1961 edition with 1973 Introduction
[Diario Fenomenologico, Bompiani, I Satelliti, ©1961]
[Translated from the Italian by Luigi M Bianchi
© 1998 Luigi M Bianchi]

Draft. Not to be copied, distributed, quoted, or otherwise reproduced.
Revision 02.



The term phenomenology was used for the first time by J.H. Lambert in 1764, and later by Kant, Hegel and Husserl. As we understand it today, phenomenon is what appears, what we see as we see it and we can faithfully describe, without judging it before we can see it precisely as it is. To pre-judge means to express a judgment on things before seeing them; in other words, it means to subject ourselves to a prejudice. That is why it has been said that phenomenology is a return to "the things themselves." It is also a return to the subject, to the cogito—not to the subject as an artificial category, but to the [real] subject proper, in the first person: to that subject which each one of us is, which is neither an abstract category nor pure thought. In order to accomplish this, it is necessary to suspend any knowledge, and any judgment made before experiencing acts and facts as they are lived; in other words, it is necessary to undertake the exercise of suspension which the Greek skeptics called epoché. It is necessary not to repeat abstract notions or categories, but to begin all over again and always to carry out the operations which found any knowledge and any science. A science which is based on the inheritance of results already acquired and not re-lived, is a science which enters a state of crisis in the sense described by Husserl in The Crisis of the European Sciences. We must not think that Husserl is against science—that would obviously be a very naive position. Husserl criticizes that science which is not founded on operations and thus posits the problem of foundations. Even Galileo's science, like contemporary science, can always forget its own discoveries, and thus rediscover itself. Husserl not only defends the concrete operations on which science is founded, but, in Logical Investigations, he analyzes the linguistic and semantic terms essential to science, and his ideal is that of philosophy as rigorous science. The final idea is truth, and it is truth which gives a rational structure to the world and to history. Truth is not static being, but a lived meaning, to be found over and over again in the exercise of epoché, in the acts, always renewed in time, which each of us performs, yet often forgets. What do we really do, how do we really live every day? This very question allows us to understand how, in a particular sense, phenomenology can make a diary possible, a diary in a new sense, where abstract words tend to disappear in order to make room for what words indicate but are not. A diary is not yet a phenomenology, but can be the introduction to phenomenology, and to this end I have picked my own diary, from 1956 to 1961, which may allow the scholar, or the reader who wishes to form an idea of phenomenology, to understand how one can arrive at it, and how I arrived to it. Those who wish to understand the path I followed can read, after the Diary, Tempo e verità nella fenomenologia di Husserl [Time and truth in Husserl's phenomenology] (Laterza, Bari, 1963) and Funzione delle scienze e significato dell'uomo (Il Saggiatore, Milan, 1963) [The Function of the Sciences and the Meaning of Man, Evanston, Northwestern University Press, 1972]. These works will be followed by Idee per una enciclopedia fenomenologica [Ideas for a phenomenological encyclopedia], which is about to be published by Bompiani, Milan.

        At some point it occurred to me that phenomenology could be brought close to Marxism, and the Diary documents it.

        The first hint of such a rapprochement can be found in the essay Fenomenologia e obiettivazione [Phenomenology and objectification], published in "Giornale Critico della filosofia italiana", II, 1961. Later, I talked about it at a conference held in Prague on October 24, 1962, and published in "Aut Aut", n.73, 1963. The words used in the debate between phenomenology and Marxism are varied. I notice that "objectification" is meant in the sense of "reduction of man to a thing," in the sense of man exploited, alienated and negated as an acting, working subject. This appears also in the Diary, but in 1961 alienation, a theme which has since been much discussed within and without Italy, was addressed only incidentally. As far as I am concerned, this debate was also encouraged by the Spanish and English translations of Funzione delle Scienze. The goal of phenomenology, its telos, becomes a society in which no subject, no concrete man, exploits another man. It is not just a question of humanistic Marxism, but of a new synthesis, of a new totalization, as Sartre would say, of a new encyclopedia, as I say. Encyclopedia is not just a relationship among the sciences, but the totality and the fullness of man and his actions.

