know this as well, even though
Paul is usually unreliable about such things.
These examples have certain key features. First, they concern topics
of conversation that are ‘constitutive of the friendship’ between S and
H. Part of being someone’s friend often involves believing well of that
person, believing, for example, that in certain circumstances they have
not performed actions that are morally suspect, such as stealing the
sticky toffee pudding. Such trust is not absolute, but friendship
involves at least some resistance to thinking badly of one’s friends. My
second example focuses on another aspect of a certain type of friend-
ship, that is, that one should be open and honest about one’s deeply
held views and respect those views in one’s friends; not, for example,
kidding about religion to one who is devoutly religious. My account
does not apply to casual friends, or to what might be called Facebook
friends (Facebook is an Internet social site where friends can be made
by clicking the ‘Add to Friends’ button); rather, my claims concern
what I shall call ‘intimate friends’, those friendships that would seem
to be threatened by lack of trust in testimony. You can doubt the written
testimony of a ‘friend’s’ Facebook profile, but you should not doubt
Communication between friends 29

your closest friend’s religious confession. If you did have such doubts,
it would be pertinent to start wondering whether that person was
really your (intimate) friend. The existence of such friendship, or rather
the fact that a certain kind of friendship involves such intimate trust,
is, in the end, down to intuition, and my intuitions here are shared by
others; see, for example, Sarah Stroud:
Friendship positively demands epistemic bias, understood as an epis-

temically unjustified departure from epistemic objectivity. Doxastic
dispositions which violate the standards promulgated by mainstream,
epistemological theories are a constitutive feature of friendship.
(Stroud 2006: 518)
When we are not in our studies, most of us can be epistemically biased

towards certain people. We may convince ourselves that we weigh up
evidence impartially, but come on, we do not really, do we? If your
close friend, partner or child tells you certain things, you just believe
them, even if it is (objectively) unlikely that what they are saying is
true, and even if you would not believe these things if told to you by
a stranger.
First, then, my examples involve topics constitutive of friendship.
Their second feature is that S is unreliable when talking of these kinds
of things. This unreliability is not due to him telling lies, since that
may undermine the crucial friendship that exists between S and H.
Rather, S may be unreliable because he is a compulsive joker, he may
make regular slips of the tongue, some of his beliefs may be repressed,
or he could just have a certain type of poor memory (he knows that p
although he has temporarily forgotten).
3. Construction and conduit metaphors

It is traditionally claimed that belief is transmitted between S and H,
and this belief only constitutes knowledge for H if other epistemic con-
ditions are satisfied (if, for example, what S says is true and H has
good reason to trust S). H constructs knowledge out of the belief he
acquires from S and the justification that he himself possesses the truth
of S’s utterance. My claims, however, can seem untenable if one adopts
this construction metaphor. In the cases I describe, justification cannot
consist in the possession of internalist reasons since H is not aware of
any such reasons. An externalist account of justification also seems to
be ruled out since S is not reliable. The construction metaphor there-
fore needs to be dropped and in doing so my claims concerning relia-
bility will be easier to accept.
Knowledge transmission theorists argue that knowledge itself is
transmitted between the protagonists in a testimonial exchange. Reynolds
(2002) argues that the norm for assertion is knowledge; this is what
speakers aim to transmit: when S says that p she is claiming to know that
p. If it turns out that not-p, then S is (legitimately) criticized: she should
have said ‘I believe that p’ or something weaker than ‘p’. I may justifiably
believe (yet not know) that the video shop is open because it always has
been before at this time. If, however – after asserting that ‘it’s open’ – it
30 Dan O’Brien

turns out that the opening times have changed, then I would be embar-
rassed (‘oops, I had not spotted the new times’). ‘Even if the testifier is
not to blame, testimony without knowledge is defective’ (Reynolds
2002: 141). Thus when successful, testimonial transmission involves the
exchange of knowledge between S and H. Welbourne (1994) also argues
that belief is not a fit object for communication. I can believe that you
believe that p without believing it myself. I cannot, however, believe
that you know that p and not think that I know it too. Again, then,
knowledge transmission is seen as the primary goal of testimony. On
such accounts it is easier to accommodate the intuition (or, for those
who do not find it intuitive, the claim) that I can acquire knowledge
from Dylan, and that Elizabeth can acquire knowledge from Paul. On a
knowledge transmission account, the relevant question is not whether
H has sufficient justification to promote the belief he acquires from S to
knowledge; instead, the question is whether the conditions are right for
the transfer of knowledge from S to H. Knowledge is not constructed
afresh by H through the affixing of justification to the building materials
he receives from S (those consisting of true belief); rather, S’s words act
as a conduit for knowledge itself. A conduit such as the Suez Canal
may allow the transfer of an oil tanker without the ports at either end
having the capacity to build a tanker from its component parts. We
therefore need to ask whether the conditions are right for the knowl-
edge conduit to function properly and not whether the requisite build-
ing materials are present for the reconstruction of knowledge. I shall
argue that the conditions can be right even in the absence of S’s reliabil-
ity, and that when S is a friend of H the knowledge conduit can remain
open even when the unreliability of S would normally be seen as block-
ing knowledge transmission. The conditions are right when conversing
with Dylan because we should be receptive to what our friends tell us,
receptive to their beliefs and to whatever epistemic weight those beliefs
possess. (It must of course be remembered that these are only helpful
metaphors. Knowledge does not literally flow between S and H. All
I mean by this is that S has certain epistemic states, and then H does,
and words (or some such signs) have enabled this transfer to occur.)
4. Reliant trust, human trust and intimate trust

In order for H to acquire testimonial knowledge from S, H must trust
what S says. In this section I shall explore three notions of trust that
can be relevant to testimonial exchanges.
We trust instruments such as thermometers and electronic
calculators because they have been reliable in the past, and we often
trust people in this way too. I trust the announcements at New Street
Station because they are reliable indicators of when the train to
Aberystwyth has been cancelled. Such trust is based on reliability and
thus I shall call it ‘reliant trust’ or R-trust. However, such trust cannot
play a role in the Dylan scenario because he is not reliable. There are,
though, distinct forms of trust that are relevant to the kinds of cases in
which I am interested. These are ‘human trust’ where we trust our
fellows simply in virtue of being people, and ‘intimate trust’ where we
trust particular people in virtue of being our friends.

1. ‘Friends’ may Holton (1994) discusses an example that illustrates the distinction
cover the intimate
relations one
between R-trust and human trust. When climbing a mountain I place
perhaps has with trust in both my climbing guide and the rope. If the rope breaks I am
family members, annoyed, but I feel that I have just been unlucky since ropes made
lovers, members of
the same church,
by Mammut are generally reliable. If my guide abandons me, how-
sports teams or ever, I have not just been unlucky; my human trust in this person
companies – has been misplaced, and the guide has forsaken his moral responsi-
whether this is so
depends on whether
bilities. (There is also a reciprocal expectation here: the guide does
the mechanism not expect to be seen as just reliable; he would perhaps be offended
discussed in section if he were merely R-trusted.) This human aspect of trust is clear in
7 is applicable to
such cases.
such high stakes situations, but it is present in even low stakes sce-
narios and, importantly, even in simple testimonial exchanges. One
does not trust someone’s testimony only because they have been
reliable in the past – one also trusts them because people should tell
the truth.
When an unreliable friend tells me that p, I may not have R-trust
in what she says, but I can have human trust. I have not yet claimed,
though, that I can acquire knowledge that p from such a person; only
that, in virtue of being a person, I have grounds to place human trust
in them. I shall go on to argue, however, that it is a form of human
trust that allows for knowledge transmission in cases where S is
unreliable.
Human trust may be what Strawson (1962) calls a reactive attitude,
that is, a property that is constitutive of being a person. Such trust
therefore comes easy; it is something we confer on all people (except
when we adopt what Strawson calls the objective attitude and treat
certain individuals, such as psychopaths, as if they were mere instru-
ments). An account that uses such trust to ground knowledge trans-
mission would therefore be too liberal, since the epistemic significance
of human trust can be defeated by lack of R-trust. Jeffery Archer, for
example, or your favourite dodgy politician, may be a person and thus
command human trust, but in a wide range of situations his unreliability
undermines any epistemic significance this human trust would usually
have. There is, though, a certain class of cases where this is not so, where,
that is, a kind of human trust can play an epistemic role in the face of
the unreliability of S. And for human trust to have this elevated epis-
temic status – this epistemic resistance to defeat by S’s unreliability – S
needs to be, for want of a better word, a friend.1 If this is so, then even
if S is unreliable, H’s ‘intimate trust’ in him allows the epistemic con-
nection to be made between S’s knowledge and intention to assert that
p, and H’s knowledge that p. The Dylan and Paul scenarios are such
cases. Consider also a lover who has always strayed in the past, one
who again says: ‘I’ll be faithful this time; trust me, I mean it’. And
remember we are not concerned with cases in which S does not know
that p or have the intention to inform H that p. This is a lover who
knows she will stay, intends H to acquire this knowledge, and, I claim,
this is what H acquires. When she stays, H knew that she would.
There are other kinds of cases in which one may be tempted to offer
such an account of the epistemic role of trust, when, for example, the
stakes are very high. Perhaps in a time of war we would believe even
32 Dan O’Brien

what Jeffrey Archer said, and we would be able to acquire knowledge 2. That is not to say
that it is always
from him about national security. One reason for this could be that morally right to trust
Jeffrey is reliable with respect to situations of grave national danger, or a friend. It may be
when he pleads for us to trust him. This may be so, but I would like to morally remiss of
you to trust that
claim that knowledge can be transmitted even in the absence of such a friend is in the
local reliability. I suggest, therefore, that there may be an alternative right when all the
account of the epistemology of such cases, and that is one that remains evidence suggests
he is not. In Terence
grounded in friendship. In high stakes situations the politician does Malick’s film,
not appeal to the people as someone who just knows the facts; he Badlands, both Kit
appeals to his fellow countrymen as a friend, and it is this that allows and Holly are, to say
the least, morally
us to acquire knowledge from him. Practical consequences are not the suspect, even though
primary epistemic factor in such situations; they are merely instru- Holly has almost
mental in fostering a certain intimacy, an intimacy that allows for the unlimited intimate
trust in Kit. There is,
flow of knowledge between ‘friends’. then, a distinction
It is certainly the case that we are sometimes more open, more between the moral
receptive, to the thoughts of friends than to those of strangers. This perspective and the
intimate perspective
openness can be because we know more about our friends and we and in this paper my
know what they are likely to be knowledgeable about. Here, though, I focus is on the latter.
have been focusing on cases where this is not so; one is open towards After all, my account
should apply to
what friends say even when they are talking about parts of their life unreliable evil
that one knows little or nothing about. Such openness is an important friends: they should
part of what being a friend consists in: ‘It is part of friendship and love be able to acquire
nefarious knowledge
that one does not, most of the time anyway, take an objective view of from each other
the person one cares for deeply’ (Baron 1991: 854). And I would like to because of the inti-
claim that this is not just something we do; such openness, rather, macy they share,
and here there is no
reflects a normative constraint upon us: we should believe what our temptation to claim
friends say. To continue Baron’s quote above: ‘There is such a thing as that the normative
the proper bias of a close friend’. constraints at work
are moral.
It could be argued, though, that the normative claim here is a
broadly moral one, and that it is still epistemically inappropriate (or 3. Friendship may of
course snap under
even irrational) for one to be more receptive to a friend’s beliefs and the strain of too
knowledge. There are always various constraints on our thinking – much unreliability
epistemic, moral, pragmatic, even aesthetic (it is just more pleasing on the part of S, but
there is an important
to think certain thoughts) – and these constraints have to be balanced level of slack where
against each other. And in certain cases friendship may involve H and S can remain
pitching moral factors against epistemic ones and giving the former friends even given
a certain amount of
more weight than the latter.2 I shall argue, though, that such open- unreliability.
ness is epistemically acceptable (or rational) as well as morally correct.
There is a kind of human trust – that between friends – which can,
although perhaps rarely, play an important epistemic role. It can
allow one to acquire knowledge that p from S, even when S is a gen-
erally unreliable testifier with respect to p. Such intimate trust is of
course fallible. Dylan can forget that he took the pudding, and the
inveterate philanderer can be unfaithful again, even though H has
intimate trust in both of them.3 What are important for my argument,
though, are the ‘successful’ cases where S does know that p, and
where he asserts that p in order that H also comes to have this knowl-
edge. And in the next section we shall see just how there can be such
successful cases, those in which testimonial knowledge transmission
occurs even when S is unreliable.

5. The knowledge conduit and the epistemic role of
friendship
I have claimed that intimate trust can ‘keep the knowledge conduit
open’ even when the unreliability of S would seem to threaten to
close it off, and of intimate trust providing ‘epistemic resistance’ to
the potentially knowledge defeating unreliability of S. Keeping the
conduit open amounts to being more receptive to the mental states of
S. S believes that p and has justification for such a belief, and when S
is a friend H is more open to acquiring those epistemic states from S.
But why isn’t S simply gullible? There may be some kind of intimate
or moral constraint at work here – I should believe what my friend
says just because she is my friend – but it is not obvious that there are
any epistemic reasons to believe her (or rather, any conditions that
make it appropriate for me to be more receptive to her beliefs and
knowledge).
I shall first explore possible parallels between the debates concerning
moral and epistemic partiality; these, however, are inconclusive. Next,
though, I shall show why it is epistemically admissible to be open in
this way by describing the mechanism underlying how such openness
leads to knowledge despite S’s unreliability, and thus how this open-
ness is epistemically justified or epistemically acceptable.
In many situations we are not impartial when it comes to moral
decisions: we would save our family and friends first if the ship we
were on were sinking. And such partiality is at odds with the domi-
nant moral theories. Various philosophers, though, see this as a prob-
lem for moral theory and not for our practice: theories that demand
moral impartiality are too demanding (Cottingham 1986; Williams
1981). Morality, after all, concerns what humans should do, and a
plausible moral theory should therefore not restrict any such partiality
towards our friends; friendship is just too engrained in our form of life
for it to be morally criticized in this way. Perhaps, then, a parallel point
can be made with respect to epistemology: epistemological theories
may be too restrictive if they do not allow for epistemic partiality
towards friends. Our standards for accepting what our friends say
should be lower than those we use in assessing what strangers say. Or,
a weaker but more plausible claim, it is epistemically admissible to be
open towards the testimony of friends. Epistemology concerns human
routes to knowledge and epistemological theories should not, there-
fore, be constrained by what God, say, might be able to know, or what
those capable of telepathy could know. Epistemology should respect
the particular ways we have of acquiring truths about the world, and if
friendship and intimate trust are constitutive of being human, then
epistemology should respect the effect that friendship has on the acqui-
sition of belief (and, I claim, knowledge). There would be something
wrong – something inhuman – about a ‘person’ who was not epistemi-
cally partial towards some people in this way, or who was not at least
disposed to be partial in this way, allowing of course that someone may
simply, through misfortune, isolation, or choice, happen to have no
friends. Epistemology that only concerns itself with truth could be
called – not ‘ideal’, because that may imply we should strive to abide
34 Dan O’Brien

by its norms – but, more neutrally, pure veritic epistemology. The sug-
gestion, then, is that this kind of epistemology is not relevant to certain
kinds of testimonial knowledge transmission.
Many, however, would resist this line and it is not clear whether
such epistemic openness towards friends is demanded of us, or whether
such receptivity is constitutive of personhood. A weaker claim, though,
is more persuasive – and I think correct. Epistemic openness may not
be demanded of us, but it is admissible. It has been argued that one
cannot adopt an impartial standpoint with respect to ethics and that a
moral theory that demands such is a ‘fantasy ethics’ (Mackie 1977:
129–134). This is not so with respect to epistemology; impartialist
epistemologies are not ‘fantasy epistemologies’. However open we
are to our friends’ beliefs, we sometimes find it necessary to step back
from our friendship and assess what our friends say impartially
(although this can be hard to do with a close friend or one’s child or
lover). We may do this if we discover that a friend is particularly
unreliable about a certain subject, even if that happens to be some-
thing that is constitutive of our friendship. We would just be gullible
if we believed everything our friends say. There is, then, an impartial
standpoint or perspective, but there is another perspective that is
sometimes adopted, and that is the impartial one. These two perspec-
tives constitute epistemic acceptance policies that one adopts from,
respectively, ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ of a particular friendship. We can
switch between these two perspectives and the ease with which we
do this, and the perspective where we are most at home, is a product
of our character.
There is a particular kind of friendship that necessarily involves inti-
mate trust, and if you do not have such an attitude towards what others
say – if you never adopt this ‘internal’ perspective – then you do not
have that kind of friend (although there may be other kinds of friend).
Further, I do not think that this kind of friend is particularly unusual; in
fact I think it comes close to what we generally mean by a ‘friend’ as
opposed to someone we just admire for some virtue or other, or some-
one we find it fun, rewarding, or stimulating to be with. Consider two
conversations: first, a stranger next to you on the train tells you how he
was accused of stealing and that he would never do such a thing given
his deeply held religious beliefs. Second, you have just bonded with a
new acquaintance at work and already you seem to have forged a
friendship. She tells you about a similar accusation and her similar rea-
son for why this is unwarranted. Do you (should you?) have the same
attitude to their testimonies? It seems not: it would be very easy to be
non-committal towards the stranger – one would perhaps want to hear
the other side – but it is sometimes not possible to be non-committal
towards a friend in this way, if, that is, they are indeed your friend. If
you thought that your grip on the inner life of an acquaintance could be
so wrong – that she could be a thief and lying about her religious con-
victions – then that person would not be your friend.
More, however, needs to be said about why such partiality is epis-
temically acceptable and not just morally or intimately acceptable. I
turn to this question in the next section where I describe the mechanism

that explains why openness towards the testimony of friends is epis-
temically significant.
6. The direct acquisition of testimonial belief and

knowledge
I am more open to my friends’ beliefs – I take them more seriously –
because they have a direct effect on my inferential practices. Or, as
Millgram (1997: 141) puts it: ‘another person’s mental states can be,
literally, one’s own’. A friend’s desire can be my desire: I can want to
bring it about that Dylan has a peach because Dylan desires a peach.
This is not driven by having a higher order desire to bring it about that
my friend’s desires for X are satisfied; that would be ‘one thought too
many’; I just want X to be so because that is what my friend wants.
Similarly I share the joy of my friends’ successes, and their frustrations
and disappointments, and this ability to empathize with a friend’s
emotions is not mediated by higher order desires. I also take up certain
pursuits because that is what my friend does – I do not do this because,
given our similar tastes, I reason that I will probably like abseiling too,
or that abseiling will provide us with more time together – I do it
because his mental states, his desires and enthusiasms, have a direct
effect on my actions. It is untenable to claim that, in order to act on my
desires, I must have the desire that my own desires are satisfied; rather,
my actions can be explained simply in terms of my desires for p, q and
r; the second order desire (that the desires for p, q and r are satisfied) is
explanatorily empty and not warranted by behavioural or introspec-
tive evidence. And Millgram’s claim is why suppose that such second
order desires are required when acting on the desires of friends: there
too they are explanatorily empty and there is no evidence that they
always play such a role in practical action.
Such an account is also applicable to the acquisition of beliefs. I
am sometimes open to my friends’ beliefs because I have inductive
evidence that they are likely to be correct. In certain cases, though –
when perhaps such evidence is lacking – such openness is not medi-
ated in this way. I am not reassured that Dylan did not steal the
pudding by reasoning from the premise that a friend would not do
that kind of thing; rather, I have Dylan’s belief that he did not take it.
I acquire this directly, not via inference. The fact that I share (some
of) my friends’ beliefs is not mediated by beliefs, say, about their
likely reliability; rather, as friendships are forged my friends’ stock of
beliefs becomes available to me as well as my own. (Such an account
is suggested by Aristotle’s notion of a friend as a second self. See
Aristotle 1925: viii–ix.) Problems will of course arise if a friend
believes that p and you antecedently believe that not-p. But such
clashes of belief occur in one’s own case too, sometimes in cases of
self-deception, and when one becomes aware of such contradictions
they must be ironed out one way or another. The reciprocal ironing
out of contradictions between the beliefs of friends – between H’s
beliefs and those he inherits from S, and vice versa – results in S and
H sharing more and more of their beliefs, particularly those that are
constitutive of their friendship.
36 Dan O’Brien

For my beliefs acquired in this way to constitute testimonial
knowledge, they must be justified, and I argue that this can be so. An
important feature of testimony is that the epistemic credentials of S’s
beliefs can be transmitted to H. For example, for H justifiably to believe
that p, he does not himself need to be aware of S’s reasons for believing
that p; in accepting what S says, he inherits the warrant S has for her
beliefs. ‘Someone can know “vicariously” – i.e., without possessing the
evidence for the truth of what he knows’ (Hardwig 1985: 348). I believe
that the universe is expanding because Professor Calculus told me so; I
cannot articulate any reasons for why this is so, but my belief is justi-
fied or warranted because Professor Calculus has strong grounds for
claiming this to be the case. His knowledge is transmitted to me, not
just his belief. Hardwig argues that such an account must be accepted,
otherwise we would be forced to make the revisionary and implausible
claim that a large proportion of our beliefs do not amount to knowl-
edge and that they are unjustified or irrational because we do not our-
selves possess reasons to think they are true. Knowledge is social: the
justification for a thinker’s beliefs does not have to be possessed by that
thinker herself. Such an account is suggested by both Goldberg (2007)
and Schmitt (2006); according to the former’s ‘Transmission of the
Epistemic Quality of the Testimony Thesis’ and the latter’s
‘Transindividual Reasons Thesis’, H’s beliefs can be justified, not only
by reasons of which she is aware (‘personal reasons’), but also by rea-
sons of which only S is aware (‘transindividual reasons’).
[I]n testimony a speaker transmits to her audience not only the content
attested, but also the reasons that the speaker has in support of that
content – or, if not the reasons themselves, then at least the support
provided by those reasons.
(Goldberg 2007: 17)
And, I claim, such an account can also apply to cases of friendship. My

openness towards what Dylan says allows me to acquire his belief and
it also allows me to share his justification. I do not inherit Dylan’s
actual reasons because, in this case, I do not have his memory of not
taking the pudding (that which provides justification for his testi-
mony); rather, I inherit the epistemic weight that his beliefs possess.
Dylan knows that p – he believes that p and has justification for such a
belief – and this belief, justification and therefore knowledge are also
directly available to me.
It is important that my cases involve the direct acquisition of knowl-
edge. The justification possessed by my beliefs is often inferential. My
belief that the train is due is justified by my ability to perform the fol-
lowing inference: the guy on the platform, Frank, tells me that it is due;
people waiting on platforms tend to be right about the train timetable,
and Frank is a typical passenger; thus I believe him. The justification
that my belief possesses is therefore constructed from the testimonial
belief I acquire and the inference I am capable of performing. However,
if Frank is unreliable, then his unreliability will defeat the justification
I take his testimony to supply. This is so because, in such a case, my

4. This claim is reasoning is based on a false belief (that Frank is a typical passenger;
supported by exam
marking practice. If
that he knows the timetable) and it is lucky if reasoning takes one from
Elaine gets four out false premises to a true conclusion (that the train is due). It is therefore
of ten answers right crucial that such inference is not involved in my cases. When inference
on a certain topic
then she is given
is not involved in the justification of testimonial beliefs – as is some-
four marks because times the case with friends – then the unreliability of S cannot play
she is thought to such a defeating role.
know four things
(she is given the
A parallel with memory is illuminating. Elaine at t1 (Elaine1) has
benefit of the doubt lots of knowledge (k1, k2, k3…kx). She is, though, forgetful and by t2 she
that her answers are (Elaine2) has forgotten a lot of what she used to know; she still, how-
not just guesses).
She does not get
ever, remembers k1. Elaine’s memorial transmission mechanisms are
zero, which would not reliable, yet we are not tempted to say that this compromises her
seem to be called ability to know k1. Testimonial transmission involving friends could
for if one adopted
some kind of
therefore be seen as closely akin to memorial transmission – the rela-
reliabilist account tion one has to one’s earlier self akin to the relation one has to a friend.
of memorial Elaine1’s knowledge therefore corresponds with S’s knowledge, and
knowledge (and
one takes exams
Elaine2’s knowledge corresponds with H’s knowledge. Both Elaine1
to be testing for and S have lots of knowledge (k1, k2, k3…kx), but most of it gets lost in
knowledge rather transmission; only k1 gets through. In the memory case we still think
than mere true
belief).
of this as knowledge,4 and we also should in the testimonial case. The
unreliability of Elaine1, manifest by the loss of k2–kx, does not under-
mine k1, and so S’s similar unreliability should not undermine H’s k1.
Furthermore, there are lots of things Elaine2 can now be said to know
for which she cannot remember the justification. There is justification,
though, which was possessed by her earlier self (Elaine1), and it is this
justification that she inherits. Similarly, then, H can inherit justification
for k1 from S. In the memory case we have transtemporal reasons, and
in the case of testimony, transindividual ones.
The position argued for in this paper is opposed to evidentialism.
According to evidentialists one should only believe what one has good
empirical reason to believe: ‘it is wrong, always, everywhere, and for
anyone to believe anything upon insufficient evidence’ (Clifford 2003:
518). This has been denied by pragmatists of various stripes. For them,
what one should believe is also determined by the utility of such beliefs
to one’s life. I am also opposed to evidentialism in certain cases,
although for intimate reasons and not for pragmatic ones.
Impartiality is an aspect of evidentialism. Epistemic impartiality
does not entail that everyone’s testimony is of equal merit since experts
should be believed over novices on almost any topic. It is claimed,
though, that if S’s testimony has the epistemic credentials to be believed
by H1, then it should also be believed by H2. This, however, is some-
thing I deny. If S is a friend, then there are times when she should be
believed even though she should not were she a stranger, or it is per-
missible for the strength of one’s beliefs in what a friend says to be
stronger than those concerning a stranger’s testimony.
7. Epistemic luck
To conclude let us return to the relation between luck and knowledge,
which we touched upon in section 1. In this paper I have discussed
whether there is a reliabilist constraint on testimonial knowledge
38 Dan O’Brien

transmission, and so I am interested in veritic epistemic luck. Veritic 5. It has been
suggested (not
luck applies to thinkers who have true beliefs by accident, when, that altogether seriously)
is, p and a thinker’s belief that p align by chance. This kind of luck is that my account
incompatible with knowledge; my true belief concerning Dylan, how- may have radical
consequences for
ever, is not lucky in this sense, as I shall go on to explain. the legal profession.
First, it should be noted that there are various ways that luck can be Much prosecution
involved in the acquisition of knowledge. It may, for example, be lucky time is spent
digging for possible
that you happened to be in the right place at the right time to see (and connections between
thus have perceptual knowledge of) that shooting star. In most nearby witnesses, jury and
worlds you would have been asleep or indoors when it occurred, but defendants: friends
cannot be asked to
here it so happened that you were woken by your cat just as the ‘star’ sit on the jury since
passed the gap in your curtains. I claim, then, that the luck involved in they are likely to be
my cases is more like this kind of luck and not veritic luck. biased. According to
my account, though,
Lying in bed staring at the gap in the curtains is not a reliable if the defendant is an
method of acquiring true beliefs about shooting stars, and neither is unreliable testifier,
listening to Dylan’s testimony; nevertheless, when I happen to be in then his friends are
the only people who
the right place at the right time I can acquire knowledge in these ways. can come to know,
And this, in the cases I have been discussing, is when a friend S is on the basis of his
speaking the truth with the intention of passing on his knowledge. testimony alone,
that he is innocent.
Recall the analogy with memory. There may be a sense in which Thus if a court seeks
both Elaine2 and H are lucky to have certain true beliefs – they are knowledge, the jury
lucky given their transmission mechanisms are so unreliable – but my should be stacked
with close friends of
claim is that this kind of luck does not undermine testimonial knowl- the defendant! As
edge. And one reason for saying this is grounded in the intuition that said, though,
this kind of luck does not undermine memorial knowledge. Elaine2 can intimate trust is
fallible – such juries
know k1 even though she is lucky that this gets transmitted from her would acquire
earlier self (given the loss of k2–kx). knowledge in cases
It may also be instructive to consider again the source of S’s unreli- where juries of
strangers would not,
ability in the relevant scenarios. It was noted that these are not cases but they would also
where S is lying; we are talking of cases where S’s unreliability is due to lead to many false
him repressing certain beliefs about himself, having certain inhibitions acquittals.
(he may be shy about his deeply held beliefs), or being a compulsive
joker. In the successful cases, then, S manages to overcome these barri-
ers to transmission. This is a positive achievement on S’s part. S’s achieve-
ments may be rare – and he may, therefore, be unreliable, and ‘lucky’ in
one sense – but when he manages to overcome these barriers he does so
with his own cognitive resources. His true belief is not merely coinci-
dental. And my claim is that H can benefit from S’s achievement and
acquire knowledge too, the knowledge that S possesses.
I have argued that even when S is an unreliable testifier, the condi-
tions can, on occasion, be suitable for the transmission of knowledge
from S to H. This is so if S intends H to come to know that p, and if H
recognizes this intention and intimately trusts S – with trust, therefore,
not just amounting to the assessment of S’s reliability.5 Hopefully,
then, even if you were at first ill-disposed to my claims, your intuitions
might now have changed; or, if not, you may nevertheless be willing
to ignore the counter-intuitiveness of my claims concerning knowl-
edge attribution in light of the arguments I have presented. Let’s see:
Your best friend Bernice is rather scatty; a lot of what she says is
not true, even concerning her own desires and intentions. Your

6. Thanks to Joss friendship has been forged over an interest in fashion and you spend
Walker and Garry
Hagberg for helpful
all your time talking about hairstyles and clothes – these are the most
comments. important things to you both. On a particularly scatty day, Bernice truly
claims that she is going to bob her hair. You believe her and later in the
day you bump into Scott, a fellow fashionista, who, seemingly in shock,
says ‘well, I suppose you know that Bernice intends to bob her hair?’
Well, do you? 6
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40 Dan O’Brien

Suggested citation
O’Brien, D. (2009), ‘Communication between friends’, Empedocles European
Journal for the Philosophy of Communication 1: 1, pp. 27–41, doi: 10.1386/
ejpc.1.1.27/1
Contributor details
Dan is a Research Fellow at Oxford Brookes University, an Honorary Research
Fellow at Birmingham University and an Associate Lecturer with the Open
University. He has published widely on epistemology and the philosophy of
mind. Recent books include An Introduction to the Theory of Knowledge (Polity,
2006) and Hume’s Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding: Reader’s Guide
(Continuum, 2006; with A. Bailey). His current research interests include the
epistemology of testimony, and David Hume’s philosophy of religion.
Contact:
E-mail: dobrien@brookes.ac.uk

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Communication or Confrontation –
Heidegger and Philosophical
Method
Vincent Blok Louis Bolk Institute, Netherlands
Abstract Keywords
In this essay, we consider the philosophical method of reading and writing, of communication
communication. Normally, we interpret the works of the great philosophers and Heidegger
explain them in papers and presentations. The thinking of Martin Heidegger Nietzsche
has given us an indication of an entirely different method of philosophical think- philosophical method
ing. In the 1930s, he gave a series of lectures on Nietzsche. In them, he calls Will
his own way of reading and writing a confrontation (Auseinandersetzung)
with Nietzsche. We consider the specific character of confrontation, and in
what ways it is different from communication. First, we develop an answer
to the question of how Heidegger reads Nietzsche. Does he give a charitable
or a violent interpretation of Nietzsche and, if neither, how can his confronta-
tion with Nietzsche be characterized? With this, we obtain an indication of the
way we have to read Heidegger, indeed, of philosophical reading and writing
as such.
Introduction
In Also sprach Zarathustra Nietzsche writes:
Wille zur Wahrheit heiβt ihr’s, ihr Weisesten, was euch treibt und brün-
stig macht? Wille zur Denkbarkeit alles Seienden: also heiβe ich euren
Willen! Alles Seiende wollt ihr erst denkbar machen: denn ihr zweifelt
mit gutem Miβtrauen, ob es schon denkbar ist.
(KSA 4: 146)
When we ‘read’ this statement of Nietzsche, then it refers back to our

own way of ‘reading’ it. How do we read Nietzsche and in what way
is the will to truth at work in our way of reading and thinking?
We ‘interpret’ the text of Nietzsche and ‘communicate’ it in a lecture
or article. Every communicative interpretation is already surrounded
by the Wille zur Denkbarkeit, as far as the text is represented for thought.
Representation anticipates the representability of the text, which means
that the primary unity of interpretation and interpretandum, a princi-
ple of ‘community’, is presupposed. This anticipation is such that
either the subject of our reading is subservient to its object, or the object
of our reading is subservient to its subject. The former we may call a
EJPC_1.1_art_Blok_043-058.indd 43 11/19/09 4:40:21 PM

philological-reconstructive or historical reading of Nietzsche. The
latter a philosophical-progressive or systematic reading – which is to
say that our own philosophical question is being raised, in the light of
which Nietzsche’s thinking is brought up and evaluated critically. It is
along these two modes of thought that the great philosophers are read
nowadays and their work is commented upon.
Every communication theory presupposes an answer to a fundamen-

tal philosophical question: is the ambition of philosophical thinking to
reach a unity or community in communication, or is it searching for
ways to dwell upon the unbridgeable gap or difference between the par-
ticipants of communication? It is our experience that the whole point of
our reading and writing is the experience of resistance, i.e. the ‘unap-
proachability’ of the text. This has some implications for our method of
reading and writing. How can our reading and writing remain with the
unapproachability of the text, without incorporating this unapproacha-
bility in its interpretation and communication? On the basis of the phi-
losophy of Martin Heidegger I will try to make this presupposition of
interpretation and communication explicit and bring it up for discus-
sion. In this way, we further our attempt to trace the philosophical deter-
minants of communication theory and to rethink this theory.
In the 1930s, Heidegger gave several lectures on Nietzsche. In these,
he rejects the interpretative method of philosophical thinking, because
every interpretation presupposes the unity of interpretation and inter-
pretandum, like every communication. By contrast, he calls his own way
of philosophical thinking a confrontation (Auseinandersetzung) with
Nietzsche. I will ask what the nature of this confrontation is and what
differences exist between confrontation and interpretative communi-
cation. First of all, we obtain an answer to the question of how
Heidegger reads Nietzsche. Secondly, and more importantly, we
obtain an indication to the nature of philosophical reading and writing
as such. Philosophy, it will emerge, is a method of thinking which is
capable of dwelling upon the difference between mine and thine, upon
the unapproachability of the text.
In this article, I will restrict myself mainly to Heidegger’s first lec-
ture on Nietzsche; what is at stake is primarily the specific nature of
confrontation as such, which emerges in his reading of Nietzsche.
Firstly, I consider the hypothesis that Heidegger gives an interpreta-
tion of Nietzsche (1). After refuting this hypothesis, I elaborate three
differences between interpretative interpretation and confrontation (2).
Next, we elaborate the specific nature of his concept of confrontation
on the basis of an example: Heidegger’s confrontation with Nietzsche’s
concept of the ‘Will’ (3). Finally, I reconsider Heidegger’s concept of
confrontation in a critical evaluation (4).
1. Guiding question (Leitfrage) versus grounding

question (Grundfrage)
In the first lecture about the will to power of 1936/1937, Heidegger
calls attention to a vast difference between the so-called guiding
question of the metaphysical tradition and his own grounding question
44 Vincent Blok

of philosophy. The ‘initial commencement’ (erste Anfang) of philosoph- 1. ‘We already live in
an understanding of
ical thinking is, according to Heidegger, guided by the metaphysical Being and that the
question about the ‘being’ of beings, about the ‘beingness’ of beings. meaning of Being
According to Heidegger, the thought of Nietzsche also belongs to the is still veiled in
darkness’ (SZ:
first beginning of philosophical thinking. Although Nietzsche has a 4, tr. 23). Quotations
reversal of Platonism in mind and rejects the transcendental world of in the main text
‘being’, his own question about being remains orientated upon beings, are in German and
translated in the
namely earthly existence. Just as in the metaphysical tradition, notes. Further
Nietzsche’s question of being ends up in a metaphysical description of references and
the being of beings: will to power. quotations in the
notes refer to the
Contrary to this tradition, Heidegger asks after ‘Being’ itself, for the German original.
‘meaning’ or ‘sense’ of being (Sinn von Sein). This question is raised at
2. ‘Und Sinn ist dabei
the beginning of Being and Time. Here, Heidegger says that ‘wir je genau in seinem
schon in einem Seinsverständnis leben und der Sinn von Sein zugleich Begriff umgrenzt
in Dunkel gehüllt ist’.1 Heidegger explicitly speaks about the under- als dasjenige, von
woher und auf
standing of ‘being’, that is to say that this understanding should not be Grund wovon das
confused with our understanding of ‘beings’. Understanding of being Sein überhaupt als
doesn’t mean that ‘being’ shows itself in the world and subsequently solches offenbar
werden und in die
can be understood by thinking. The point is the being of understand- Wahrheit kommen
ing itself, of our understanding of things and people itself. What kind kann’ (GA 43: 21).
of understanding is involved in our interpretative understanding of On the ground
of sense, ‘being’
Nietzsche? Every interpretation presupposes the principal ‘accessibil- becomes manifest,
ity’ of the interpreted work for the projections of thinking. That is to that is to say that
say that our understanding is marked by the dominion of presentness the sense withdraws
itself from
(SZ: 25). Thanks to this porosity of being and thinking, the work of manifestation.
Nietzsche can be interpreted in a philological-reconstructive or philo-
sophical-progressive way.
In our natural understanding of things, the ‘sense’ of being stays
concealed according to Heidegger. This concealment is not neutralized
by a projection (Entwurf ) of thinking. He calls the sense of being ‘pro-
jection range’ (Entwurfbereich), ‘worin sich Verständlichkeit von etwas
hält’, ‘wherein the intelligibility of something maintains itself’ (SZ: 151;
trans. 193). This Entwurfbereich is the space between being and thinking,
the openness I have to stride through to reach things in the world. Our
understanding lives off this Entwurfbereich, which cannot be taken up
in a projection of thinking; on the contrary it withholds itself in every
thinking projection. Heidegger experiences, in other words, an incom-
mensurability between understanding of beings and the sense of being,
something beyond thinking which is unreachable by understanding.
The guiding question of philosophy leads to different configura-
tions of the understanding of the being of beings – in the history of
metaphysics, being is, for instance, understood as ‘phusis’, ‘object’,
‘will to power’ – but in this, the question about the open between being
and thinking, the sense of being, is forgotten and unquestioned. That
is to say, that according to Heidegger, the forgetfulness of being domi-
nates (GA 43: 282). In his lecture on the will to power, Heidegger asks
the question about the sense of being; this is the grounding question of
philosophy, because the sense is the ground for our understanding of
the being of beings2 and this ground of understanding, as such, is the
only concern of philosophy.
Communication or Confrontation – Heidegger and Philosophical Method 45

