Martin Heidegger and Albert Camus agreed that the absurdity of the human condition is not something to release ourselves from (in a Buddhist sense), but they also believed that it was not something to rise above by finding meaning within (in a Nietzschean or Franklesque sense). They argued that absurdity, along with the anxiety that accompanies it, is an inescapable condition of humanness that must not be denied or avoided: our job is to live authentically by acknowledging absurdity and persevering in spite of it.
[W]e exist as Being-in-the-world, in a complex interrelation with the situation into which we have been thrown. The work of phenomenology is to make this web of relations visible, so that we can appreciate the complexity of even the most simple, everyday experiences.
Solitary confinement presents a challenge to my practice of phenomenology, both because I have not had this experience myself, and also because the testimony of survivors suggests that the experience of prolonged isolation is also an unravelling of experience: a deterioration of the senses, a becoming-invisible, an annihilation. If the task of phenomenology is to show how we make sense of the world through lived experience, then what should a phenomenologist make of prisoners’ accounts of a living death that no longer makes sense?
As Heidegger observes, in our comportment towards the picture,
our glasses become invisible, withdrawing from presence, insofar
as we are directed towards the painting. Heidegger wishes to argue
that this demonstrates that there is a more fundamental spatiality
than that of Euclidean or Newtonian space, where proximity
is defined not by metric closeness, but rather by our concernful
dealings with the world around us. In these concernful dealings,
we look through our glasses. What is close in lived experience is
not the glasses, but rather the picture we are regarding in our
concernful dealings. [...]
The situation is the same with signs, texts, and messages.
Signs draw our thought beyond the vehicle that carries them—the
signifier through which they are transported—to whatever signified
they might be about. What we forget in our dealings with
signs—and what Heidegger forgets when he talks about the spectacles—
is that in order for signs to refer to something beyond
themselves in the first place, it is necessary for signs to themselves
be material entities that are present.
Fordham hosts video of Peter Trawny, Roger Berkowitz and Babette Babich discussing the black notebooks.
¶ 2:32 AM0 comments
Saturday, April 12, 2014
In the Telegraph, Michael Inwood comments on the black notebooks.
Why did he authorise the publication of the Black Notebooks? Perhaps he wanted to defy the finality of death by being read and discussed after his bodily demise. He arranged the publication of his notes and lectures in stages for this purpose. He came to realise that his Nazism, far from being an obstacle to this project, could be exploited to serve it. His philosophical writings would need to be explored in order to make sense of their mysterious author. Like the Greek hero, Achilles, Heidegger aspired to eternal renown. So far the plan seems to be working.
Daniela Vallega-Neu on the turning in the appropriating event.
The appropriating event cannot be represented
in terms of a linear process such that
some “being” appropriates another “being,”
namely Da-sein, but instead oscillates between
the truth of beyng and Da-sein, such that
both occur simultaneously. Heidegger speaks
in this context of the Kehre im Ereignis, the turning in the appropriating event. He
articulates this turning as well in terms of
an oscillation between the appropriating
call (Zuruf) and a belonging (zugehören).
The truth of beyng as event discloses only in
Da-sein, in the moment of appropriation and
belonging. Furthermore, Da-sein (now written
with a hyphen) does no longer designate
a human entity at all, nor does it designate
simply human being, although it does require
humans as the ones who are (-sein) the there
(Da), the open site of a historical time-space.