        I spoke of phenomenology for the first time in Principi di una filosofia dell'essere [Principles of a philosophy of being], Guanda, Modena, 1939. It was then a question of a dialectical, antinomic being, like the one Plato discusses in Parmenides. But all too often being is understood dogmatically, as something fixed, immobile and, at the same time, generic. My philosophy is different, it is not a theory of static totality, it is not an ontology, but a philosophy of concrete things and of men, and being, as meaning and truth, becomes a rational direction, the sense of all "morality," of all the subjects. The word being is to be interpreted rather as existence and truth of existence—this is how phenomenology founds existentialism, but when existentialism becomes ontology and forgets truth, rationality, logic, then phenomenology reclaims its rights ("the meaning of truth") even as it does not forget the concreteness of existence. That is why I speak of time and truth, and not, like Heidegger, of time and being. These are the terms where all the currents of contemporary philosophy meet. I realize that the terminology is subtle, but it is the reflection of a situation. And this happens on many levels: for example, the term being is usable also in the sense of reality, as against idealism, and there is no doubt that there is also a reality of the rational and of the logical. If the Diary has been widely read, it is also because it replaces a subtle discourse, such as the one we are engaged here, with daily experience.

        Above all, in the Diary there appears the sense of time, the incarnation of philosophical truth in daily life. "Subject" and "transcendental" are words used by idealism. But the phenomenological subject is not the idealistic subject, if only because it has a live body of its own, and for phenomenology "transcendental" is a thought which can never be detached from experience. Certainly phenomenology is not positivistic, in the sense that it is "critical," that it does not accept any prejudices, not even those of "naturalism." With regard to logical positivism, its crisis and development place its problems close to the crisis and development of phenomenology: phenomenology too in fact is in a crisis, because it did not stop and its applications and its encounters present it always with new horizons.

        The "subject" is the term which has stirred the greatest suspicion among those who insist on considering Husserl's position as that of a phenomenological idealism. I must insist that for me the subject is a mode of relations and an experience lived in the first person. Again: we can only start from what we ourselves experience. The subject therefore is a fundamental experience; not only, but each one of us is an experience for itself [for himself ?] and must recognize that there are also the others, who are for themselves too. Only in this way, if there exist relationships among multiple subjects, is every man's experience of the others constituted in all of its modalities. In other words, the subject is not a substance, but resolves itself always into centers of relationships. If we then analyze it, we find that it is a temporal and spatial moment, a historical moment, in the sense both of the physical sciences and of the human sciences. For this reason my phenomenology inherits the problems of contemporary science as well as those of existentialism and relationism. I take therefore the liberty to refer the reader to my book Dall'esistenzialismo al relazionismo [From existentialism to relationism], D'Anna, Firenze-Messina, 1937. One can say that relationism is the critique of the dogmatic and idealistic subject, and its replacement with the irreversible moments of time: it is because of this critique of idealism that phenomenology can speak again, and in a new way, of subjects. Each subject has in itself the structures of the world: thus phenomenology does not even exclude the objective requirements of structuralism, just as it does not exclude those of linguistics, to which the early Husserl made substantial contributions. A new linguistics, which will have its own future and which will find again, in a new form, the themes of the late Husserl, especially the theme of the crisis which must be considered as the crisis of the entire human civilization. Phenomenology is not contemplation, but ascesis, in the etymological sense of exercise. It is a transformation of society, which contains within itself the premises of its own destruction, but also of its own salvation. A diary is a personal way of living the crisis, of finding the directions of the dialectic. It is a critique of community, but [also] a critique of each individual, as Sartre demonstrates with his return to Flaubert. It is a lived reflection, with its own limits, which seeks however an encounter and intends to realize life concretely.