3. ‘Im folgenden Text Although Heidegger’s concept of the other commencement
sind “Darstellung”
und “Auslegung”
(andere Anfang) needs further elaboration, we can already draw a
in-einandergearbe- negative conclusion from Heidegger´s distinction between the guid-
itet, so dass nicht ing question of metaphysics and his own grounding question of
überall und sogleich
deutlich wird,
philosophy: the grounding question about the sense of being is com-
was den Worten pletely different from a philological-reconstructive or a philosophical-
Nietzsche’s progressive interpretation of Nietzsche, because every interpretation
entnommen und
was dazugetan ist.
lives off the understanding of being, and so belongs within the
Jede Auslegung range (Bereich) of the metaphysical guiding question. The opening
muss freilich nicht between being and thinking, the sense of being, is forgotten there
nur dem Text die
Sache entnehmen
and remains unquestioned. Only when the grounding question is
können, sie muss questioned can we attain the philosophical meaning of Nietzsche’s
auch, ohne darauf thinking.
zu pochen,
unvermerkt Eigenes
The question now is how Heidegger reads Nietzsche, when the
aus ihrer Sache dazu guiding question of metaphysics is incommensurable with the ground-
geben können. Diese ing question of philosophy. Is the grounding question brought to mind
Beigabe ist dasjenige,
was der Laie, gemes-
for Heidegger through an ‘interpretation’ of the guiding question of
sen an dem, was er Nietzsche? What sense does the thinking of Nietzsche make for
ohne Auslegung für Heidegger, when guiding question and grounding question are incom-
den Inhalt des Textes
hält, notwendig als
mensurable?
Hineindeuten und The difference between them does not reach so far that the think-
Willkür bemängelt’ ing of Nietzsche becomes irrelevant for Heidegger. Although Nietzsche
(GA 50: 8–9).
does not himself question the sense of being, Heidegger says that
4. Examples of such a this thinking is the impetus for the grounding question (GA 44: 28;
reading are Michael
Zimmermann and
GA 43: 288). Is it possible for a reconstructive or progressive inter-
Marion Heinz: pretation of Nietzsche to lead the way to Heidegger’s question of
‘In Der Wille zur being? We may be inclined to think so and therefore I will test this
Macht als Kunst
hatte Heidegger
view.
wenigstens zwei In the preliminary drafts of Nietzsche’s unfinished principal work,
Absichten. Er wollte The Will to Power, Heidegger sees three fundamental positions com-
erstens zeigen, dass
er seine eigene
ing up: will to power; the eternal recurrence of the same; and revalu-
Ontologie … von ation of all values (GA 43: 18–19). Heidegger discusses these titles
Nietzsche’s Denken and is curious about their ‘unity’ or connection. This unity does not
ableiten und dass
er so Nietzsche’s
speak for itself, because will to power is bound up to earthly exist-
Denken vor den ence of generation and corruption. This eternal ‘ongoing’ character of
nationalsozialis- the will to power seems to contradict his other thought of the eternal
tischen Ideologen
retten konnte’
recurrence. This impels Heidegger to ask for the unity of the will to
(Zimmermann 2005: power and the eternal recurrence of the same (cf. GA 43: 287–288).
101); ‘Erst und This is the question about the ‘sense of being’ as will to power, which
nur in seinsgeschich-
tlicher Blickbahn
is Heidegger’s question in this first lecture on Nietzsche. If this is
erschliesst sich die the case, then Heidegger gives a reconstructive interpretation of
Tiefendimension Nietzsche and, on this ground, he observes an interpretation problem –
von Nietzsche’s
Denken, d.i. die in
the unity of the will to power and the eternal recurrence of the same –
seinem Gesagten which is offensive (Anstoß) to his own grounding question about the
als verborgener sense of being.
Grund herrschende
seinsgeschichtliche
We can even say that here Heidegger gives a progressive interpre-
Konstellation, die tation of Nietzsche.3 He recognizes his own question about the sense of
es in seiner eigenen being in the thinking of Nietzsche.4 So in Nietzsche, he recognizes the
geschichtlichen
Notwendigkeit zu
question as to what the will to power itself is, the sense of being as will
to power.5
46 Vincent Blok

Nothing speaks against this interpretation of the connection begreifen gilt’
(Heinz 2005: 175).
between both questions, except Heidegger himself:
5. According to
Heidegger,
Wenn wir Nietzsches Willen zur Macht, d.h. seine Frage nach dem Sein
Nietzsche asks what
des Seienden, in die Blickbahn der Frage nach ‘Sein und Zeit’ bringen, the will to power
dann heiβt dies allerdings nicht, es werde Nietzsches Werk auf ein Buch is. The Nietzsche’s
answer to this
mit dem Titel ‘Sein und Zeit’ bezogen und nach dem, was in diesem
question is: the
Buch steht, gedeutet und gemessen.6 eternal recurrence of
the same. Nietzsche
calls this question
According to Heidegger, a progressive interpretation of Nietzsche, i.e., about being itself
an interpretation that opens the perspective on the grounding question his heaviest thought
about the sense of being and understands the thinking of Nietzsche (GA 43: 21). We
may conclude that
from it (see GA 44: 27).7 Nietzsche already
tried to think the
Von der Leitfrage zur Grundfrage gibt es nie einen unmittelbaren, sense of being as
will to power – the
gleichsinnigen, die Leitfrage noch einmal (auf das Seyn) anwendenden
eternal recurrence
Fortgang, sondern nur einen Sprung, d.h. die Notwendigkeit eines of the same – that
anderen Anfangs.8 is to say that he
already thinks being
out of time.
The transition from the metaphysical guiding question to the philo-
6. ‘If we bring
sophical grounding question cannot be made by applying the guiding Nietzsche’s “will to
question to sense of being; the grounding question is something com- power”, that is, his
pletely different and therefore presupposes a ‘leap’, according to question concerning
the Being of beings,
Heidegger (I will come back to this leap in what follows). into the perspec-
Heidegger can claim this, but can we substantiate Heidegger’s way tive of the question
of reading and writing about Nietzsche as something else other than concerning “Being
and Time”, that does
an interpretation of his work?9 The question is, then, how to character- not at all mean that
ize the relation between the thinking of Heidegger and the thinking of Nietzsche’s work
Nietzsche: on the one hand, the grounding question of Heidegger is is to be related to a
book entitled Being
incommensurable with the question that guides metaphysics up to and Time and that it
Nietzsche, on the other hand, Heidegger calls the thinking of Nietzsche is to be measured
that which is offensive for his grounding question of philosophy.10 We and interpreted
according to the
will concentrate on this difference in the next section. contents of that
book’ (GA: 43: 23;
2. Heidegger’s concept of confrontation trans. 20).
(Auseinandersetzung) 7. Vgl. ‘Angesichts
Heidegger calls his own way of philosophical speaking an unfolding eines solchen
(Entfaltung) of the guiding question of Nietzsche in view of his funda- denkerischen
Werkes ist es nicht
mental metaphysical position (Grundstellung).11 This unfolding stands zweifelhaft,
under the sign of a confrontation (Auseinandersetzung) with the funda- ob wir es im
mental metaphysical position of Nietzsche, with his answer to the Handumdrehen
in unsere gewohnten
guiding question of philosophical thinking.12 We introduce now und geläufigen
three differences between an interpretation and a confrontation, to “Rubriken”
elaborate this confrontation specifically by means of Heidegger’s con- einzwängen dürfen
oder ob ein solches
frontation with Nietzsche in the next section. Denken umgekehrt
First of all, every interpretation lives off the understanding of being uns zur Besinnung
and presupposes in this way the principal identity of interpretation and und zur Loslösung
vom Geläufigen
interpretandum (cf. Introduction). With this, it is incapable of halting at zwingen muβ’
any incommensurability at all. Seen from an interpretative perspective, (GA 44: 72).
there is no principal incomparability between guiding question and

8. ‘Going from the grounding question, rather the grounding question is the result of
guiding-question
to the grounding-
Heidegger’s ‘critique’ of the one-sidedness of the guiding question of
question, there is metaphysics and the grounding question exists in a counter-movement
never an immediate, against the guiding question. Such a critique or counter-movement pre-
equi-directional and
continual process
supposes the principal comparability of both questions.
that once again However, Heidegger suggests the contrary (GA 65: 187). Just
applies the guiding- because both questions are incomparable, he bids farewell to interpre-
question (to be-ing);
rather, there is
tation. His confrontation (Auseinandersetzung) makes an effort to halt at
only a leap, i.e., the the difference (auseinander) of the guiding question and the grounding
necessity of an other question, without reconciling this difference or aiming to neutralize it
beginning’ (GA 65:
76; trans. 53).
in a higher identity
9. With this question,
Jede echte Auslegung ist Auseinander-setzung im wörtlichen Sinne; sie
we turn against
interpreters like muβ das Auszulegende in es selbst und seinen eigenen Grund zurückstel-
Wolfgang Müller- len und dadurch erst wird der Ausleger seinerseits in seine Blickstellung
Lauter, who see
verwiesen.13
Heidegger’s read-
ing of Nietzsche as
indeed rooted in an The confrontation, is in other words, not controlled by the logic of
‘Andersverstehen’,
but understand
identity as in interpretation, but by a logic of difference;14 the point is
this as a progressive the ‘difference’ between me and the other.
Nietzsche- This difference does not show itself by criticising the other, but by
interpretation: ‘Aus
der von ihm gen-
considering it and tracing it in its effective force (GA 43: 6). In this con-
annten “innigsten frontation, the confronter at the same time is relegated to his perspective
Verwandtschaft” (Blickstellung), in the case of Heidegger in the grounding question about
heraus erfährt sein
Denken gleichwohl
the sense of being. Only in this confrontation, the auseinander of guiding
immer wieder question and grounding question emerges.
Anregungen durch Yet, Heidegger speaks of a confrontation with Nietzsche in this
Nietzsche, von
denen kaum
lecture and he does not unfold his completely ‘new’ question about
zu sagen ist, ob the sense of being autonomously. That means that Heidegger, not-
Heidegger in ihnen withstanding the primacy of the grounding question, depends on the
eine Bestätigung des
von ihm zuvor selbst
guiding question of Nietzsche. In which sense is this the case?
Gedachten gefunden That Heidegger does speak about an ‘other commencement’ shows that
hat oder ob sie the grounding question is indeed thoroughly differentiated from the
seine Überlegungen
vorgängig angeregt
guiding question of metaphysics, but on the other hand is related to the
haben. Letztlich ‘same’; it concerns an ‘other’ commencement of the ‘same’, namely the
werden sie in sein philosophical question about being. Our first determination of the con-
Eigenes hinein-
verwandelt’
frontation, that it is controlled by a logic of difference, needs therefore a
(Müller-Lauter 1996: slight modification. The grounding question is indeed differentiated but
124). With Jeffrey not completely disconnected from the guiding question. Both are involved
Powel, we turn
ourselves against
in the question about being, that is to say that the confrontation has the
this view on Auseinander-setzung (difference) within the same (identity) in mind.15 The
Heidegger: ‘Obwohl confrontation is, in other words, controlled by a logic of ‘iteration’.16
es wahr ist, dass
Heidegger’s
Nietzsche- With this further determination of the confrontation, it has indeed
Interpretation become clear why the grounding question of Heidegger depends on
auf eine Weise
begann, die Müller-
the guiding question of metaphysics. But until now it has not been
Lauter und seinen clear why Heidegger has to rely specifically on the guiding question
wissenschaftlichen of Nietzsche. The confrontation has to go via Nietzsche according to
Prinzipien
entsprach, sollten
Heidegger because we do not have enough distance, do not have an
aus-einander to his way of thinking (GA 43: 281); ‘Nietzsche is
48 Vincent Blok

therefore the place and source, at which real confrontation has to take wir immer dessen
eingedenk bleiben,
place’ (GA 29/30: 107). The thinking of the initial commencement is dass Heidegger
still too contemporary for us17 and the confrontation with Nietzsche sich niemals als
is, as such, primarily a confrontation with ourselves. The confronta- durch akzeptierte
Interpretations-
tion with Nietzsche concerns therefore our abendländisches Schicksal methoden und deren
(GA 43: 281). Prinzipien begrenzt
With this, a second difference between an interpretation and a con- ansah’ (Powel
2005: 118).
frontation comes to light. An interpretation takes a position or stand-
point, out of which the ‘interpretandum’ is represented. This standpoint 10. In a lecture about
the fundamental
is the ground or the subject of interpretation, which itself is not metaphysical
involved in interpretation. On the contrary, the confrontation is prima- position of Nietzsche
rily the confrontation with our ‘ownmost’; the interpretative subject. from 1937,
Heidegger even says
Our thinking is, in other words, ‘involved’ (einbegriffen) in the confron- that the thinking of
tation. Not only Nietzsche, but we all live off the guiding question of Nietzsche forced
metaphysics (GA 43: 280) and are as such marked by the forgetfulness him to say farewell
to the usual way of
of being. The confrontation with Nietzsche is necessary, in order that thinking – i.e., the
we become ‘free’ for the highest effort of our thinking, namely the farewell of the
question about the sense of being as another commencement of phi- guiding question
– and to reflect
losophy, according to Heidegger (GA 43: 20, 281). (I will return to this (Besinnung) on the
concept of freedom in section 4.) For that, we say farewell to ourselves grounding question
as the interpretative subject – the jump-off of the subject as the ground of philosophy
(GA 44: 72).
for the understanding of being – in favour of that human mode of
existence, which exposes itself to the sense of being (Dasein). Only 11. In the context of this
article, we cannot
when we understand that, we are involved in the initial commence- elaborate the
ment that culminates in the work of Nietzsche; his work is the ‘gröβte unfolding any
Anstoβ zur höchsten Auseinandersetzung, zum geistigen Kampf’ (GA further. When
we speak of
44: 28).18 It is the sense of being, which is at stake in the confrontation Auseinandersetzung
between the initial and the other commencement. in this article, in
With this, we encounter a third and last difference between an fact an entfaltende
Auseinandersetzung
interpretation and a confrontation. An interpretation presupposes a is at stake.
priori the presence-at-hand of the interpretandum, which has already
appropriated its presence. That our philosophical thinking is involved 12. ‘Die Fragenden
selbst und die,
in the guiding question means on the contrary, that we cannot claim to die innerhalb der
possess the other commencement of philosophical questioning as Bereiche der
our property. The overcoming of the forgetfulness of being presup- jeweiligen Antwort
auf die Leitfrage ihr
poses primarily a basic experience (Grunderfahrung) of the sense of wesentliches Wissen
being (GA 43: 279). This basic experience brings Heidegger to his und Handeln
grounding question of philosophy and to the localization of the first gestalten und
begründen, haben
commencement of philosophical thinking in Nietzsche (GA 43: 285): mit der Leitfrage –
mag sie als solche
Die Auslegung dagegen und das leitende und doch verschwiegene gewubt werden oder
nicht – im Seienden
Fragen kommen aus der Erfahrung der Ankunft des anderen Anfanges im Ganzen und
der Philosophie. im Verhältnis zum
(GA 43: 290).19 Seienden als solchem
eine Stellung
bezogen. Weil diese
Here, we see the eventual or momentous character of confrontation, Stellung aus der
the farewell of the metaphysical guiding question and the ‘leap’ in the Leitfrage und mit
ihr entspringt und
grounding question, which has to happen every time again and has to weil die Leitfrage
be attempted by everyone for himself. This is what is at stake in the das eigentlich
confrontation between both questions. Metaphysische in

der Metaphysik ist, 3. The concept of the will
nennen wir diese
mit der selbst nicht Now that we have considered what the difference is between confron-
entfalteten Leitfrage tation and interpretation, the question concerning the ‘substratum’ of
sich ergebende Heidegger’s confrontation with Nietzsche arises. With what exactly
Stellung die
metaphysische does the thinking of Heidegger confront itself?
Grundstellung’ (GA Heidegger says that all great thinkers think the ‘same’, because they
44: 212–213). What are all connected to the one question about ‘being’ (GA 43: 43). Where
is the being of
beings? Will to do we have to look for ‘being’? The confrontation confronts itself with
power. What is at ‘being’, as it shows itself in the ‘philosophical concepts’ of Nietzsche:
stake in the
confrontation
between guiding
Erkennen und Wissen, das ist nicht bloβe Kenntnis der Begriffe, sondern
question and ist Begreifen des im Begriff Ergriffenen, das Sein begreifen, d.h. dem
grounding Angriff des Seins wissentlich ausgesetzt bleiben.20
question is the con-
frontation with the
fundamental meta- Not the standpoint of Nietzsche, but his philosophical concepts are the
physical position of ‘substratum’ for Heidegger’s confrontation, which means that the phil-
Nietzsche, which is osophical thinking of Heidegger is linguistically determined.21 The
his answer on the
guiding question. philosophical concepts are namely drawn out of, and hold themselves
to, that of which they speak – ‘being’ – according to Heidegger.22
13. ‘Every real
explanation is Although all great philosophers think the same according to
con-frontation in Heidegger, our elaboration of the guiding question and the grounding
a literal sense; it question in the preceding paragraphs also made clear how different the
has to put back the
explanandum in its Sache des Denkens is for each thinker. When the philosophical concepts
own ground and are drawn out of this Sache, which is the same and at the same time dif-
with this, the ferent, then also the philosophical concepts are extremely ambiguous.23
interpreter for his
part is relegated to Out of this, we conclude that the greatness of the great thinkers exists
his perspective’ in the ambiguity of their concepts, which, on the one hand, belongs in
(GA 90: 37; vgl. GA the guiding question of metaphysical tradition and on the other hand
44: 150).
are witnesses of the other commencement of philosophical thinking.24
14. ‘Denn das Verstehen The greatness of the thinking of Nietzsche is that his concepts are
macht sich nicht
so, wie wenn aus not univocally at home in the first commencement of philosophical
einem gefüllten Glas thinking. This ambiguity or undecidedness of Nietzsche shows that he
Wein der Inhalt is already on his way to a reflection about the sense of being, and is
in ein noch leeres
umgegossen wird, ‘transitive’ to this question.25
sondern Verstehen Exactly this ambiguity of Nietzsche’s concept of ‘being’, which is
wird nur dort, the ambiguity between first and other commencement, impels
wo die wesentlich
Verstehenden selbst Heidegger to a ‘confrontation’ with his concepts. We will elaborate on
von sich aus dem this now by means of an example from Heidegger’s lecture on the will
neuen Gedanken to power as art, given in 1936–1937.
entgegenwach-
sen und aus der
Selbstständigkeit In the second chapter of this first lecture about Nietzsche, Heidegger
ihrer Not den neuen brings up Nietzsche’s concept of the will. What does Nietzsche, accord-
Fragen entgegenfra-
gen, um sie erst so ing to Heidegger, mean with his concept of the will?26 Will to power is
als neue zu ergreifen his answer to the metaphysical question what beings as such are.
und damit sich According to Heidegger, that the will is occupied with ‘beings as such’
selbst in die höhere
Klarheit zu verk- means that this concept cannot be derived from a region of things or
lären’ (GA 44: 150). circumstances in the world:
15. ‘Die Schärfe der
Auseinandersetzung Wenn nach Nietzsche der Wille als Wille zur Macht der Grundcharakter
ist hier nur möglich, alles Seienden ist, dann können wir uns bei der Bestimmung des Wesens des
50 Vincent Blok

Willens nicht auf ein bestimmtes Seiendes, auch nicht auf eine besondere wenn getragen
Seinsweise berufen, um von daher das Wesen des Willens zu ‘erklären’.27 von der innigsten
Verwantschaft,
nur wo das Ja zum
Heidegger elucidates this by means of an example: usually, we take Wesentlichen’
will to be a faculty of the soul.28 The soul then is distinct from body (GA 43: 277).
and mind. But when the will determines the being of every sort of 16. ‘Iter, derechef,
being, then it is not a ‘faculty’ of the soul. The soul itself then is already viendrait de itara,
autre en sanskrit,
willing, inasmuch as it is. This does not hold only for the soul, because et tout ce qui suit
also body and mind are willing, inasmuch as they are. The will there- peut être lu comme
fore cannot be understood as a faculty of the soul. But neither can the l’exploitation de
cette logique qui
will be understood as a faculty of the soul. Every faculty is capability- lie la répétition à
to-something and therefore already a power or might to do something. l’altérité’ (Derrida
The will cannot be understood as a faculty therefore, because the being 1972: 375).
of a faculty is already marked by the will to power. ‘Wenn der Wille 17. ‘Nietzsche’s denken
zur Macht das Sein selbst kennzeichnet, gibt es nichts mehr, als was und Sagen ist uns
noch zu gegen-
der Wille noch zu bestimmen wäre. Wille ist Wille’.29 wärtig. Er und wir
He connects this concept to other concepts like ‘affect’ and ‘feeling’. sind noch nicht
Usually, we link these psychological terms together with the human hinreichend weit
auseinandersgesetzt,
being as the subject that is willing. But according to Heidegger, this damit sich der
link is not justified.30 Nietzsche says that the will is something compli- Abstand bilden
cated, something that is a unity only as a word. He does not presup- kann, aus dem eine
Würdigung dessen
pose a fixed concept of the will but this concept remains forever the zum Reifen kommt,
actual object of his search: was die innerste
Stärke des Denkens
dieses Denkers
Soviel ist gewiβ, daβ für Nietzsche zunächst – bei der Vieldeutigkeit ist. Es bedarf der
des Willensbegriffes und bei der Vielfältigkeit der herrschenden Auseinandersetzung
Begriffsbestimmungen – kein anderer Weg blieb, als mit Hilfe mit Nietzsche’
(GA 43: 6; vgl.
des Bekannten das von ihm Gemeinte zu verdeutlichen und das GA 90: 253).
Nichtgemeinte abzuwehren.31
18. ‘Greatest impetus
to the highest
That Nietzsche determines the will as affect or feeling does not mean confrontation, to
anything, according to Heidegger. He does not give an answer to the spiritual combat’.
question what an affect is and only says that it is a form of the will to 19. ‘The explanation
power.32 by contrast and the
guiding though
According to Heidegger, this answer of Nietzsche’s requires us to concealed questions
elaborate the will to power from our understanding of the concept of comes out of the
the affect. Thus we can determine Nietzsche’s concept of the will experience of the
arrival of the other
according to Heidegger. commencement of
philosophy’.
Nur in der Auseinandersetzung erwächst die schöpferische Auslegung, 20. ‘To be cognizant,
diejenige, durch die Nietzsche auf sich selbst in seiner stärksten Stellung to know, is not mere
zu stehen kommt familiarity with
concepts. Rather,
(GA 43: 275–276)33 it is to grasp what
the concept itself
And here we obtain an indication to the specific character of Heidegger’s catches hold of.
To grasp Being
confrontation with the language of Nietzsche, namely that it is the means to remain
creative explanation of his concepts. Such an explanation has nothing to knowingly exposed
do with a critique or improvement of his concept of the will or with to its sudden
advance, its
the affects as psychological phenomena.34 The creative explanation of presencing’ (GA 43:
the will is differentiating, namely the destruction (Zerstörung) of the first 69; trans. 59).

21. Here is not the commencement and the erection (auslegende Aufbau) of the question of
place to elaborate being in the sense of another commencement (GA 43: 279). We will try
the central role of
language in the early to follow the specific method of Heidegger here.
and later thinking of Heidegger says that the essence of the creative explanation of the
Heidegger. For this, concept of the will consists in a ‘having-to-destruct’.
see Blok (2005).
22. ‘Ein Begriff ist kein Und die gröβte Zerstörung greift an gegen den Schaffenden selbst. Er
Begriff – in der
Philosophie wenig- zuerst muβ aufhören, sein eigener Zeitgenosse zu sein, weil er am wenig-
stens nicht –, wenn sten sich selbst gehört, sondern dem Werden des Seins
er nicht so gegrün- (GA 43: 274)35
det und begründet
ist, daβ er das, was
er begreift, für sich What is destructed is that ‘meaning’ of the concept of the will, which is
zum Maβ und zur bound up to human existence as subjectivity. We are involved our-
Bahn des Fragens
werden läβt, statt es selves in this destruction of the concept of the will, because it aims
in der Gestalt einer primarily at the creator itself and is therefore our farewell to human
bloβen Formel zuzu- existence as subjectivity.
decken’ (GA 43: 69).
At the same time, what is at stake for Heidegger is to differentiate a
23. ‘Aber Zarathustra different possible meaning in this same concept of the will: the will as a
erkennt: In
Wahrheit sind way human existence (Dasein) ex-ists and its exposure to the openness
Worte und Töne and concealment of beings, i.e., the sense of being. With regard to the
Regenbögen und concept of the will, we have to see according to Heidegger:
Schein-Brücken
zwischen Ewig-
Geschiedenem daβ es sich hier überhaupt nicht um Psychologie, auch nicht um eine
(VI, 316). Und wo durch Physiologie und Biologie unterbaute Psychologie handelt, sondern
das Ähnlichste im
Gespräch genannt um Grundweisen, in denen das menschliche Dasein beruht, um die
wird und es sich so Weise, wie der Mensch das ‘Da’, die Offenheit und Verborgenheit des
anhört, als sei es das Seienden, in denen er steht, besteht.36
Gleiche, da wird am
schönsten gelogen:
denn die kleinste In the destructive-creative confrontation with the concepts of Nietzsche,
Kluft ist am it comes to the erection of the other commencement, i.e., our transfor-
schwersten zu
überbrücken’ (GA mation and transition from subject to ex-istence (Dasein).37
44: 55). The kleinste How can the concept of the will concretely speaking be stretched
Kluft means that the in such a way, that it can bear reference to the ex-istence (Dasein)? An
same word always
has a different affect, for instance a passion, ‘assaults or seizes us’: it brings excite-
meaning. ment, and lifts us up beyond ourselves. We then say: he is out of his
24. ‘Der groβe Denker senses. According to Heidegger, Nietzsche has this essential moment
ist dadurch groβ, in the concept of the affect in mind – this being outside oneself –
daβ er aus dem when he calls will an affect. As willing-out-beyond-itself, the will is
Werk der anderen
Groβenbihr Gröβtes outside itself, ecstatic. This is the first essential moment in the con-
herauszuhören und cept of the affect.
dieses ursprünglich According to Heidegger, Nietzsche also has the other essential
zu verwandeln ver-
mag’ (GA 43: 42). moment in the concept of the affect in mind – the fact that a passion
comes over us, ‘assaults’ us, seizes us – when he calls will an affect.
25. ‘Nietzsche ist ein
Übergang – das That the will assaults us does not mean that we first exist and then we
Höchste, was von will something. We are always within the scope of the will, even when
einem Denker ges- we are unwilling, as far as the Entschlossenheit to the openness is at
agt werden kann.
Ein Übergang, der stake here.
Übergänge ein-
leitet zum zweiten Jenes eigentliche Wollen im Aufbruch der Entschlossenheit, dieses Ja ist es,
Anfang’ (GA 43: 278;
vgl. 283; vgl. GA 45: durch das jener Anfall des ganzen Wesens an uns und in uns kommt38
52 Vincent Blok

The real willing as willing-out-beyond-itself, as ecstatic ex-posure 133–135). Heidegger
is of two minds,
(Entschlossenheit) is not of all time, but the farewell of the subject because on the other
and the transition to that human existence, that ex-ists the sense of hand, he says that
being (Dasein). Nietzsche is the end
of metaphysics, and
With the concept of Entschlossenheit, Heidegger brings one of his as such obstructs the
own basic concepts of Being and Time in connection with Nietzsche’s other commence-
concept of the will. Normally, this word means resoluteness and indi- ment of philosophy.
For the develop-
cates the resoluteness of the will of the subject. Literally nevertheless, ment of Heidegger’s
Entschlossenheit means Ent-schlossenheit, ‘unclosedness’, i.e., not ambiguous relation
exactly will as the resoluteness of the subject, but exposure to the with Nietzsche in
the thirties, see Blok
openness and concealment of beings, the sense of being.39 Heidegger’s (2008).
confrontation with the concept of the will destructs the subjective
26. We have to stress
meaning of the will and stretches the concept so much, that the that we do not the-
essence of the will indicates the ecstatic ex-istence and opening up of matize Nietzsche’s
the openness.40 own concept of the
will, but its ‘recep-
tion’ by Heidegger.
Der Wille als das Über-sich-Herrsein ist niemals eine Abkapselung des Ich In this article, we
auf seine Zustände, sondern Wille ist, wie wir sagen, Ent-schlossenheit, can only refer to
Nietzsche’s own
in der sich der Wollende am weitesten hinausstellt in das Seiende, um es
understanding of the
im Umkreis seines Verhaltens festzuhalten.41 will in the notes.
27. ‘If according to
4. The test of Heidegger’s confrontation with Nietzsche Nietzsche will as
Now that we have elaborated the specific essence of the confrontation will to power is
the basic character
by means of the example of the will, we come back to the three charac- of all beings, then
teristics of the confrontation and draw a number of conclusions. in defining the
The example of the will has shown that the concepts of Nietzsche essence of will we
cannot appeal to
cannot be read ambiguously just like that. They can be read in two dif- a particular being
ferentiated directions, namely in the direction of the human being as or special mode of
the subject of the will on the one hand, and in the direction of the reso- Being which would
serve to explain the
lute openness to the sense of being on the other hand. The concepts of essence of will’ (GA
Nietzsche are undecided; this reflects the undecidedness of the question 43: 44; trans. 37).
‘who we in essence are’. This corresponds with the second character of
28. See for example
the confrontation, which we separated in section two, namely the fact Nietzsche’s own
that our thinking is ‘involved’ (einbegriffen) in confrontation. Is it self- destruction of the
evident that the human being is the subject which is the ground of the will as faculty of the
soul (KSA 531–34).
dominion of the earth: will to power? Or is human existence primarily
the resolute openness to the words or concepts that mark the way 29. ‘If will to power
characterizes Being
things appear and the way we people respond to it: will to power? itself, there is noth-
That we are ‘involved’ in this confrontation means that we do not play ing else that will
with words, but that our farewell to the interpretative subject and our can be defined as.
Will is will’ (GA
transition to human ex-istence (Dasein) are at stake here. 43: 45; trans. 38).
This confrontation has in mind to alter (verwandeln) the ambiguity Nietzsche’s own
or undecidedness (Unentschiedenheit) in a decision (Entscheidung), destruction of the
will in Jenseits von
namely the separation (Scheidung) or out-of-one-another (auseinander) Gut und Böse seems
of first and other commencement and with this, of subject and Dasein. to be comparable
The only real task of the confrontation with Nietzsche is, according to with this: ‘Wille
kann natürlich
Heidegger, ‘the will to prepare the decisions, which the West approaches nur auf Wille
in this and the coming century’.42 wirken – und nicht
That thinking is involved in confrontation entails that the transition auf Stoffe (nicht
auf Nerven zum
to the other commencement is not a decision of the human being as Beispiel –): genug,

man muss die subject. That is why Heidegger on the one hand speaks about a leap of
Hypothese wagen,
ob nicht überall, wo
being (Seinssprung) – i.e. a ‘leap’ in the transition to the other com-
Wirkungen aner- mencement of philosophical thinking – and on the other hand a think-
kannt werden, Wille ing ‘preparation’ of this other commencement (GA 43: 283). This
auf Wille wirkt –
und ob nicht alles
preparation consists in a confrontation with the concepts of Nietzsche
mechanische and tests its transitivity. That ‘Will’ means Entschlossenheit is not an
Geschehen, insof- invention of the human being as the subject of thinking, but this
ern eine Kraft
darin thätig wird,
thought comes over thinking in the thinking preparation of it. With
eben Willenskraft, regard to the thinking of Nietzsche, we read:
Willens-Wirkung
ist’ (KSA 54–55).
Der Wiederkunftsgedanke war nicht aus anderen Sätzen errechnet und
30. A first indication erschlossen, er kam; aber er kam nur, wie alle groβen Gedanken, weil
of this we saw
er – ungeahnt – doch durch eine lange Arbeit vorbereitet und erlitten
before: according
to Heidegger – in war. ... Der Blickbereich, in den da der Denker hineinblickt, ist jedoch
this lecture at nicht mehr der Horizont seiner ‘persönlichen Erlebniss’, sondern ein
least – Nietzsche
anderes als er selbst, was unter und über ihm hinweggegangen und
doesn’t link his
concept of the will fortan da-ist, was nicht mehr ihm, dem Denker, gehört, sondern dem
together with a er zugehört.43
‘being’ at all, so also
not with human
being as the sub- Precisely in this way, Heidegger is not the subject of his concept of the
ject that is willing: will as Entschlossenheit (resolute exposure), but this thought comes
‘Der Wille als das
Über-sich-Herrsein
over thinking, or not.44
ist niemals eine Because the preparing leap in the other commencement of thinking
Abkapselung des Ich can succeed but can also be unsuccessful, Heidegger calls his own way
auf seine Zustände
…’ (GA 43: 56).
of thinking an attempt (versuchen): ‘Die neuen Denker müssen
Versuchenden sein, d.h. sie müssen das Seiende selbst hinsichtlich
31. ‘This much is cer- seines Seins und seiner Wahrheit fragend auf die Probe stellen und in
tain: for Nietzsche
there was at the die Versuchung bringen’.45 This attempt is the test of the transitionabil-
time no other ity of the concepts Wille and Entschlossenheit and with this of the suit-
alternative – given ability of these words to be used for the other commencement of
the ambiguity of
the concepts of will philosophical thinking. The first and only touchstone for this test is the
and the multiplic- Sache des Denkens itself, i.e., the sense of being (vgl. GA 43: 69): ‘Die
ity of prevailing Härte und Verbindlichkeit des Denkens muβ eine Gründung in den
conceptual defini-
tions – than to clarify Sachen selbst erfahren, wie sie die bisherige Philosophie nicht kannte’.46
what he meant with The philosophical test consists in the question if will as resolute open-
the help of what was ness effectively marks our existence.
familiar and to reject
what he did not
mean’ (GA 43: 46; Einen wesentlichen Gedanken von dieser Art wahrhaft denken, heiβt,
trans. 39). in die neue Klarheit, die der Gedanke eröffnet, eingehen und in ihrem
32. In fact, this is not Lichte stehend alle Dinge sehen und mit dem ganzen Willen zu allen
true, because darin beschlossenen Entscheidungen in sie einrücken.47
Nietzsche explains
the will to power
out of his reflection In this concept of attempting, we recognize the momentous character
on the essence of of confrontation, which we saw in section two. This eventual character
the affective (vgl.
KSA: 54–55). In a of the confrontation shows that Heidegger cannot perform the leap in
note he concludes: the other commencement for us, but that we have to test it for our-
‘Daβ der Wille zur selves over and over again. Only when we see that the human being is
Macht die primi-
tive Affekt-Form not the subject of thinking but is exposed to the sense of being in the
ist, daβ alle anderen continuous test of our preparing confrontation with it, we are ‘at home
Affekte nur seine in genuine questioning’ (GA 43: 7; trans. 6).48
54 Vincent Blok

