Qu'est-ce que la philosophie?1
[7] With this question we touch on a theme that is very wide, that is to say, extensive. Because the theme is wide, it remains indeterminate.3 Because it is indeterminate, we can treat the theme from the most disparate points of view. In so doing, we shall always hit upon something correct. But because in the treatment of this wide-ranging theme all possible opinions whatsoever run askew of each other, we run the danger that our conversation will lack the proper collectedness.4
Therefore we must try to determine the question more exactly. In this way we give the conversation a firm direction. The conversation is thereby started on a way. I say: on a way. Thus we admit that this way is surely not the only way. It must, in fact, remain open whether the way which I should like to indicate in what follows is in truth a way that allows us to pose the question and to answer it.
Let us, for example, assume that we might find a way to determine the question more exactly; then right away there arises a grave objection to the theme of our conversation. When we ask 'What is that — philosophy?," we are speaking about philosophy. By asking in this mode we evidently maintain a position above, and that means outside of, philosophy. But the aim of our question is to enter into philosophy, to dwell in it, to conduct ourselves according to its mode, that is, to "philosophize." The way of our conversations must, therefore, not only have a dear direction, but this direction must at the same time offer us the guarantee that we are moving within philosophy and not outside and round about it.
The way of our conversations must, therefore, be of a kind and have a direction such that that of which philosophy treats concerns us ourselves, touches us (nous touche), and touches us in our very nature.5
[8] But does not philosophy thereby become a matter of affectedness, of affects and feelings?
"It is with beautiful feelings that bad. literature is made." "C'est avec les beaux sentiments que l'onfait la mauvaise littérature."6 This mot of André Gide is valid not only of literature; it is even more valid for philosophy. Feelings, even the most beautiful feelings, do not belong in philosophy. Feelings, people say, are something irrational. Philosophy, on the other hand, is not only something rational but is the true and proper administratrix of ratio. When we assert this we have, unawares, decided something about what philosophy is. We have already hurried ahead of our question with an answer. Everyone considers the declaration that philosophy is a matter of ratio correct. Perhaps this assertion is nevertheless a premature and precipitous answer to the question, "What is that philosophy?" For we can immediately counter this answer with a new question: What is that — ratio, reason? Where and by whom was it decided what ratio is? Has ratio constituted herself the mistress of philosophy? If the answer is "yes," by what right? If "no," whence does she receive her charge and her role? If what counts as ratio was first established by philosophy and only by philosophy and within the course of its history, then it is not well-considered to proclaim philosophy in advance as a matter of ratio. As soon, however, as we cast doubt on the characterization of philosophy as a rational attitude, it also becomes dubitable in the same way whether philosophy belongs in the domain of the irrational. For whoever wishes to determine philosophy as irrational thereby takes the rational as the measure of its delimitation, and in such a way that he again assumes as self-evident what ratio is.
If, on the other hand, we point to the possibility that that on which philosophy bears concerns us humans in our [9] nature and touches7 us, then it might be that this affectedness has nothing at all to do with what people ordinarily call affects and feelings, in short, the irrational.
From what has been said, we infer immediately only this one thing: A higher care is required when we dare to begin a conversation under the title, "What is that — philosophy?"
The first thing is for us to get the question going along a clearly directed way, so that we do not flounder around in arbitrary or accidental conceptions of philosophy. But how are we to find a way on which we can determine our question in a reliable manner?
The way to which I would now like to point lies immediately before us. And only because it is the nearest at hand is it difficult to find. But even when we have found it, we nevertheless still move clumsily along it. We ask, "What is that — philosophy?" We have uttered the word "philosophy" often enough before. If, however, we now use the word "philosophy" no longer like a worn-out title, if instead we hear the word "philosophy" from its origin, then it sounds thus: φιλοσοφία [philosophia]. The word "philosophy" is now speaking Greek. The Greek word, as a Greek word, is a way. On the one hand this way lies before us, for the word has a long time since been fore-told us.8 On the other hand, it already lies behind us, for we have ever and always heard and said this word. Accordingly, the Greek word φιλοσοφία is a way along which we are underway. Yet we know this way only very indistinctly, although we possess and can broadcast much historical knowledge about Greek philosophy.
The word φιλοσοφία tells us that philosophy is something which is first of all determinative of the existence of the Greeks. But not only that — φιλοσοφία also determines the innermost basic feature of Occidental-European history. The often-heard expression, "Occidental-European philosophy," is in truth a tautology. Why? Because "philosophy" [10] is in its nature Greek — Greek, in this instance, means that philosophy is in the origin of its nature of such a kind that it first laid claim to the Greeks,9 and to them alone, in order to unfold itself.
However, the originally Greek nature of philosophy is, in the era of its modern European dominance, guided and dominated by conceptions of Christianity. The domination of these conceptions is mediated by the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, one cannot say that philosophy thereby becomes Christian, that is, becomes a matter of belief in revelation and the authority of the Church. The proposition that philosophy is in its nature Greek says nothing but that the Occident and Europe, and they alone, are in the innermost course of their history originally "philosophical." This is attested by the rise and domination of the sciences. It is because they stem from the innermost Occidental-European course of history, that is, the philosophical course, that they are today able to put their specific imprint upon the history of mankind over the whole earth.