Enzo Paci


Pavia, March 14, 1956

        Piazza Leonardo da Vinci, isolated, almost enclosed. The rough-textured, reddish medieval towers. Swallows surround them. Centuries of silence. I sit on a lonely bench, after my lectures at the University. I feel I must begin again, I have been wrong, I have not pursued clearly, resolutely, deeply what I was searching for. It's true: in every fact, in every isolated thing, there appear connections with all the things, with all the other facts. In time, in the time of nature and of history. And each fact is individuated, even if it has the form of all the other facts of its type. Individuation? What can it possibly mean? The individual is unique, yet he is everything. Philosophy begins when this one-single discovers it has within itself typical, essential relationships with everything else. No fact is merely individual, no fact is merely universal. Such necessary mediation of the fact is not a thing nor an idea, just as man is neither beast nor angel. Each reality is something more than abstract universality and something less than absolute reality—singular or total. I, the subject, am the first fact. Not the subject of idealism, not the absolute, but the concrete encounter of finite and infinite, of light and shadow. I, as a man, as man, who has within himself the world, even the world he does not know. Man: "dignum omni admiratione animal," "medium mundi." Neither celestial nor earthly, he can re-enter darkness or rise to the truth. Not by himself—but with all the others, living and dead—in a relationship with everyone else, with all the subjects. He can choose reason, life, or he can choose death, atomic self-destruction. But he is "dignum omni admiratione" because he carries within himself truth, because he has within himself the evidence of truth, because to be able to speak of evil he must have within himself good, good's life [?], a life he can not negate because it is his own intentional life in the first person, his being subject, his emerging as subject. But this is Husserl, and it is the contrary of the absolutization of the I because it is the relational mediation, the self-recognition of the truth which man carries within himself and which must be realized in history, in time, in the world. Individuation as the meaning of truth. Truth which becomes task, which negates the pre-constituted world in order to constitute it, to make it alive. A radical transformation for man: to become man as he has never been yet. But isn't this Husserl's return to the cogito? Will my relationism be possible without a revival of phenomenology? Existentialism is a sort of situation of factual doubt. It was correct to show that negativity is not even conceivable without the positivity of the truth we carry within ourselves, even if we fail to recognize it. We live in our own historical period, and within us there struggle its contradictions. its truths, its errors. We must begin all over again, with resolve and with patience, take up again our search, correct ourselves, burn away the "impure consciousness [?]" in order to re-discover in ourselves the sense of truth, the world's telos. As soon as we reflect on the path we have followed, we are brutally faced with the narrowness of our incapacity: we sense that error, darkness, vanity, superficiality, are in us, that we carry them within ourselves. But within ourselves there are [also] truth and life. The Greek world. Pericles. Athen's mistake. The conversation with the Apple-Trees in Thucydides. Sophocles feels madness' presence. Euripides seeks refuge in Thrace. Better stay with foreigners, if Athens becomes foreign to herself.

        Machiavelli questions the ancients, and "they reply with their humanity [?]." A new Renaissance? A Renaissance for all mankind?

April 2, 1956

        The towers. The past. To sense their meaning, their reason. Their history in the world in which they have lived and [continue to] live, in the relationships which constitute them and which constitute me. To allow them to become documents, to allow their silence to ripen into a name. To awaken them, to awaken us.

April 10, 1956

        These ancient medieval towers, this solid past. The hard and impenetrable alterity of the object. Are they unresolvable into [in?] my subjectivity? But nature and history are not separate from us. We are asleep, objectified in them. We—who await to be awakened.

Milan, April 12, 1956

        We and things are linked by a mysterious pleasure, "ce plaisir special" Proust talks about with regards to the steeples of Martinville. "En constatant, en notant la forme de leur flèche, le déplacement de leurs lignes, l'ensoleillement de leur surface, je sentais que je n'allais pas au bout de mon impression, que quelque chose était derrière ce mouvement, derrière cette clarté, quelque chose qu'ils semblaient contenir et dérober à la fois."

        Not something "behind," but something which has been concealed or which has sedimented, and which now must be unconcealed, in the present, for the future. Our entire life, as evident presence, is the reawakening, the clearing of the past—it is temps retrouvé. The truth, which was asleep, is transformed, becomes typical truth, essential figure. But, as it awakens, it continues to seek itself, to correct itself in the mutual relationships which constitute it, to seek fulfillment, a telos.