When we really become involved with such a confrontation, then this Ausgestaltungen
sind’ (KSA 13:
has consequences for the way we read Heidegger. When Heidegger 14[121]). Gerard
cannot perform the leap in the other commencement for us and we Visser shows that
have to test the transitivity by ourselves over and over again, then the Heidegger discus-
sion of affectivity in
confrontation should also characterize our philosophical thinking and relation to Nietzsche
questioning. What is demanded from us is that we leave interpreta- is insufficient (Visser
tion behind and become involved with the confrontation between 1987: 53; vgl. 52–67).
In this article, we
being and thinking. Can we claim we have performed such a confron- restrict ourselves
tation with Heidegger in this article? Or have we simply stayed on the to the thinking
level of an interpretation of Heidegger’s understanding of this con- of Nietzsche’s, as
it is received by
cept? Heidegger.
Corresponding to the first characteristic of the confrontation, a con-
33. ‘Only in confronta-
frontation with Heidegger would demand from us the experience of a tion, the creative
vast difference between him and ourselves. In what else would the explanation (schöp-
Anstob for such a confrontation exist than in his concept of confronta- ferische Auslegung)
is developing, by
tion itself? which Nietzsche
Although we characterized the auseinander as a difference between becomes positioned
first and other commencement, this auseinander seems to be oriented to on his own and
in his strongest
unity. Heidegger does not just speak of the farewell to the subject, but position’.
of destruction (Zerstörung), i.e., ‘destruction’ of the subject. In his
34. „aber Auseinander-
confrontation with Nietzsche, all that matters for Heidegger is to get setzung ist etwas
‘distance’ to Nietzsche. Because he distances himself from the first völlig anderes: den
commencement through the destruction of the subject, his thinking Gegner wählen
und sich und ihn
becomes free for its utmost effort, namely the questioning of the gegeneinander in
grounding question and with this the transition to Da-sein (GA 43: 6). Stellung bringen,
The confrontation destructs the subject and ends up in the freedom of und zwar zu einem
Kampf um das
thinking, namely a thinking that is ‘released’ from the subject. Although Wesentlichste’ (GA
we saw that the confrontation is governed by a logic of difference, 43: 276). Dit wezen-
Heidegger’s understanding of it – at least in this lecture – seems to be lijkste is het ‘zijn’,
zoals dat in het
overshadowed by a logic of identity; the confrontation purifies the first ambigue begrip van
commencement out, ends up in the creative explanation (schöpferische de wil van zich blijk
Auslegung) of the other commencement and consists therefore in the geeft.
transcendence to this other commencement (vgl. ZSF: 394). That means 35. ‘And the greatest
that Heidegger’s reading of Nietzsche, notwithstanding his efforts to destruction rises up
say farewell to the interpretation of his work, is in fact overshadowed against the creator
himself. First of
by the Wille zur Denkbarkeit, the will to ‘thinkability’, which character- all he has to stop to
ize every communication and interpretation. be his own contem-
Is it possible that Heidegger’s creative explanation of Wille as Ent- porary, because he
least of all belongs
schlossenheit is still dominated by the will to identity? Is it possible that to himself, but to the
the desire for identity is inherently bound up to the concept of the becoming of being’.
will?49 If so, then we do not only have a notion that the will as such 36. ‘That here it is not
obstructs the resolute exposure to the sense of being, but also enough a matter of psy-
reason to confront ourselves with the pro-position, the Satz and its chology, nor even
for a psychology
setzen in philosophy. undergirded by
physiology and biol-
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40: 23). Die in Sein
und Zeit gedachte Oudemans, Th. C. W. (1998), Ernüchterung des Denkens oder der Abschied der
Ent-schlossenheit Onto-Theologie, Berlin: Duncker & Humblot.
ist nicht die deci-
dierte Aktion eines Powell, J. L. (2005), ‘Die Nietzsche-Vorlesungen im Rahmen des Denkweges
Subjekts, sondern Martin Heidegger’s’, in A. Denker, M. Heinz, J. Sallis, B.Vedder,
die Eröffnung des H. Zaborowski (eds), Heidegger-Jahrbuch 2. Heidegger und Nietzsche,
Daseins uas der Freiburg/München: Alber Verlag, pp. 117–131.
Befangenheit im
Seienden zur Visser, G. T. M. (1989), Nietzsche en Heidegger. Een confrontatie, Nijmegen: SUN.
Offenheit des Seins’ Zimmermann, M. E. (2005), ‘Die Entwicklung von Heidegger’s Nietzsche-
(UKW: 55).
Interpretation’, in A. Denker, M. Heinz, J. Sallis, B.Vedder, H. Zaborowski
40. ‘Im Wesen des (eds), Heidegger-Jahrbuch 2. Heidegger und Nietzsche, Freiburg/München:
Willens, der Alber Verlag, pp. 117–131.
Entschlossenheit,
56 Vincent Blok

Suggested citation liegt, daβ er sich
selbst sich erschlieβt,
Blok, V. (2009), ‘Communication or Confrontation – Heidegger and Philosophical
also nicht erst über-
Method’, Empedocles European Journal for the Philosophy of Communication 1: 1, windung durch ein
pp. 43–57, doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.43/1 dazukommendes
Verhalten, etwa
ein Beobachten des
Contributor details Willensvorganges
und ein Nachdenken
Dr Vincent Blok is CEO of the Louis Bolk Institute (Driebergen, The
darüber, sondern der
Netherlands). His current research focuses on the construction of meaning Wille selbst hat den
in the era of nihilism and on the role of philosophy, art and science in this Charakter des eröff-
era. His doctoral thesis Rondom de vloedlijn. Filosofie en kunst in het machi- nenden Offenhalts’
nale tijdperk – een confrontatie tussen Heidegger en Jünger (Circling the Floodline. (GA 43: 60)
Philosophy and Art in the Machine Age – A Confrontation Between Heidegger and 41. ‘Will as mastery
Jünger) was published in 2005 (Aspekt publishers, The Netherlands). of oneself is never
encapsulation of the
Contact: ego from its sur-
E-mail: info@vincentblok.nl roundings. Will is, in
our terms, resolute
openness, in which
he who wills sta-
End notes continued tions himself abroad
42. ‘der Wille zur Vorbereitung der Entscheidungen, denen das Abendland in diesem among beings in
und dem kommenden Jahrhundert entgegengeht’ (GA 43: 282). Heidegger says order to keep them
that the decisive question about the overcoming of metaphysics stays indeed in the firmly within his
background in this lecture about the will to power as art and only comes up in the field of action’ (GA
differentiation between the guiding question and the grounding question, but is the 43: 56; trans. 48).
actual task of it (GA 43: 288–289).
43. ‘The thought of eternal return was not discovered in or calculated from other
doctrines. It simply came. But like all great thoughts it came only because, sur-
reptitiously, its way had been paved by long labours and great travail. ... The span
of the thinker’s vision no longer ends at the horizon of his ‘personal experiences’.
Something other than he himself looms there, abiding beneath, above, and beyond
him, something that no longer pertains to him, the thinker, but to which he can only
devote himself’ (GA 44: 11–12; trans. 12–13).
44. ‘Wenn die Vorbereitung einer Denkerfahrung noch ein Entwurf genannt werden
könnte, dann wäre dieser Entwurf ein Sich-Wegwerfen von sich selbst, das in sich
schon ein Widerfahren ist: als Sich-Entwerfen weggeworfen, entrückt aus seinem
schon festgestellten Wesen. Das Werfende im Entwerfen ist nicht der Mensch – der
Mensch wird in die Ek-stasis entsetzt, in das Drauβen schlechthin, und zwar aus dem
Drauβen schlechthin heraus’ (Oudemans 1998: 21).
45. ‘The new thinkers must attempt and tempt. That means they must put beings them-
selves to the test, tempt them with questions concerning their Being and truth’ (GA
43: 32; trans. 28).
46. ‘The solidity and binding quality of thought must undergo a grounding in the things
themselves in a way that prior philosophy does not know’ (GA 43: 32; trans. 28).
47. ‘Truly to think as essential thought of this sort means to enter into the novel lucidity
opened up by the thought; it means to see all things in its light and to find oneself
totally ready and willing to face all the decisions implicated in the thought’(GA 44:
11; trans.13).
48. ‘Hier ist alles auf die einzige Frage nach der Wahrheit des Seyns gestellt: Auf das
Fragen. Damit dieser Versuch ein Anstoβ werde, muβ das Wunder des Fragens im
Vollzug erfahren und zur Weckung und Stärkung der Fragekraft wirksam gemacht
werden’ (GA 65: 10).
49. Later on, Heidegger sees for himself that the will obstructs every exposure to the
sense of being (vgl. Blok 2008).

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Self-observation, self-reference
and operational coupling in social
systems: steps towards a coherent
epistemology of mass media
Juan Miguel Aguado Universidad de Murcia
Abstract Keywords
This paper is concerned with the role of self-observation in managing complex- mass media system
ity in meaning systems. Revising Niklas Luhmann’s theory of mass media, we self-reference
approach the mass media system as a social sub-system functionally specialized self-observation
in the coupling of psychic systems’ (individuals) self-observation and social epistemology
systems’ self-observation (including, respectively, themselves as each other’s operational coupling
internalized environment).
According to Autopoietic Systems Theory and von Foerster’s second order
cybernetics, self-observation presupposes a capability for meta-observation (to
observe the observation) that demands a specific distinction between observer
and actor. This distinction seems especially relevant in those social contexts
where a separation between the action of observation and other social actions is
required (in politics, for instance). However, in those social contexts (such as
mass-media meaning production) where the defining action is precisely obser-
vation (in terms of the differentiation that constitutes the system), the border
between observer and actor is blurred.
We shall consider the significant divergence between the implicit and the
explicit epistemologies of the mass media system, which appears to be char-
acterized by the explicit assumption of a classic objectivist epistemology, on
one side, and a relativist epistemology on the other, posing a hybrid epistemic
status somewhere in between science and arts.
1. Notes for an epistemology of common things1 1. The title of this

One of the Second Order Cybernetics’ (SOC) milestone is to make clear introductory section
seeks to pay tribute
the difference between two epistemological traditions coexisting in to Von Foerster’s
western thought (Aguado 2003a): on one side, the tradition that radi- theory of observa-
cally separates scientific knowledge from general knowledge via the tion as a challenging
proposal in the no-
incommensurability of the subject and the object of knowledge and, on man’s-land between
the other side, the tradition that correlates scientific knowledge to classic epistemology
general – and, hence, to ordinary pragmatic – knowledge in terms of a and gnoseology.
complementary emergence of subject and object interaction. We could
speak, in this sense, of an ‘ontological epistemology’ versus a ‘gnoseo-
logical epistemology’, the first prefiguring a philosophy of the method
EJPC_1.1_art_Aguado_059-074 .indd 59 11/19/09 4:40:00 PM

2. Although the addressed to scientific knowledge, and the latter being conceived as a
concept was posed
by Warren S.
recursive trend of knowledge in self-referential terms – ‘knowledge of
McCulloch as a knowledge’, in the words of Morin (1993). The contradictory implica-
descriptive term to tions derived from the term ‘experimental epistemologies’, as it was
illustrate his thesis
on the logical basis
coined by McCulloch (1965), and their crucial role in the configuration
of neural organiza- of SOC’s epistemological premises may illustrate well the way in
tion, the French which these two traditions converge in systems thinking.2
Sociologist Jean
Pierre Dupuy (1994)
However, the originality of von Foerster’s formulation was, in the
uses it to designate a first place, to pose epistemology in the terms of an implicit theory
philosophical trend of observation and, in the second place, to translate the metaphysics of
marked by the
recursive turn of the
the subject and the object of knowledge to the prosaic language of
methodological observation. Once reduced the metaphysic noise of knowledge in a
thought on sort of implicit perceptual metaphor, the operational conciliation of
knowledge,
including another
the observer and the observed, remains as the key problem. → Once
conceptual or theo- the metaphysic implications of the concept of knowledge were
retical proposals like reduced to the perceptual metaphor of observation, the operational
Piaget’s Genetic
Epistemology or the
conciliation of the observer and the observed remained as the key
cognitivist approach problem.
in the early In sum, SOC’s first achievement was to prevent the ontological
cognitive sciences.
In this sense, the
temptation of theories (including Systems Theory, or even specifically
‘experimental Systems Theory) not by confronting them with empiric realities, but
epistemologies’ firstly by confronting them with themselves as resulting products of
refer to a historical
moment when
the process of knowledge:
objectivist
epistemologies From the very moment we stop considering the concepts we use as
come to a self-
properties of the observed system, and we start considering them as an
referential
point and become emerging result of the interaction between us and the observed system,
aware of its we are moving from ontology to epistemology.
ontological nature.
(Pakman 1991: 103)
Whether we deal with observation theory (be it in systemic terms or

not), or if we deal with observing systems (in the words of von
Foerster), we are in a sense within the field of epistemology (knowl-
edge of knowledge). By this, however, we are not articulating the sci-
entific method as a specific form of knowledge (a sort of algorithm).
We are simply observing observation.
By posing, thus, the shift from systems to observing systems,
SOC conceives epistemology as a theory of observation on the basis
of an operational correlation among living, cognition and observa-
tion. As a consequence of that, SOC does not only emphasize the old
constructivist claim about the inclusion of the observer in the
observed, but also strengthens a late-modern conception of episte-
mology as a general inquiry into the nature and conditions of knowl-
edge (or cognition), which is far from the nineteenth century tradition
connected to the philosophical and logical analysis of scientific
knowledge.
The conceptual proposals of SOC remain especially challenging
for the social sciences, where epistemology, understood as a self-
referential theory of cognition, stops being a legitimating procedure
for an external observer in a privileged position and becomes an
60 Juan Miguel Aguado

operational condition for the system itself. To put it in the terms of 3. Mind theories
constitute a sort
cognitive psychology, observation theory works at the epistemic of pragmatic
social level as mind theories3 in inter-individual communications: psychology’s
they apply the logical relativist principle to solve the solipsistic para- version of double
contingency and
dox involved in the cognitive and communicative operations of both reciprocal
social and psychic systems. self-referentiality.
Beyond the well-known systemic tradition on the organizational They assume
cognitive subjects
implications of communication and cognition, the self-referential epis- operate in their
temological connection between communication and (self-)observation interactions within
has been also marked by Maturana and Varela (1980) in the concepts the strategic frame
of assuming the
of linguistic domain and ‘languaging’. On the basis of operational other has a ‘similar
coherence as the articulation of phenomenic domains, the linguistic mind’ and,
domain is defined by these authors as a ‘consensual domain in which consequently, that
he or she is able to
the coupled organisms orient each other in their internally determined similarly perceive
behaviour through interactions that have been specified during their shared situations
coupled ontogenies’ (Maturana & Varela, 1980 1996: 42). Moreover, the and similarly
adopt-oriented
phenomenic domain of the observer is precisely the linguistic domain: behaviours. The
both communication and observation are here posed as third-order presence of a mind
operational couplings, which ultimately define social nature. Language theory, for instance,
is often posed as an
is not just an instrument of observation, but an operational domain operational prerequi-
(‘languaging’) in producing consensus (meaning-involved operational site for being capable
coupling) that shares with observation the double condition of prereq- of deceiving (Martí
1997). In coherent
uisite and product for self-referentiality. In the words of Edgar Morin terms, for instance,
(1994), everything is included within meaning, but meaning is an G. H. Mead (1992)
emergence of this ‘everything’. designates the capa-
bility of adopting the
Also, according to Maturana and Varela, the crucial organizational other’s point of view
characteristic of social systems as third-order composite unities is that as a conditio sine qua
their self-organization is operated on the basis of communication as non for both commu-
nication and society,
co-ontogeny. In such contexts, self-observation arises as a functional and so does Piaget
premise of system-environment operational coupling and it is posed to (1969) with regard to
act as a guarantee in managing complexity. Self-observation is here the egocentric phase
in cognitive develop-
understood in Luhmann’s terms as the system’s re-entry of the differ- ment.
ence between system and environment (a sort of meta-differentiation).
4. Following the work
In meaning-based systems (psychic and social systems), this operation of von Foerster,
involves a sort of systemic conception of identity management that is, Bateson, and later
in our view, especially relevant in the case of the mass media system on, Luhmann,
observation is
(later on: MMS) and its role in the operational coupling between social understood as
system and individuals. the operation of a
It is, however, the mediating nature of language and meaning with distinction upon a
diference. According
regard to cognition (much more determining in the work of Maturana to Varela et al.
and Varela) that opens the space to use the term ‘epistemology’ in (1992) this can be
reference to common, pragmatic knowledge. If any cognitive process taken as the
algorithmical
is subjected to the very same principles of observational operations,4 expression of a
epistemology as a cognitive problem cannot be restricted to the sphere basic cognitive
of ‘special things’ (i.e., scientific knowledge procedure). In other operation. The
constructivist
words: to the extent any social or psychic system is an observing sys- perspective, then,
tem, its operations define a specific way of making distinctions on the relies on the fact
basis of structurally determined differentiations, and hence, in the that the distinction
does not belong to
case of human and social observers, a way of embodying a specific the observed – as
kind of epistemology. in positivist
Self-observation, self-reference and operational coupling in social systems 61

epistemology – nor 2. Beyond Luhmann’s constructivist epistemology of
to the observer – as
in subjectivism or in journalism
relativism – but to According to Luhmann (1996) the mass media system (MMS) becomes
the act of observing. a functionally differentiated social sub-system by means of adopting a
specific code of observation in order to constantly produce a global,
coherent social reality. ‘Their special contribution is a common pro-
duction of the modern human’s “transcendental illusion” of a global
shared world’, summarizes Qvortrup (2003: 152). MMS’s specific nature
as a social sub-system is, thus, its operation of the social system’s re-
entry of system-environment differentiation. Such specialization
emerges as a part of the functional differentiation that characterizes
highly complex social systems and prefigures the relevant role of the
MMS in reducing societal complexity.
Three important questions remain, however, to be addressed in a
theory approaching the mass media social phenomena from the radi-
cal constructivist perspective (see, for instance, Luhmann 1996;
Qvortrup 2003). The first is to appropriately discriminate between the
technological and the social (i.e. institutional, organizational and cul-
tural) dimension of mass media (Taekke 2005). The second is to adopt
a definition of mass media that takes into account their cultural com-
plexity, thus avoiding considering them from the classical journalism-
centred perspective (Aguado 2003b; Laermans 2005). Accordingly, the
third is to outline, in systemic terms, the role MMS plays with regard
to individual social actors or, in Luhmannian terms, psychic systems
(Aguado 2003b; Laermans 2005). For the purposes of this paper, we
will focus attention on the two latter issues.
In The Reality of the Mass Media Luhmann takes into account the
different spheres of action of the mass media following the traditional
functionalist distinction on the intentional design of contents (news,
advertising and entertainment). However, his global conception of
the MMS remains essentially attached to the operational assumptions
of journalism. By posing conflict and newness as the operating guide-
lines of the MMS, Luhmann clearly puts the stress on news and
reports. Entertainment is solely considered in the background of
media as a time-consumption oriented system (obviating its opera-
tional link with arts and aesthetics, as well as with information).
Advertising is approached as a sort of a foreign operation for the sys-
tem, a kind of parasite in the borderline between the MMS and the
economic system. The result of this is that Luhmann obviates not only
the deep operational links existing in media dynamics between these
three spheres, but its recent evolution in terms of cross-breeding of
operations and aesthetics (infotainment, product placement, info-
shows, reality TV, etc.).
It is, in our view, this emphasis on the journalistic understanding
of mass media that allows Luhmann to start his approach to the
matter with a constructivist revision of the old debate on the nature of
media as a mirror of society. In more than one sense, the ‘mirror/
window’ conception of media constitutes a sort of paradigm (Morin
1993) that prefigures the epistemological debate with regard to mass
communication studies. This debate is mostly influenced by the

epistemological problems of journalism as a social knowledge opera- 5. According to
Luhmann (1992),
tion. The question of how the mass media representation can be guar- any system operates
anteed to correspond to an effective selection of information in social the re-entry of its
reality is a typical implicit and legitimating question in journalism. differentiation with
the environment in
Certainly, Luhmann puts the debate in the terms of radical construc- terms of a binary
tivism: the question is not whether the reality of the mass media is, or code that constitutes
is not, the reality of the social system (i.e., if it is true), but rather how the nature of its
operations. Any
the mass media construct their reality and how it comes to be opera- operation of the
tive for the social system. However, by doing that, Luhmann’s system can then be
approach to the mass media remains attached to journalism as the ultimately reduced
to a selection from
operational frame for the system. that differentiation.
Consequently, his conceptualization of the MMS is built on the For instance, in the
basis of a constructivist epistemology of journalism rather than accord- case of the economic
social sub-system,
ing to a comprehensive systemic approach to the mass media. Two the code that
relevant consequences can be observed from the conceptual choice regulates operations
Luhmann makes. The first is ‘the relevance given to information as a is the binary distinc-
tion between value
code’.5 Luhmann (1996: 22) – and later on, Qvortrup (2003: 136) – and non-value.
emphasizes that his proposal of information/non-information as the In the case of the
code of the MMS does not ultimately relate to meaning, but to selec- mass media system,
Luhmann (1996)
tions. Obviously the MMS code must be as generalized and abstract as poses information/
needed to maintain a sufficient coherence for the whole system’s oper- non-information as
ations. But this emphasis also seems to obey an implicit need to avoid the code that guides
system’s distinctions.
potential confusion between ‘information’ as a selection operation and As far as a code is
‘information’ as the content of news and reports (i.e., the ‘symbolic only relevant for a
medium’ for journalism). However, as Laermans (2005) notices, this given system, there
is a need of general-
conceptual choice involves the danger of operationally undifferentiat- ized codes that allow
ing the MMS, as far as any social system operates under the principle different sub-
of producing information as selections in its interactions with its envi- systems to coordi-
nate their operations
ronment. Consequently, the distinction information/non-information in society. That is the
can be postulated to be a general distinction for any social sub-system. case for the so-called
In what sense, then, can it be taken as the specific code of the MMS? ‘symbolically gen-
eralized means of
Luhmann implicitly answers that question when pointing to crisis communication’,i.e.,
and conflict as the programme that guides the MMS selections. But means of giving
this answer again shows how near Luhmann’s conception of the MMS codes a general
validity for different
is to those classic journalism-oriented perspectives on the mass media. social systems (for
By explaining information/non-information differentiation in the instance, money
frame of a crisis-oriented programme, Luhmann re-contextualizes makes ‘value’, a
universal code
‘information’ in a journalistic context, attaching it implicitly to what is for the whole social
‘relevant’, ‘unexpected’ or, in his words, ‘irritating’ to society (obvi- system).
ously, for the sake of the system’s organizational closure, all of them in
terms of MMS differentiation). Consequently, the operational criteria
that differentiate the information/non-information code of MMS are,
indeed, journalistic criteria.
But can we reduce the organizational coherence of the MMS to the
selection criteria of news and reports? Can crisis and conflict be postu-
lated as the specific programme of MMS operations beyond a journalis-
tic conception? Our view is that such conceptualization of the MMS
obeys a conceptualization operationally determined by journalism, and
that it proves to be especially useful in explaining the operational cou-
plings between the MMS and the political system within the context of

public opinion (see Qvortrup 2003 for an extended interpretation on
these premises). It cannot be a coincidence then that entertainment and
advertising remain in the background, for their relevance is subjected,
under these assumptions, to secondary operations within the system,
such as providing economic support (advertising), supporting the
semantic coherence settled by news and reports (both advertising and
entertainment) or simply constituting a sort of game and escape that
compensates the system’s orientation to crisis (as in the case of enter-
tainment). The reader may here observe the essential coherence of
these assumptions with those of American functionalism in the field of
Mass Communication Research (Lazarsfeld & Merton 1954).
Accordingly, the second consequence derived from Luhmann’s
approach to the MMS in the terms of a constructivist epistemology of
journalism is the strict focusing of the system’s operational coupling on the
sphere of public opinion practically obviating the relevance of the MMS
with regard to the economic system and to psychic systems. In our
view, the operational coupling of the MMS within the social system
must take into account, as we shall pose later, at least three social
spheres: public opinion (Luhmann 1996; Qvortrup 2003), consump-
tion, and identity. These three operational domains of the MMS prefig-
ure it as a shifting system involving the political system, the economic
system and psychic systems. A global cultural approach to the MMS
demands we revise information/non-information as the system’s code
and, consequently, it also demands an account of the operational rele-
vance of the non-journalistic operations of the system, which strategi-
cally involve aesthetics, attention and consumption. In our view it is
precisely in this perspective one can properly locate the central role
mass media play in globalization.
3. Relevance, attention and interest

Luhmann’s conception of the specific nature of the MMS as a func-
tional guarantee for the maintenance of a ‘transcendental illusion of a
global shared world’ (Qvortrup 2003: 152) indeed fits the current
approaches to mass media as a cultural, and simultaneously economic,
mediation agent (Aguado 2003b). However, if the role of MMS is that
of a society’s (self-)observation agent addressed to reduce complexity,
we still have to differentiate the MMS from other social sub-systems
functionally characterized in the same terms (for instance, science and
technology).
Unlike science, the MMS develops its functionality as a self-
observation system in terms of consumption dynamics. In the context
of mass media, the attention paid by the public to contents and
announcements (previews of what is coming next) becomes an eco-
nomic value and an operational validating criterion (Aguado 2003b;
Laermans 2005). If the social self-observation function of science is
developed under the premises of applicability and coherence, the social
self-observation function of the MMS is operated under the premise
of the will to consume (keep watching, reading and remembering).
According to that, the selections of the MMS do not ultimately respond
to their unexpected or problematic nature, but to their potential for

being selected by audiences. Conflict and crisis are relevant means for
achieving attention and interest in the context of journalism. But, just
as not everything is news and reports in the mass media, conflict and
newness are not the unique means for achieving the public’s interest.
Thus, for instance, the spectacular nature of contents, the emotional
implication, the appeal to ‘every-dayness’ or the aesthetics of visual
forms and plots may be postulated as ways of capturing the public’s
interest in the case of entertainment or advertising.
Consequently, the code information/non-information seems to be
quite undifferentiated if we take it in systemic terms (information as a
selection upon a difference), but it shows to be quite limited if we take
it in the journalistic mood of newness and unexpectedness. In looking
for a differentiation code valid for the MMS (including, in Luhmann’s
terms, news and reports, entertainment and advertising), three pro-
posals deserve consideration.
Pintos (2001) poses the difference between relevance and opacity as
the meta-code that regulates the differentiation operations according to
other possible codes within MMS (information/non-information, for
instance). Assuming that MMS plays a fundamental role in the configu-
ration of social imaginaries, Pintos underlines the operational impor-
tance that mass media have in designating what is relevant ‘for society’
and hiding or minimizing what it is not. Again, this binary code remains
subjected to the journalistic conception of mass media as a ‘camera
focus’ for the social system: the ‘public eye’ of media shows and, simul-
taneously, hides. This complementary relation between designation
and obviation constitutes, according to the author, the ultimate nature
of the MMS’s operation. Moreover, Pintos emphasizes the critical per-
spective by questioning the capability of MMS to align the relevance/
opacity differentiation to the informational criteria of society (in other
words, he suggests that the relevance/opacity differentiation operates
according to different criteria – political, economic etc., – than those
related to information/non-information).
There are, however, in this view two differences with regard to
Luhmann’s proposal that must be underlined: the first one is that the
meta-code relevance/opacity (unlike the case of information/non-
information) does not necessarily point to a selection of the unex-
pected, improbable or irritating. It simply points to a key distinction
between what the MMS considers to be relevant and what it does not.
In this way, the author opens the door to the operational relevance of
mass media organizational and strategic variables (such as audiences
and social impact), which remain significantly neglected in Luhmann’s
work. The second difference is that the meta-code relevance/opacity
extends the characteristic functionality of the MMS in producing a
‘shared global image of the social system’ (Qvortrup, 2003: 152) to all
the systems’ products, namely advertising and entertainment, beyond
news and reports. This point, which is crucial in our view when con-
sidering the role of the MMS in modern globalized societies, occupies
a secondary place in Luhmann’s arguments. Perhaps it is due to the
fact that the code information/non-information and its focusing on
exceptionality and crisis do not always fit the coherence of advertising

or entertainment products, which significantly resort to everyday life
and normality as a meaning (or relevance) production context.
Nevertheless, the key point of the relevance/opacity differentiation
remains untouched. If we take into account the operational relevance
of organizational and strategic factors (as audiences and advertisers)
in the MMS, we should ask what the defining consequence of mass
media distinction between relevance and opacity would be.
In doing so, we should take into account that what determines the
system’s differentiation between relevance and opacity is the fact that
media are being watched, listened to or read, i.e., the fact that there is –
or there can be – communication. MMS is a social sub-system addressed
to guarantee communication in a paradoxical form; it maximizes the
interest and range of utterance and understanding by systematically
excluding its public from the systems’ operation, or, in other words, by
systematically producing its audience.
It is important here to underline that, in order to maintain the clo-
sure of MMS, audience is a product of the MMS, and not a configura-
tion of MMS’s environment. A fully operative concept of audience in
systemic perspective must constitute the internalization by MMS of its
environment (other social sub-systems and psychic systems).
Consequently, it is the public’s attention (in the form of audience
interest) that remains at the very base of MMS operations (Aguado
2003b; Laermans 2005). Thus, a more primary differentiation code
emerges before relevance/opacity differentiation. It is the differentia-
tion between interest and non-interest (Aguado 2003b). As far as
attention is an operation characteristic for the systems of the environ-
ment of MMS (social sub-systems such as politics or psychic systems
may pay attention to mass media as to other events of their environ-
ment), we think the code interest/non-interest is more accurate than
the attention/non-attention differentiation (Laermans 2005). Interest is
a communicational attitude that the MMS attributes to its representa-
tion of the environment, or, more precisely, interest is the communica-
tional attitude that allows MMS to produce audiences as an internalization of
its interactions with the societal environment. As such, interest guides the
very operations of the system, regardless as to whether we speak of
news, entertainment or advertising. Attention seems rather to be the
consequence of the operational coupling between MMS communica-
tions and psychic systems (individuals).
4. The self-observation paradox in the MMS

As we have pointed out before, the differences between the cultural
and the journalistic approaches to MMS show their ultimate relevance
in the epistemological conflict about mass media as an observing sys-
tem related to the self-observation of the social system. We may sum-
marize this conflict in the form of an endemic inadequacy between two
kinds of epistemology in the MMS. On one side, an ‘explicit epistemol-
ogy’ that fits classic objectivist assumptions and considers the media
under a sort of perceptual logics (‘the camera does not lie’); and, on the
other side, an ‘implicit epistemology’ that fits the assumptions of a
nominal relativism according to which media shape the social actors

and the very social system. While the explicit epistemology structures 6. In a sense, as com-
pendia of formalized
most of mass media journalistic self-descriptions (presentations of procedures
what ‘good media’ should be), the implicit epistemology constitutes a addressed to guar-
common place for the social critique of media (including entertain- antee the adequacy
of observations,
ment and advertising). press-style books
Mass media journalistic discourses are, thus, full of references to play a similar role to
truth, objectivity, fidelity, adequacy, etc. The interesting point is that they those conceptions of
classic epistemology
are all procedural references that take for granted the concepts they as logical procedure
involve as well as their implications. In press-style books, for instance, for the scientific
one can find standard procedures for writing reports, ensuring plural- method.
ity of perspectives, double-checking resources, contrasting declara-
tions, etc., all of them specifically meant to guarantee objectivity,
independence and equanimity. As Muñoz Torres (2000) has pointed
out, these procedural standards involve an objectivist conception of
the observational relation between the mass media and the social
world. They do not question the nature of that relation, but simply
develop formalized routines that assumingly produce an appropriate
representation of events.6
According to Gaye Tuchmann (1972) most of these practices and
routines respond to the need to protect professional journalists from
environmental interferences (protecting the reporter from the inter-
vention of the staff, protecting resources from unwanted consequences
derived from their confidences, protecting the medium from the inter-
vention of law or political menaces, etc.). However, the fact is that this
conception is widely extended to a general conception of media (not
exclusively journalism) as a ‘public eye’.
Such an objectivist conception attributes to mass media the classic
characteristics of positivism: a privileged point of observation; the
assumption that observation does not affect the observed and that
the observer is not part of the observed nor of the observation; and, in
the terms posed by Williams (1995), an absolute conception of the
world (i.e., the assumption that the world is as it is).
The question, however, is how it is possible to maintain an explicit
assumption of such an epistemology in a hyper-complex society
(Qvortrup 2003) characterized by a policontextuality and hetero-
centrism, which necessarily involve a radical fragmentation and
decentralization of observations. And, moreover, how does it concern
globalization.
The constructivist turn constitutes, in our view, a precondition for
an answer to that question. Another prerequisite is to abandon a jour-
nalism-centred understanding of media operations as observation and
to recognize the hybrid epistemic status of media, somewhere in
between science, pragmatics and arts.
Unlike in other sub-systems (as science or arts, for instance), episte-
mology remains problematic in the sphere of mass media because of the
hybrid nature of their operations: ‘mass media produce the reality they
observe and observe the reality they produce’. Precisely because the
code relevance/opacity remains a blind spot for the system’s opera-
tions, mass media cannot access the connection between production
and observation. In other words, the key problem for mass media is

that, for them, ‘observation equates to action’. As Luhmann (1996)
points out, for the mass media system there can be ‘no difference
between the world as it is and the world as it is observed’. That is the
reason why mass media cannot conceive another kind of epistemology
(or another understanding of their observations) other than the objec-
tivist one.
These premises are considered by Luhmann when pointing to the
code self-reference/hetero-reference as a basal differentiation for the
MMS. According to this view, the mass media are unable to self-
observe in different terms to those they apply to their observations of
society. They conceive themselves as social actors through their very
functional condition of observers and, thus, ‘mass media necessarily
refer to themselves in hetero-referential terms’.
Together with Luhmann we conceptualize the system of mass
media as a social sub-system specialized in the operation of the social
system’s re-entry of system-environment differentiation, assuming
that this specialization emerges as a part of the functional differentia-
tion that characterizes highly complex social systems. The defining
operation of MMS is, thus, observation. Obviously any social sub-
system is to be intrinsically considered as an observing system (there
is no complexity reduction in social systems without observation).
In coherence with von Foerster’s theoretical framework, the self-
observation of the social system presupposes an epistemology that
determines the form of interactions within the system. It presupposes
a capability for meta-observation (to observe the observation) that
demands a specific distinction between observer and actor. This dis-
tinction seems especially relevant in those social contexts where a
separation between the action of observation and other social actions
is required (in politics, for instance). However, in those social contexts
(such as mass media meaning-production) where the defining action
is precisely observation (in terms of the differentiation that constitutes
the system), the border between observer and actor is blurred.
Consequently, these social sub-systems in which there is a clear dif-
ferentiation between defining operation and observation able to imple-
ment self-observation on the basis of the actor/observer distinction.
This is not the case with the MMS, as far as its acting condition is pre-
cisely observation. This is the reason why the self-reference/hetero-
reference distinction is crucial for the very constitution of the MMS as
a differentiated social sub-system (Luhmann 1996). Unlike in other
social sub-systems, MMS self-observation is condemned to be imple-
mented in a hetero-referential form, i.e., conceiving itself as an actor
whose action is oriented to truth. In this point lies the impossibility of
reconciling the explicit and the implicit epistemology of the MMS and,
paradoxically, here also lies their complementary nature as two cou-
pling descriptions of the system’s observations.
That paradoxical condition of the MMS self-observation plays, to
our understanding, a relevant role in the operational coupling of the
MMS with other social systems (especially politics) within the environ-
ment of the public sphere. It certainly points to MMS’s functional role
in the thematization and irritation of the public sphere (Qvortrup 2003).