Let us consider for a moment what it means that an epoch in the history of mankind is characterized as the "atomic age." The atomic energy discovered and liberated by the sciences is represented as the force which is to determine the course of history. To be sure, there never would have been any sciences if philosophy had not gone before and in advance. But philosophy is: ἡ φιλοσοφία. This Greek word involves our conversation in a historical tradition. Because this tradition remains unique in kind, it is also univocal in meaning. This tradition, which is named by the Greek name φιλοσοφία, while it in turn names the historical word φιλοσοφία for us, makes accessible to us the direction of a way on which we ask, "What is that — philosophy?." The tradition does not deliver us to the coercion of what is past and irrevocable. Delivering, délivrer, is a liberation, namely for the freedom of conversation with what has been.10 [11] When we truly hear the word and think upon what we have heard, the name "philosophy" calls us into the history of the Greek descent11 of philosophy. The word φιλοσοφία appears, as it were, on the birth certificate of our own history — we may even say, on the birth certificate of the contemporary world-historical epoch, which calls itself the atomic age. That is why we can ask the question, 'What is that — philosophy?," only if we involve ourselves in a conversation with the thinking of the Greeks.
But not only what is in question — philosophy — is Greek according to its descent, but also the way, how we question; the way in which we still question today is Greek.
We ask, '"What is that..."? In Greek we hear this as τί ἐστιν [ti estin]. The question what something might be remains, however, equivocal. We can ask, "What is that over there in the distance?" We receive the answer, "a tree." The answer consists in the fact that we give its name to a thing which we do not recognize exactly.
We can, however, ask further, "What is that which we name 'tree'?" With the question we have now posed we are already near to the Greek τί ἐστιν. It is that form of questioning which Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle developed. They ask, for example, "What is this — the Beautiful? What is this — Knowledge? What is this — Nature? What is this — Motion?"
But now we must observe the fact that in the questions just mentioned not only is a more exact delimitation sought of that which nature, motion, or beauty is, but that at the same time an interpretation is given of what the "what" means, in what sense the τί is to be understood. People call what the "what" means the quid est, τὸ quid, the quiddity, the whatness. However, the quiddity is determined differently in the different epochs of philosophy. Thus, for example, the philosophy of Plato is a peculiar interpretation of what the τί means. It means, in fact, the ἰδέα [idea]. That we mean the "idea" when we ask about the τί and the quid is by no means self-evident. Aristotle gives a different interpretation [12] of the τί than does Plato. Another interpretation of the τί is given by Kant, yet another by Hegel. What is asked for each time, using the τί, the quid, the "what" as a clue, is to be newly determined every time. In every case this holds: When we ask, in reference to philosophy, "What is that?," then we are asking an originally Greek question.
Let us note well: The theme of our question — "philosophy" — as well as the manner in which we ask 'What is that both remain Greek according to their descent. We ourselves belong within this line of descent, even when we do not so much as mention the word "philosophy." We are expressly called back into this descent, re-claimed for it and through it, as soon as we not only pronounce the words of the question, "What is philosophy?," but are intent upon its intention.12 (The question, 'What is philosophy?," is not a question that a kind of cognition directs towards itself [philosophy of philosophy]. The question is, moreover, not a question of historical research, one that is interested in figuring out how what people call 'Philosophy" began and developed. The question is a historical, that is, a fate-ful13 question. Moreover, it is not "one," it is rather the historical question of our Occidental-European existence.)
When we involve ourselves in the whole and original meaning of the question, "What is that — philosophy?," our questioning has found through its historical descent a direction into a historical future. We have found a way. The question itself is a way. It leads from the existence of the Greeks toward us, if not, indeed, beyond us. We are — if we persist with the question — underway on a clearly directed way. Nevertheless, we still have no guarantee that we are immediately enabled to go on this way in the right way. We cannot even make out instantly at which point on this way we are standing today. People have been accustomed for a long time to characterize the question what something might be as a question about its nature or essence.14 The question concerning the nature always comes awake at those times when that about whose nature the question is raised has become obscured and confused, and when, at the same time, the relationship [13] of human beings to what is being questioned has begun to waver or has even been shaken.
The question of our conversation concerns the nature of philosophy. If this question arises out of a dire need15 and is not to remain a mere sham-question for the purpose of making conversation, philosophy as philosophy must have become questionable. Is that the case? And if the answer is yes, in what respect has philosophy become questionable for us? Obviously we can state that only if we have already gained an insight into philosophy. But for that it is necessary that we should know beforehand what that is — philosophy. Thus we are being chased around in a circle in a curious way. Philosophy itself seems to be this circle. Supposing that we cannot immediately get free of the loop of this circle, we are still permitted to look upon the circle. Where should we turn to look? The Greek word φιλοσοφία indicates the direction.
Here a fundamental observation is required. When we listen now and later to the words of Greek speech, we enter into a distinctive domain. For it will slowly dawn upon our reflection that Greek speech is no mere language like the European languages16 with which we are acquainted. Greek speech, and it alone, is λόγος [logos]. We shall have to deal with this in more depth in our conversations. For a beginning, let it be sufficient to indicate that in Greek speech what is said in it is in a remarkable way simultaneously what the saying names. When we hear a Greek word with a Greek ear we follow its λέγειν [legein], its immediate laying-down.17 What it lays down is what lies before us.18 Through the word heard in Greek we are immediately with the matter lying before us, not in the first instance with a mere verbal meaning.