However, the hetero-referential condition of MMS self-referentiality
(and, consequently, its emphasis in the explicit epistemology) is also
operationally relevant for any social actor within the public sphere.
This concerns mainly political actors and enterprises or brands, which
prove to be particularly affected by the consequences of their public
image, but it can be posed as a general principle for the operational
coupling of any social actor with the MMS.
As we have posed before (Aguado 2003b), the hetero-referential
terms in which MMS operates self-reference involves a sort of ‘inter-
nalization of hetero-reference’ by the system (as seen, for instance, in
the compulsion of media to merge with other social functions as poli-
tics, economy, etc., and their typical ease in judging or evaluating
every circumstance in every context). This allows, in turn, for an ‘exter-
nalization of the MMS selection criteria (interest/non-interest) that can,
in this way, be incorporated as a means in the interactions of other
social systems with the MMS’.
In other words, this means a sort of transference of mass media
hetero-referential criteria to other social systems. As a result of that,
social systems and individuals incorporate in their interactions with
media the very same selection criteria that media apply in their inter-
action with social systems/individuals. Such is the organizational
principle of corporate communication as well as the operation princi-
ple of media events. This results in the externalization of the ‘interest/
non interest’ differentiation code and its subsequent paradox: ‘Social
systems observe themselves in the selection terms of MMS (interest/
non-interest); MMS observes itself in the terms of the other social sys-
tems (observation/action differentiation)’.
The result is that media hetero-referentiality becomes, in fact, an
externalized self-referentiality. Hetero-reference becomes a substantial
part of the media system’s self-reference. The basal distinction self-
reference/hetero-reference is then partially solved by a paradox with
consequences at the scale of the whole social system.
According to Luhmann (1996), MMS (from a journalism-centred
point of view) does not observe itself as an observing system, i.e., does
not operate under the premises of a second-order observation. It sim-
ply observes and selects events within social environment and presents
them as a matter of fact. However, if on one side we assume that hetero-
reference is a form of a system’s externalized self-reference, and on the
other side we accept that it is ‘interest’ rather than ‘information’ that
organizes the system’s operation, we should reconsider the ability of
media systems for self-observation.
Let us put it in other words. As far as information (in its sense of
‘news and reports’) is concerned, media system self-observation is
operated through a symbolic overlapping of media and society (‘pub-
lic opinion’). Media are thus ‘the eyes’ of society (explicit epistemol-
ogy), but ‘society’ is what media constitute as such (implicit
epistemology). Consequently, when media contents such as news or
reports refer to ‘society’, they are indeed operating a self-observation
that includes the social conception of media as an observation system.
That is the essence of MMS’s paradox: ‘the more they pretend to be

“out of society” (in observational terms), the more they build them-
selves as a constitutive part of that society, and vice versa’.
An illustrative example of the self-observation paradox in journal-
ism and information mass media is the case of self-reference in news
(Santin 2006). Newspapers often include themselves as social actors in
the events they present through news and reports. For instance, in the
press coverage of the Madrid March 11 terrorist attack self-reference to
media as social actors was crucial for the representation of the events,
posing a binary structure of intentional observations as ‘revealing the
manipulation of political actors’ vs. ‘manipulating according to politi-
cal actors’. This distinction was alternatively thematized by political
actors (in reference to public opinion and media) and by mass media
(in reference to public opinion and political actors). Consequently, this
self-reference operated in the form of a hetero-reference for both polit-
ical actors and mass media.
This self-referential inclusion plays – in this and other cases – a
double role: on one side it legitimates (and consequently promotes)
the observing function of the mass media through an implicit transla-
tion of the equivalence observation/action to the equivalence observa-
tion/observed; on the other side, it serves to settle the coherence
between the code relevance/opacity and the code interest/non-interest
(thus merging the role of the media as a social observer and its orien-
tation to audiences).
From the point of view of the differentiation between interest and
non-interest, mass media are then compelled to observe their observa-
tion (although in hetero-referential terms) in order to maximize the
effectiveness of their communications (interest). The operational coher-
ence between advertisers and media is precisely based upon this
premise. The same refers to the operational coherence between audi-
ence research and social environment representation. That is the rea-
son why the audience should be considered an operational construct
of the MMS. Understood in that way, audience constitutes a symptom
of this characteristic self-observation in hetero-observational form.
5. Politics, consumption and identity: operational

couplings of the MMS in contemporary society
We have questioned, in the previous sections, those systemic
approaches to mass media determined by the organizational condi-
tions of journalism and information practices. When doing so, we have
pointed out the relevance these perspectives tend to confer to the oper-
ational coupling of the MMS with politics in the constitution of the
public sphere. And we anticipated that at least two other spheres of
constitutive interactions mark the relevance of the MMS in contempo-
rary social systems: consumption and identity.
As a sort of open conclusion, in Figure 1 we have tried to summa-
rize our conceptual framework on the operational couplings of the
MMS with politics, economy and individuals. The sphere of influ-
ence of these operational couplings marks the relevance of the MMS
in globalized contemporary societies. To our understanding, a sys-
temic approach fully consequent with the premises outlined in the

Figure 1: The Mass Media System – Operational Couplings.
preceding sections must ‘take into account the reciprocal role MMS,
politics, economy and individuals play in public opinion, consump-
tion and identity’.
As we have stated, in our view a specific complement of two
codes (interest/non-interest and relevance/opacity) guides MMS
operations. The result of the system’s selections operated under
these codes constitutes themes (or situated meaning structures) that,
in their turn, function as a means for the operational couplings with
other social systems.
Through the organization of access and dissemination, interest
and relevance coordinate the operational coupling of the MMS with
the economic system. Access is the primary value of consumption
practices (which, in their turn involve the operational coupling of
the economic system and psychic systems). Dissemination is a pre-
requisite for access, and involves the operational relevance of adver-
tising and lifestyle patterns in the coupling of MMS and economy
through consumption. It is important here to underline the self-ref-
erential nature of this operational coupling, as far as mass media
contents are also products addressed to consumers via dissemina-
tion and access. In a schematic form: interest guarantees dissemina-
tion, dissemination guarantees access, and dissemination and access
feed interest. From a collateral view, it may be relevant in any case
to mention that the current shape of consumption practices in glo-
balized modern societies cannot be explained without referring to
the mass media.
Through the organization of frames via thematization, interest and
relevance coordinate the operational coupling of the MMS with the
system of politics. Themes and meaning frames operate here as selec-
tions that guide the communicative interactions with and through the
system of mass media, constituting a privileged space for the configu-
ration of public opinion. Mass media are not only a society’s self-
observation system, but a system derived from the self-observation of
social systems. In other words (and again in self-referential terms), the
system of politics observes itself through MMS observations, but also
the MMS observes itself (in hetero-referential terms) through those
observations of political and other social actors that are specifically

produced to be selected by the mass media in terms of interest and
relevance.
The operational coupling of the MMS and the systems of economy
and politics in the spheres of consumption and public opinion consti-
tute the base of a socially shared knowledge that supports the ‘modern
transcendental illusion of a global shared world’ (Qvortrup 2003). This
social knowledge concerns a ‘social know what’ which operates as a
socially situated memory (a sort of ‘social encyclopaedia’ in the terms
of pragmatics) and a ‘social know how’ that prefigures the communi-
cative competences necessary for the social actors to successfully oper-
ate within the borders of the interactions between the MMS and the
systems of economy and politics.
The operational coupling of the MMS with psychic systems (indi-
viduals) has been developed in previous works (Aguado 2003b; 2004;
2005; 2006). In these works we intend to conciliate the cultural studies
perspective with a constructivist conception of the MMS focused on its
role in producing artificial inputs environments (Geyer 1991) and con-
sequently in transforming the cultural dynamics of identity produc-
tion. In our view, the paradoxical self-referential hetero-referentiality
that characterizes the MMS facilitates it producing a social environ-
ment (a social reality, in Luhmann’s terms); this constitutes an endog-
enous representation of their interactions with other social systems
and an exogenous representation of individuals’ social environment.
The MMS operationally couples with psychic systems by produc-
ing artificial input environments addressed to reduce social complex-
ity and to facilitate decision-making processes within the spheres of
social interactions and especially involving consumption practices. In
doing so, mass media contents specifically concern attention (as an
operational prerequisite for communication), emotion (as an opera-
tional prerequisite to the internalization of the meaning frames
involved) and situated knowledge (i.e., communicative and interac-
tional competences at the individual level).
Interest and relevance, thus, affect attention, emotional implication
and situated knowledge via sensory and symbolic impact, emotional
involvement and meaning frames of reference. Perceptual and aes-
thetic immersions, together with emotional involvement, are charac-
teristic strategies of both the semantic and technological dimensions of
media (especially regarding entertainment and advertising, but
increasingly also with regard to news and reports). Additionally, as in
the case of the operational coupling within the public sphere, meaning
frames provide reference structures that contribute to increased redun-
dancy, reducing societal complexity. In such contexts, the mass media
can be conceptualized as a social sub-system functionally specialized
in the coupling of psychic systems’ self-observation and social systems’
self-observation (including respectively themselves as each other’s
internalized environment).
It is also important to note the implicit condition of the MMS as a
bridge between the operations of the systems of politics and economy,
on one side, and individuals or psychic systems, on the other. This
capability to weave consumption practices and the public sphere into

the constitution of individual identities in complex societies points to
the crucial role mass media play in social systems and poses a signifi-
cant and defying horizon for the development of the systemic under-
standing of the mass media.
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pp. 59–74, doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.59/1
Contributor details
Juan Miguel Aguado is PhD on Communication Studies at the Complutense
University of Madrid (Spain) and Postgraduate in Social Research by the
Institute of Philosophy and Sociology of the Polish Academy of Sciences
(Warsaw). He is member of the International Research Committee on Sociology
of Communication, Culture and Knowledge (RC14) at the International
Sociological Association (ISA). Actually he is professor of Communication
Theory in the School of Communication and Information Studies at the
University of Murcia (Spain). Research and publications on Epistemology of
Communication and Social Impact of Technology.
Contact: Universidad de Murcia, Facultad de Comunicación y Documentación,
Campus de Espinardo, 30100 Murcia, Spain.
Fax: +34 968367141
E-mail: jmaguado@um.es

Content and sense1

Lydia Sánchez University of Barcelona
Manuel Campos University of Barcelona
Abstract Keywords
In this paper we position ourselves against idealist presuppositions so frequent Idealism
in the humanities and social sciences, and, particularly, in communication the- realism
ory. We argue that a realist approach to the study of communication avoiding communication
such implausible assumptions is not only possible, but has already been exem- sense
plified in proposals that take communication to be a phenomenon with a bio- truth
logical origin. We argue that this sort of perspective can account for the variety
of communicative functions we encounter in human experience, including the
ones involving senses.
One of the most frequently discussed issues in communication theory 1. We would like to
concerns the nature of communication, and even, beyond that, whether thank Dr Johan
Siebers for his sup-
there is a unique phenomenon behind this label. A common view on port, insightful
the subject commits to the idea that communication involves the trans- comments and help
mission of content between interlocutors. Some authors refer to this with the language.
This essay has
perspective as ‘the transmission view’ of communication.2 One of the been financed,
problems usually associated with this view concerns the notion of con- in part, through
tent. What are contents? How should we account for them? In this grant FFI2008-
06164-C02-02 of the
paper we will elaborate this notion and will discuss the shortcomings Spanish Ministerio de
that have traditionally been attributed to it. We will distinguish two Ciencia e Innovación.
aspects to these deficiencies: a semantic one, concerning the nature of 2. The ‘transmission
these objects of our thoughts and statements and their role in explain- view’ can be traced
ing cognitive significance, and an ontological one, concerning the rela- back as far as Locke,
and has gained
tion between contents and reality. We will finally suggest a possible support with its
realist approach for solving some of these deficiencies. manifestations
There is, however, another possible family of approaches to the through Shannon
and Weaver’s theory
issue of the nature of communication, which actually seem to be quite of information
popular in the area of communication theory: for instance, to consider (1963), psychological
that any theory we might build on the nature of communication will functionalism, the
computational
not be anything but another narration (Carey 1989), to which we are analogy for compu-
not entitled to attribute any better claim to truth than to any other, or tational processes
that any theory of communication is equally acceptable in principle, and cybernetics.
The basic elements
independently of its epistemological and ontological presuppositions of communication,
(Craig 1999). In this paper we position ourselves against this sort of according to this
idealist perspective, and propose that a realist empirical approach view, include a
broadcasting agent
should be applied to the topic. We think that whether there is a phe- with a message
nomenon we could be entitled to call ‘communication’ or not, we will
EJPC_1.1_art_Saunchez_075-090.indd 75 11/19/09 4:41:53 PM

to transmit to a only know through the conjecturing of hypotheses that are maximally
receptor in order to
affect the receptor’s
coherent with the evidence we possess.
behavioural In fact, we think that a great amount of work has already been
dispositions. done, within this realist approach, in the direction of considering com-
The message is
codified and
munication to be a phenomenon with a biological origin. This research
transmitted through has produced interesting proposals on the nature of representation,
a channel decoded content, truth, and other concepts, which seem to be a first step towards
by the receptor, who
thus obtains the
building a reasonable idea of communication. We hope we can, with
encoded message, this paper, contribute to this line of thought. We are, thus, assuming a
meaning or content, realist perspective on the issue that goes directly against fashionable
or a more or less
approximate
contemporary constructivist, relativist, perspectivist and postmodern-
replica of it. ist forms of addressing communication theory. We do so because we
abide by the commonsensical realist assumption that there is a tran-
scendent knowable reality, against the presupposition of all the men-
tioned views that reality is a construction of the subject. We find that
this presupposition lacks solid foundations. It goes against common
sense, against all that is supposed by our ordinary behaviour, and
against the working assumptions of scientific activity. Moreover, we
find the arguments used to defend the varieties of idealism are of a
poor quality, and that idealism, as a general metaphysical model, can-
not compete with realism at the level of simplicity and compatibility
with all available evidence. We think that revisions of common sense
judgments require a great deal of empirically justified theoretical sup-
port, and that weak philosophical arguments should never prompt
such amendments (in contrast to what seems to have been a trademark
of most philosophical thought). In this article, we will reflect on the
antecedents and arguments of contemporary idealist positions, and try
to point out their difficulties.
In our work we will follow a strategy (common to a number of situ-
ations of theoretical work) in which the starting point is a commonly
used ambiguous expression (such as ‘communication’, ‘truth’, ‘mean-
ing’, ‘knowledge’, etc.). The first job of the theoretician in such cases is
to select one of the diverse uses of the expression for its promise as a
theoretical term, and refine the common use, so as to make it as precise
and coherent with available evidence as possible, even if this some-
times ends up implying a certain separation from common sense, using
a methodology that we find related to Rawls’ ‘reflective equilibrium’
(Rawls 1971).
The functions of communication

Common sense tells us that, contrary to what some semioticians
believe, mere causal relations do not warrant the existence of commu-
nication. Things that serve as vehicles of communication are oftentimes
called ‘signals’. There is, however, a variety of phenomena that are
sometimes said to involve signals but are not thought to constitute
instances of communication (Dretske 1981). Though they may be clas-
sified under the label ‘signal’, mere causally linked natural phenomena
are not usually thought to be involved in communicative phenomena.
Thus, to use a pair of the most exploited examples, certain cloud
formations are often said to be signals of rain, and smoke is usually
76 Lydia Sánchez and Manuel Campos

taken to be a signal of combustion. What precludes us from talking of
communication in cases such as these?
It seems clear that a central reason is the lack of communicative
agents. Clouds or fire are not broadcasting agents. Much of current
research on the issue takes this point for granted. For instance, it is
Ruth Millikan’s general thesis (Millikan 1984) that communication is,
originally, a biological phenomenon: something that started off with
living beings, and that, though it might be thought to happen also in
the case of some artificial products of these beings, cannot be attrib-
uted to pre-biological entities.
As for the functions of communication, Millikan seems to think of
two basic ones that are satisfied by all the creatures able to communi-
cate: the transmission of information and the request for action. To
resort to the classical example, bees are able to convey information on
the location of nectar sources to their beehive companions through bee
dances, which serve also to express instructions requiring them to
reach the mentioned sources. For both of these functions, we find that
‘representations’ can be associated with conditions concerning the
world: truth conditions in the case of information transmission, and
satisfaction conditions in the case of requests for action. The link
between representations and these conditions in these kinds of lan-
guages has a natural origin; this is due not, of course, to any sort of
resemblance between representation and represented fact, but because
it has been fixed through adaptive mechanisms, not through any kind
of conventional agreement among the agents involved.
On the other hand, it seems clear that, for a lot of living creatures,
the sort of internal states that serve as the basis for communication are
not satisfactorily described as intentions, beliefs, opinions, etc. We
would not ordinarily say that bees have intentions, much less bacteria
or the organs of living creatures. According to Millikan’s account,
however, all of these entities are able to occupy different internal rep-
resentational states, associated to truth and satisfaction conditions,
which may serve as a basis for communication. Maybe this would be
one of the areas in which common sense intuitions have to be revised.
The human capacity to communicate through language certainly
has a natural origin. Which functions human languages were created
to fulfil will surely have to be conjectured by empirical scientists stud-
ying the origins of the species. In any case, transmission of information
and requests for action are most clearly among the basic functions
these languages fulfil. In particular, communication has been tradi-
tionally understood as a form of exchange of opinions, beliefs, knowl-
edge, information, etc. The language we use serves, among other
things, to express what we think in ways that allow others to under-
stand it and act accordingly. It seems then that, in an instance of com-
munication, there is something that is transmitted. One of the terms
that are commonly used to name this supposedly transmitted thing is
‘content’. Our thoughts have content that we can convey through lan-
guage to others. This is achieved through the production of statements,
which are the minimum linguistic actions that allow for the transmis-
sion of informational content. Statements have to be understood by the
Content and sense 77

3. The selection of listeners if the communication act is to be achieved successfully. This
information is not
a neutral process,
understanding is based on the grasping, by the listeners, of the content
and this often alters of the statement. A similar description can be given in the case of
the objectivity of orders, commands, etc.
the information
transmitted. Failure
Although transmission of information and request for action seem
may happen, then, clear cases of functions that fall under the idea of communication, it
when information is seems obvious that they are not the only purposes communication
selected according to
biased criteria. Many
may serve. Language can be used for a wide variety of activities: beg-
mass communication ging, asking, praising, insulting, playing, moving, expressing emo-
theories, including tions, entertaining, etc. Most of these actions require the use of complete
some abiding by a
realist perspective,
statements (or their equivalent), which are supposed to express con-
have taken into tents. There are linguistic actions, however, that lack truth or satisfac-
account this fact. tion conditions. Think, for instance, of fictive storytelling, etc.
Thus the ‘Gate-
keeping’ theory, or
Of course, narration has two varieties: faction and fiction. News
the ‘Agenda-setting’ would fall under the first category. But there is a further dimension to
theory, emphasize truth-conditions in the case of factual narrations. A piece of news may
that mass media
select information
be true in each of its constituent statements, but it may also offer a
guided by their misleading account of the situation it is supposed to reflect. That this is
own purposes. so shows that factual storytelling is functionally different from the
Of course, one can
always argue that
mere passing of information. Bees pass information but do not narrate.
the information to It is clear that, in this latter case, context plays an important role in
convey in a story determining the issues that have to be addressed by the narrator to
always needs to be
previously selected.
produce a pertinent story.3
Not every detail can In any case, the truth conditional aspect of both the passing of infor-
be explained. What mation as well as narrative faction seems susceptible to an account in
needs to be clearly
established, then,
terms of the transmission view of communication. Fiction, on the other
is which criteria hand, seems a bit more complicated to tackle from this perspective.4
are used on each We certainly cannot talk of truth-conditions in this case. So, provided
occasion, and which
are relevant in each
that there is content to fiction, we will have to explain it otherwise. It
context. seems clear also that a different aspect of meaning, ‘sense’, will have to
4. In fact, the
play an important role in this explanation. Furthermore, and aside
transmission view from the issue of fiction, there are several well-known shortcomings to
of communication explanations of content in terms of truth-conditions. Let us now turn
is sometimes
presented as
to examine some of these shortcomings, as well as the general strategy
opposed to the designed to solve them.
‘ritual view’ (Carey
1989, van Zoonen
1994, Radford 2005),
Senses
which emphasizes What is transmitted through communicative acts? What is stored and
the role in conveyed by means of our thoughts and statements? A first obvious
reinforcing
community
candidate is facts: with our words we speak about the things that hap-
adscription of pen, the events to which we have access. So why not take these facts as
communication. the contents of our thoughts and statements? This option is easily ruled
According to this
latter perspective,
out once we realize that we can think about and talk about things that
storytelling is one have not happened and will never happen. I can say ‘I ate meat today’,
of the basic or think it, but this thought, as well as the corresponding statement,
functions of
communication,
cannot have as content the fact that I ate meat today because there is
both in its factual no such fact.
and fictional The obvious alternative to facts is proposed, for instance, under dif-
varieties.
ferent guises, by authors such as the early Frege of the Begriffsschrift
(1879) or the Wittgenstein of the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1922): if

facts cannot do the job, possible facts, possible states of affairs, judge-
able contents (in Frege’s terminology) or truth conditions, if you want,
will possibly do (Barwise and Perry 1992). After all, I might have eaten
meat today. I actually did not, and so the condition that I ate it is not
satisfied by the world. But that does not affect the condition itself. It
affects its satisfaction. So maybe contents are truth-conditions, except
that, as we have just seen in the previous section, they cannot account
for fictional discourse. What other problems affect this proposal?
An obvious one is that utterances and thoughts can concern enti-
ties that do not exist. My daughter believes that Santa came last
night, even though not only it is the case that this fact has not
occurred, but also that Santa does not exist. Thus, I can not only
build false phrases, which cannot refer to facts, but I can use non-
referring names as well, in situations in which it seems reasonable
to say that there is transmission of content, and in which communi-
cation occurs.
There is, at least, still a third reason that shows to us that we cannot
identify content with facts or truth-conditions. The statements ‘Dragan
Dabic was in Belgrade all through 2007’ and ‘Radovan Karadzic was in
Belgrade all through 2007’ seem to say clearly different things (and
thus have different meanings). And yet they might happen to corre-
spond to precisely the same fact.
Problems analogous to these (known in the philosophy of language,
under the general heading: ‘the problem of intentionality’) have lead
many authors to think, since the beginning of philosophical reflection
on issues of language and mind, that the content and meaning of our
intentional acts (thoughts, uttered language, etc.), could neither be
explained in terms of facts, nor of conditions built up of worldly con-
stituents. The alternative proposed from the outset has been, of course,
the claim that the said contents are abstract entities of a special nature,
in a move very frequent in philosophy (and denounced with scorn by
the Wittgenstein of the Philosophical Investigations (1953), that we may
label ‘solution by reification’.
These special entities (in philosophical terms, ‘intensions’) that
would serve to explain what it is that we mean when we communi-
cate, have adopted different guises through the history of semantics,
from the stoics’ lekta to the logical atomists’ ‘sense data’, passing
through the impressions and ideas of the British empiricists or Frege’s
senses. In general, however, they have been thought of as abstract enti-
ties, that is, things not located anywhere in space, to which we have
access through special intellectual capacities. Frege (1892), for instance,
spoke of our ability to ‘grasp’ senses, and Locke’s ideas are suppos-
edly present directly to the mind.
How would intensions solve the problems of intentionality? If we
focus on the Fregean version of these entities, senses are entities we
have access to when we understand a statement or think a thought.
They are thought of as modes of presentation of real things, but can,
however, present non-existing things (i.e., present nothing). And, of
course, one real entity can be presented under different guises on dif-
ferent occasions. So, for instance, Radovan Karadzic could be presented

5. For a fuller account as the self-proclaimed founder of the Republika Srpska, or as the natur-
of this point, see
Putnam (1975).
ist healer reachable, for a while, at healingwounds@dragandabic.com
(as well as in many other ways, of course). The expression ‘Dragan
Dabic’, used in a statement on Radovan Karadzic, would present this
person under the latter guise, and we would not need to know that it
corresponds to the self-proclaimed founder of the Republika Srpska.
This fact would explain the informative character of the statement
‘Dragan Dabic is Radovan Karadzic,’ which ‘Radovan Karadzic is
Radovan Karadzic’ would lack, despite the fact that both statements
concern the same person.
We also said that senses can ‘present’ non-existing entities. Thus,
while ‘Santa came last night’ cannot correspond to any fact, since Santa
does not exist, it is a statement that can alter the cognitive attitude of
listeners, which is especially obvious in the case of people who believe
in Santa’s existence or ignore his inexistence. The sense of the term
‘Santa’ would serve, in cases like these, to explain the change in dispo-
sitions to action, as a consequence of the understanding of that state-
ment, of such people. The statement can then be attributed a content,
or said to have a meaning that has been understood.
Although the postulation of such entities as senses is supposed
to solve the problems of intentionality, it generates many hard to
face difficulties. Thus, on the one hand, senses fail to satisfy some
of the roles traditionally associated with intensional entities. For
instance, as direct reference theorists such as Saul Kripke (1980) or
Hilary Putnam (1975) have shown, senses need not determine the
reference of the corresponding expressions. On the other hand, the
idea that senses correspond to meanings cannot be maintained,
since the latter are usually thought to be shared to an extent that the
former clearly do not attain: cows may be ‘presented’ to some peo-
ple as sacred mammals, while others may conceive them basically
as milk producers, so neither the sense ‘sacred mammal’ nor ‘milk
producer’ can be thought to be the meaning (or part of the meaning)5
of ‘cow’, as they need not be shared among competent users of this
expression.
Moreover, apart from the question of the existence of a universe of
intensions, located out of the physical world, and the associated prob-
lem of our access to it, there is the issue of the relationship of these
intensions with the real world. If a function of language is the trans-
mission of information about reality, what is the role played by inten-
sions in this phenomenon? If the contents of our thoughts and
assertions are built up from abstract non-worldly entities, why should
we think that they can be used by us to obtain knowledge about the
real world? If these intensional entities are representations of the real
world, what assures us that they are reliable? More generally, if they
are representations, do not the problems of intentionality affect them
as well? Are they not fallible? When they fail, what is their content?
And when they do not fail? And if they are not representations, but
only the contents of representations, does that not mean that, when we
communicate, we are not really talking about reality, but only about
these intensions?

Knowledge and certainty 6. We are not saying
that epistemological
Intensions are related to a well-known philosophical tradition that models that allow
emerged as a response to the sceptical attitudes stemming from for both mediation
Cartesian epistemology. This tradition would maintain that, when we and certainty are
impossible, but only
communicate, we are not talking about an external world independent trying to reflect a
of us that we could not know, but that the content of our representa- line of thought that
tions, the reality we in fact know, is a product, at least in part, of the leads from Cartesian
epistemology to
conceptual architecture of our minds. The things we see and know are idealism.
not objective entities, independent of us as subjects.
7. Think, for instance,
As we said, we think that this philosophical tradition of ‘idealism’ of Kant’s (1781, 1783)
originates as a consequence of a failed epistemology (Cartesian theory point that we can-
of knowledge) that ties knowledge to ‘certainty’. According to this not know things in
themselves, since
epistemology, which has been at the centre of philosophical specula- we always know
tion from Descartes to logical positivism (so that we can label it as through the
‘classical epistemology’), an individual can only be sure of what determinations of
our mind (scorned
presents itself directly before his mind (to use the metaphorical rheto- by David Stove
ric habitual for this sort of philosophical approach) in a non-mediated (1991), who dubs
way. Mediation is usually thought to lead to fallibility6 (as many scep- it ‘the jewel’), or
Rorty’s (1979) and
tical arguments have emphasized)7 and fallibility, in turn, to uncer- Putnam’s (1981)
tainty; therefore, only what the subject directly apprehends can be versions of it,
known. But our mind cannot ‘grasp’ directly objects in the world. emphasizing that
we could not know
Therefore, if there is something to be known, it cannot belong in the reality, as there is no
‘external’ world. Any discipline that presupposes the opposite can way of comparing
only be a fraud (and, in particular, this would be the case for empirical it with our
representations of
science). The lack of certainty resulting from this mediated character it. We will, later in
determines that knowledge of the world would be impossible, and this same section,
thus leads to scepticism. comment on this sort
of argument in more
What can be then known? Instead of revising the principles of an detail.
epistemology that leads to such untenable consequences, philoso-
phers launched into the search for knowledge objects acceptable
from this Cartesian point of view, providing us with a long list of
creations: ‘ideas’, ‘impressions’, ‘phenomena’, ‘sense data’, ‘qualia’,
‘constructs’, etc. As for the external world, and given the impossibil-
ity of knowing it, it disappeared from much of the philosophical
scenery as redundant: the only world we can know is the product of
our cognitive activity. It is this idea of redundancy of the real world
and the inseparability between the subject and known object that
lies behind the epistemological discourses that underlie contempo-
rary idealist perspectives, so frequent in certain approaches to the
social sciences.
As for communication, of course, an explanation of it is hampered
by the idea that we can only know what is presented to our minds
directly, as it does not seem that it should also be graspable by the
minds of others. This is the case for Locke’s ideas, which are supposed,
by this author, to play the role of meanings of words, but, at the same
time, are entities particular to each subject. A variant of this sort of
problem will lead to peculiar proposals such as Leibniz’s ‘pre-estab-
lished harmony’. An alternative to this kind of explanation would lead
to the postulation of entities of the family of Fregean senses, whose
shortcomings we have commented on in the previous section.

8. We would like to As a matter of fact, the support for classical epistemology has lost
thank our student,
Mariana Font
its force in the present century. On the one hand, the ‘phagocytic’
Geninazzi, for the model of knowledge as direct apprehension of the object by the subject
example. We believe has given way to the acceptance of the idea that knowledge is always
it illustrates very
clearly the intuition
mediated through some form of representation. Knowledge is a form
behind contem- of belief, and so, a form of representation, and not any variety of ‘com-
porary idealist munion’ between object and subject.
positions.
Concerning this phagocytic model, recall that the most frequent argu-
9. In fact, it is almost ment in favour of idealism, the one caricatured as ‘the jewel’ by David
exclusively in the
idealist-construc-
Stove (1991), affirms that one cannot know a supposed reality that is
tivist camp that the transcendent to the subject because knowledge of this reality would
idea that knowledge always be mediated by the conceptual repertoire of that subject: things
requires certainty
continues to be
‘in themselves’ cannot be known. The argument does not follow, of
maintained as the course, as evidenced by the existence of coherent models in which a real-
engine for the ity independent of the subject is precisely known through the use of a
founding sceptical
arguments men-
specific conceptual repertoire (such as so-called ‘representationalist’
tioned before. models). In these models, of course, concepts are not what constitutes the
object of knowledge, but are ‘vehicles’ for the representation of reality.
For example, people from different cultures can observe the same object
and interpret it in different ways: say as firewood or as chopsticks.8 But,
of course, the fact that those different persons derive different conclu-
sions from their observations does not imply that these remarks are not
about the same entity, or even that some of them should be wrong.
On the other hand, the requirement for certainty has vanished
from contemporary relevant proposals on the nature of knowledge.9
Without this requirement, the possibility of knowledge of an objective
structured external world becomes, again, the reasonable option.
Thus, although the quest for certainty has undoubtedly been at the
centre of philosophical work on epistemology for a long time, we
believe it is now part of the most reasonable overall epistemological
view that certainty, in a Cartesian sense, is not possible. Mainly
because our basic (and possibly unique) source of knowledge (i.e., the
empirical understanding of the world) is, because of its methodology,
only capable of producing conjectures with more or less empirical
support, but never definitive truths. The acceptance of certainty as a
condition for knowledge leads to the denial of the possibility of
knowledge of the world – a position too implausible to be taken seri-
ously today (even if it has been taken seriously for so many centuries
of failed epistemology).
It should finally be emphasized that the representationalist models
mentioned in the preceding paragraph accept the fallible nature of
our representations of reality, as well as their lack of neutrality or
objectivity, which does not preclude the possibility of knowledge of
this reality: we may err in our attempts to represent the world, but we
are not conditioned to necessarily do so, and if we are successful, we
may be said to know, just as a dog may be said to know where a bone
is buried. If, moreover, we take into consideration the evolutionary
presuppositions on which these representationalist models are based,
the package offers a consistency with the results of empirical science
that relegates idealist proposals to surplus speculation.

Contemporary idealism
In spite of all this, and as we mentioned earlier, contemporary idealist
attitudes continue to thrive in some areas of the human and social sci-
ences. Let us mention a couple of further ingredients to these attitudes.
One of them originates, at least in part, in the group of authors of
Kantian inspiration known under the label of ‘German linguistic turn’
(Hamann, Herder, Humboldt), who emphasize the central role of lan-
guage in shaping the reality that we know and understand. For them,
Kant’s phenomenal reality ceases to be the result of the action of the
categories of the understanding of a pure reason common to all human
subjects. Rather, human reason is never ‘pure’, but socially, culturally
and linguistically contaminated. Each culture will build its own world
(incommensurable with the realities of the rest of cultures) and, conse-
quently, its own variety of truth. Thus, with this linguistic turn, Kant’s
quest for a justification of objectivity gives way to the acceptance of
relativism.
Humboldt rejects, for instance, the instrumental idea of language as
a sign system used to represent an independent reality (or a previous
thought) and transmit information. Language is not a product but a
creative activity, constitutive of the activity of thinking. Words and
syntax shape and determine concepts. Language is a condition of pos-
sibility of the objectivity of experience, of understanding the world, of
access to what is understood. It is, therefore, constitutive of experience.
It also allows the intersubjectivity of communication, which is a condi-
tion of possibility of the understanding between speakers. Different
languages represent different perspectives on the world. It is language
that allows the world to appear structured; it determines the objects in
the world, but also the world in which they appear. Each language
imposes its spirit, making impossible its study in a neutral manner.
Yet another ingredient to contemporary idealism is provided by the
Nietzschean tutelage, which will add, to the mentioned presupposi-
tions, the idea that the construction of reality is the result of interest
conflicts. This idea has enabled idealist positions to add a nuance of
moral superiority to their opposition to realist theories: realists, as a
consequence of their incapacity to acknowledge the fact that reality is
a construction resulting from conflicts of interest of the powerful,
would align themselves with these interests when talking, for instance,
of ‘facts’ as ‘objective’.
This idealist point of view is reflected, in the twentieth century, in
linguistic proposals such as the Sapir-Whorf thesis, and by authors in
the philosophical currents of interpretivism and hermeneutics, who
reject the existence of objective facts, accepting only interpretations
based on socially determined conceptual frameworks. Finally, the phi-
losopher of science T.S. Kuhn (1962) contributed greatly to contempo-
rary relativism and idealism with his introduction of the concept of
‘paradigm’ and, in particular, with the idea of ‘incommensurability’.
Generalizing the Kuhnian thesis, we could say that different cultures
live immersed in different paradigms, with disparities concerning a
range of variables going from ontology to the methods accepted for
the generation of knowledge. These paradigms are incommensurable,

10. We should mention in the sense that there is no objective benchmark allowing us to say,
that we are dealing for instance, which one has developed a better understanding of real-
here with the more
radical version of ity. Each paradigm has its own criteria of excellence by which it
the Kuhnian theses. judges itself as superior to the rest. In the absence of an external
Subsequently, this method of comparison, the very possibility of comparison disap-
author softened his
views. pears. Moreover, given the differences among paradigms, communi-
cation and understanding between members of different paradigms
11. See, for instance,
Laudan (1990). becomes impossible.10
In sum, these views have contributed to the rise of relativism by
proposing sceptical arguments that have been used primarily to ques-
tion the possibility both of objective knowledge and of communication
between different cultures – each one installed in its own paradigm.
Communication, according to these views, should not then be under-
stood as transmission of information regarding a reality independent
of the subject, but rather as a means for agreement among individuals
belonging in the same community who share a common conceptual
system. Reality ceases then to be the measuring stick that determines
the correctness of our representations. This correctness will be evalu-
ated solely in terms of the agreement among individuals.
The relativist drift originated in post-Kantian philosophy, and rein-
forced by arguments such as the ones cited above, has reached
extremes, difficult to take seriously. Sokal and Bricmont cite, for
instance, a text of the constructivist sociologist of science Bruno Latour,
in which this author comments on the possible death of Ramses II by
tuberculosis wondering how the pharaoh could die because of a bacil-
lus that Robert Koch discovered in 1882, and ‘clarifies’ that, before
Koch, the bacillus had no real existence (Latour 1998).
Leaving aside extreme cases such as this, what can be said about
the relativist arguments mentioned above? Perhaps the basic problem
with these theses is that they obviate the fact that reality still functions
as measuring stick for our knowledge, even taking for granted that
we have to go through our conceptual framework to deal with this
reality.11 That is, even taking for granted the idea that observation is
contaminated theoretically and that, therefore, the neutrality required
by classical epistemology is a fiction, we continue contrasting the the-
ories we conjecture by means of experiments and observations, which
lead us to revise these theories when our predictions fail. Similarly,
communication among people of different cultures is still possible in
so far as there is a reality independent of us about which we speak,
which allows us to contrast our statements (this is still the most rea-
sonable thesis).
And, most importantly, let us not forget the sort of arguments that
lend support to idealist positions, such as the mentioned ‘jewel’. They
constitute the answer to the question: why should anybody be an ide-
alist nowadays? They are based on a model of knowledge abandoned
with the demise of the Cartesian epistemology of certainty that gov-
erned the philosophical discourse well into the twentieth century. It is
now a triviality that this epistemology leads straight into scepticism,
so typical relativistic arguments that require certainty, neutrality, or
even direct apprehension of the object, in order to speak of the existence

of knowledge, can only conclude what is already well known: 12. In spite of that, we
can see traces of
(Cartesian) knowledge of reality is impossible. The hopeless problem these classical ideal-
for contemporary relativism and idealism is that the model of knowl- ist theses in a great
edge on which they are sustained is no longer credible.12 deal of contempo-
rary literature on
In contrast with this current of thought, we believe realism can Communication
offer a set of presuppositions compatible with research on communi- Theory. Authors like
cation (aside from being commonsensical and assumed by most Carey, Lisbet van
Zoonen or Radford,
empirical sciences). believe that a real-
ist view can hardly
Back to senses help to account for
the phenomenon
Let’s then return now to the issue that worried us at the beginning. of communica-
Can realism provide theoretical accounts that explain the notion of tion, and call for an
sense? The considerations in the first section have led us to reflect on a alternative model
based on a differ-
different aspect of meaning aside from truth-conditions or reference. ent epistemological
Words have ‘sense’. In fact, from an idealist or constructivist perspec- foundation (i.e., an
tive, signs basically have sense, as their referents are constructions idealist one). Thus,
for instance, van
built upon a Heraclitean or Nietzschean original chaos through the Zoonen believes that
means of our conceptual schemata. Actually, not only symbols have the most important
senses, but so too do most objects with which humans interact. difference between
the two models lies
Communication becomes, according to this perspective, not so much a in how they under-
business of exchange of information, but one of interpretation, of get- stand the concept
ting to the sense of what is conveyed to us. of ‘reality’: as a real
world of objects,
The fact, however, is that senses can be perfectly dealt with from a events, situations
realist perspective. Let us try to sketch some ingredients of this per- and processes that
spective. This will require, however, reflecting on at least two aspects exist independently
of human perception
of meaning: an intensional facet and a referential facet. or as the product of
It is, in the first place, a fact, taught to us by the Wittgenstein of the social construction.
Philosphical Investigations, that we use linguistic expressions according
to rules that are the product of non-explicit conventions. Wittgenstein
concluded, in this work, that words are used in very different ways,
that these uses constitute the meanings of linguistic expressions, and
that semantic investigation should be concerned with the description
of language uses. In particular, these uses are supposed to be governed
by socially determined rules, which are not necessarily explicit. We
have to master semantic rules in order to become competent speakers,
and thus, constitute the basis for language knowledge. One speaker
will be considered competent in the use of a particular expression
when he has mastered the dispositions to behaviour that show his
assimilation of the rules corresponding to ‘language games’ (to use the
Wittgensteinian terminology) in which the expression participates. In
this context, communication can be understood as the participation of
competent users of language in ‘language games’. The philosopher’s
(semanticist’s) task is to make clear what these rules are. They provide
links among uses of different expressions, thus serving as the founda-
tion for what has traditionally been called ‘a priori beliefs’, and ‘ana-
lytical statements’, as well as for the intensional aspect of meaning
(Campos 2003).
It is true that certain tenets by the later Wittgenstein have served to
fuel anti-realist and relativist positions. An example of this is the fact
that, according to the Wittgensteinian perspective, given that language

games can vary from society to society, a person cannot gain compe-
tence in the use of a language unless he is ‘immersed’ in the ‘form of
life’ associated with it, thus assimilating the rules of its language
games. Moreover, discourse concerning a transcendent reality is sim-
ply an example of such games, and a supposed correctness standard
governing it should not have any relevance for other games. Leaving
aside this anti-realist point, with no better support than any of the ide-
alist theses previously examined, the fact is that Wittgenstein contrib-
uted enormously to our understanding of the intensional aspect of
meaning with his ideas of ‘meaning as use’, and of language rules.
The other aspect of meaning to which we were referring at the
beginning of the section is the referential one: languages have, as one
of their primary functions, making reference to reality. While for
Wittgenstein, this describing function would be one among a variety
of games one can play with language; in the 1970s this second aspect
of meaning has acquired a primarily theoretical role. Direct reference
authors, such as Putnam and Kripke, initiated a revolution in seman-
tics, and the main tenets of this revolution are still basic in current ana-
lytical philosophy of language and cognitive science.
This realist revolution has had important consequences as to how
we should understand, for instance, intensions. Thus, the fact is, as
explained by John Perry (1990; 1993; 1993a; 1997), Mark Crimmins
(1992; 1993), Fred Dretske (1988) or Ruth Millikan (2000), that we pos-
ses a conceptual apparatus that allows us to keep track of entities of
different varieties and to accumulate information regarding these enti-
ties (Sánchez, 1998; Campos and Cirera 2003). The information kept in
this system varies from person to person, but some areas of it overlap
among individuals. This cognitive capacity provided to us by nature,
is, of course, shared by other living creatures, though these creatures
lack the possibility of associating it with verbal language such as the
one we humans possess.
As we said, information related to the existence of language rules is
common to all competent users of a language. A great deal of informa-
tion about behaviour concerning different objects (how to treat them,
what to expect from them, etc.) is also shared at different degrees
among members of the same society. There are many attitudes that are
shared by people that belong in the same community; even emotional
patterns and expectations are, to a certain degree, shared. It is not sur-
prising, then, that this commonality facilitates communication and the
consequent coordinated behaviour. Also, it is not surprising that an
outsider to the society will find it difficult to penetrate the web of rela-
tions, emotions and expectations that culture and education has built
in the mental filing system of any member of a society.
It must be stated, however, that the cognitive perspectives of differ-
ent agents may vary widely, and that, strictly speaking, the only wholly
shared part among competent users of a language is constituted by the
information about the world acquired through language learning.
Another consequence of this model is that different people will be dif-
ferently affected cognitively by utterances of other agents. It is not so
much then that an expression is associated to a particular closed and

limited sense, but that expression will resonate differently in different
persons according to their different cognitive architectures.
This view on senses allows us to move toward an understanding of
the use of fiction and symbols (from patriotic emblems to advertising
icons) in communication. These vehicles are supposed to provoke in
us emotions, desires, thoughts and expectations, but not to refer to
anything or possess truth or satisfaction-conditions. Communication,
in this case, is not the transmission of information or content, but satis-
fies a lot of the characteristics attributed to it by the ritual view. It
allows us to react cognitively and, particularly, emotionally, accord-
ing, in part, to some patterns predictable in a limited way: as we just
mentioned, each agent will react to a sign according to its particular
cognitive architecture. When adequately used, they may contribute to
social cohesion, as the ritual view emphasizes.
As we said, all these conjectures concerning cognition are formu-
lated from a realist perspective. No construction of facts is derived
from this net of beliefs and emotions. We still communicate about the
same old reality that, however, can be viewed from particular perspec-
tives. We should not take then the ‘personal reality’ metaphor literally:
there are not particular realities, but only reality seen from particular
perspectives – that is, reality, and our opinions on it. There is, then,
also an added feature to this realist way of seeing things: it recom-
mends moderating the use of this metaphorical variety of discourse
that talks about ‘people’s truths’, or ‘people’s realities’. This form of
speech should be substituted by one based instead on talk about ‘peo-
ple’s opinions’, ‘conjectures’, ‘theories’ or ‘fantasies’.
Furthermore, no amount of ‘interpretation’ of beliefs, emotions, fan-
tasies, etc., will ever reveal to us the true essence of anything. Knowledge
of senses will, at best, allow us to understand and predict the conduct
of people; a conduct based, surely, on mainly false assumptions. The
quest for the sense of things will be simply the quest for the, mostly
incorrect, opinions of people on those things, together with the emo-
tions they link to them, but will not allow any deeper access to truth
than common sense or science do. Finally, these sets of beliefs and emo-
tions may lead to the construction of social entities, from patterns of
generalized behaviour to institutions, perfectly analyzable from a real-
ist perspective by empirical sociology. But, of course, no amount of
false opinions on gender, race, insanity, AIDS, or tuberculosis, for
instance, will ever have any consequence on the natural facts behind
any of these matters.
Conclusion
In sum, in this article we position ourselves against idealist presup-
positions so frequent in the humanities and social sciences, and, par-
ticularly, in communication theory. We have tried to argue that a
realist approach to the study of communication is not only possible,
but also that it does not commit us to some implausible philosophi-
cal assumptions. We think that what the phenomenon we call ‘com-
munication’ consists in, we will only know through the conjecturing
of hypotheses that are maximally coherent with the evidence we

possess. In fact, we think that a great amount of work has already
been done, within this realist approach, in the direction of consider-
ing communication a phenomenon with a biological origin.
Communication applies to a number of diverse phenomena that go
from signs possessing reference and truth conditions but not sense
(as in the case of the simplest living beings) to symbols, used by
humans, that lack reference or truth conditions but posses sense and
which are supposed to affect us cognitively and emotionally. We
think that a realist approach can account for the variety of commu-
nicative functions we encounter in human experience, including the
ones that involve senses.
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the Philosophy of Communication 1: 1, pp. 75–90, doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.75/1

Contributor details
Lydia Sánchez holds a Ph.D. in Philosophy from Stanford University (1998).
She is currently teaching at the Audiovisual Communication Section at the
University of Barcelona. She is interested in topics in the Philosophy of Mind
and Communication.
Manuel Campos holds a Ph.D. in Philosophy from Stanford University
(1998). He is currently teaching at the Department of Logic of the University
of Barcelona. He is interested in topics in the Philosophy of Language and
Communication.
Contact: Dept. Didàctica de l’Educació Visual i Plàstica, Facultat de Formació
del Professorat, Mundet, Llevant, Pl. 1a Pg.Vall D’Hebron, 171, 08035
Barcelona, Spain.
E-mail: lsanchezg@ub.edu

The public’s right to know in

liberal-democratic thought vs.
The people’s ‘obligation to know’
in Hebrew law1
Tsuriel Rashi Bar-Ilan University; Lifshitz College of
Education, Jerusalem
Abstract Keywords
This study compares the codes of media ethics adopted by the PCC–Press Hebrew Law
Complaints Commission, the IFJ–International Federation of Journalists and Right to know
the SPJ–Society of Professional Journalists based on the claim that it is the pub- Media Ethics
lic’s right to know, and examines the origins of this concept. A new approach Communication
is presented here which falls between the liberal-democratic approach on the ethics
one hand and on the other, the extreme ultra-Orthodox approach that claims Mass communication
that it is the public’s duty not to know. This new approach which indicates
that it is the public’s duty to know has evolved from the analysis of Jewish
texts from Biblical times and from the study of events in Jewish community
life throughout the world. This novel approach is likely to effect a change in
the contents of broadcasts and in the boundaries of media ethics.
This article compares various attitudes in regard to the people’s right 1. This article is part
to know. We try to reveal the philosophical roots of this right and to of a doctoral dis-
sertation that deals
show its application in three leading western codes of ethics. We fol- with mass com-
low this with a discussion of the Jewish ultra-orthodox attitude, which munication, media
holds that it is the people’s ‘obligation not to know’. We then describe ethics, and Jewish
law. This article was
the approach of Hebrew law, which takes a stand between the two and originally presented
says that it is sometimes the people’s ‘obligation to know’. at the National
Communication
Association (NCA)
1. The public’s right to know in Chicago, IL in
It is customary among journalists to say that the right of the public to November 2007.
know provides the moral foundation for the freedom given to journal-
ists to gather information and disseminate it freely. Since this expression
was coined – by Kent Cooper, former editor of the news agency
Associated Press (A.P) (Goodwin 1983: 9) – it has been used to justify a
wide range of media activities, from covering deliberations in the law
courts and election campaigns to investigative journalism that often
involves impersonation and intrusion on privacy. There are those who
tend to assume that this right gives journalists unlimited access to events,
information, and the lives of ordinary citizens (Gauthier 1999: 197).
EJPC_1.1_art_Raschi_091-106.indd 91 11/19/09 4:41:37 PM

2. Maciejewski & Ozar The significance of this right is multi-faceted and the ramifications
noted twelve dif-
ferent ramifications
numerous.2 According to Goodwin, the significance of this right is that
resulting from the it gives the public the right to know what the government is doing,
public’s right to and the media implements this right on its behalf (Goodwin 1983: 9).
know (Maciejewski &
Ozar 2005: 123–126).
Gauthier is of the opinion that in a democratic society the public’s right
They themselves to know grants citizens access to all relevant information concerning
have pointed out political, professional, and personal decisions crucial to the implemen-
the comprehensive
importance of this
tation of the First Amendment of the American Constitution (Gauthier
right as it affects the 1999: 199).3
sense of duty of all
citizens to help or at
least not to hinder
2. Justifications for the public’s right to know:
realizing this right Defending freedom and utilitarianism
(Maciejewski & The right of the public to know is generally based on the work of sev-
Ozar 2005: 129). For
this reason and in
eral philosophers, including John Stuart Mill, in his books Utilitarianism
conclusion, they (1863) and On Liberty (1859); Immanuel Kant, in Foundations of the
emphasize that Metaphysics of Morals (German 1785); and Alexis de Tocqueville, in
the public’s right
to know, which is
Democracy in America (French 1835 and 1840), as many aspects of these
usually associated works provide a strong philosophical foundation for the concept.
with the rights that According to Mill, the sole warranted end for mankind, to individ-
are kept for jour-
nalists, is not their
ually or collectively interfere in the liberty of action of any of their
[the journalists’] number, is self-protection (Mill 1972a: 135). In any case, there is no
sole property. The justification for preventing the public, or those acting on its behalf,
only reason they
are actually entitled
from doing something as long as that act does not harm the individual
to it is that they are or the group. In this context, it is customary to quote Mill who says: ‘…
members of a demo- the time, it is to be hoped, is gone by, when any defence would be nec-
cratic government
(Maciejewski & Ozar,
essary of the liberty of the press as one of the securities against corrupt
2005: 136). Also, see or tyrannical government’ (Mill 1972a: 141).
Bok 1983: 254–258. Although these comments were made in the context of freedom of
3. It should be noted thought and argument, Mill goes on to point out four different reasons
that these are not that prove that the spiritual well-being of mankind needs to include
the only opinions
on this subject. For
freedom of opinion and the opportunity to voice it (Mill 1972: 180–
example, refer to 181). However, they are correct as an observation, in principle, on the
Gauthier’s (Gauthier right of the public to express an opinion different from that of the gov-
1999: 198) article
for the writings of
ernment and to be publicly critical of it.
Barney, who is of The principal boundaries of this liberty are determined by the
the opinion that test of ‘utilitarianism’: actions are right in proportion as they tend to
the right to know
is a fundamental
promote happiness and wrong as they tend to produce the reverse
element in a par- of happiness. By ‘happiness’ is meant pleasure and the absence of
ticipating society pain; by ‘unhappiness’, pain, and the privation of pleasure (Mill
with the intention
of creating a society
1972b: 257).
that is consistent in Mill’s principle of utilitarianism justifies the public’s right to know
its decision-making and the media’s right to access information and to publish it, as well as
and that the foun-
dation for these
certain actions taken by the media that ultimately serve the public. At
decisions is an intel- the same time, this principle serves to limit the power of the press to
ligent one. Suitable cause harm. This interpretation leaves the ability to assess the value
and satisfactory
information reaches
and the damage of their actions in the hands of the journalists. The
the individual, cre- benefit of this principle lies in the fact that adhering to it focuses atten-
ates heightened tion on the social benefits of the media’s activities and calls on the
awareness about
the different options
media to consider the possible detrimental effects of their actions while
trying to benefit the society they serve (Gauthier 1999: 203).
92 Tsuriel Rashi

Tocqueville presents a very clear picture of the place of the media that are available
for decision-making.
as a critical purveyor of benefits, and the freedom afforded to the On the other hand,
media as crucial to the defence of the weak, specifically in a demo- Fink describes the
cratic society. According to Tocqueville, in ages of equality every man public’s right to
know in terms of
naturally stands alone. Thus, at the present time, an oppressed mem- duty, so while the
ber of the community has only one recourse for self-defence – he can First Amendment
appeal to the nation, and if the whole nation is deaf to his complaint, to the American
Constitution grants
he can appeal to mankind: the only means he has of making this appeal the media the right
is via the press. Thus the freedom of the press is infinitely more valu- to print the news
able among democratic nations than among others. It is the only cure freely, the pub-
lic’s right to know
for the evils that equality may engender. obliges the press to
Tocqueville believes that men living in aristocracies may, strictly print the news.
speaking, do without the freedom of the press, but this is not the case for
those who live in democratic societies. To protect their personal inde-
pendence Tocqueville trusts not to great political assemblies, to parlia-
mentary privilege, or to the assertion of popular sovereignty. All these
things can, to a certain extent, be reconciled with personal servitude, but
that servitude cannot be complete if the press is free – the press is the
chief democratic instrument of freedom (Tocqueville 1946: 587).
Kant’s thoughts reveal a different approach to non-benefit-based
justification, which centres on the autonomy of the individual as
the creator of a universal code of ethics. In his book Foundations of the
Metaphysics of Morals, he makes a number of assertions about the
place of freedom in human nature. As far as he is concerned, the con-
cept of freedom is the key to the explanation of the autonomy of the
will (Kant 1978: 73), and freedom must be presupposed as the prop-
erty of the will of all rational beings (Kant 1978: 75). At the same
time, he emphasizes that freedom is by no means lawless, even
though it is not a property of the will according to laws of nature.
Rather, it must be causality according to immutable laws, but of a
particular kind (Kant 1978: 74).
These and other of Kant’s writings contain justification for the opinion
held by some individuals researching the media rights and those of its
actions that serve the objective of creating an informed society for the
purpose of making correct decisions. Nonetheless, this principle also
places a number of limits on the way in which these objectives are real-
ized. For example, impersonation and manipulation would be prohib-
ited. On the other hand, absolute truth, accuracy, and fairness would be
required as part of the media proceedings (Gauthier 1999: 204).
3. The public’s right to know according to codes of

ethics in journalism organizations around the world
The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) does not mention
anything about the public’s right to know in the first clause of its
‘Declaration of Principles on the Conduct of Journalists’. Rather, it states
that the journalist’s first obligation is to respect the public’s right to
know the truth: ‘Respect for the right of the public to truth is the first
duty of the journalist’ (IFJ 1986). On the other hand, the American Society
of Professional Journalists (SPJ) refers to the public’s right to know in
two different places in its code of ethics. Calling on journalists to act
The public’s right to know in liberal-democratic thought… 93

independently, it states that: ‘Journalists should be free of obligation to
any interest other than the public’s right to know’ (SPJ 1987).
The British Press Complaints Commission (PCC)’s code of practice
gives the public’s right to know and the public interest the most weight.
The preface states that: ‘All members of the press have a duty to main-
tain the highest professional standards. This Code sets the benchmark
for those ethical standards, protecting both the rights of the individual
and the public’s right to know’ (PCC 1999). This being the case, the
role of this code is to provide a balance between these rights – the right
of the individual and the right of the public, since the natural rights of
both are equal.
The code of practice ends with a section that deals with the public
interest, which justifies and even requires that journalists expose
different subject matter. From time to time, this (public) interest may
even justify deviation from the rules of the code, for example, licence
to impersonate or to pay witnesses. Along with other points, this sec-
tion specifies those areas included in the public interest:
1. The public interest includes, but is not confined to:

i) Detecting or exposing crime or serious impropriety.
ii) Protecting public health and safety.
iii) Preventing the public from being misled by an action or state-
ment of an individual or organization.
2. There is a public interest in freedom of expression itself.
3. Whenever the public interest is invoked, the PCC will require edi-
tors to demonstrate fully how the public interest was served.
(PCC 1999)
4. From the public’s right to know to the public’s right

to be entertained
The danger in exploiting the public’s right to know begins to emerge
in the shift from the public’s right to know to the media’s right to
access and publicity (Gauthier 1999: 199). Although the public’s
right to know is a fundamental principle in journalism, its imple-
mentation is gradually eroding. Superior knowledge has been
robbed of its place by inferior entertainment, and the latter has,
knowingly or unknowingly on the part of the journalists, taken the
place of the former.
When referring to this subject, Asa Kasher (Professor of Professional
Ethics and Philosophy of Practice at Tel Aviv University) claims
that the source of the problem lies in the large amount of entertain-
ment material that is fed to us. Newspapers are supposed to enter-
tain and television programmes are supposed to amuse, but the
amount of entertainment material has to be reduced. It is not that
entertainment for entertainment’s sake is inappropriate. To the con-
trary, entertainment fills a different and important role. The inclu-
sion of entertainment material in the newspaper or in other forms
of media is not what creates the problem. Rather, the problem is
created when entertainment criteria are imposed on informational
material, op-ed columns and commentaries – material that is not
94 Tsuriel Rashi

meant to entertain. It is unmistakably clear that in today’s world
entertainment governs and journalism is simply an offshoot of the
entertainment business.
In Kasher’s opinion, the outcome is a two-faced product. The enter-
tainment side is inferior and of low quality; it is haphazard, shallow,
inaccurate, and unreliable. In short, it has no value because of the irre-
sponsible creative process. He qualifies his statement by saying that
although this is not a general malaise, it is a very common phenome-
non. Moreover, it seems that the situation is continuing to deteriorate
(Levi-Barzilai 2005: 330–331).
These ideas are in line with the preface to the code of ethics of the
American Journalists’ Union, the SPJ:
Members of the Society of Professional Journalists believe that public

enlightenment is the forerunner of justice and the foundation of democ-
racy. The duty of the journalist is to further those ends by seeking truth
and providing a fair and comprehensive account of events and issues.
Conscientious journalists from all media and specialties strive to serve the
public with thoroughness and honesty.
(SPJ 1987)
In other words, by their very acts, journalists will promote justice and
democracy, and for this reason, they must chase the truth and expose
it so it is of the people, by the people, and for the people.
In an ideal democratic world, people form their own opinions and
their own worldview, and lead their lives accordingly, using them to
change the world. Tabloid-style media, which is entertainment based,
biased, negative, in love with itself, unrestrained, and irresponsible,
does not help an individual to build a life and live it as a good citizen
(Levi-Barzilai 2005: 345).
5. The ultra-orthodox community: The people’s obligation

not to know
In total contrast to western journalism that espouses the idea of the
people’s right to know, some are of the opinion that it is the people’s
obligation not to know, or, in a ‘softer’ version, that it is the people’s
right not to know. It can be said that the editorial staff of the ultra-
orthodox newspapers are the extremists on this matter. According to
Dudi Zilberschlag, publisher of the ultra-orthodox weekly Bakehila,
there is a fundamental difference between the public’s right to know
and the approach of the ultra-orthodox press, which believes it is the
right of the public to know as little as possible.
This fundamental difference creates a reality with totally different
objectives. The ultra-orthodox press, in particular its daily press, pro-
fesses to educate its public (Amior 2002: 29). However, in Levi’s opin-
ion, it reports on life as it should be and not on life as it is. Its journalists
prefer writing about the desired norm and not about reality as it really
occurs. Moreover, if the norm requires introducing a change into the
reality, these journalists will do so without hesitation and sometimes
in a coarse and clumsy manner (Levi 1989: 240).

4. Based on the Bible, This approach is evident in the information that does not get past
which describes the
discussion between
the hurdles, which are in the form of the Spiritual Council and the
Moses and Pharaoh Critic – the supervisory and censorship bodies who allocate the
about the plague of ‘Kashruth certificates’ for those items that will be published and reject
frogs.
those items or articles, in part and in whole, that must never reach
And the river shall their readers.
bring forth frogs in
swarms, and these
Editor of the Chassidic newspaper, Hamodia, Moshe Akiva Druke,
will go up and come explained his approach very clearly. In an interview with Amnon Levi,
into thy house, and he said that:
into thy bedcham-
ber, and upon thy
bed, and into the [W]e reject the principle of the public’s right to know. It is becoming
house of thy serv- the slogan of the secular press – and this is completely unjustified. We
ants, and upon thy will give out information up to the point where it will not be detrimen-
people, and into thy
ovens, and into thy tal to our principles. This whole business of the public’s right to know
kneading troughs is nonsense. In any case, the public cannot judge matters based on the
(Exo. 12: 28). information that it has to hand.
5. Based on Isa. 4: 3. (Levi 1989: 247)
This ultra-orthodox worldview flows toward rabbis who are not ultra-
orthodox, and often appears in wider forums. In an article entitled
‘The Public’s Right Not to Know,’ the rabbi of the city of Ramat Gan,
Rabbi Yaakov Ariel, claims, somewhat radically, that human ethics are
in dire straits, caught between two proponents who are holding them
captive. One is ‘the public’s right to know,’ in which everything must
be open and known; nothing is hidden from this right, like a plague of
frogs croaking away loudly, making a sound that penetrates every
empty space in the room where you lay.4 On the other hand, we have
the proponent who claims the opposite: the ‘right to privacy,’ which
claims that everything must be played down, even if this endangers
the public. Further, when someone does finally decide to reveal him-
self, he will be known as a hero and they will tell him he is holy.5
The Halacha (Jewish Law) provides definitions that are more accu-
rate. In either circumstance, if it endangers the public, downplaying
privacy is a grave transgression; if there is no danger, then nothing,
not even the smallest matter, should be revealed. Moreover, one must
not repeat gossip about oneself. The public’s right is not only to not
know but also to downplay what has been revealed that should have
been concealed (Ariel 1998: 167).
6. Restraints on speech according to Jewish law

At first glance, after reading about the laws that forbid gossip and
defamation, one is likely to think that Judaism restricts freedom of
speech. Rabbi Moshe Ben Maimon (the Maimonides), the greatest
rabbinical arbiter and commentator in Jewish history, who lived in
Spain and Egypt during the twelfth century, wrote about the differ-
ence between gossip and defamation (lashon harah) in his book The
Code of Maimonides:
Who is a gossiper? One who collects information and then goes from
person to person, saying: ‘This is what so and so said’; ‘This is what
96 Tsuriel Rashi

I heard about so and so.’ Even if the statements are true, they bring 6. The name is taken
about the destruction of the world. from the verse:
Who is the man
There is much more serious sin than [gossip], which is also included in that desires life,
and loves many
the prohibition – lashon harah, i.e., relating deprecating facts about a days, that he may
colleague, even if they are true. see good? Keep thy
(Maimon 1963) tongue from evil,
and the lips from
speaking guile (Psa.
Rabbi Yisrael Meir HaCohen [Kagan] (the Chafetz Chaim, also the 34: 13–14).
name of his book), who lived and worked at the beginning of the twen-
tieth century in the Lithuanian town of Radin, wrote the most compre-
hensive treatise on this subject to date, called Chafetz Chaim – Desire
Life6, it sets out restrictions on freedom of speech as laid down in the
Halachah and contained in fourteen positive and seventeen negative
commandments that are found in the Bible when lashon harah is spo-
ken. The contemporary challenge is to distinguish between what we
are permitted to reveal and what we are duty-bound to make public.
7. The public’s obligation to know in Jewish heritage:

Justification for public exposure
On one hand, we have the liberal approach of the public’s right to
know, which, for different reasons, has lost much of its validity and
significance. On the other hand, we have the ultra-orthodox approach
that believes in concealing information because it is the public’s obli-
gation not to know. We consider here a third approach, based on a
guiding principle in Jewish heritage regarding subject matter that is
suitable for public knowledge: public attention is drawn to such sub-
ject matter not because of the public’s right to know, but because of its
obligation to be informed.
7.1. Reason number 1 justifying publication – Helping others

The root of understanding that it is the public’s obligation to know is
divided into two parts: the first is an expansion on the biblical concept
that one must not stand by while the blood of another is spilled: ‘Neither
shalt thou stand idly by the blood of the neighbor’ (Lev. 19: 16). One must
come to the aid of a friend when the friend’s life is in danger, and, for
the same reason, must also offer to help to a friend by revealing relevant
information. This is part of the trend to create a more civilized society.
The second reason is recognition of our social obligation based on
Halachah to denounce the criminal elements living in our society and to
rid ourselves of them. One way to achieve this is to publicly expose
their sins and their wrongdoings. This judgment is based on our
Biblical obligation to help a person whose life is in danger. Rabbi Yosef
Karo, who lived in Spain in the 16th Century and was one of the most
important Halachic arbiters in the history of the Jewish people, ruled
on this matter in the Shulhan Aruch:
If a person sees a friend drowning in the sea, or if robbers are closing

in on him, or a wild animal is chasing him, and the person himself can
save his friend or employ others to save him, and does not do so; or if
he hears that . . . they are planning to do him evil or to trap him; and if

he does not tell his friend . . . of such things, then he has transgressed.
Neither shalt thou stand idly by the blood of the neighbor.
(Lev. 19: 16; Shulhan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat, Ch. 426, Section A)
Maimonides concluded that the biblical commandment, ‘Neither shalt

thou stand idly by the blood of thy neighbor’ (Lev. 19: 16), applies even
to economic matters, and in his Book of Commandments, he included the
following among the 613 Commandments mentioned in the Torah:
Negative Commandment 297: By this prohibition, we are forbidden to

neglect to save the life of an Israelite whom we see in danger of death and
destruction and whom it is in our power to save … and we are in a position
to thwart his intention or to save the threatened person from harm. In such
a case we are forbidden to stand aside and refuse to come to the rescue by
his words, Neither shalt thou stand idly by the blood of the neighbor.
(Lev. 19: 16)
The Sages say that this prohibition also covers the case when one with-
holds evidence, since he sees his friend’s money being lost and is in a
position to restore it to him by telling the truth.
(Maimonides (1963))
In other words, Maimonides regards this aspect of the biblical prohibi-

tion not to stand by the blood of another not only as a concern for the
spilling of his neighbour’s blood but also as a concern for the latter’s
economic well-being.
Although these things are clear, at the end of his work, in the
“Rulings on Gossip” (Rule I, sub-clause a), the Chafetz Chaim warns
about how easy it is to slip into uncontrolled use of this permission.
He stipulates that the following conditions (seven in total) must be
met: direct verification of the information; check on the information
and its certainty; approach the person doing the misdeed before
exposing him; a restrained and fair report; beneficial intention devoid
of petitions; publication is the last option; and control of future dam-
age that might arise from the publication.
7.2. Reason number 2 justifying publication – ‘To Taint

in the Eyes of Others the Names of Those Who Have
Transgressed’
Another justification for revealing information to the public, even
though it seemingly involves violating the prohibition against defama-
tion and gossip is ‘to taint in the eyes of others the names of those who
have transgressed’. The Chafetz Chaim explains, in the rules on
Defamation (Rule D, sub-clause 33) that this ruling is based on the
Mishnaic tractate Yoma. The Mishnah mentions the names of those
who contributed to the building of the Temple, stating that their names
were praised. It then notes a number of individuals who received a
dishonourable mention. The common denominator for the latter group
was their refusal to share their professional knowledge, a family leg-
acy, for practicing certain crafts in the Temple:
98 Tsuriel Rashi

And these were mentioned to their shame: they of the house of Garmu
would not teach anything about the preparation of the showbread; they
of the house of Abtinas would not teach anything about the preparation
of the Incense; Higros, son [of the tribe] of Levi knew a cadence in song
but would not teach it; Ben Kamzar would not teach anyone his art of
writing. Concerning the former it is said, ‘The memory of the righteous
shall be for blessing’; concerning the others it is said, ‘The name of the
wicked shall rot’.
(Mishna Yoma, Ch. 3, Mishna 11)
The Talmud describes how members of the Garmu and Abtinas fami-
lies tried to explain to the Sages why they refused. Despite this, it was
decided to continue mentioning their disgrace for generations to
come. In light of this, the Chafetz Chaim concludes that it is essential
to publish the names of those who have transgressed in the eyes of
the masses: ‘For this reason it is certainly a command to admonish
them [publicly], revealing their transgressions for all to see, thereby
tainting in the eyes of others the names of those who have trans-
gressed’ (HaCohen 1999: D 16).
8. When is it permitted or required to publish negative

information about a person?
Analysis of many sources in Jewish law and the study of the process in
Jewish communities throughout the world during the course of history
have generated a list of things that we are morally obliged to make
public even though it will reveal negative information, embarrass the
person concerned, and involve defamatory comments and the spread-
ing of gossip.
8.1. Helping the individual