The Greek word φιλοσοφία goes back to the word φιλόσοφος [philosophos]. This word is originally an adjective like φιλάργυρος, loving silver, like φιλότιμος, loving honor. The word [14] φιλόσοφος was presumably coined by Heraclitus. This signifies that for Heraclitus there is as yet no φιλοσοφία. An ἀνὴρ φιλόσοφος [anēr philosophos] is not a "philosophical" man. The Greek adjective φιλόσοφος says something completely different from the adjective philosophical, philosophique. An ἀνὴρ φιλόσοφος is he ὅς φιλεῖ τὸ σοφόν [hos philei to sophon], who loves the σοφόν;19 φιλεῖν [philein], to love, signifies here, in Heraclitus's sense, ὀμολογεῖν [homologein], to speak as the Λόγος speaks, that is, to speak in accordance with the Λόγος. This speaking in accordance is in accord20 with the σοφόν. Accord is ἁρμονία [harmonia]. This fact, that one nature fits itself to the other reciprocally, that both from their origin submissively fit each other because they are ordered and fitted to each other21 — this ἁρμονία is the distinctive feature of φιλεῖν, of "loving," thought in the Heraclitean sense.
The ἀνὴρ φιλόσοφος loves the σοφόν. What this word says for Heraclitus is hard to translate. But we can elucidate it according to Heraclitus's own interpretation. Accordingly, τὸ σοφόν says this: Ἓν Πάντα [Hen Panta], "All (is) One." "All" here means Πάντα τὰ ὄντα [panta ta onta], the whole, the totality of beings.22 Ἓν, one, means the unit, the unique, the all-uniting. But it is in Being23 that all beings are united. The σοφόν says: All that is, is in Being. More pointedly. Being is beings. Here "is" speaks transitively and says something like "collects." Being collects beings in so far as they are what is in being. Being is the collection — Λόγος.24
All beings are in Being. To hear such things sounds trivial to our ear, if not indeed insulting. For no one needs to care about the fact that beings belong in Being. All the world knows that beings are that which is. What else is there left for beings but this: to be? And yet, just this, that beings remain collected in Being, that in the shining-forth of Being beings show25 — it was that which first struck the Greeks with wonder,26 them first and them alone. Beings in Being — that became for the Greeks what is the most wonderful.
[15] However, even the Greeks had to rescue and protect the wondrousness of this most wonderful thing — against seizure by the Sophistic mind, which had ready to bring to market an explanation for everything, an explanation that everyone could understand right away. The rescue of what is most wonderful, beings in Being, happened because a few set off on the way in the direction of this which is most wonderful, that is, the σοφόν. Thus they became such as strove for the σοφόν and who, through their own striving, awakened and kept awake among others the longing for the σοφόν. "Loving the σοφόν," that accord with the σοφόν previously mentioned, that harmonia, thus became an ὄρεξις [orexis], a striving after the σοφόν. The σοφόν — the beings in Being — now becomes the object of a particular search. Because the φιλεῖν is no longer an original accord with the σοφόν but rather a particular striving after the σοφόν, φιλεῖν τὸ σοφόν becomes "φιλοσοφία." Its striving is determined by Eros.27
This striving search for the σοφόν, for the Ἓν Πάντα, for the beings in Being, now becomes a question: "What is that which is in being insofar as it is?" Only now does thinking become "philosophy." Heraclitus and Parmenides were not yet "philosophers." Why not? Because they were the greater thinkers. Here "greater" does not signify the evaluation of a performance, but points to another dimension of thinking. Heraclitus and Parmenides were "greater" in the sense that they were still in harmony with the Λόγος, that is, with the Ἓν Πάντα. The step28 toward "philosophy," prepared for by the Sophists, was first carried out by Socrates and Plato. Almost two centuries after Heraclitus, Aristotle then characterized this step in the following sentence: καὶ δὴ καὶ τὸ πάλαι τε καὶ νῦν καὶ ἀεὶ ζητούμενον καὶ ἀεὶ ἀπορούμενον, τί τὸ ὄν; ["And, indeed, that which has been searched after of old and also now and ever, and ever left in doubt is: What is being?"] (Metaphysics, Z 1, 1028 b 2 ff.). In translation says: "And so then (that which was asked after) once, and also now and ever, that whence (philosophy) has set out on its way and to which it ever and again fails to find access, is this: What is that which is in being? (τί τὸ ὄν)."
Philosophy searches for what beings are insofar as they are. [16] Philosophy is underway toward the Being of beings, that is, to beings with respect to Being. Aristotle elucidates this by adding in the sentence quoted an elucidation to the question, τί τὸ ὄν, "What is that which is in being?," namely: τοῦτο ἐστι τίς ἡ οὐσια; ["that is, what is ousia?"]. Spoken in translation: "This (namely, τί τὸ ὄν) means: What is the Beingness29 of beings?" The Being of beings rests on Beingness. But this, οὐσια, is determined by Plato as ἰδέα [idea], by Aristotle as ἐνέργεια [energeia].
At the moment, it is not yet necessary to discuss more exactly what Aristotle means by ἐνέργεια, and in what respect οὐσια may be determined by ἐνέργεια. What is important now is only that we note how Aristotle delimits the nature of philosophy. In the first book of the Metaphysics (A 2, 982 b 9 ff.) he says as follows: Philosophy is ἐπιστήμη τῶν πρώτων ἀρχῶν καὶ αἰτιῶν θεωρητικήν: [theoretical knowledge of the first principles and causes]. People like to translate ἐπιστήμη [epistēmē] as "science." This is misleading, because we all too easily allow the modern conception of "science" to slip in. The translation of ἐπιστήμη by "science" is mistaken even if we understand "science" in the philosophical sense intended by Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. The word ἐπιστήμη derives from the participle ἐπιστάμενος [epistamenos]. That is what a human being is called when he is competent and adroit in something (competence in the sense of appartenance). Philosophy is ἐπιστήμη τις, a kind of competence, namely, θεωρητική [theōretikē], which is capable of θεωρεῖν [theōrein], that is, capable of looking out for something and of taking and holding in its view what it is on the lookout for. Philosophy, therefore, is ἐπιστήμη θεωρητική. But what is it that it holds in view?
Aristotle says what it is when he names the πρῶται ἀρχαὶ καὶ αἰτίαι [prōtai archai kai aitiai] People translate this as "the first grounds and causes, namely, of beings. The first grounds and causes thus constitute the Being of beings. After two-and-a-half millennia it would seem to be about time to follow out in thought what the Being of beings has to do with such matters as "ground" and "cause."
In what sense is Being thought such that the likes of [17] "ground" and "cause" are suitable for setting their stamp on and taking over the being-in-Being of beings?30
But now let us attend to something else. The sentence of Aristotle quoted above tells us whither that which since Plato has been called "philosophy" is underway. The sentence gives us information about what that is — philosophy. Philosophy is a kind of competence that qualifies one to hold beings in view, namely with a view to what they are insofar as they are what is in being.
The question which is to give our conversation its fruitful unrest and movement and is to show the conversation the direction of its way, the question, "What is philosophy?," has already been answered by Aristotle. Therefore our conversation is no longer necessary. It is at an end before it has begun. People will reply right away that Aristotle's assertion about what philosophy is can in no way be the only answer to our question. In the most favorable case, it is one answer among many others. With the help of the Aristotelian characterization of philosophy one can, to be sure, present and interpret thought before Aristotle and Plato, as well as philosophy after the time of Aristotle. However, it will be easily pointed out that philosophy itself and the mode in which it represents its own nature has changed in manifold ways in the subsequent two millennia. Who would deny this? We ought not, however, to ignore the fact that philosophy from Aristotle to Nietzsche has remained the same, precisely on the basis of these transformations and through them and throughout them. For the transformations are the surety for a kinship in sameness.31
In saying this we are by no means claiming that the Aristotelian definition of philosophy is absolutely valid. For already within the history of Greek thought it is only one particular interpretation of Greek thought and of the task assigned to it. The Aristotelian characterization of philosophy can in no case be translated back to the thought of Heraclitus and Parmenides; on the contrary, the Aristotelian definition of philosophy is, indeed, a free consequence of early [18] thought and of its conclusion. I say "a free consequence," because there is no way to make perspicuous the claim that the several philosophies and the epochs of philosophy emerge from one another in the sense in which a dialectic process has necessity.
What is the result of what has been said for our attempt to treat the question, "What is that — philosophy?," in a conversation? First of all this one point: We must not rely only on Aristotle's definition. From this we infer the second point We must make present to ourselves the earlier and the later definitions of philosophy. And then? Then we will expose that which is common to all definitions by a comparative abstraction. And then? Then we will arrive at an empty formula which fits every kind of philosophy. And then? Then we will be as far removed as possible from an answer to our question. Why has it come to this? Because in the proceeding just mentioned we are only collecting the available definitions historically and resolving them into a general formula. All of this can, indeed, be carried out with great erudition and with the help of correct formulations. In so doing we do not need in the least to involve ourselves in philosophy, so as to follow the nature of philosophy in thought.32 In this way we acquire manifold, thorough, and even useful items of knowledge about how people have represented philosophy in the course of history. But along this way we never reach a genuine, that is, a legitimate, answer to the question, "What is that — philosophy?" The answer can only be a philosophizing response, a response that, as a re-sponse,33 philosophizes in itself. But how are we to understand this proposition? In what respect can a response, just insofar as it is a re-sponse, philosophize? I shall now try to clarify this provisionally by a few pointers. What is meant will disquiet our conversation over and over. It will even be the touchstone of whether our conversation is permitted to become truly philosophical. This is by no means within our power.
[19] When is the answer to the question, "What is that — philosophy?," a philosophizing one? When are we philosophizing? Evidently only when we enter into a conversation with the philosophers. This implies that we talk through with them what they are talking about.34 This talking-through-with-one-another of that which, as one and the same, ever and again, peculiarly concerns the philosophers, is speaking, λέγειν [legein], in the sense of διαλέγεσθαι [dialegesthai], speaking as dialogue. Whether and when dialogue is necessarily dialectic, we leave open.
It is one thing to establish and to describe the opinions of philosophers. It is an entirely different thing to talk through with them what they are saying, and that means, that of which they are telling.
Assume, then, that the philosophers are addressed35 by the Being of beings so that they tell what beings are insofar as they are, then our conversation with philosophers must also be addressed by the Being of beings. We ourselves, must, through our thinking, go half-way36 to meet philosophy on its way. Our speaking must cor-respond37 to that which addresses the philosophers. If we succeed in this cor-responding we re-spond in a genuine sense to the question: 'What is that — philosophy?" The German word antworten really means as much as ent-sprechen.38 The answer to our question is not exhausted by an assertion that replies to the question by stating what people are to imagine by the concept "philosophy." The answer is not a retorting assertion (n'est une réponse); the answer is rather that correspondence (la correspondance) which corresponds to the Being of beings. Yet, right away we should like to know what in fact constitutes the characteristic feature of a response in the sense of correspondence. However, first everything depends on our attaining a correspondence, before we establish the theory about it.