The first item on the list is publication of information in order to help
an individual and to censure those who are harming him. According
to the Chafetz Chaim, in such circumstances there is nothing improper
in saying something defamatory:
If one sees a person who has done something unjust to a friend, such
as stealing from him, exploiting or hurting him, and even if the victim
does or does not know about such acts; or if the perpetrator humiliated
his friend, made him sad or cheated him; and the person who sees him
knows for sure that the perpetrator has neither returned the stolen item,
paid for the damage, nor apologized or atoned for his actions, even if
he is the only one that saw the perpetrator, he is permitted to tell others
in order to help the victim and publicly censure the perpetrator.
(General Rules of Defamation, Ch. 10, Section A)
8.2. Publication to impose social norms

Lazersfeld and Merton note the role of the media in promoting cru-
sade-style public exposure. The crusade may affect the public
directly, focusing the attention of the hitherto lethargic citizenry

(Lazersfeld & Merton, 1971: 564). Examples of such a role can also
found in Jewish tradition.
The objective in publicly denouncing sinners, a practice that began
in biblical times, was to deter others from sinning and to draw conclu-
sions about their own behaviour. One of the well-known incidents in
which conclusions had to be drawn in light of another person’s punish-
ment concerns Miriam. Miriam is punished, according to some biblical
commentators, after she defamed Moses. One of the claims against the
spies that Moses sent into the Land of Israel was that they did not man-
age to derive any lessons from Miriam’s punishment (Midrash
Tanchumah (Buber), Parashat Shelach, Section Vav [6]). Even so, publi-
cizing Miriam’s transgression and her punishment was not directed
solely at the spies, but was intended as a warning to all (Maimonides,
Laws of Uncleanness of Leprosy, Ch. 16, par. 10). This understanding of
the situation is based on the religious assumption that a person should
mend his ways as the result of evidence of punishments that come his
way: ‘If a man sees that torment is coming his way, he should contem-
plate his previous actions’ (The Babylonian Talmud, Brachot Tractate,
1938: 5A).
8.2.1. Punishment in Jewish communities

Public identification of sinners is not solely the realm of biblical
heroes; it has been part of Jewish community life throughout history.
From the ninth century CE onward, it was customary in Jewish com-
munities to punish those who did not abide by the accepted norms.
The usual punishments and fines among the people of Israel after
completion of the Talmud can be divided into three categories: physi-
cal punishments; honour-related and rights-related punishments; and
monetary punishments (Asaf 1922: 18). Physical punishments included
capital punishment, limb amputation, flogging, imprisonment and
detention (of varying degrees of severity), branding with a mark of
disgrace, and shaving the head (Asaf 1922: 18–31). The honour-related
punishments included ostracism and boycotts; expulsion from the
synagogue, the community, or the country; public censure; public
announcement of the sin or posting of a sign about it in a central loca-
tion; and cancellation of the right to elect and/or to be elected to any
position in community institutions (Asaf 1922: 31–41). Monetary pun-
ishments were the most common and included fines for differing
amounts or a prohibition to enter into business transactions for a
specified period (Asaf 1922: 41–44). The severity of the punishment
depended on the seriousness of the sin and the degree of judicial
autonomy that the Jewish community enjoyed in that particular place
and at that particular time.
8.2.2. Public announcement concerning criminals within the Jewish

community
The honour-related punishments that were customary in Jewish com-
munities were public censure and public denunciation of the sin, both
of which were particularly important. There were two levels of such
public revelations: if the person committed a serious sin, the disgrace
100 Tsuriel Rashi

was publicized extensively. An example of this can be found in the
regulations for the messengers of the communities in Castile, drawn
up by the Chief Rabbi of Spain, Rabbi Avraham Benbenisti, at a meeting
in 1432. At that meeting it was determined that:
If he [the informer] evades all punishment in such a way that it is not

possible to put him to death, brand him with a mark of disgrace or
to flog him, then he shall be denounced in all the communities as an
informant.
(Asaf 1922: 89–90).
The explanation for this move is, ‘so that he will be different and all
people will keep away’ (loc. cit.).
Adulterers were also denounced publicly, as indicated in a ruling
issued by Rabbi Hai Gaon, Head of the Pumbedita Academy in
Babylonia during the transition period from the tenth to the eleventh
century. The ruling refers to a pregnant woman who claimed that a
particular man fathered her child – the same man who had been sus-
pected of such acts a number of times in the past. Rabbi Hai Gaon
declared, ‘And that man must be flogged and chastised, and his dis-
grace announced to all’ (Teshuvot HaGaonim, p. 4A, Section 16).
The rabbis usually reserved such severe punishment for individuals
who broke the cardinal rules of the community; in less serious instances
they were generally satisfied with an announcement made locally in
the synagogue where the transgressor prayed. For example, in the
Altona-Hamburg community in Germany, in the year 1786, they ruled
that:
No man or woman shall go to the Opera House, and those that transgress
and go – if he is a member of the community, he will not be employed
in any position within the community … and their sins will be publicly
denounced.
(Asaf 1922: 116)
8.3. Exposing charlatans and flatterers

Charlatans constitute another target that must be denounced publicly.
The source of the law regarding the denouncing of flatterers is found
in the Babylonian Talmud, where this matter is presented as a clear
and concise commandment: ‘One should expose hypocrites to prevent
the profanation of the Name [of God]’ (The Babylonian Talmud, Yoma,
1938: 86b).
Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki (Rashi), one of the greatest commentators
on the Bible and the Talmud, who lived in France during the eleventh
century, explains in his commentary that this does not refer to flatter-
ers in the modern sense of the word, but rather to people who behave
insincerely: ‘They are evil and show themselves to be righteous.’ At a
later stage, Rashi gives a double interpretation to this idea: first, it is
liable to lead to blasphemy if we do not know their true nature because
people learn both the good and the bad from the actions of that person,

as it is assumed that he is righteous. Moreover, many people think that
he is a righteous person, so when he is punished they wonder about
the integrity of divine justice:
If someone is acquainted with his actions – he is commanded to make

this public to prevent blasphemy, because a man does learn from his
actions because he is sure that this person is righteous. Moreover, when
divine punishment is meted down upon him, mankind will say: how did
his righteousness help him.
(Rashi, Yoma, p. 86b)
Thus, if a person is exposed to the actions of a charlatan, such as some-

one pretending to be a rabbi or a kabbalist with a righteous face, while
his actions are negative or criminal, such as embezzling from those
who visit or pestering them, it is permitted and even desirable to make
these matters public. If the person fears doing this directly, he can go
to a third party to ensure that it is done.
8.4. Investigating candidates for public office

In Jewish tradition, the leaders perceive themselves to be servants of
the people. Moses considered this point when he was pondering about
his Lord:
Have I conceived all this people? Have I begotten them, that thou
shouldst say to me, carry them in thy bosom, as a nursing father carries
the sucking child, to the land which thou hast sworn to their fathers?
(Num. 11: 12)
These thoughts were echoed in the first century in the Land of Israel in
the writings of Raban Gamliel to his disciples Rabbi Elazar Hassama
and Rabbi Yochanan Ben Gudgeida, who refused to accept his offer of
a nomination to public office: ‘Do you imagine that I offer you ruler-
ship? It is servitude that I offer you!’ (The Babylonian Talmud, Horayoth,
1938: 10a–10b).
The perception of the ruler as a servant of the people helps us to
understand the reality in which the prophets dared to criticize the
monarchy and the different elite groups in the society harshly and
publicly. Their criticism of the kings of Israel and Judea throughout
the generations is based on the Torah. When the king does not heed
the prophet, he is transgressing the biblical prohibition: ‘The Lord thy
God will raise up to thee a prophet from the midst of thee, of thy breth-
ren, like me; to him you shall hearken’ (Deu. 17: 15). Maimonides even
considers this prohibition to one of the commandments in the Torah
(Book of Commandments, Commandment 172) and was ruled as
Halachah by Maimonides (Laws which are the Foundations of the Torah,
Ch. 7, Par. 7; Ch. 8, Par. 2). For this reason, one can find many prophets
who have publicly criticized injustices against the weak and deviations
from ethical norms, despite the heavy personal price that they paid
(Jeremiah 26; Amos 12: 10–17).
102 Tsuriel Rashi

It is rare to find any Halachic commentators who are of the opinion
that the right of the public to know has a place in Halachic literature.
However, Rabbi Ariel claims that there is evidence of this right within
the Halachic definitions of ‘making defamatory remarks to bring about
benefit’. In his opinion, publicizing the actions and omissions of the gov-
ernment allows the public to exercise its right to influence the policy
that the government adopts. Consequently, according to his concept, a
journalist who encounters corruption or policy that he thinks will hurt
the country and/or its citizens is sometimes required to act to repair the
distortion, specifically by making it public. Moreover, even if there is no
immediate benefit in making certain information public, the mere fact
that public figures are aware that someone is taking note of their actions
and looking out for the public good is enough to deter them from doing
what should not be done. It is, however, important that they adhere to
the seven conditions listed by the Chafetz Chaim for making defama-
tory remarks for beneficial reasons (Ariel 2001: 48–49).
9. Conclusion
The same ideological foundations that form the basis of conscious
awareness about the right of the public to know were given voice in
the principal ethical standards set around the world. However, reality
dictates a different type of journalistic activity, which frequently results
in the public’s right to know being overshadowed by the public’s right
to be entertained.
In contrast to the two extremes – the liberal-democratic view that it
is the public’s right to know and the belief that it is the public’s obliga-
tion not to know – a new approach has emerged based on the analysis
of Jewish texts beginning with those from biblical times. From these
studies, we can conclude that according to Judaism there is informa-
tion that is supposed to come to the public’s attention because of the
public’s obligation to know about it. It is the public’s obligation to
know about those who need assistance and to help them, to condemn
the criminals and charlatans who live among us, and to investigate
candidates running for public office and those currently holding such
positions.
This worldview insists that rather than having the right to know, it
is, in these cases, the public’s duty to know; this is a powerful concept
that can well affect media content, as well as the way in which the
boundaries of journalistic ethics are defined.
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Suggested citation
Rashi, T. (2009), ‘The public’s right to know in liberal-democratic thought vs. The
people’s ‘obligation to know’ in Hebrew law’, Empedocles European Journal for
the Philosophy of Communication 1: 1, pp. 91–105, doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.91/1
104 Tsuriel Rashi

Contributor details
Dr. Tsuriel Rashi is the Head of the Mass Communications Department at
Lifshitz College of Education in Jerusalem and a lecturer in the Department
of Political Studies at Bar-Ilan University (Communication Program), Israel.
Dr. Rashi developed an instructional program for Jewish religious schools,
commissioned by Israel’s Ministry of Education, on the subject of Judaism and
Communication. Recently Israel’s Ministry of Education commissioned him
to develop communication studies for high schools in Israel. He is currently a
post-doctoral fellow at Tel-Aviv University under the supervision of Prof. Asa
Kasher, Vice Chair of the Jerusalem Centre for Ethics.
Contact:
E-mail: tsuriel.rashi@gmail.com

Philosophy
of Photography
ISSN 2040-3682 (2 issues | Volume 1, 2010)
Editors Aims and Scope

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The Soul of the Golem

Daniel H. Cabrera Universidad Veracruzana
and Universidad de Zaragoza
Abstract Keywords
There are many ways of interpreting the so-called ‘new technologies’. One of social imaginary
the most interesting is that which stems from defining them as a social new technologies
imaginary, and therefore, as collective beliefs, fears and hopes. It is common to fear
attribute to technologies all manner of threats that, founded or not, are real in monstrosity
the measure that the society makes decisions and acts in a way consistent with limits
this conviction.
The fears and anxieties of society lead to a consideration of the limits of the
human that technologies transgress. Among the figures with which one speaks
about these limits there is Frankenstein, the modern Prometheus, which threat-
ens modern fantasies with its deformity. There is, however, another man-made
creature that can serve to orient our reflection, the Golem.
In 1609, 400 years ago, Rabbi Loew died. He is credited with the creation
of a homunculus by combining of secret codes. The problem of the Golem was
its imperfect soul made manifest in its lack of speech. Its silent presence was
a source of great fear in the community that finally asked to get rid of the
creature.
These figures of monstrosity, Frankenstein and above all Golem, will help
us to make technologies understand from the fear that society projects onto
them, and this will lead us to the question concerning the imaginary fears of
the technological system.
Modern technologies: unspeakable or destroyed?

In the summer of 1816, Mary Shelly conceived a nameless monster
made by a Dr. Victor von Frankenstein out of electricity and body
parts. Between 1811 and 1816, the workers movement of followers of
the legendary Ned Ludd reached its pinnacle, destroying machinery in
England. In the same decade, the most industrialized nation at the
time witnessed the birth of two distinctive symbols of the modern
imaginary that would accompany thought and reflection about tech-
nology and fear: a novel leaving nameless man’s piece of work -the
creature of Dr. Frankenstein has no name-; and workers destroying
machinery which they viewed as an enemy. The fear inspired by these
symbols is not a fear of God, nor witches, nor spirits but rather of the
very product of the rationality and work of man.
The fear of technology constitutes as intimate an element of
modernity as the idea of progress. Fear is the other side of the coin of
EJPC_1.1_art_Cabrera_107-122.indd 107 11/19/09 4:40:39 PM

progressive optimism. Although it has been denied, exorcized as irra-
tional and labelled as ‘reactionary’ or ‘regressive’, it is, for that very
reason, a constitutive and characteristic element of modern times.
In its fear of technology, modernity manifests its hidden perception
of technological progress. ‘Neo-luddism’ facing the ‘digital revolution’
and the ‘anarchic-primitivist’ philosophy are probably two extreme
present-day reactions caused by the fear of technology, of which
Theodore Kaczynski’s letter bombs and his manifesto, Unabomber, con-
stitute two of the most important milestones.
Modern technology represents an unparalleled power in the story
of mankind. A power that drags human beings in a hurricane rush
towards ‘progress’. Modernity implies the dawn of new powers of
human action: revolutionary political action; democratic power; the
conquest of the planet; and, of course, the power of technology.
Of these, modern technology seems to concentrate all expecta-
tions, synthesizing man’s unlimited possibilities. It’s a new power as
well as a new fear. The medieval power of God gives way before the
power of modern technology; even though this new fear is not as
new as it seems, since it appears to be weaved as a metamorphosis of
man’s ancient fear towards the products of his own hand. Thus it
appears to suggest, among other things, the full title of Shelley’s
novel: Frankenstein. The Modern Prometheus.
Technologies: fear and the imaginary

Imaginaries of fear and imaginary fear are two ways to name the pos-
sible relations between fear and the imaginary. The idea of ‘imaginar-
ies of fear’ may permit the elaboration of a typology of fear in its
relation with technologies, as it results from the analysis of, for exam-
ple, fiction (writings, audiovisuals, etc.), ordinary life (by deep inter-
views and other qualitative methods) and political action (NGO’s,
national laws, warnings from international organizations, etc.); or also
through the analysis of non-fictional texts such as news and media
broadcasts. In these cases, the analyst could make an interpretation of
the collective fear of technology and compare it with other kinds of
fears in other societies and cultures and with a history of fear.
This is an interesting path for a sociology of fear and, above all, for
an interpretation of technologies through the perspectives of suspicion,
mistrust and dread, but what interests me in this paper is a reflection
on the imaginary component in the fear of technology. But what kind
of fear is not imaginary? What is the imaginary component of fear? Is
there any fear without an imaginary element? Fear, threat, and insecu-
rity go hand in hand with the concept of the imaginary understood as
horror towards emptiness, nothingness, towards a desert without ref-
erences and a space and time without explicit boundaries.
Fear begins, not with the darkness which the child dreads, but
with the absence of referential images (mental, metaphorical, etc.) to
clarify the meaning of what is being seen or being imagined without
knowing if it exists or not. Fear emerges when the closures of the
social world (those internalized during individual socialization) do
not provide certainty and safety. Thus, what should be considered
108 Daniel H. Cabrera

first are the threats – whether real or imaginary – that technologies
represent for the constellations of sense for the society. These constel-
lations are defined as the group of beliefs, yearnings, expectations,
wishes, etc., that regulate and legitimate a certain social order. When
a threat is identified and made visible, the symbolic closure of a cul-
ture shatters, exposing its imaginary foundation.
‘The phantom menace’ constitutes one of the most famous military
metaphors produced by the film industry in the last third of the twen-
tieth century; war is always justified, at least by its promoters, as a
threat that functions as long as it’s imagined and believed by every-
one. The ‘phantom menace’ destroys human bodies and its societies
because the interpretation of a situation causes the action. Those who
control fear, control those who are fearful. From magical and religious
powers to modern technocracies, political power has found the key to
dominion in the politics of fear.
Every child usually has a sensation of fear that comes from an
unknown source of noises, usually in the darkness of the night – in the
fields, in a new home, etc. – in which stalking monsters project them-
selves. The advice of grown-ups, not always effective, consists of ‘turn-
ing the light on, looking around, and confronting’, so that the alleged
monster is seen for what it is – the moving branch of a tree behind the
window. Illuminating and looking become ways to lose or face fear. In
society the right information could, and should, fulfil similar functions,
but history has shown that it is not always so.
Contemporary technologies, in the midst of the complexity of their
mechanisms (technical, cultural, etc.) are, as the branch in the chil-
dren’s night, a factor of fear, but, unlike the tree shaken by the wind,
all light shed by technology increases miscomprehension of its persist-
ing concealment. The veil of the mysterious is not just a consequence
of its complexity, it’s also the effect of its symbolic centrality for con-
temporary society, converting it in the shade of its fantasies, dreams
and cravings.
Even though the ghosts that haunt the nightmares of societies, and
which are frequently expressed in the fictional world of motion pic-
tures, may be pure fantasy, the real fear and its consequences are, most
of the time, very real. History shows that fiction is ahead of reality and
that reality always supersedes fiction in seriousness.
Technologies as social imaginary

In speaking of technologies, what I’m referring to are modern technolo-
gies, particularly those of information and communication. For the sake
of brevity I’ll refer to them as ‘new technologies’ or just ‘technologies’ so
as to clearly show their distinctiveness as empty words that nevertheless
designate a set of machines, software programs, institutions, etc. What I
am interested in highlighting in the use of this empty phrase with no
fixed reference – ‘new technologies’ – is that it constitutes the symbolic
node of the ‘telecommunicational imaginary’ by which the so-called knowl-
edge and information society is nourished. “New technologies” is a
empty name that has multiple and indefinite meaning that permits the
projection of different devices and, of course, diverse fantasies.
The Soul of the Golem 109

In another work I have defined ‘new technologies’ as ‘the heteroge-
neous set of devices, institutions and discourses’ (cfr. Cabrera 2006a:
153–161). Heterogeneity refers to an external stratum constituting a
conglomerate of various gadgets, institutions of very different origins
and fragmented discourses of varied levels. That is why the ideas of
‘convergence’ and ‘integration’ acquire special relevance, not only in a
technological but also in a symbolic way. What is most important is
that this heterogeneity supposes a more radical level, in as much as
new technologies constitute a social-imaginary institution. They do not
just respond to human ‘needs’, they are not strictly ‘functional’; there
are no previously defined needs that they aim to satisfy. The very def-
inition of ‘needs’ is already an answer to the human capacity to grow.
Technologies base themselves in the real world but are not its neces-
sary consequence.
The imaginary institution of modern technology is made manifest
at the limit of ‘technological rationality’, in the imperative that regu-
lates scientists’ and technicians’ behaviour and logic – and along with
them those of politicians and businessmen: ‘what can be done will be
done’. The simple availability of technology makes it our duty to use
it. The course of action becomes necessary because ‘if I don’t do it (sci-
entist, enterprise, nation, etc.), somebody else will’.
A rational and realistic person, company or country experiences
‘technological progress’ as something necessary and binding. Any
other attitude leads to an ‘idealistic’ or ‘romantic’ stance, interpreted
as one that is unrealistic.
As a social imaginary, new technologies can acquire the status of an
institution depending on the existing conditions of possibility, exist-
ence and representation of sense of a concrete society. To interpret
technologies is to understand the conditions that have made possible a
specific heterogeneous complex and no other; that have allowed a con-
crete reality to emerge and no other; and that have set a certain mean-
ing and no other. As imaginary institutions, technologies are not only
a collection of ‘technological advances’, they are a jumble of represen-
tations, affects and desires by which society understands, feels, thinks,
lives, compares and projects itself.
Defined in this way, technologies constitute the centre of an inter-
pretation of the human condition in a society that dreams, defines and
calls itself a society of ‘knowledge’ and ‘information’. Fantasies refer to
those names and images, but also to their fears and cravings. For this
kind of interpretation we will have to take into account the matrix and
patterns of the imaginary of Judeo-Christian, Greek, western and
European societies.
Technique as a monstrous creation

The creationist imaginary widespread in the West finds its origin in
the divine creation of the universe. Human action stands as a sec-
ondary creation before it, both chronologically as in importance.
True creation belongs to God. It’s man’s role to ‘uncover’ its beauty,
truth and usefulness. He can also ‘mix up’ and ‘combine’ the ele-
ments in order to obtain something ‘new’. Over this creationist

imaginary lays a burden of obligation and guilt: the obligation to
continue God’s creation as a divine call. This does not imply imper-
fection of the world, but a complementation between that which is
given and the co-creationist task of the creature. Thus, human inven-
tiveness ‘un-covers’ and ‘reveals’ what, in a certain way, was always
already there. Man’s action brings into being the potentialities of
God’s creation – potentialities that he must realize through his
action, that is to say, make real. This obligation entails a prohibition:
do not act capriciously and with autonomy, do not pretend to be like
God, carrying out human creativity on a whim. Creation and crea-
tivity are divine attributes, when man follows nature’s encrypted
patterns he becomes its collaborator and co-creator.
In this imaginary, human creation stands always second, confined
mostly to art, the sphere par excellence of divine inspiration. Until
very recently, technique and technology where mostly considered only
as means to solve problems and needs through the combination of ele-
ments. Owing to this, the prohibition that weighs on free creative
human action transformed fears into myths about the monstrous char-
acter of technological work. The man that whimsically exercises his
capacity of technical creation risks the apparatus turning against him.
The autonomy of creative human action is punished with the increas-
ing autonomy of technological work that, in the long run, turns against
its creator, even to the point of threatening his own existence. Creative
man is only capable of producing a monster – a second-rate creation –
that sooner or later will turn against him.
Fear and monstrosity: the limits of action

Etymologically, the word ‘monster’ means ‘prodigy’ and, as such,
refers to the will of the gods. This prodigy designated something
confused and deviated and was seen as an aberration; it is fantastic
and because of that an aberration. The relationship between fear and
monster seems to come from the fact that the latter dwells in the
imaginary, embodying man’s worst fears and thus becoming his
worst enemy.
In this sense, it’s interesting to remember that the noun ‘monster’
comes from the Latin monstrum, ‘divine portent or warning, monster’,
from monere ‘warn’ and the Latin verb monstrare, ‘to show’ (OED
Second Edition): ‘1. be, allow, or make visible. 2. exhibit or produce for
inspection or viewing. 3. represent or depict in art. [...] 5. demonstrate
or prove. […] 7. explain or demonstrate something to’. And also de
verb demonstrare, ‘demonstrate’ (OED Second Edition): ‘1. clearly show
that (something) exists or is true. 2. give a practical exhibition and
explanation of. [...] 4. take part in a public demonstration’.
Today monstrousness has two connotations: aesthetic, according to
which monster means deformation and disproportion, and moral,
implying a hidden evil in man. The monster shows the existence of
wickedness within man. Man’s monstrous products bring to light his
inner deformity and disclose as otherness that which is his own.
Consequently, they exorcize evilness and discharge fear and guilt in
something alien to the human community.

There have always been monsters, but the genre of horror literature
is a product of the Enlightenment. There is an inner malevolence that
comes out and frightens; this sets limits that should not be crossed.
Monsters embody prohibitions and fears, becoming guardians of ‘non-
plus ultra’ technological action. The monster is man’s ‘other’ – an
‘other’ locked up within him, but that cannot be experienced as some-
thing existing in oneself. This seems to suggest that technological arte-
facts constantly become man’s mirror: a mirror reflecting a crazy and
out-of-control omnipotence.
Technology is man’s product and, as such, has something human
in its heart. The machine is born inside man and holds a sign of its
own; its relation with man begins in man’s own inside. Technique
makes manifest the possibilities of human action; its monstrous aspect
probably comes from fear of what it might reveal. It offers man other
possibilities, making him more powerful. He feels more potent and
thus begins to fear himself. The potential unleashed by technology
hinders the possibility of predicting its outcomes, effects and conse-
quences, from the moment man creates to lose control over its crea-
tion. The technical oeuvre opens a new world that can never be
completely predicted by its creator. The mere presence of the artefact
produces a situation almost unknown to his maker. That is why no
creation is complete without its appropriation and use. But what the
use of the artefact manifests is already present in its technical being.
What is present is man himself as a non-practical creator, that is to say,
a creator that takes no account of means in relation to ends or of meet-
ing necessities. The man that is manifested in technical creation is not
practical; this can be seen in the multiple ‘accidents’ and ‘coincidences’
from which his ‘inventions’ and ‘discoveries’ are born.
Fear and monstrosity: technology as a source of fear

The naive view of techniques and technologies conceives them as a
series of inventions and discoveries made possible by the development
of human rationality as man faced the problems posed by his adapta-
tion to the surrounding world. But when we analyze the history of
modern technology and its significance things appear under a whole
new light. Modern technology does not come from its medieval coun-
terpart and neither is it an extension of it; it answers much more to
such things as witchcraft, magic, alchemy and astrology. These consti-
tute the background of modern technique and it is in them that we
must search for its meaning. They all, witchcraft, magic, alchemy and
astrology, imply an exploration of the limits of human creativity within
the vast domains of the imagination.
History shows that in the Middle Ages technique was not part of
established knowledge. In a world where contemplation was all that
mattered, technical activity was a regulated craft, but it was not
considered a domain of knowledge. It is no wonder that there are
almost no historical references or popular myths about technologies
threatening or striking fear among people. Fear in popular fantasies
had to do with magic, alchemy and witchcraft; or, at any rate, with
‘others’ such as the Jews, the Moors, heretics, etc. The combination of

odd practices with ‘strangeness’ or ‘otherness’ puts its practitioners at
the centre of attention and placed them under suspicion of diabolic
performances: use of human fluids, dead animals, orgies, etc. It’s no
wonder either that these kinds of accusations were used as ‘arguments’
in persecutions of these others. Collective fear had clear and coherent
references in the imaginary of the time.
In this context, the relationship of the Jewish Cabbala with alchemy
and magic must be highlighted. Medieval magic and alchemy shared
some important principles with the Cabbala, forming at the time a cor-
pus of certain coherence and great importance. Within this framework
we must interpret the legendary figure of the Golem as a symbol of
technology (see Idel 1996).
The Golem is a Jewish classic from the times of persecution, when
Jewish religious elements came in close proximity to the practices of
magic and alchemy. There is nothing new in emphasizing some of the
important overlaps between alchemistic and cabbalistic elements, such
as the hermetic principle ‘as above, so below; as below, so above’, or,
most of all, the importance of the human word as a revelatory of divine
secrets.
Today, the Golem is something acknowledged but not necessarily
known. Its modern fame dates from the eponymous novel written by
Gustav Meyrik and the motion pictures of Paul Wegener, of which we
know the 1920 version. Gershom Scholem interpreted it in the context
of the Cabbala. Borges took it up among other writings in Handbook of
Fantastic Zoology (1957) or The Book of Imaginary Beings (1967), as well as
in a beautiful poem (The Golem, 1958). A black Golem is a character in
the popular movie The Santo and Blue Demon against Dr. Frankenstein
(El Santo y Blue Demon contra el Dr. Frankenstein, México 1973,
directed by Miguel Delgado) about the famous Mexican wrestling
idols; it also appeared in Marvel comics as a Warsaw Jewish defender
against the Nazi invaders; and it even appeared in the fourth episode
of The Simpsons’ eighteenth season (Treehouse of Horror XVII) – the
sequel to which was called You gotta know when to Golem (an image
taken from a Wegener film). The Tel Aviv newspaper Yediot Ahranot
publishes a very popular Uri Kink comic named The Golem: The
Adventures of an Israeli Superhero, reflecting the irony, contradictions
and complexities of his country’s society.
On the other hand, there is no guidebook to Prague that doesn’t
mention the old Jewish cemetery where the grave of Rabbi Loew – the
creator of the Golem – lies, and his old synagogue, where the room
which was forbidden to be opened for fear of liberating his remains is
still sealed. But then again, this is the same city that organizes a film
festival that bestows the ‘Gold Golem’. Even though these references are
not exhaustive, they give an idea of how popular the figure of the
Golem has become and warn us, today more than ever, to be careful
when mentioning it.
To clarify the place of the Golem in the Jewish world, the quota-
tion already cited from ‘The Idea of the Golem’ in On the Kabbalah and
its Symbolisms, by Gershom Scholem (1960) is fundamental. But con-
cerning its relationship with technology, the famous 1964 essay of

Norbert Wiener, God and Golem Inc., a Comment on Certain Points where
Cybernetics Impinges on Religion, is of the utmost importance.
In this little book Wiener considers, in some detail, the social conse-
quences of cybernetics, particularly those concerning the relationship
between science and religion. In this framework three issues stand out:
learning machines; self-reproducing machines; the coordination
between man and machine. The answers to these very much take into
account the story in Genesis of the divine creation.
Man makes man in his own image. This seems to be the echo or the pro-
totype of the act of creation, by which God is supposed to have made
man in His image. Can something similar occur in the kind less compli-
cated (and perhaps more understandable) case of the nonliving systems
that we call machines?
(Wiener 1964: 29)
Is technology made in its creator’s own image and likeliness, just as

man is made in God’s? Wiener’s answer is yes: man is able to create a
machine capable of creating machines. What is a machine for Wiener?
‘For us, a machine is a device for converting incoming messages into
outgoing messages. Thus the machine may generate the message, and
the message may generate another machine’ (Wiener 1964: 32, 36).
For the idea that God’s supposed creation of man and the animals, the
begetting of living beings according to their king, and the possible repro-
duction of machines are all part of the same order of phenomena, is
emotionally disturbing […] If it is an offense against our self-pride to be
compared to an ape, we have now got pretty well over it; and it an even
greater offense to be compared to a machine.
(Wiener 1964: 57)
Herein lays the problem of Creation, putting man in the place of God,
as creator of a creative creature – an activity comparable only to magic,
the alchemy of transmutations, or even sorcery. More than forty years
later, Wiener’s essay is still even more accurate in its limits and pos-
sibilities. Nevertheless, in terms of social imaginary, the creative
machine – in man’s own image – is alive and kicking, haunting the
dreams and insomnia of society.
Golem vs. Frankenstein and the new technologies

In my opinion, the Golem is a more adequate metaphor for under-
standing new technologies than the story of Frankenstein’s monstrous
creation. The nameless creature of Dr. Victor von Frankenstein implies
a technique uniting separate parts that attain life through the use of
electrical energy. This image may be useful for mechanical pre-digital
era technologies, before computers made possible Leibniz’s dream and
made feasible his binary system: a universal code into which all exist-
ing things can be translated, an exact binary code to which everything
can be adapted, translating its ‘reality’ to zeros and ones. Ever since
genetics began speaking of the ‘code of life’, with its language and

coding, the same metaphor sets out to manifest technology’s raison
d’être. It’s not only a question of the power to translate, but also of the
power to create, Wiener himself warned. Find a code and the possibil-
ity to manipulate it, thus converting technologies into a second reality:
cyborg, virtual reality, electronic simulation, etc.
New technologies are aiming to create the Golem. Not a being made
out of body parts, as Frankenstein, but out of the river’s fertile soil.
Every day technological materiality produces new prototypes, every
day it overcomes new obstacles, but the ‘code of life’ still does not
achieve speaking autonomy and thus creative intelligence. The key
still seems to be in a software capable not only of making a machine
work, but of giving it autonomous life, making it in man’s own image
and likeness, like creating like.
The cabbalistic problem concerning the clay homunculus was to
find the key to bring it to life, to vivify it and make it autonomous. The
Golem, as an amorphous entity or sheer matter, claimed with its pres-
ence the search for the ‘code of life’, which like the divine breath would
grant the mystery of life. The Golem is not made out of parts – a word
can either give it life or take it away and send it back to dust.
Frankenstein vs. the Golem represents the dispute between
mechanical and digital metaphors: on the one hand, there are tech-
nologies dealing with visible and unified parts, establishing effective-
ness by similarity physical mechanics (stepping down is braking, the
turn of the wheel is moving forward); on the other, a materiality func-
tioning with an invisible effectiveness that appears as magic to the
user’s perception.
The horrors of the twentieth century made it clear that technologi-
cal achievements connect with evil in an almost mystical way.
Technologies are not just instruments or tools in the hands of evil peo-
ple, as can be, for instance, a knife or a gun. In themselves, they consti-
tute a way to face the world, to deal with it, to look at it and define it.
Several humanistic perspectives add to this idea of technology as a
socio-technical system, where apparatuses carry their own social and
cultural origin. In consequence, technological craft is seen as envel-
oped by evil. And, deep down, man is thought to take the place of God
through his technological skill, as in the biblical passage of the Tower
of Babel. Thus, moral and political appreciation of technology seems to
function within the technological imaginary, as if it were a challenge to
God with man trying to take God’s place, putting himself in the place
of the creator. In this way, creation is perceived as an evil post-Eden
ground. To think about creation outside the imaginary that perceives
man as a secondary creator constitutes a real challenge for a rigorous
thinking about technological innovation.
It is very difficult to consider technology outside the imaginary of
the Judeo-Christian divine creation in which man is seen as artist,
sculptor, builder, but not creator of technology. Technological crea-
tion implies a sort of Faustian bargain, and the price to pay for those
who engage in it is the weight of guilt. There has been no great inven-
tor or scientist that has not believed himself to be a messenger of God
or as a divine instrument for the development of true values. (I’m not

referring here to the divine instruments of the Justice of God in the
Muslim world but rather, for example, to the scientists who took part
in the Manhattan Project, during and after World War II.)
Wiener calls those passionate scientists and technicians who redi-
rect their worshiping attitude to God towards artefacts ‘gadget wor-
shipers’. These ‘worshipers’ revere machines since they are not
restrained by man’s limitations, such as tiredness, laziness, lack of
accuracy, etc. That is why ‘gadget worshipers’ entrust machines with
complex decisions requiring objectivity. According to Wiener, these
gadget worshipers ‘go beyond a legitimate curiosity and are sinful in
themselves’ (Wiener 1964: 53).
Nevertheless, my intention is to point out the role played by ‘God
worshipers’, not in the literal sense of the expression, but symbolizing
the ethical attitude of condemnation towards technology. Behind tech-
nology’s pessimistic evaluation lies the guilt of having replaced God as
creator, of having become autonomous. The occidental creationist
imaginary encloses a reflection that might emerge from other perspec-
tives. In this sense, Wiener maintains that:
As long as automata can be made […] the study of their making and
their theory is a legitimate phase of human curiosity, and human intel-
ligence is stultified when man sets fixed bounds to the curiosity.
(Wiener 1964: 53).
Are there limits to scientific and technological curiosity? The extreme

stand point of the ‘gadget worshiper’ is clear: the technological impera-
tive is the only limit – that which can be done will be done – but is there
some middle ground between this point of view and extreme Luddism?
Modernity launches the era of territories without warnings.
Through its assertion, the ‘non plus ultra’ becomes an imperative to
observe in order to acquire knowledge and to know in order to domi-
nate. In Rome’s ancient maps there would usually be an inscription
reading ubi leones, as a warning against crossing the limits. Similarly,
illustrations of monsters on ancient maps signalled where unknown
seas. With modernity comes a map without limits or monsters and
since Magellan’s and Elcano’s global voyages, territories are repre-
sented on a sphere, symbolizing that which is perfectly defined and
contained within itself.
The Golem is a metaphor for prohibition, according to which the
technicians’ effort to attain perfection in his craft will always be con-
sidered futile or, at least, useless. In this situation, technology will
always be interpreted as a secondary creation, the product of a crea-
ture having the chance to act autonomously but with imperfection.
As such, technology will not be able to create; as in the case of
hybrids, it will be incapable of procreating. The inability to conceive is
the mark of identity of the products of human labour in the creationist
imaginary. Within this framework, procreation is reserved only for the
Son, the ‘true’ image and likeness of man.
Fear of technology is provoked by the possibility of its independ-
ence, by the risk that it may turn against man, and furthermore, by the

chance that man’s creation may be able to create, in turn, a different
world. God created man and placed him in a garden, and, through his
twisted work, man created another space, that of exile. Technology, as
a work of man, creates its own world, and just as God lives shut up in
his garden, man could live in the prison of the technological world.
Technology, insofar as it has something of man in it, constitutes the
existential space to which man has to adapt himself.
Paradise and exile: the soul of technology

Fear consists in the image of an autonomous work turning against its
maker and, just like Adam and Eve, escaping from the hands of its
creator. The solution consists in the creature’s exile from a pleasant
world to a hostile one. In the harmonious setting, creature and creator
walked together at ‘the time of the breeze’; in the hostile one, they can-
not find each other because, in a certain sense, in the story of Genesis
the exile of man is, at the same time, the exile of God himself. That
which was harmonious was the world where they could both walk
together, the very same world that ceased to exist as a result of man’s
autonomous work.
Fear of technology comes from thinking that man’s exile from the
‘world of the machine’ is possible; unions’ fears about workers being
replaced by new machines and industrial processes are the visible sur-
face of a different and much greater fear. It’s not about the replace-
ment of workers on the production line, but of a change of territory.
With technology a new space comes into being, a hostile world bursts
forth where once there was harmony.
But this situation cannot be interpreted as a ‘fear of change’. It is
not a matter of some mutation, but of the transfiguration of a reality in
tune with the creator, to one in tune with the creature. Here we find
something that connects up with Luddism’s profound heritage. When
machines are destroyed the real object of the destruction is not the
machines themselves but the world created in their image. It’s not
about a fear of being replaced or fear of change, but rather the con-
sciousness that an unfriendly world appears as a horizon of exile. The
world cannot be predicted because it does not necessarily obey a scien-
tific logic, nor can it be submitted to an ‘impact study’. The new world’s
laws are only predictable in the short term, not in the mid and long
terms, where technology really manifests itself.
Prediction of technological impact is always partial and cannot
identify its own impacts. Technology has tattooed all over human’s
inability to predict their action. As Ellul (1954) puts it, technological
rationality is blind because it is human. The supposed ends to which
technology responds are no more than the inaugural moment of its
presence. In its development, technologies constitute a space of ration-
ality in the midst of an ocean of meaninglessness. Even if a certain
technology has its own objectives and seems to respond to a justified
need, the technological system as a whole does not seem to be inspired
by any goal or necessity.
Adam, a Golem in the hands of God, received the vital breath, the
Divine Breath. The Word created its world. Rabbi Loew’s Golem

depends on a key word, on a secret code to bring it to life, but man,
due to his creatural nature, can only give a secondary life, without the
ability to speak. The tradition of the Golem clearly states that the prob-
lem with man’s work – technology – is the key of life, not its material-
ity. The code of life, the creative word, the vital breath; this is the
technological problem.
The human body has just been deciphered into three thousand
million ‘letters’, which, depending on how they are combined, result
in an enormous variety of living forms: bacteria, monkeys, men, etc.
If today we’re able to ‘read’ that, it’s perfectly possible that soon we’ll
be in a position to create life, just as if it were a matter of pronouncing
a sentence. The digitalization of reality, through the computerized
manipulation of the genetic code, suggests that we are facing the pos-
sibility of a computer ‘delivering’ the ‘key combination’. Technology
would finally be able to ‘un-programme’ the ‘flaws’ of the human
body and, above all, to ‘programme’ a new being. A universe reduced
to a binary code would permit technologies to listen to the divine
word and repeat it without imperfections, thus being able to create to
God’s own image.
A possible challenge to technological thinking does not come
from the divine punishment imposed on Prometheus, as Frankenstein:
The Modern Prometheus story suggests. The fear of technologies was
modelled within the Judeo-Christian creationist myth. What conclu-
sions can we reach by replacing God with man and man with tech-
nologies in the first eleven chapters of the Book of Genesis? The
challenge is to interpret the fear of technologies as a feeling experi-
enced towards man’s own abilities. It is no longer a matter of think-
ing of technology as a Golem, an imperfect homunculus, but as a
‘human being’ made in its creator’s own image and likeliness. The
perspective opened by this point of view could be a desolate one,
not only because it would give way to an ethic of artefact worshi-
pers, but mostly because it would mean accepting that we are alone,
both in the space-time of the universe and in the cosmos of meaning,
and devoid of any other reference besides the one we ourselves cre-
ate and believe.
Fear of technology’s autonomy constitutes a suspicion of the
possibility that machines can attain their own principle of life. The
problem of the Golem is the problem of his soul. As long as his
breath comes not from the Divine Creator, but from man, his co-
creator, the Golem will remain clumsy and imperfect; and its pres-
ence will constitute a threat to the neighbours of the technological
vicinity.
What does the technological system fear?