The answer to the question, "What is that — philosophy?," consists in our corresponding to that toward which philosophy is underway. And that is — the Being of beings. In such a correspondence we listen from the very beginning to that which philosophy has already [20] bespoken for us,39 philosophy, that is, φιλοσοφία understood in the Greek sense. That is why we attain correspondence, meaning an answer to our question, only thus — that we remain in conversation with that whither the tradition of philosophy delivers us, that is, for what it liberates us. We find the answer to the question, what philosophy might be, not through historical information about the definitions of philosophy but through the conversation with that which has delivered itself to us40 as the Being of beings.
This way to the answer for our question is not a break with history, not a repudiation of history, but an appropriation and a transformation of what the tradition has delivered. Such an appropriation of history is what is meant by the title of "destruction." The meaning of this word has been clearly circumscribed in Being and Time (¶ 6).41 Destruction does not mean destroying but dismantling, demolishing, setting-aside — namely merely historical information about the history of philosophy. Destruction means: opening our ear, freeing ourselves for what addresses us in the tradition as the Being of beings. By listening to this spoken appeal42 we reach correspondence.
But even while we are saying this, a hesitation has already announced itself. It says: Do we really first have to make an effort to enter into a correspondence with the Being of beings? Are we human beings — not always and already in such a correspondence, and, what is more, not only de facto, but by reason of our nature? Does not this correspondence constitute the fundamental trait of our nature?
So it is in truth. But if that is how it is, we can no longer say that we first have to attain this correspondence. And yet we are right to say so. For, although we do remain always and everywhere in correspondence to the Being of beings, we nevertheless rarely attend to the spoken appeal of Being. The correspondence to the Being of beings does, to be sure, always remain our abode. But only from time to time does it become a self-unfolding attitude expressly adopted by us. Only when this happens do we properly correspond to the concerns of that [21] philosophy which is on the way toward the Being of beings. This correspondence to the Being of beings is philosophy, but it is philosophy only if and when the correspondence is expressly realized, so that it unfolds itself and consolidates this unfolding. This correspondence occurs in different ways, depending on how the spoken appeal of Being speaks, depending on whether it is heard or unheard, and depending on whether what is heard is told or is passed over in silence.43 Our conversation can offer opportunities to follow this further in thought.
Now I shall only try to say a foreword to the conversation. I should like to double back from what has been presented so far to what we touched upon in connection with André Gide's mot about "fine feelings." Philosophia is the expressly realized correspondence which speaks insofar as it attends to the spoken appeal of the Being of beings. The correspondence listens to the voice44 of the spoken appeal. What announces itself appealingly to us as the voice of Being at-tunes45 our cor-respondence. "Correspondence" then means: being at-tuned, être disposé, namely by the Being of beings. Dis-posé here means literally: en-countered, enlightened,46 and thus placed in its relations to that which is. Beings as such attune speaking in such a way that telling attunes itself (accorder) to the Being of beings. Correspondence is necessarily and always tuned, not just accidentally and occasionally. It is in a tuning.47 And only on the basis of this tuning (disposition) does the telling of correspondence obtain its precision, its at-tunement.48
As something tuned and attuned, correspondence is essentially in a mood.49 Through it our attitude is adjusted50 sometimes in this, sometimes in that way. Mood thus understood is not a music of accidentally emerging feelings which only accompany the correspondence. When we characterize philosophy as tuned correspondence, we by no means want to surrender thinking to the accidental variations and vacillations of our emotional conditions. It is rather only a matter of pointing out that all precision of telling is grounded in a disposition [22] of correspondence, of correspondence I say, of correspondance, in heeding the spoken appeal.
Above all, however, the reference to the essential tuning of correspondence is not a modern invention. The Greek thinkers, Plato and Aristotle, had already drawn attention to the fact that philosophy and philosophizing belong to that dimension of human beings which we call mood (in the sense of tuning and at-tunement).
Plato Says (Theaetetus, 155 d): μάλα γὰρ φιλοσόφου τοῦτο τὸ πάθος, τὸ θαυμάζειν: οὐ γὰρ ἄλλη ἀρχὴ φιλοσοφίας ἢ αὕτη. "For surely this πάθος [pathos] especially belongs to the philosopher — wondering.51 For there is no other Ruling Whence52 of philosophy than this."
Wonder, as πάθος, is the ἀρχή [archē] of philosophy. We must understand die Greek word ἀρχή in its full sense. It names that whence something goes out. But this "from whence" is not left behind in the going out; the ἀρχή rather becomes what the verb ἀρχειν [archein] says: that which rules. The ἀρχή of wonder thus does not simply stand at the beginning of philosophy as, for example, the washing of hands precedes surgeon's operation. Wonder supports and rules philosophy through and through.
Aristotle says the same (Metaphysics A 2, 982 b 12 ff): διὰ γὰρ τὸ θαυμάζειν οἱ ἄνθρωποι καὶ νῦν καὶ τὸ πρῶτον ἤρξαντο φιλοσοφεῖν "For through wondering human beings have now and from the first gained entrance to the ruling issue53 of philosophizing" (to that whence philosophizing goes forth and which thoroughgoingly determines the going of philosophizing54).