If the subject of fear of technologies concentrates all the interest for lit-
erary and cinematographic fiction, there is another topic of which we
can only be aware by reading between the lines of the actions and dis-
courses of businesses and governments. What do technologies fear?
What do technology companies and the countries where they do busi-
ness fear?

We can find a clue in the Borges poem The Golem, where Judah
Loew, a Rabbi of Prague, questions himself when facing his imperfect
work:
The rabbi looked upon it with tenderness

and some horror. How (he muses)
could I give birth to this pathetic son
and abandoned inaction, which is sanity?
(Borges 1984: 261–263)
As systems, technologies seem to be afraid to ‘stop’ and ‘look behind’.

New technologies are inconceivable without a certain belief in
progress, in looking forward and quickening the pace toward a future
that we are convinced is better. The political and entrepreneurial sys-
tem of new technologies fears the vanishing of the faith in progress.
Some kind of blind conviction in the future is necessary for new tech-
nologies to be possible. Up until the dawn of the twentieth century
this conviction was called ‘progress’; then, after World War II, it was
referred to as ‘development’, adding here and there different adjec-
tives such as ‘sustainable’, ‘integral’, ‘economic’, etc. Looking towards
the future, looking ahead, trusting everything will be for the better,
constitutes unquestionable elements of the faith by which technolo-
gies are possible.
Consequently, without a sector committed to the production of col-
lective beliefs and hopes, the technological system would be incom-
prehensible. Marketing and communication are among the key
elements in the construction of the faith in new technologies. However,
considering them merely from a behavioural perspective – such as
their role in promoting or researching consumer habits – does not help
in attaining a correct interpretation of the part played by marketing
and communication in relation to the new technologies.
Marketing is the truth, that is to say, it’s the activity of ‘conquering
consumers minds’ and entails the conformation of the representations,
affections and wishes of a technological society. In this sense, the
sources of fear arise between that which is not said and that which is
denied: stop looking ahead, lose speed, look down, etc. New technolo-
gies are impossible without society sharing some kind of belief in
progress. Losing that faith and hope represents our utmost fear of the
technological system.
Neither Rabbi Loew’s Golem nor Dr. Frankenstein’s monster have
a name. New technologies have always held the undefined and unlim-
ited as an open field of metaphors. The great challenge for the promot-
ers of new technologies lies in stimulating the imagination of the
possible users and consumers and in finding new appliances and uses
for them. There is a recurring demand on the part of technicians and
researchers for the removal of legal, budgetary and other limits in
order to ‘freely exercise’ their right to do research without restrictions.
The absence of limits is the only territory for a creative imagina-
tion. Nevertheless, it also represents the ground where it can be most
easily forfeited. In that endless desert of technological imagination

fear arises as a means of survival: do not return, do not sink, just look
forward and walk as fast as possible. These seem to be the unques-
tioned limits of the techno-scientific system. To look behind, go back,
look down or slow down equals returning to prehistoric times. If
someone dared do it, he would be branded a neo-luddite, as an enemy
of technological progress, a fool incapable of facing ‘reality’. This is
something that needs to be thought over because new technologies
are unable to think of themselves without any reference to progress,
advance and speed.
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en Cornelius Castoriadis, Buenos Aires: Editorial Biblos.
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Suggested citation
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Philosophy of Communication 1: 1, pp. 107–121, doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.107/1
Contributor details
Daniel H. Cabrera has published numerous articles in scientific magazines, and
is the author of Lo tecnológico y lo imaginario. Las nuevas tecnologías como creen-
cias y esperanzas colectivas (Biblos, 2006). He has also coordinated Fragmentos
de caos. Filosofía, sujeto y sociedad en Cornelius Castoriadis (Biblos, 2008) and
Anthropos Magazine, number 225, ‘Walter Benjamin, la modernidad como
ensoñación colectiva’ (2009).
Contact: Periodismo – Facultad de Filosofía y Letras – Universidad de Zaragoza,
C/Pedro Cerbuna 12, Zaragoza – 50009, Spain.
E-mail: danhcab@unizar.es

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Radical Interpretation, the primacy

of communication, and the bounds
of language
Eli Dresner Tel Aviv University
Abstract Keywords
In the first section of this paper I review the notion of ‘Radical Interpretation’, Davidson
introduced by Donald Davidson in order to account for linguistic meaning philosophy of
and propositional thought. It is then argued that this concept, as embedded in communication
Davidson’s whole philosophical system, gives rise to a view of communication interpretation
as a key explanatory concept in the social sciences. In the second section of the
paper it is shown how this view bears upon the question as to what the bounds
of linguistic behaviour are. As opposed to major psychological and sociological
perspectives on language, Davidson’s communication-centred position gives
rise to an inclusive, context-dependent answer to this question.
Donald Davidson was one of the main figures in twentieth century ana-
lytic philosophy. In a long series of articles, collected in several volumes
(Davidson 1980, 1984, 2001, 2004), Davidson develops a far-reaching
yet unified philosophical system, with implications for numerous phil-
osophical domains. Thus Davidson made significant contributions to
such diverse philosophical areas as the philosophy of rationality and
action, the metaphysics of events, and the analysis of metaphor.
However, at the heart of Davidson’s philosophy stands his view of lan-
guage – in particular, his anchoring both linguistic meaning and propo-
sitional thought in communicative interaction (Dresner 2006).
The concept that best expresses this aspect of Davidson’s views is
‘Radical Interpretation’, introduced in (Davidson 1984a) and discussed
in many places since its formulation. The notion is a descendent of
Quine’s ‘Radical Translation’ (Quine 1960) – a term coined to designate
a hypothetical situation in which a linguist approaches a completely
isolated linguistic community. In such a situation, all the linguist has to
go on in breaking into the foreigners’ language is their behaviour, and
thus the translation manual that the linguist ends up constructing cap-
tures only such behavioural data. A key tenet of Quine’s is that this
scenario exhausts the essentials not only of this arcane situation, but
rather of linguistic interaction in general. His view is that when under-
standing each other’s speech we correlate linguistic behaviour with our
experience of the world around us, and that there is nothing to linguis-
tic meaning beyond such correlation. Thus Quine is both an empiricist
EJPC_1.1_art_Dresner_123-134.indd 123 11/19/09 4:40:54 PM

and a behaviourist, and there is no significant philosophical role in his
philosophy for such traditionally (and intuitively) central notions as
thought and truth.
Davidson breaks away from this behaviourist, empiricist position
in several important ways, but retains (at least) one key aspect of it: he
endorses an intersubjectivist view of linguistic meaning. That is,
Davidson holds that whatever the internal processes that give rise to
our utterances may be, these processes are not accessible to our inter-
locutors, and therefore cannot be part of the meaning of what we say,
which must be available in principle to those we converse with. Thus
Davidson subscribes to a constructivist view of communication (Buttny
1986; Deetz 1994): according to his position communication is not the
context where meaning is manifested or transmitted, but rather the
locus where it is created (more on this below).
Davidson develops this key idea along several far-reaching trajec-
tories (which are distinct from (and often inconsistent with) Quine’s
views, as noted above). Here, in a nutshell, are three of them. (More
detailed expositions can be found in many places (Evnine 1991, LePore
and Ludwig 2007), including an overview from the perspective of com-
munication theory in Dresner 2006.) First, Davidson maintains that we
assign meaning to another’s utterances not by translating them into
our own language, but rather by associating them with things in the
world surrounding us. This is what is behind Davidson’s talk of radi-
cal interpretation (rather than translation) as the hypothetical process
that brings to the fore what is essential to linguistic communication.
The way utterances are associated with the world in this process,
according to Davidson, is through the notion of truth. That is, a sys-
tematic assignment of truth-conditions to the sentences in someone’s
language consists in understanding the literal meaning of these sen-
tences. Such an assignment will require, among other things, a logical
analysis of these sentences, and an association of the referring expres-
sions that appear in them with objects in the world. (An elaboration of –
and criticisms against – the role allocated to truth in this account can
be found in the aforementioned references.)
Second, Davidson does not ignore propositional thought in his
account of language (as behaviourists like Quine do). As a proponent
of the constructivist conception of communication, though, he does
not view meaning as flowing from thought to language; rather, the
same process through which meaning is assigned to our utterances
(i.e., interpretation) is viewed by Davidson as giving rise to the attach-
ment of content to our internal mental states as well. In the process of
interpretation we are not only assigning meaning to each other’s utter-
ances, but rather also propositional content to each other’s beliefs and
desires (as well as other propositional attitudes). Thus communicative
interaction is viewed as constituting both linguistic meaning and prop-
ositional thought, in an interdependent fashion.
Third (and finally), Davidson views interpretation as a local, inter-
subjective process that does not depend in any essential way on a social
context or setting. Thus Davidson leaves no room for convention in
his account of the most basic underpinnings of language. Of course, it
124 Eli Dresner

cannot be denied that there are elaborate conventions that govern the
linguistic behaviour of the members of a given community, and that
these conventions help make linguistic interaction easy and efficient.
However, Davidson argues that the role of convention in language is
regulative rather than constitutive: linguistic communication does not
depend on a set of conventions for its practice (as, e.g., many games
do) – it is similar in this respect to various other basic functions of ours
(such as eating) that are subject to numerous conventions in most socie-
ties but do not derive their identity and feasibility from such conven-
tions. Interpretation, Davidson tells us, requires only two creatures
facing each other and associating meaning with each other’s utterances
in the way outlined above. They need not be aware of any convention,
nor do they even have to manifest the same regularities in their speech:
it is only necessary that each of them be interpretable to the other.
Let us turn now to consider how these ideas bear upon the status
of communication as an explanatory concept and as a field of research.
The primacy and unity of communication as such are often chal-
lenged. The field’s two main neighbouring disciplines – psychology
and sociology – typically conceive of the questions that communica-
tion scholars try to answer as auxiliary to the more basic problems
that are found in their own respective domains. Psychology, on the
one hand, construes content as primarily an attribute of cognition,
and only secondarily of communication. Thoughts, that are internal
to each agent, come first in the explanatory order, and the plethora
of questions regarding the way they are transmitted from one agent
to another come second. The transmission model of communication,
which plays a central role within communication studies, echoes this
perspective.
Sociology, on the other hand, aims at explaining a variety of
phenomena in the interpersonal and public domains through a set of
concepts of normative character. Viewed from this perspective com-
munication processes in general, and language in particular, are ana-
lysed on a par with other aspects of social life. What are the
conventions that govern human communication processes of various
kinds? How are they related to such notions as group identity and
boundaries, stratification and status? In this context, too, communi-
cation does not play any special role: it is not the focus of attention in
an account of systems of (social and cultural) meaning. Furthermore,
if communication analysis is indeed subsumed under the sociological
perspective, then various types of non-conventional communication
(both in the human and the animal domains) are divorced from com-
munication processes that are thought of in conventional terms (such
as language): the latter (conventional) kinds of communication are of
interest from the said perspective, while the former (non-conventional
kinds) are not.
We see that an adoption of either of these two perspectives, or a
combination of the two, raises a formidable challenge to the coherence
of a discipline that takes the notion of communication as the centre of
inquiry. Those who do indeed adopt this critical view of the disci-
pline may acknowledge the great practical importance of analysing
Radical Interpretation, the primacy of communication, and the bounds… 125

communication processes, especially in view of the rapid develop-
ment of new communication technologies and the influence that
these developments have on various aspects of our lives. However,
such an acknowledgement does not entail the allocation of a special
role to communication-related concepts in our understanding of
human beings.
The philosophy of Donald Davidson offers the scholar of commu-
nication a way out of this predicament. As we saw above, according to
Davidson interpersonal communication is constitutive for both lin-
guistic meaning and cognitive content: a creature must interact in the
right way with fellow creatures in order to be justifiably ascribed prop-
ositional thought. Thus communication is not derived from psychol-
ogy, but rather underlies some of the most important phenomena that
psychology is concerned with, viz. propositional, meaningful psycho-
logical states and processes. This is not to say, of course, that psycholo-
gists should drop their current topics of research and begin studying
communication – what many of them do is not sensitive to a change of
perspective on the interrelations between propositional thought and
communicative interaction (nor is the work of many communication
scholars sensitive to such a change). However, a switch from the trans-
mission model of thought and communication to a constructivist,
Davidsonian model is not an idle intellectual manoeuvre either; as
exemplified in the next section, it can and does bear upon questions
that cognitive scientists and psychologists grapple with.
Similarly, we saw that Davidson rejects the widely accepted view
that linguistic communication is essentially conventional. Surely, he
says, convention makes linguistic interaction much easier and quicker,
but it is not necessary for language. Rather, from the Davidsonian,
communication-oriented perspective things are the other way around
(Davidson 1984b 280): ‘I suggest, then, that philosophers who make
convention a necessary element in language have the matter back-
wards. The truth is rather that language is a condition for having con-
ventions’. As in the case of the interplay between psychology and
communication, this view, if adopted, may have ramifications as
regards some of the questions asked by sociologists and the way these
questions are answered.
Note that it is not suggested here that we adopt Davidson’s later,
more radical formulation of his position regarding the relation
between language and convention (Davidson 2005). According to
this later version of Davidson’s ideas ‘… there is no such thing as a
language, not if a language is anything like what many philosophers
and linguists have supposed’ (2005: 109) – i.e., a conventional, shared
system. Instead of defending this arguably implausible position
(Vandenabeele 2008), it can be acknowledged that language does
involve elaborate conventions (and therefore there is such thing as
the philosophers’ and linguists’ language), but still be maintained
that these conventions regulate a type of interaction the essentials of
which need not appeal to convention. This perspective on Davidson’s
core ideas focuses our attention on the constructive aspect of these
ideas – how conventional, social reality can be erected on the basis of
126 Eli Dresner

a communicative foundation – rather than pointing to their destruc-
tive ramifications (i.e. that language is not an inherently conventional
system, as many people think it is).
We conclude, then, that Davidson’s philosophy offers a view of the
explanatory role of the concept of communication (and of linguistic
communication in particular) that is radically different from what is
suggested (albeit implicitly) by adjacent intellectual disciplines. Instead
of subsuming the study of communication under the psychological
and/or the sociological perspectives, Davidson’s constructivist con-
ception of communication places it at the core of any possible account
of meaningful thought and social interaction.
The constructivist view of communication and the

bounds of language
The account presented above of the interplay among the psychologi-
cal, sociological and communication-oriented perspectives on lan-
guage may be challenged as follows. It can be rightly argued that
throughout this account the demarcation of linguistic behaviour was
taken for granted. That is, we were concerned with the question as to
whether content flows from thought to language or not, and then
with the debate as to whether language is essentially governed by
convention or not. However, in order to address these issues it must
be presupposed that the term ‘language’ designates a well defined
and agreed upon subject matter. But how should linguistic phenom-
ena be characterized and delineated? It is clearly not enough to say
that languages are those systems of auditory behaviour we are all
familiar with – this would not allow for a distinction between sys-
tems of auditory behaviour that are and are not linguistic, nor would
it allow into the domain of language non-auditory linguistic systems,
such as sign languages.
So there is need for theoretical grounds not only for deciding how
linguistic meaning is constituted and whether language is governed
by convention, but also for resolving the more basic and seemingly
simpler question what the extension of the term ‘language’ is. And it is
here, the challenge continues, that the communication-centred position
presented in this paper might be found lacking after all. If it turns out
that either one or both of the psychological and sociological perspec-
tives on linguistic communication have the resources to articulate what
linguistic behaviour amounts to, and that the constitutive model of
communication does not, then the primacy of communication as a con-
ceptual framework would be undermined. If communication scholars
need to appeal to psychological or sociological answers to the question
what the extension of language is, then they must acknowledge the
dependence of their interpersonal perspective on language on other
perspectives after all.
Thus we turn to the question whether and how the different concep-
tual perspectives under consideration here characterize language and
the bounds of linguistic behaviour. At first blush it seems as if there are
grounds for the challenge just raised. That is, the psychological and soci-
ological frameworks do have the resources with which to demarcate the

linguistic aspects of our lives, while the communication oriented
perspective has nothing to lean on, and seems to be on shaky ground.
Generative, Chomskian linguistics has the clearest answer to the
question of the identity of language. Chomsky himself (Chomsky 2002,
2006) is a staunch defender of one of the more radical versions of this
outlook. According to Chomsky it is not only thought but language as
well that is inherently internal – a computational, symbolic system that
allows us to represent the external world and reason about it. What is
usually called language – i.e., our linguistic behaviour – is parasitic on
this inner core (and by Chomsky’s lights could have developed well
after internal language began functioning in our ancestors’ heads).
Linguistic behaviour merely helps transmit internal symbolic linguis-
tic representations from one human to the other, and as such it is aux-
iliary to language, as an internal phenomenon. Thus there are no
conceptual but rather only empirical problems in articulating what
language is and where the boundaries of linguistic behaviour lie. The
linguistic module within our brain has a clear, self-standing identity,
although it may take humanity decades and centuries to uncover its
workings. And as of behaviour (which is of interest to Chomskians
primarily because its study helps shed light on internal linguistic enti-
ties and processes), any type of behaviour that mirrors (e.g. phono-
logically) internal syntactic reality should count as linguistic, and any
type of behaviour that is not so related to the syntactic engine is out-
side the bounds of language. Therefore each and every characteriza-
tion of our internal syntactic processes induces a clear-cut distinction
between linguistic and non-linguistic behaviour. So-called body lan-
guage, for example, that accompanies speech, is not matched with
symbolic entities within the language module (according to contempo-
rary generative theories), and hence it is extra-linguistic.
Turning now to the sociological, norm-oriented outlook on lan-
guage, we find substantial means with which to delineate language as
well. Viewed from this perspective language is a complex practice that
is governed by an elaborate set of norms. There are, for example, norms
for associating certain referring expressions with objects and types
thereof, as well as norms for the construction of well-formed expres-
sions from linguistic building blocks, and also conventions on which
depends the performance of such speech acts as assertions, commands
and promises (Dummett 1978). Thus the demarcation of the linguistic
aspects of human interaction depends on a detailed articulation of this
elaborate conventional construct, and on examination of which types
of behaviour fall under it and which do not. In particular, convention-
based patterns of behaviour that do not manifest the essential compo-
nents of this construct would not count as linguistic, nor would
patterns of behaviour that are not convention-governed at all. As an
example we can pick again so-called body language.
And what about the Davidsonian, constructivist outlook on linguis-
tic communication? On what grounds can it distinguish language from
non-language? Surely such an outlook cannot appeal to convention in
delineating the bounds of language – this would undermine the pri-
macy of linguistic communication over convention-formation. An
128 Eli Dresner

appeal to internal cognitive processes in order to draw the bounds of
language has to be ruled out as well, for the following reason. If the
extension of linguistic behaviour is identified on the basis of corre-
spondence with internal processes, and at the same time it is insisted
that meaning is conferred on linguistic utterances through interpreta-
tion (as Davidson maintains), then an unacceptable gap is opened
between the bounds of language and the bounds of meaningfulness.
That is, if these two tenets are held together, then there could be (in
principle) linguistic behaviour that is not amenable to interpretation,
and therefore meaningless, and also behaviour that is meaningful in
the most robust propositional sense and at the same time non-linguistic.
I take it for granted that this consequence consists in a reductio ad absur-
dum of the conjunction of the two tenets. Thus, as the second conjunct
is the one being explored here (i.e., an interpretation-based view of
meaning), it is the first conjunct (an identification of linguistic behav-
iour on the basis of its association with internal processes) that needs
to be given up.
However, all this is not to say that Davidson’s outlook on language
cannot answer the challenge. Rather, the identification of language
according to this outlook has to appeal to the same intersubjective (albeit
non-conventional) resources that constitute meaning. Thus the process
of radical interpretation does not only give rise to meaning, but rather
must also mark the bounds of language. Put another way, whatever sys-
tem of behaviour patterns that is amenable to radical interpretation is
language.
This conclusion is implicit in the very idea of radical interpretation,
and consists in a natural extrapolation of Davidson’s explicit discus-
sion of this notion. Nevertheless, in most cases Davidson takes the
identification of linguistic utterances as given, and conceives of radical
interpretation as accounting for their meaningfulness, i.e. as providing
an answer to the question ‘What is it for words to mean what they do?’
(Davidson 1984: xiii). However, we see that, in fact, radical interpreta-
tion must provide the answer also to the question ‘Which acts are
utterances?’, a question that seemed easy and innocent at the outset of
the inquiry. Admittedly, in his later writings Davidson (2005) pursues
this line of thought to some extent; as noted below, he attacks the very
notion of language as it is commonly conceived, thereby challenging
not only the conventional grounding of linguistic meaning but also of
the identification of language itself. However, I argue that even in
these later contexts Davidson fails to articulate the challenges and
implications of this radical consequence of his basic premises. In what
follows I propose to start doing so.
First, consider the following worry that may need to be alleviated. As
noted in the previous section, the process of radical interpretation is sup-
posed to constitute both linguistic meaning and propositional thought,
and this on the basis of linguistic and non-linguistic behaviour. (We form
judgments regarding what people think on the basis of both what they
say and what they do.) However, if it is suggested now that language is
nothing more than behaviour that is amenable to interpretation, does not
it follow that the distinction between language and non-language

collapses altogether? All behaviour is subject to interpretation, so is it not
the case that all behaviour is language? Surely this result is absurd.
The answer to this worry is that the global nature of interpretation
is consistent with its being structured, and this in a way that distin-
guishes among utterances and other types of action. The interdepend-
ence of these elements does not preclude their being viewed as distinct
categories, that are labelled as such, in interpretation. All behaviour is
subject to interpretation in a general sense, as thought-induced action,
but only a certain part of behaviour is interpretable in a more narrow
sense, i.e. as being amenable to (truth-conditional) meaning assign-
ment. This second, restricted domain of behaviour is delineated as lan-
guage through interpretation.
Next, note that the holistic nature of radical interpretation applies
not only to the assignment of meaning to linguistic expressions, but
also to the identification of linguistic expressions as such. It is well
acknowledged that the conception of meaning yielded by radical inter-
pretation is holistic; the assignment of truth-conditions to the utter-
ances of a given speaker is made in a way that captures (among other
things) inferential relations among sentences, and therefore the notion
of meaning that results from such an assignment places sentences
within an inferential network, and is thus holistic. Consequently, a
given action (i.e., a concrete event) can be assigned the status of an
utterance only in the context of an assignment of such a status to other
acts – an utterance cannot be interpreted on its own, and it is interpret-
ability that makes an act into an utterance.
All this is not to say that there is no cognitive, internal basis for the
production of utterances: surely we must have at our disposal the
mental wherewithal for doing the things we do. Rather, the point is
that independently of the internal causes of overt behaviour that we
typically call linguistic, such behaviour needs to be embedded in the
right external context in order to be, in fact, linguistic. Thus some of
the considerations raised by proponents of externalistic conceptions of
linguistic meaning (Burge 1986, Davidson 2001, Putnam 1975) apply
also to the identification of linguistic utterances as such. It is not only
the case that circumstances beyond a person’s body help determine
the meaning of what he says, as externalists argue, but rather also that
such external circumstances help determine which of his acts are lin-
guistic acts. The reason, again, is that interpretation – which is an
external process – is what makes certain actions into utterances.
Also, it is certainly not denied here that there are conventions that
guide our judgments as to which human acts are linguistic and which
are not. However, according to the view presented here these conven-
tions regulate a practice that, in principle, can be conducted without
them. This is because radical interpretation, as a convention-inde-
pendent process, does not rely on a prior identification of the linguis-
tic domain but rather grounds such identification.
These last two remarks give rise to the following question, which is
key to the whole line of argument presented here. Does the interpreta-
tional delineation of the linguistic domain, as suggested here, differ in
its extension from the other types of such delineation from which it
130 Eli Dresner

was distinguished? If the various perspectives on the bounds of lan-
guage considered in this paper coincide, then the distinctions among
them might justifiably be viewed as having limited interest. However,
I argue that, in fact, the view suggested here affects the way we should
characterize the scope of linguistic behaviour, and this in a way that
coheres with interesting directions in contemporary empirical linguis-
tic research.
When we consider a certain act as an act of speech – an utterance –
we typically focus our attention on what was uttered. This is taken to
be a sentence (or a sub-sentential expression) – a phonetically encoded
syntactic entity. However, any given utterance is a complex action that
involves much more than the production of a sentence; utterances also
involve intonation, facial expression, and bodily gestures. Are these
aspects of utterances linguistic, or are they the kinds of behaviour that
typically accompany language but are nevertheless distinct from it?
As already noted above, both the internalist and conventionalist
perspectives on language point to an exclusionary view on this ques-
tion, albeit for different reasons; the former because these so-called
types of paralinguistic behaviour have no correlates within the inter-
nal syntactic computational engine, and the latter because they are
typically not governed by convention. According to the interpreta-
tional, communication-oriented perspective, on the other hand, such
features should count as linguistic if and when they play a role in
interpretation. And, of course, they often do play such a role: bodily
movements often help us pick out the objects that are being spoken
about; intonation can convey semantic emphasis; and facial expression
often indicates the force with which an utterance is being made (i.e.,
the speech act being performed). So why draw a sharp line between
these kinds of behaviour and language?
It might be argued that the fact that these modes of behaviour facil-
itate interpretation does not entail that they are included in what is
interpreted, i.e. language. Was it not conceded above that all behav-
iour is interpreted, in a general sense, and is thus instrumental in
assigning content to what is said? If this is the case, should not so-
called paralanguage be included in this domain? Like many other
things that we do, paralinguistic behaviour helps assign content to
what we say, but this is not reason enough to describe such behaviour
as linguistic.
The answer to this challenge is as follows. First, the dissociation
between some aspects of utterances and others (in particular, between
those aspects that represent the syntactic entity being uttered and the
rest) cannot be presupposed, but rather needs to be argued for. As
opposed to other things that we do that help others interpret what we
say, the types of behaviour mentioned above are an integral part of
events that we count as linguistic action. Intonation, facial expression
and bodily movement are being produced together with the produc-
tion of a (phonologically encoded) syntactic entity, and they are all
instrumental in interpretation, so why draw a line among them?
I argue that the onus of proof is on those who maintain that there is
such a line.

Second, recent empirical research into gestures that accompany
speech (or, rather, that are part of speech, as suggested here) shows the
close connections between the auditory and bodily aspects of linguistic
behaviour. The same underlying cognitive mechanisms seem to be
responsible for the production of both, and thus their manifestation is
interdependent (McNeill 1992, 2005, Kendon 2004). As argued by
McNeill (2005), these findings suggest that we should stop talking
about body language as an independent channel of communication –
by his lights, much behaviour that falls under this category is part and
parcel of language itself. The philosophical outlook suggested here is
in accord with this position.
Third, as argued by Olson (1994), the relationship between the way
we conceive of speech and the convention-governed writing systems
developed in order to capture and represent speech is complex and
bidirectional, and this in a way that is relevant to the issue under dis-
cussion here. It is certainly the case that, to a large degree, script
expresses our conceptions of the way speech is configured and struc-
tured: written lexical items typically stand for auditory items, and the
linear spatial order of written text represents the temporal order of
auditory speech. However, it is also true that our writing systems
affect the way we think of auditory language. The combinatorial sim-
plicity of alphabetic writing systems, for example, misleads us into
thinking that our auditory output is similarly constituted from a lim-
ited set of building blocks, while in fact speech is much richer. The
sparse resources offered by traditional (say English) text for the pur-
pose of indicating force (in the speech-act theoretic sense) are typically
not taken to be a deficiency of text, but rather as signposts of the
boundaries of ‘real’ linguistic structure. I argue, then, that writing
bears some of the responsibility for the widely accepted picture accord-
ing to which there is a clear cut line between language (i.e. ‘pure’ lin-
guistic behaviour) on the one hand and intonation (when it does not
determine syntactic identity), facial expression, and bodily movement
on the other; this picture is challenged by the philosophical perspec-
tive advocated for here.
Finally, it should be conceded that interpretational considerations
will eventually leave the boundaries between language and non-lan-
guage vague and context dependent. It should not be expected that
the communication-based outlook on the bounds of language will
result in replacing one clear-cut delineation of the bounds of linguis-
tic behaviour with another, possibly more inclusive delineation.
Rather, as noted in the first section of this article, one of the distinc-
tive aspects of Davidson’s outlook on language is that this outlook,
by freeing language from essential ties to convention, draws lan-
guage closer to other kinds of communication that are not conven-
tion based (and thus supports the unity of communication as a
research field). This aspect of Davidson’s position allows for a more
inclusive picture of language, as suggested here, but at the same time
it opens the door for a distinction between linguistic and non-linguis-
tic phenomena that is more vague and more graded than other per-
spectives on language can accept.
132 Eli Dresner

It was shown here, then, that Davidson’s view of linguistic mean-
ing, which was argued to be of special interest for communication
theorists of the constructivist persuasion, must face a challenge. In
delineating the bounds of linguistic behaviour it cannot rely on the
familiar (albeit often implicit) appeal to psychological and/or conven-
tional resources. However, this challenge can be met through the
aforementioned outlook on language, by including the delineation of
language within the products of interpretation rather than within its
prerequisites. This consequence of the interpretational perspective, in
turn, provides a philosophical grounding for an inclusive view of the
bounds of language, which is in accord with some recent empirical
work.
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Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, pp. 1–24.
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McNeill, D. (2005), Gesture and Thought, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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writing and reading, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
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Mind, Language, and Reality, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Quine, W. V. (1960), Word and object, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
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ered in Communication Policies and Culture in Europe, ECREA conference,
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Suggested citation
Dresner, E. (2009), ‘Radical Interpretation, the primacy of communication, and
the bounds of language’, Empedocles European Journal for the Philosophy of
Communication 1: 1, pp. 123–134, doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.123/1
Contributor details
Eli Dresner received his Ph.D. in logic and methodology of science from the
University of California at Berkeley (1998), and is currently a senior lecturer in
philosophy and communication at Tel Aviv University. His research interests
are in the philosophy of language, philosophy of communication, logic and the
philosophy of computing.
Contact: Department of Philosophy, P.O. Box 39040, Ramat Aviv, Tel Aviv
69978, Israel.
E-mail: dresner@post.tau.ac.il
134 Eli Dresner

Reviews
Reviews. English language. doi: 10.1386/ejpc.1.1.135/4
To Speak is Never Neutral, Luce Irigaray (2002)

London: Continuum, 277 pp., ISBN-0-8264-5905,
paperback, £21.84
Reviewed by Laura Green, University of Liverpool
Luce Irigaray’s Parler n’est jamais neutre was originally published in

1985, a successor to three of her most well-known texts: Speculum de
l’autre femme/Speculum of the Other Woman (1974), Ce sexe qui n’en est
pas un/This Sex which is not One (1977), and Éthique de la différence sexuelle/
An Ethics of Sexual Difference (1984). The English translation – To Speak
is Never Neutral (2002) – marks a significant shift in both tone and style
to its predecessors, owing largely to its composition from Irigaray’s
early career research in the area of linguistics. Roughly half of the book
contains essays and other research material taken from the author’s
work on the language of schizophrenia, whilst the other half reveals
her burgeoning concern with the language of science and scientific dis-
course, especially where it claims to be gender ‘neutral’. These themes
intertwine to create an original work that questions some of the funda-
mental assumptions that form the basis of scientific (as well as philo-
sophical) thought.
Whilst in the first half of the text there is a relative absence of discus-
sion of the impact or significance of gender, in the introduction Irigaray
swiftly sets the tone in which the proceeding chapters must be read;
there is a paradox underlying scientific discourse that permits sexual
difference to be discussed under the guise of scientific research, yet
maintains that the subject of scientific discourse is neutral (p. 3).
Contesting that the form-giving subject has always been male – and that
this structure has given form to both culture and the ‘history of ideas’ –
Irigaray subsequently defines her project as ‘a questioning of the lan-
guage of science, and an investigation into the sexualization of language,
and the relation between the two’ (p. 5). Central to this investigation,
furthermore, is an avowedly post-Saussurean or post-structuralist model
of linguistics. Irigaray asks, ‘to whom are we speaking’ (p. 4)? Lacan’s
claim that the source of speech is the unconscious – the Other – flavours
her response to this question. For it is psychoanalysis – ‘the most strati-
fied experimental theatre for the enunciation and for the pragmatics of
language’ (p. 5) – that provides fertile ground for an inquiry into lan-
guage and linguistic structures.
The Lacanian influence is clear in the first chapter entitled ‘Linguistic
and Specular Communication’. For anyone familiar with Speculum of
the Other Woman, Irigaray’s first major publication, this chapter fills in
EJPC_1.1_rev_Turnbull_135-148 .indd 135 11/19/09 4:42:35 PM

1. Defined by Irigaray some of the theoretical gaps left by her metaphorical use of specular
as ‘the primordial
formation of the
imagery. Providing her own interpretation of Lacan’s ‘Mirror Stage’,
subject’ (p. 261). Irigaray analyses the role of the phantasm1 and its function in the evolu-
2. To be understood in
tion of the subject. Seemingly in agreement with Lacan, she urges that
its psychoanalytical the reciprocal integration of the body and language – the pre-linguistic
context as speech origin of the imaginary – ‘already decenters man in relation to himself’
analysed as an indi-
vidual act; i.e. by a
(p. 9). Psychoanalysis is conceived as the quest to return to this pri-
speaker at a specific mordial state, before language ‘pierces’ the subject. It is the interven-
location and time, tion of the ‘third term’ – the imaginary phallus – that finally interrupts
etc.
the dyadic dialogue between the infant and the mother, establishing a
‘circuit of exchange’ that is founded on what is, essentially, an Oedipal
structure. Irigaray asserts that ‘the distortions of language can always
be understood as expressions of a primordial absence […] of the zero
which underlies the structure of exchange and guarantees its functioning’
(p. 18). Her term ‘Specularization’ can, in this sense, be understood as
a symptom of the alienating passage into language via the subject’s
identification with the deceitful specular image.
Intended to be read in light of the previous chapter, the proceeding
four or five chapters analyse various linguistic ‘defects’ of schizo-
phrenics, hysterics, ‘obsessives’, and senile dementia patients respec-
tively. Whilst not perhaps as engaging as the first, these essays develop
Irigaray’s own brand of psycholinguistics, with particular focus upon
the ‘enunciation’2 as ‘the level of the generation of messages’ from the
unconscious (p. 25). In ‘On Phantasm and the Verb’, Irigaray discusses
the role of the verb in the enunciation, at the ‘site’ of which the verb
dominates. She then goes on to analyse the various ‘verb-phantasms’
(p. 56) that underlie discourse, revealed during psychoanalytical
procedure.
The next two chapters, however, take a more clinical approach to their
subject matter. ‘Linguistic Structures of Kinship and Their Perturbations
in Schizophrenia’ documents the errors made by schizophrenics when
asked to name particular familial relationships. Irigaray concludes that
the problem for schizophrenics lies in the ego-father relation (p. 70). The
meaning of this revelation becomes clearer in ‘Sentence Production
among Schizophrenia and Senile Dementia Patients’. Whilst senile
dementia patients, in the extreme case, are no longer the active subjects
of enunciation (p. 93) – and are instead ‘spoken by language’ (p. 93) –
the schizophrenic, conversely, manipulates the ‘code’ to the extent that
language becomes a ‘language-object’ (p. 94). In other words – and here
we are duly reminded of Freud’s description of the pathology of schizo-
phrenia – the schizophrenic falls foul of the delusion that he/she can
master his/her own discourse.
Two of the book’s most important (but also opaque) essays are ‘The
Rape of the Letter’ and ‘Sex as Sign’. The former essay is a complex
critique of Derrida’s early work on language, particularly his scrutiny
of the philosophical genealogy of linguistics (in Of Grammatology
(1967), for example). Irigaray’s conceit is that Derrida consigns the
feminine to the status of writing – the letter becomes the inscriptional
space for phallogocentrism; an interesting revelation, perhaps, if one
considers the extent to which Irigaray’s thought has been compared
136 Reviews

with Derrida’s. ‘Sex as Sign’, on the other hand, deals with the
Saussurean/Lacanian role of the metaphor and the sign, and their
functions in the enunciation. Here, Irigaray contends that as signifiers
always signify other signifiers, language is never free from metapho-
ricity; this ‘metaphorizing’ should be understood as ‘the play of sex in
language’ (p. 143).
In the chapters ‘Does Schizophrenic Discourse Exist?’ and ‘The
Refusal of Schiz’, Irigaray continues to dissect the nature of schizo-
phrenic discourse, assessing both its possibility and its nature. This
time concurring with Derrida, she argues that – contra Saussure –
schizophrenics ‘fracture’ discourse by multiplying its ‘blanks’ (p. 189);
thus there exists neither the linearity nor the arbitrariness of the sign
as Saussure theorized. In this sense, schizophrenia could be under-
stood as a ‘certain type of language-functioning, unrecognized by its
locutors, and for that reason attributed to the [...] language of the
mother’ (p. 191), inasmuch as the schizophrenic’s language should be
understood as a specific set of relations to this ‘language’.
Schizophrenic language is precisely a refusal of ‘schiz’ or ‘split’
because it denies the passage into the symbolic; hence the difficulty
in naming the ego-father relation described above.
‘The Setting in Psychoanalysis’ hails the return of a more familiar
‘Irigarayan’ style of writing. Complete with humorous ‘alternative’
titles as suggested in a footnote, this essay questions the very ‘scene’ of
psychoanalysis: its vantage point as well as its unchallenged hierarchy
of values. ‘The Poverty of Psychoanalysis’, however, shows Irigaray at
her most subversive. A caustic and bitter attack on the Lacanian
school’s inwardness and refusal to listen to its critics (whose attacks it
treats as a ‘symptom’); Irigaray paints a picture of an institution
unknowingly and unwittingly trapped in a cycle of ignorance and
denial by its own destructive imaginary. Similarly, in ‘The Limits of
Transference’, Irigaray argues that the ‘transference’ is irresolvable
when between two women, as no symbolic process exists to account
for it. Because women have no ‘language’ of their own (no ‘imaginary’
or ‘symbolic’), they become in competition with one another: only a
‘quantitative’ relationship is possible (as objects of exchange within the
masculine symbolic order). For a ‘qualitative’ relationship to become
possible, the analyst must create for the analysand her own ‘space-
time’ (a ‘container’ or ‘skin’) within which she can breathe. This marks
one of Irigaray’s earliest attempts to construct what is essentially a
new ‘language’ and identity for women – one that has at its centre the
motif of the ‘two lips’ that is intended as an alternative to the phallus
as the dominant signifier (p. 242).
To Speak is Never Neutral might prove difficult for those unfamiliar
with some of the dense technical terminology that dominates the text.
For Irigaray scholars however – or for those better versed in the conti-
nental tradition’s recent indebtedness to both structural linguistics and
psychoanalysis – this book helps to fill in some of the blanks left by
some of Irigaray’s more ‘popular’ works, particularly where she has
been appropriated under the banner écriture féminine. The comparisons
between the language of schizophrenics and that of women usher in
Reviews 137

3. A pun on the French Irigaray’s pseudo-Derridean concern with identity and meaning, and
‘derrière’ mean-
ing ‘backside’ or
the self-effacing logic of presence that assigns the feminine to the under-
‘behind’. side of discourse, or to the ‘backside’ of the scene of representation.3
Her contempt for the psychoanalytical profession, however, is out-
weighed by the extent to which her work is saturated by psychoanaly-
sis. Lacan, his stature and his notoriety, are never far away from the
scene in which Irigaray carries out her psycholinguistic experiments.
The book’s final chapter, ‘Is the Subject of Science Sexed?’ rounds the
affair off by (re-)questioning the validity (or indeed possibility) of gen-
der-neutral scientific discourse – psychoanalysis included – something
that seems ridiculous having read up to this point. The essay completes
Irigaray’s project in a decisive and provocative manner. And even if the
reader has not been convinced by her rallying cries for a new (gen-
dered) approach to scientific discourse, this book still marks a crucial
contribution to the way we think about language, especially in relation
to gender.
Adorno’s Concept of Life, Alastair Morgan (2007)

London: Continuum, 9780826496133, Hardback, £70.00
Reviewed by Mark Olssen, University of Surrey
In this book, Alastair Morgan presents a clear and detailed examina-

tion of the senses in which a philosophy of life informs Adorno’s phi-
losophy and the important role it plays in regards to it: a role not
frequently commenting upon, and indeed, not rendered formally sig-
nificant, even by Adorno himself. In seeking to outline the philosophy
of life informing Adorno’s work, this book does a great service to the
scope and possibilities in the recent revival of life philosophies, as well
as to how to interpret Adorno’s materialism in the changed context of
post-quantum philosophies of science and complexity approaches in
the human sciences. As Morgan points out, Adorno’s adherence to the
life concept is not in the strong tradition of lebensphilosophie of the sort
that informed Bergson’s élan vital, where life was theorized as an ahis-
torical metaphysical postulate, characteristic of a deep inner animating
psychic principle; neither was it seen in the way used by Klages, who
postulated a collective unconscious prior to history; nor even in the
sense of Dilthey Simmel, or Lukács, who theorized life philosophy as
pre-reflective experience in some sense prior to discursive mediation,
which posited life as prior to the conceptual, enabling direct veridical
access through either intuition (Bergson), or reduction (phenomenology,
positivism), to explaining the noumenal world. In the sense that
Morgan sees Adorno as incorporating a life concept, it is neither meta-
physical in the strong senses here suggested, nor does it speak to an
ahistorical, invariant, life force, played out, as in Oswald Spengler, or
even in a different sense, as in Hegel, through a philosophy of history,
which portrays the unfolding of living forms within history, the rise
and fall of civilisations, or the progress of historical cultures, or forms
138 Reviews

of life. The sense in which Morgan detects a life philosophy in Adorno
is closest to the way Nietzsche utilized the concept, which Herbert
Schnädelbach (1984) defines as an ethical life philosophy, and which
Morgan (p. 9) defines as ‘a philosophy which identifies a normativity
in the contrast between all that is living and all that is dead’. In this
sense, says Morgan (p. 9) ‘Life … becomes the grounding for all values
and norms’. Although Schnädelbach sees Nietzsche as pivotal in pro-
moting this idea of life philosophy as a general normative concept of
life and living, Morgan claims that Adorno differs in significant senses
in his own appropriation, and it is indeed central to his own use of the
life concept, that his critique of Nietzsche proceeds.
What is noteworthy here is the nuanced and detailed treatment of
life philosophy, and the life concept in Morgan’s treatment in relation
to Adorno. The function of a philosophy of life for Adorno, in short, is
to classify his variant of speculative materialism as a conception of
material experience itself lived always within the mediated and reflex-
ive particularities of historical time and space. In Adorno’s sense, this
was a materialism which within the orbit of the neo-Kantianism that
dominated Adorno’s work, was always mediated through culture and
conceptuality, and where the ‘fast routes’ to hard realist objectivity
and veridical access to the noumenal were not seen by him as tenable,
involving claims to truth which went beyond the bounds of what was
legitimately warranted. Although generally within the neo-Kantian
theatre, Adorno parted company with Kant’s own method of attaining
objectivity, rejecting the possibilities that such objectivity of the world
could be achieved through the application of universally valid laws of
reason. For Adorno, this move simply constituted a form of domina-
tion. Similarly, he rejected Bergson’s ‘intuitionism’, Husserl’s ‘phe-
nomenological reduction’ via the concept of ‘intentionality’, or the
‘protocol sentences’ of positivism, in their claims to know the real
without mediation and reflexiveness. Ultimately, what grounded a
limited, that is, a mediated objectivity, was life itself, or rather, the
‘experience’ of life, which was, for Adorno, inscribed through suffer-
ing, torture and various myriad forms of debasement. This was char-
acteristic of what he referred to as ‘damaged life’ and yet always
potentially reconciled or redeemed through new and different possi-
bilities that life could be other; could be different; could be better; or
at least – phrased negatively – where such suffering could be avoided
and where life could be lived in an infinite variety of other ways. It is
to this concept of ‘experience’ as a ‘pre-predictive mode of humans
relating to the world’ (Morgan 2007: 2) that the ontological concept of
life has relevance. Hence, it was the impossibility of escaping concep-
tual mediation that characterizes Adorno’s solution to Kant’s paradox
in reinstating life experience as the indirect route by which the real is
apprehended and understood. As Morgan shows, such a concept of
life enables Adorno to construct a normative theory which permits
him to delineate the contours of a ‘damaged life,’ as exemplified by
Auschwitz, and to postulate more fundamentally enriched modes of
living, without – hopefully – presuming an essential, ahistorical way
of life that in some sense constitutes a ‘natural way of living’. In this,
Reviews 139

life does not figure as a substantive demand to live in one particular
way, but as a more general ontological conception of the possibility of
living differently. A major recurring theme throughout the book is con-
cerned with how Adorno can maintain such a normative conception of
life as something which can be fulfilled, and yet avoid essentialist pre-
sumptions of life as a ‘natural entity’ or ‘state’, that is prior to history or
society; or as linked to a productive utopia of human perfection, in the
sense of those bad and dangerous readings of Hegel or Marx.
In terms of outlining Adorno’s uses of life philosophy as the core
characteristic of his materialism, Morgan gives a wonderfully clear
and nuanced account, relating Adorno’s insights to Freud, Husserl,
Nietzsche, Henry, Levinas, Merleau-Ponty, Heidegger, Bergson,
Deleuze and others as well. It is the engagement with Nietzsche, and
with Deleuze, that I find most intriguing, and possibly – even – most
suspect. By tracing the contours of these engagements one can see, I
think, the real depth that Morgan achieves in considering Adorno’s
oeuvre, as well as some of the unresolved issues of his materialist phi-
losophy. Possibly, also, we can find one or two unresolved or unclearly
understood issues, in relation to Morgan’s own understanding, espe-
cially, in relation to Deleuze’s appropriation of life philosophy and its
relevance for the revival of complexity theories in recent years.
Although, as Morgan recounts, Adorno takes his account of life
from Nietzsche, for Adorno life refers to ‘human life’ whereas for
Nietzsche it refers to ‘life itself’. While such a difference can be seen as
important, the overall similarities between Adorno and Nietzsche in
relation to the concept of life they invoke are both striking and signifi-
cant. For both develop a concept of life as a force that is fundamentally
concerned to survive and prosper, and which involves dominating
and mastering the external world. This is what, as is well noted, makes
Adorno’s anthropology similar to Nietzsche’s, premised upon notions
of power and domination. It is also the reason why both eschewed
naturalistic views of knowledge and opposed correspondence theories
of truth, or understandings of truth as emerging under the burdens of
rigorous enquiry, for both saw knowledge as emerging in the cut and
thrust of history, and as warped and affected in relation to interest and
ideology. Both were also neo-Kantian in the same way, seeing the
objective world as accessible through mediation and reflexivity.
Although Morgan sees Adorno and Nietzsche as diverging ‘quite
sharply’ (p. 18), it is largely related to the particular way that the life
concept is utilized, rather than its general function or scope within
their theories. For Adorno, like Nietzsche, life emerges in the quest for
survival, defined as self-preservation, in the sense of the necessity of
battling the objective ‘facticity’ of the world and rendering it to one’s
purpose. But whereas Adorno represents the struggle for existence in
terms of self-preservation, and sees such self-preservation as confined
to humanity, for Nietzsche, the life concept ‘was not dependent on
human self-preservation’ (p. 19). In addition, Nietzsche argues force-
fully that there is more to life than self-preservation, or rather, that the
concept of self-preservation is inadequate. To illustrate this point,
Morgan usefully cites Nietzsche from the Will to Power (p. 345).
140 Reviews

One cannot ascribe the most basic and primeval activities of proto-
plasm to a will to self-preservation, for it takes unto itself absurdly
more than would be required to preserve it: and above all, it does not
thereby ‘preserve itself’, it falls apart – the drive that rules here has to
explain precisely this absence of desire for self-preservation.
For Nietzsche, says Morgan (p. 19) ‘human subjectivity is an epi-
phenomenon of the process of life which is ruled fundamentally by a
will to power’. Yet, Morgan misunderstands Nietzsche when he sees
such life as a ground comprising ‘competing suprahuman drives and
instincts’. The better way to understand Nietzsche here is simply to see
the application of the life concept to all of life, rather than to merely
human life, and to see struggles for existence as not simply involving
self-preservation, but also other motives, variable depending upon
context, sometimes involving competition over material resources;
sometimes not. Nietzsche’s real point is that particular forms of subjec-
tivity, and particular forms of morality, have emerged as the historical
outcome of certain social forces of historical evolution. If this is so,
then the widespread view of Nietzsche as an individualist, that is, as
someone who sees the individual as constituted by a bundle of instincts
and drives, and who constitutes the foundational assumption of his
thinking, is mistaken, and needs revision. In this sense, too, it is stretching
things to describe Nietzsche as representing the subject as the epiphe-
nomenon of struggle, or as representing life as some ‘suprahuman’
drive over and above human life, of which human life is but the pas-
sive plaything. It seems to me, indeed, that Nietzsche is more material-
ist here than Adorno. There is a sense in which Adorno, in sharply
differentiating human life from life itself, is guilty of anthropomor-
phizing life. Perhaps Nietzsche, also, avoids the accusation sometimes
identified with Adorno (of Dialectics of Enlightenment, for instance) that
there is an original ‘inner’ nature that has been the victim of a funda-
mental repression. It is in this sense, that Adorno has been accused, as
Morgan notes (p. 21), citing Joel Whitebrook (1995) of ‘bad utopian-
ism’. For, in the extract cited by Morgan, as Whitebrook (1995: 151)
notes, ‘…it would follow from the argument that nothing short of
remaining in or recapturing the original state and fulfilling “the instinct
for complete, universal and undivided happiness” could prevent the
dialectic of enlightenment from unfolding. This is the tacit omnipotent
requirement that constitutes the psychoanalytically formulated bad utopian-
ism on which the entire construction rests’.
In Minima Moralia, also, as Morgan notes, Adorno accuses Nietzsche
of confusing ‘hope for truth’ alluding in part to a relativism which is
often claimed, and which I think Morgan shares, in Nietzsche’s writing
on politics and the future. Again, while this is a typical reading of
Nietzsche within Anglo-America representations, it is surprising to see
someone like Morgan share such a view. The confusion of hope and
truth represents only Nietzsche’s normative quest for a moral order that
will need to be constructed in a future of unchartered waters. What
Nietzsche was aware of was that in all such moral creeds, there is a con-
fusion of hope and truth. Although purely descriptive claims might
retain a distinction between hope and truth, in relation to the normative
Reviews 141

construction of a world without foundations, how could they possibly
be kept apart. For Nietzsche, the future will need to be contingently con-
figured according to a constellation of precepts and concepts that, I think
he realized full well, could not be predicted or commented upon in
advance. Thus, while his account of the past is merely genealogical, the
challenge to the Superman – possibly – is both metaphysical and moral.
By suggesting here that Morgan misinterprets Nietzsche, and that
the issues he identifies are possibly contentious, and therefore correct-
able, then possibly a more positive turn toward Nietzsche could be seen
as assisting in correcting the problems in Adorno’s own account as
briefly alluded to above. Perhaps, if one other potential area for debate
is alluded to, in Morgan’s at all times very scholarly and fine-grained
account, it might be in the way he treats Deleuze, and the contempo-
rary interest in complexity theories. While his account of Deleuze as a
virtual space-traveller is by now familiar, a tendency to compare
Deleuze unfavourably with Aristoleanism, and the claimed implica-
tions or consequences of a turn to Deleuze, might be seen as just a trifle
far-fetched. The assertion of an ontological ‘relationism’, drawing on
Spinoza, Bergson, and Nietzsche, over a substantionalism, based on
Aristotle, and retained in a modified form in the mechanistic philoso-
phies of the Enlightenment, is interpreted by Morgan as leading to a
peculiar abandonment of history and society, and some confused think-
ing over substance and its significance to philosophies of history and
change. As Morgan notes, Adorno’s reliance on the classical notion of
substance sharply separates him from Deleuze, and also ties him to an
enlightenment mode of thinking, which fundamentally ties his concep-
tion of life to an essentialist metaphysics. Substance represents, as
Aristotle clearly intended, and as Galileo and Newton also understood,
an ahistorical foundation which grounds identity and constitutes the
basis for an individualistic reduction and grounding within all histori-
cal approaches characteristic of enlightenment thinking. Morgan under-
stands that there is an issue around this, for he states (p. 134) that it is
‘the oscillation between life as process, and objects as substance, that is
insufficiently elaborated [in Adorno’s work]’. This is ultimately, for
him, what keeps Adorno within the tradition of speculative rather than
metaphysical materialism, ‘for it does not enable a full theorisation of
the non-conceptual,’ and what differentiates his approach from Deleuze,
and from complexity theories. He points out that Harman (2005) has
sought to integrate a materialist metaphysics which considers objects as
both ‘substances’ and ‘relations’, thus not ‘dissolving’ individuals, or
objects, within a process of inorganic life represented a pure becoming,
which is seen as the ‘error’ of Deleuze. The error here in my view is that
in abolishing substance, Deleuze would have readily conceded that he
wasn’t denying the reality of objects independent of relations. But, cru-
cially, here, Deleuze would not agree with Harman’s (2005: 85) claim,
supported by Morgan (p. 134), that ‘[a]n object is a “substance”, not
because it is ultimate and indestructible, but simply because it can
never be identified with any (or even all) of its relations with other enti-
ties’. What characterizes a substance is not the mere existence of an
object which is necessarily irreducible to its relations at any particular
142 Reviews

point in space and time, but the independent ontological existence of an 1. In this sense, this
view contradicts
object in space and time; hence, its essence (ousia), or that which really Peter Hallward
is, as something prior to its relations. Because Deleuze was concerned (2006: 162) when he
to write philosophy, and not history, although objects for him, like his claims that ‘there
is no place for him
friend Foucault, were understood to come into being historically, an [Deleuze] to account
understanding of their ontological origination and maintenance was for cumulative
through their relations. In this view, everything is historical, and main- transformation or
novelty in terms
tains being because of its relations, or, in a somewhat more casual ter- of actual materi-
minology, in relation to the niche that it occupies. Building on Spinoza als or tendencies,
and Nietzsche and Bergson, this was the key point of the ‘theory of precisely because
there is no concept
affects’, or ‘combinations’, whereby it is the configurative context or of actuality within
constellation which is the crucial ontological dimension, and not the Deleuze’s phi-
ahistorical being of an invariant substance or atom, which is ontologi- losophy’. Although
correct about
cally independent of its surroundings in its fundamental essence. While Deleuze in relation
actuality and potentiality are denied in relation to essence, neither to the Aristotelian
Deleuze, Foucault nor Nietzsche need deny that things and objects conception of
‘actuality’, it is not
maintain a historically constituted being which is constituted through clear that a concep-
‘emergence’ and is irreducible to its parts, just as it is irreversible in tion is not present
time. This is entailed, in fact, in thermodynamical representations like within his work that
can be explained
those of Ilya Prigogine and those complexity theorists who model their in relation to the
work on post-quantum formulations of physics and chemistry. Such a historical ontol-
representation explains why the object can be unique and irreducible ogy he develops.
As for ‘cumulative
but also historical, and yet without essence or substance.1 While a histo- transformation’
rian, like Foucault, would understand that in practice, objects, or sub- and ‘novelty’, a
jects each have (in their own way) their readiness, their being, their quick course on
Prigoginian ther-
state and stage of development, and their potentiality, in a pure philo- modynamics would
sophical sense, there is no state of ‘actuality’ which constitutes part of explain the error
their essence, prior to history, and therefore, no ‘potentiality’ which in this statement
and the different
parallels that actuality. While actuality and potentiality must alter their ways that transfor-
meanings in relation to an historical ontology, they can no longer mation and novelty
be theorised in the sense entailed by Aristotle. It is in this sense that can be theorized
within complexity
chance and immanence take on a different sense, and can contribute to approaches (see
the enrichment of a materialist theory of history. Kondepudi and
Although, on specifics like this, in relation to Deleuze and complex- Prigogine 1998).
ity theories, I believe a different conclusion could have been arrived at,
none of my quibbles detract from the thoroughly scholarly and impres-
sive way Morgan argues his thesis, and the richer understanding of
Adorno we have as a result. It is a study which not only relates him
impressively to contemporary movements in ideas, but one which out-
lines, in an original and subtle way, the intricacies of Adorno’s philos-
ophy, with chapters covering all of the core concepts of ‘damaged life’,
of ‘suffering’, of ‘exhaustion’, ‘dialectics’, and of ‘the possibility of liv-
ing today’. This is a book that all those interested in Adorno, life phi-
losophy, or materialism, should read.
References
Hallward, Peter (2006), Out of this World: Deleuze and the Philosophy of Creation,
London and New York: Verso.
Harman, Graham (2005), Guerrilla Metaphysics: Phenomenology and the Carpentry
of Things, Chicago and La Salle: Illinois: Open Court.
Reviews 143

Kondepudi Dilip, K. and Prigogine, Ilya (1998), Modern Thermodynamics: From
Heat Engines to Dissipative Structures, New York: Wiley.
Schnädelbach, Herbert (1984), Philosophy in Germany – 1831 – 1933, (Eric Matthews
trans.), Cambridge, London and New York: Cambridge University Press.
Whitebrook, Joel (1995), Perversion and Utopia – A Study of Pyschoanalysis and
Critical Theory, Cambridge, MA. and London: MIT Press.
Uncovering Hidden Rhetorics: Social Issues in Disguise,

Barry Brummett (2008)
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, ISBN 978-1-4129-5692-5,
Paperback, £29.45
Reviewed by Nick Turnbull, University of Manchester
Barry Brummett’s new edited volume is a collection of rhetorical anal-

yses that explore hidden rhetorics within the discourse of popular
culture. Contributors provide students with a methodological approach
to uncovering hidden meanings within cultural works. The authors
lead readers on a search for rhetorical forms which occur consistently
across otherwise dissimilar discourses. The case studies are drawn
primarily from popular film and television, and all are from the
United States. The contributors attempt to show how these cultural
artefacts rhetorically construct subjective meaning in representing
social issues in particular ways. Some chapters also argue that homol-
ogies, similar rhetorical forms, can be identified in disparate works,
thus contributing towards the broader propagation and normaliza-
tion of these subjective meanings.
The collection is successful in drawing together a diverse selection
of empirical material from which dominant themes are consistently
developed throughout the book. Brummett’s introductory chapter out-
lines the theme of hidden rhetorics and discusses the main analytical
tools employed: metaphor and homology. The remaining chapters are
organized around four themes: race in disguise; morality in disguise;
gender and sexuality in disguise, and politics in disguise. Most of the
authors are new scholars to the field, a very positive sign and one
which ensures a fresh and creative approach.
The book is theoretically informed by the rhetorical devices of met-
aphor and form, in particular drawing on the work of Kenneth Burke
and Brummett’s writing on rhetorical homology. Brummett expands
upon Burke to claim that in the form of discourses we can identify
recurrent patterns. Form is ‘a kind of metaphor on steroids’ which
underlies and links together many different texts (p. 8). Through the
formal connection, discourse connects with, and addresses, social
issues. This connection is established through a particular device, the
homology, defined by Brummett as ‘a formal resemblance underlying
many texts and experiences’ (p. 9), which is especially useful in com-
paring what are otherwise apparently very different texts. When one is
unaware of the homology, each text serves as a disguise for the other.
144 Reviews

The task of analysis is to uncover formal and other rhetorical resem-
blances in order to see the patterns underneath.
Of the eleven chapters, four deal with the hidden rhetorics of race
in film and television. Hoerl considers the 1988 film Mississippi Burning,
rejecting criticism of the film as neglecting the role of black activists.
Instead, Hoerl argues that the film can be seen as a rhetorical homol-
ogy which is consistent with the themes and political trajectory of the
Black Power movement. She explains how themes of institutional dis-
crimination and reaction are represented through the main characters
of the film, the two white FBI agents. Perks, Winslow and Avital find a
homological correspondence in the depiction of ‘little people’ and
African Americans in film and television. Borrowing the concept of
‘othering’ from Edward Said, they discuss how both these groups are
marginalized through being characterized as fantastic or magical, as
angry and violent, and as comic. Brummett argues that the film The
Horse Whisperer contains a homology which expresses a myth of main-
stream, white, liberal America, in which social injury to non-white
groups is acknowledged but not frankly encountered. For Brummett,
key white characters in the story figuratively occupy the place of non-
whites, to whom redemption is offered by a benevolent white patri-
arch and which must be taken up by the non-whites. This formal
mechanism expresses how the white population absolves itself of
blame for racial injustice. The final chapter in this section, by Perks,
uses Burke to present the cinematic presentation of extreme whites
(‘the evil albino’) as a case of ‘scapegoating’.
Chapters five and six deal with ‘morality in disguise’. The first, by
Olson, is the strongest chapter of the collection. She conducts a detailed
empirical analysis of the interpretive framework employed by individ-
uals engaged in acts of violence. She finds a consistent homology
present across three disparate cases: people taking part in sport hunt-
ing; the perpetrators of hate crimes; and stranger rape. She presents
both Burke’s and Brummett’s positions on homology most clearly, as
well as undertaking a rigorous analysis which identifies four points of
correspondence across the texts. Following Olson, Winslow’s chapter
identifies a strong class rhetoric in the discourse of popular evangelist,
Joel Osteen. Winslow finds that the form of Osteen’s discourse links
class and morality through three key traits: marriage and family; hard
work; and health.
‘Politics in disguise’ is the theme of chapters seven, eight and nine.
Aguayo’s chapter considers the controversy around the popular wild-
life documentary, March of the Penguins. She notes how, at the time the
film was released, public commentators praised the film as a model for
human family values. Aguayo points out the extent to which the nar-
rative advocates the ideal of the stable, nuclear family through an
entirely subjective anthropomorphism. Hartelius’s chapter unveils the
film Pirates of the Caribbean as a homology for transnational corporat-
ism. She identifies three key themes which are said to apply to contem-
porary society: ‘the construction and confusion of identity, the pursuit
of empowering objects, and the manipulation of unstable space’ (p. 173).
Gatchet presents an analysis of how the city of Salem, Massachusetts,
Reviews 145

rhetorically constructs interpretations of witch-hunting through tour-
ism sites and commemoration. He reveals how this rhetoric shifts
responsibility for the witch-hunts away from social and institutional
factors in favour of a general hysteria considered to be the normal
result of social transition. He concludes by considering how tourism
might be improved by opening it up to alternative interpretations of
historical events.
The hidden rhetorics of gender and sexuality are cinematically
exposed in the final two chapters. Inspired by post-structuralist work
on gender and masculinity, Garza finds the film Brokeback Mountain
to be replete with disguised social issues; ‘The film is thus much
more than a movie about gay cowboys; it is really about the con-
straints of masculinity, socioeconomic status, and cultural hegemony
on our individual and collective being’ (p. 198). The final chapter, by
Earnest, argues that gay and lesbian issues are disguised in the X-Men
films. He presents an in-depth analysis of the films, using metaphor
in interesting ways to identify how the film deals with sexuality and
prejudice.
The key organizing concept of the book, homology, is certainly an
interesting idea. It could serve as a powerful analytical tool for con-
ducting systematic rhetorical research. However, one might ask to
what extent do the chapters in this book deliver on the promise of
homological analysis. In most cases, they offer analogies rather than
identifying extensive formal resemblances between texts. In only one
case – the chapter by Olson – is the homological analysis fully devel-
oped. Olson points the way forward for how a homological approach
might be useful in uncovering the deployment of similar forms across
otherwise unrelated texts. This chapter stands out for its comparison
across several discourses, for its extensive empirical analysis, and for
its precise identification of the homological structures. Apart from this
chapter, the utility of a homological analysis would be strengthened
with the application of a more rigorous methodology.
A final question is to ask how hidden are the rhetorics the book
discusses? In many cases, the themes of the films under analysis are
not difficult to recognize, even if they are not literally stated. For
example, the chapter on Brokeback Mountain argues that issues of class
and masculinity are hidden in the film, when these issues seem to be
transparently under question from the outset. Similarly, the class
dimension of Joel Osteen’s rhetoric is easily found in the examples
given. For students who have had no exposure at all to such ideas, the
approach of this book would be new. But we would expect a knowl-
edgeable audience to move well beyond the scope of the analyses
here. The chapters might have benefited from engaging more with the
scholarly criticism of film and literature. Much of what is provided
here is also discussed in other fields, for example cultural studies,
which uses sociological concepts to reflect upon the construction of
norms in popular culture.
The book would serve well as an introductory level textbook for
undergraduate students. Its treatment of how cultural artefacts figura-
tively encode social issues illustrates how to begin uncovering and
146 Reviews

criticising them. It is very clearly written and pitched at an appropriate
level for undergraduate readers. The collection avoids complex theo-
retical discussions in favour of in-depth textual analysis and case stud-
ies. The case studies successfully highlight particular analytical themes
but fall short of offering any substantial scholarly debate. Nonetheless,
students who have not been exposed to cultural studies or film and
literary criticism will find that the book shows the way to reading
behind literal meanings to uncover figurative representations of social
issues. In sum, the book is a good introductory text for students of the
rhetoric of culture, and an engaging entry point to the concept of rhe-
torical homology.
Reviews 147

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Beyond Bergson: the ontology

EJPC 1 (1) pp. 9–25 © Intellect Ltd 2009 9

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The solitude of selfhood: demonstration of analysis

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D’Artagnan thought he was dead, or at least unconscious, and went up

The above extract portrays an incident of an attempted murder in

Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 11

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The solitude of selfhood: from intelligence and instinct

Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 13

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Intuiting psychological duration

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Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 15

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Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 17

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Communication as heterogeneous duration

Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 19

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Communicating subjects as elements of heterogeneity

Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 21

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Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 23

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Beyond Bergson: the ontology of togetherness 25

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Visit www.standpointmag.co.uk featuring all the content from the printed

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Communication between friends

1. Testimonial knowledge and reliability

EJPC 1 (1) pp. 27–41 © Intellect Ltd 2009 27

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It is important to be clear that in this article I am only interested in the

EJPC_1.1_art_O'Brien_027-042.indd 28 11/20/09 10:27:28 AM

Communication between friends 29

EJPC_1.1_art_O'Brien_027-042.indd 29 11/20/09 10:27:28 AM

Friendship positively demands epistemic bias, understood as an epis-

When we are not in our studies, most of us can be epistemically biased

3. Construction and conduit metaphors

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4. Reliant trust, human trust and intimate trust

Communication between friends 31

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