Our thinking would be very superficial and, above all, very un-Greek, if we were to suppose that Plato and Aristotle were merely observing here that wonder is the original cause of philosophizing. Were this their opinion, it would mean that once, at some time or other, human beings wondered about what is in being — that it is and what it is. Driven by this wonder, they began to philosophize. As soon as philosophy was a going concern, wonder [23] became superfluous as an impetus, so that it disappeared. It could disappear since it was only an impetus. But wonder is ἀρχή — it pervasively rules every step of philosophy. Wonder is πάθος. We usually translate πάθος by passion, an access of feeling. But πάθος is connected with πάσχειν [paschein] to suffer, submit, bear up, wear out, letting oneself be borne by, letting oneself be modi-fied by.55 It is risky, as always in such cases, for us to translate πάθος with mood, by which we mean tuning and at-tunement But we must risk this translation because it alone protects us from conceiving πάθος psychologically, in a contemporarily modern sense. Only if we understand πάθος as tuning (dis-position) can we also characterize θαυμάζειν [thaumazein], wondering, more closely. In wondering we hold ourselves in (être en arrêt). We step back, as it were, from that which is in being, from its being thus and not Otherwise. And wonder is not exhausted in this withdrawal from the Being of beings, but, as a withdrawal and a holding-in, it is at the same time swept away and, as it were, captivated by that from which it withdraws. Thus, wonder is the dis-position in which and for which the Being of beings opens itself. Wonder is the mood within which the Greek philosophers were granted the correspondence to the Being of beings.
Of a very different sort is that mood which attuned thinking to asking in a new way the traditional question, what being might indeed be insofar as it is, and thus to begin a new time for philosophy. In his Meditations Descartes does not ask only and first, τί τὸ ὄν — what is that which is in being, insofar as it is? Descartes asks: What are those beings which are genuine beings in the sense of the ens certum? In the meanwhile, the nature of certitudo has changed for Descartes. For in the Middle Ages certitudo does not signify certainty of knowing56 but the firm delimitation of a being in respect to that which it is. Certitudo here is still synonymous with essentia. Descartes, on the other hand, takes measure of that which genuinely is in another way. For him to [24] doubt becomes that mode57 in which the tuning resonates to the ens certum, that which is in the certainty of knowing. Certitudo becomes that fixation of the ens qua ens which results from the indubitability of the cogito (ergo) sum58 for the human ego. Because of this, ego becomes the distinctive sub-jectum, and thus the nature of the human being enters, for the first time, the realm of subjectivity in the sense of the Ego. From the tuning to this certainty Descartes's telling derives the mode of "perceiving clearly and distinctly."59 The mode of doubt is the positive accord60 with certainty. Henceforth, certainty becomes the standard measure of the form of truth. The mood of confidence in the absolute certainty of a cognition that is always obtainable remains the πάθος, and thus the ἀρχή, of modern philosophy.
In what does the τέλος [telos], the fulfillment of modern philosophy, consist, if we may speak of such? Is this end determined by another mood? Where must we look for the fulfillment of modern philosophy? In Hegel, or only in the late philosophy of Schelling? And how about Marx and Nietzsche? Are they already stepping out of the course of modern philosophy? If not, how can we determine their station?
It looks as though we were only posing questions for historical research. But in truth we are considering the coming nature of philosophy. We are fixing to hear the voice61 of Being. Into what kind of mood62 does this voice put today's thinking? The question can scarcely be answered unequivocally. Presumably a fundamental mood prevails. It is, however, still hidden from us. This would be a sign that today's thinking has not yet found its unequivocal way. What we meet with is only this: manifold moods of thinking. Doubt and despair63 on the one hand, blind obsession by untested principles on the other, stand in confrontation. Fear and anxiety are mixed with hope and confidence. Often and widely it looks as though thinking in the mode of rationalizing representation and calculation were completely free of any mood. But even the coldness [25] of calculation, even the prosaic sobriety of planning, are marks of tuning. Not only that — even reason, which keeps itself free of any influence of the passions, is, as reason, tuned to confidence in the logico-mathematical perspicuity of its principles and rules.
The correspondence, expressly adopted and self- unfolding, which corresponds to the spoken appeal of the Being of beings, is philosophy. What that is — philosophy — we come to recognize and know only when we experience how, in what way, philosophy is. It is in the mode of a correspondence which attunes itself to the voice of the Being of beings.
This cor-respondence is a speaking.64 It is in the service of speech. What this means is difficult for us today to understand, for our current conception of speech has undergone strange transformations. Consequently, speech appears as an instrument of expression. Accordingly, people consider it more correct to say: Speech is in the service of thinking, instead of: Thinking, as cor-respondence, is in the service of speech. Above all, the current of language is as far removed as possible from the Greek experience of speech. To the Greeks the nature of speech reveals itself as λόγος. But what do λόγος and λέγειν mean? Only today, through the manifold interpretations of the λόγος, are we slowly beginning to see through to its original Greek nature. However, neither can we ever again return to this nature of speech, nor can we simply take it over. Instead, we had better enter into a conversation with the Greek experience of speech as λόγος. Why? Because without a sufficient reflection on speech we can never genuinely know what philosophy is as a marked cor-respondence, what philosophy is as a remarkable65 mode of telling.
But because poetry, when we compare it with thinking, is in the service of speech in an entirely different and remarkable way, our conversation, which thinks in the wake of philosophy,66 is necessarily led to discuss the relationship between [26] thinking and poetry.67 Between both, thinking and poetry, there operates a secret kinship, because both expend and squander themselves in the service of speech. But between both there also exists an abyss, for they "dwell on the most sundered mountains."68
Now one might require with good justification that our conversation should restrict itself to the question concerning philosophy. This restriction would be possible and even necessary only if it should turn out in the conversation that philosophy is not that which it is now interpreted to be: a correspondence that casts in speech the spoken appeal of the Being of beings.
In other words: Our conversation does not set itself the task of developing a fixed program. But it would wish to make the effort to prepare all who are participating in it for a collectedness in which we are addressed by what we call the Being of beings. As we name it we are thinking of what Aristotle has already said:
"The being-in-Being-ness comes to shine in manifold ways."69 [Being is spoken of in many ways. To on legatai pollachōs.]
Τὸ ὄν λεγέται πολλαχῶς.
1. Lecture given in Cerisy-la-Salle, Normandy, August 1955, as an introduction to a conversation. Bilingual text (German and English): Martin Heidegger, What Is Philosophy?. Translated with an Introduction by William Kluback and Jean T. Wilde (New Haven: College and University Press, no date).
2. The question in German is "Was ist das – die Philosophie?," which introduces into the question "What is philosophy?" a motion of pointing and distancing as in "What have we here?"
3. Indeterminate unbestimmt. The first Sentence introduces the principal wordplay of the lecture. Bestimmen ordinarily means "to determine"; however, stimmen, transitively, means "to tune" but also "to put in a mood." Hence unbestimmt might be read as "untuned," or "moodless," though the normal word would be ungestimmt. Taken intransitively, stimmen means "to be correct," "to be in adjustment." See Notes 47-49, 57, 60-62.
4. Collectedness: Sammlung; means "collection, gathering," and also "concentration, composure of mind."
5. Nature: Wesen; the usual German word for "essence." Gewesen is the past participle of the verb "to be."
6. André Gide, Dostoievsky (Paris: Plon-Nourrit, 1923), p. 247.
7. Touches: be-rührt; might be rendered "be-stirs." Here, as often below, puts in a hyphen to draw attention both to the prefix and to the basic verb.
8. Fore-told us: uns..vorausgesprochen; could be "pre-dicted for us." The dictionary word vorausgesagt means "prophesied, told in advance."
9. Laid claim to: in Anspruch genommen hat; might be rendered by
"bespoke," an Old verb that would preserve the Sense of "being spoken
for," "being possessively addressed," that becomes important later in die
lecture. see Notes 20, 34, 35, 37, 39, 42, 44.
The Greeks: das Griechentum; literally "Greekdom."
10. Tradition: "Überlieferung"; literally 'delivering-over." Traditio in
Latin means both "delivery" and "betrayal" (related to traditio).
What has been: dem Gewesenen; allusion to Wesen, see Note 5.
11. Descent Herkunft; literally "whence-coming."
12. Intent upon its intention: ihrem Sinne nachsinnen.
13. Not a question of historical research: keine historische Frage; historical: gechichtliche; fate-fill: geschick-liche. (The latter adjective, from Geschick, destiny, is not a dictionary word.) egger opposes the two German words for 'historical ": historisch and geschichtlich; the former has a more academic flavor.
14. Nature or essence: Wesen; see Note 5. Heidegger uses Wesen throughout.
15. Dire need: Not.
16. Speech, language: Sprache, which is used throughout, both "human sped-I" the "common tongue"; the latter permits the plural.
17. Laying-down; das Darlegen; etymological reminder of the connection of to λέγειν legen, laying, lying. Dar-legen means literally "laying- or putting-there" (as in Da-sein, "being there" or "existence"); the ordinary meaning is "explanation."
18. What lies before us: Das Vorliegende; usually "what is present or presented."
19. The sophon: Heidegger does not word in this lecture but glosses it below as "the beings in Being." Its normal meaning is "the wise [thing]."
20. To speak: sprechen. To speak in accordance with:
entsprechen; see Note 38.
Accord: Einklang, unison; see Note 21, die Fuge.
21. Fits itself to the Other reciprocally;
dem anderen wechselweise sich fügt.
Submissively fit each other: sich beide einander fügen.
Ordered and to each other: sie zueinander verfügt sind.
Fügen (transitive) means "to fit";
sich fügen (reflexive) means "to come
about"; with the dative it means "to submit," or "to ad-just (to someone
or something)." Die Fügung means "fate" or "ordinance."
Elsewhere die Fuge is Heidegger's rendition of harmonia, "accord"; der Fug,
"joint" or "fit," is his translation for δίκη [dike], "judgment"
(Introduction into Metaphysics, IV 3). Neither is a dictionary usage. (Der unfug means
"mischief.")
22. Beings: Das Seiende; a Collective noun formed from the present participle of the verb 'to be," seiend. It is properly rendered as "all that is in being"—"beings" for short. Both versions will be used in the text.
23. Das Sein; substantive formed from the infinitive (rather than the parti ciple, as in English) of the verb "to be;" here rendered, as is usual, by "Being," capitalized.
24. Collection: Versammlung: λόγος; shifts the etymological allusion of Note 17 from 'laying-down" to "picking-up," "gathering." Such opB)site movements are etymologically common. Freud mentions Latin altus, which means both "high" and "deep," and several others (General Introduction to Psychoanalysis, Eleventh Lecture). Recall also Sammlung, Note 4.
25. Shining-forth: Scheinen. Show up: erscheinen; usually, "appear."
26. Wonder: Erstaunen; really "astonishment, amazement" However, "wonder" is not only what we are but is the only term that yields an intransitive verb, "to wonder"; see Note 51.
27. Den Eros: Heidegger uses the definite article and invokes god and his particular passion. Orexis, usually "appetite," is rendered by Heidegger as "striving."
28. Step: Schritt; avoids Fortschritt, meaning "progress."
29. Beingness: οὐσια: Seiendheit; in all three languages the "abstract" substantive is formed from a participle, in Greek from the feminine form.
30. The being-in-being of beings: das seiend-Sein des Seienden; meaning the nature, that is, Hie Being (das Sein) of what is (des Seienden) as it is in state of being (seiend).
31. Transformations: Verwandlungen; kinship: Verwandschaft.
32. Follo...in thought: nach-denken; usually nachdenken is used with über and means "to think about (something)." Heidegger puts in the hyphen to ernphasize the literal meaning of nach, "after": Our thinking should follow the lead of the emerging nature of philosophy.
33 Answer, re-sponse: Ant-wort, literally "counter-word," as Heidegger brings out by writing Ant-wort; see Note 38.
34 Talk through: durchsprechen, literally 'follow through in speech. " In what follows Sagen is rendered either as "saying" or "telling."
35. Addressed: angesprochen.
36. Go half-way: entgegenkommen, "to go to meet," but also "to oblige."
37. Cor-respond: ent-sprechen.
38. Ant-worten: "to answer," literally, "to counter in words." Ent-sprechen: "to correspond," literally "to confront in speech." These appear to be defensible etymologies, since ant and ent are the same. In an context ent-sprechen was translated as "to speak in accordance with"; see Note 20.
39. Bespoken for us: uns zugesprochen hat; literally "has spoken toward us;" ordinarily means "has imparted, awarded, or assigned us"; see Note 9.
40. Delivers: ausliefert, also means "to surrender as in betrayal"; see Note 10. Liberates: befreit; the German verb liefem is related to the Latin verb liberare, "to free." Has delivered itself to us: sich uns übertiefert hat, "has itself down to us in the tradition"; again, see Note 10.
41. Being and Time, p. 22: 'We understand this task [of loosening-up the petrified tradition and of dissolving the cover-up it has effected through time] as the destruction — executed by using the question of Being as a clue — of the traditional inventory of ancient Ontology down to the original experiences in which were the first, and henceforth the guiding, determinations of Being."
42. Spoken appeal: Zuspruch, literally "speaking-to," usually rneans "encouragement, consolation." Heidegger is playing with the meaning of zusprechen, the verb of Note 39.
43. Heard, unheard: gehört, überhört; the latter means •ignored." Passed over in silence: geschwiegen; odd usage, just misses verschwiegen: "concealed, discreet."
44. Cor-respondence: Das Ent-sprechen.
Voice: Stimme; "voice," part," "tune," "vote"; the grandest of
the stimm-words.
45. Announces itself appealingly to us: sich...uns zuspricht; not a normal usage.
At—tunes; be-stimmt, normally "determines." See Notes 3, 47-49, 57, 60, 62.
46. En-countered: auseinander-gesetzt, literally "set asunder." Die Auseinandersetzung means an "explanation," an "argumentative confrontation," and a "coming-to-terns." Eli-lightened: gelichtet; from a verb used for making a space that lets in the light, such as a clearing in a forest; see Being and Time, p. 133.
47. Attunes itself to: sich...abstimmt auf; tuned: gestimmtes; tuning: Gestimmtheit, not a dictionary word. "To be thus or so gestimmt" means "to be in this or that mood"; Note 49.
48. At-tunement: Bestimmtheit, "determinateness," also "definiteness"; See Note 3, 45.
49. Mood: Stimmung; means both "emotional disposition" and "musical tuning"; compare the English word "mood" with (musical) "mode," which is used below.
50. Adjusted: gefügt; see Note 21.
51. Wondering: to thaumazein: das Erstaunen; really "astonishment" "amazement"; see Note 26. Here "wondering" rather than "wonder" is used because of the Greek infinitive.
52. Ruling Whence: Heidegger's rendering of archē, "beginning, source, origin, rule."
53. Ruling issue: beherrschender Ausgang; Heidegger's German rendering of archē, meaning both "issue (origin)" and "issue (upshot, exit)."
54. Goes forth: ausgeht. Going: Gang. Thoroughgoingly: durchgängig.
55. Wear out: austragen;
also means "to carry a child to term."
Modi-fied: be-stimmt, see Note 49.
56. Certainty of knowing: Gewissheit; literally 'being in the knowing state," but ordinarily just "certainty." Heidegger has the literal meaning in mind.
57. Mode: Stimmung; could be "mood"; Note 49.
58. Ens certum: certain being. Ens qua ens; being as being. Cogito (ergo) sum: I think (therefore) I am. The sentence itself occurs, for example, in the Discourse on Method, Part IV, and in the Reply to Objections II, "Thirdly." For the argument, see Meditation II.
59. Sub—jectum: (thing) placed beneath; that which supports all
attributes.
Ego: Egoität. Perceiving clearly and distinctly:
clare et distincte percipere.
60. Accord: Zustimmung; "attunement-to," ordinarily "agreement."
61. Voice: Stimme; could be "tune"; see Note 44.
62. Mood: Stimmung; could be "tuning"; see Note 49.
63. Doubt and despair: Zweifel and Verzweiflung.
64. Cor-respondence: Ent-sprechen; speaking: Sprechen.
65. Marked: gekennzeichnete; remarkable: ausgezeichnete.
66. Thinks in the wake of philosophy: der Philosophie nachdenkt; see Note 32
67. Thinking: Denken; poetry: Dichten.
68. Friedrich Hölderlin, "Patmos."
69. The being-in-Being: Das seiend-Sein; as in Note 30. Heidegger here cites Being and Time, ¶ 7 B. His reference is to the section on "The Concept of the Logos," where legein, "speaking," defined by Aristotle as apophainesthai, "declaring," is explicated as phainesthai, "making appear, showing forth, letting shine out."
Was ist das–die Philosophie? (1955) (GA 11) [GA App] Lecture given by Martin Heidegger at Cerisy-la-Salle, Normandy, in August 1955. Translated by Eva T. H. Brann.
Published in USA in 1991.