April 13, 1956

At each instant we perceive, because at each instant we live that which for the intellect is a paradox: the consumption of our life, which is new life. But, precisely because we perceive it, it is necessary for the past that we consume, like the coal produced by the amalgamation of the forests of the Paleozoic era, to be a reality; for that past, which formed them and gave rise to them, consumed them and killed them, and finally transformed them into coal, to have been a reality. And it is in fact this very reality which we perceive: the perception of the heat that today warms me is also the perception of the reality of those forests which lived before me, about three hundred million years before man appeared on earth. And if I do not dogmatize my perception into an abstract discourse, I feel, even when I do not know what it was, that there has been an existence on earth before man, an existence before what we usually call life, an existence which has always been preceded by another existence. Another existence before mine, before man's life, before the existence of the earth, of the solar system, of the galaxies. Perhaps because of this, today I can feel as mine the existence of what is other than I.

April 14, 1956

        The horizon I see is limited by my gaze and fades away from the center towards the periphery of my eye, but this does not mean I doubt the existence of other horizons, those I know I could see by turning or looking from other vantage points. Horizons which are always present in the very perception of that horizon which I see now, and without which this horizon would not be what it is; horizons which not only can I and will I be able to reach, but also I can no longer or will never be able to reach. In what now I perceive, other times and irretrievable pasts are grafted, which make the present as it opens to the future. The present lives because of the past that dies, and can only cause a past to die if that past did really exist.

April 15, 1956

        Everything is linked to a cosmic perspective. The universe emerges in me as a need, as a project, as a life within which it can proceed and within which, in that focal point with which man constitutes tension and intentionality, it engages the whole of itself. Man, who recognizes himself as invested with the meaning of the cosmos, who feels his own responsibility toward the sense of the universal process, recognizes the dignity of all perspectives and all forms, of minerals, of vegetables, of animals, of things and of persons. This is the pietas toward intentionality, the acceptance of that mysterious pleasure which links us with things, in which the search for being, for continuing correction, for harmony is always vibrating.

April 26, 1956

        The life process, the emergence of intentionality continues in technology. The error of modern civilization is to have separated technology from life by not responding to the peremptory request for justice and harmony that life poses precisely through technology. An error which implies the other error of separating functions and of breaking life's intentional synthesis , as if tools could really perform their function when removed from their reciprocal relationships, and as if functions, taken by themselves, were really self-sufficient, not functions of the world, of man, of society. Man becomes he who inhabits a house, and the house must only serve the function of a dwelling, of a "machine à habiter." But it is I who inhabit the house and the house must become the extension of my body in the world that surrounds it, in its Umwelt. Man becomes he who must perform a certain job and must translate himself into the acts by which such job is performed. He becomes a specialist in a certain field and must ignore everything which does not concern his specialization. He must ignore the totality, open yet concrete, only in terms of which functions have a meaning. The unnatural use of technology divides men into castes of specialists in the name of a unity which must not be reached, but which is nevertheless as threateningly present as the tribunal in Kafka's universe. The separation between workers and the owners of the instruments of labor is the most typical expression of a general unnatural use of technology. These instruments—precisely because of the agreement[?] between labor and nature and between sense and logical order, between sensibility and category, an agreement they require in order to be constructed; precisely because they too are the expression of the hidden art of nature of which Kant spoke with regard to transcendental schematism—require a non-contradictory behavior with regard to the rational sense of life expressed in them and, above all, a behavior which does not consider them merely as means and abstract and separate functions, a human behavior which does not lower the life of the others, the real "subjectivity" of other men, to the level of mere means. By negating such "subjectivity," human society falls into a contradiction with its own means of production, isolates technology in a formal universe, concluded in itself and autonomous. With the pretense of using the instrument without realizing a behavior grounded in social relation and rationality, which it requires in order to be truly positive, with the rejection of the agreement with the intentionality of history, man in fact ends up using the instrument against himself.

May 2, 1956

        The illusion of the return, of the victory over irreversibility, is the magical incantation with which the eyes of the serpent, which like the Maya serpents incarnates the temporal cosmic cycle, fascinate us. We wish to return to the primordial mother, to the darkness and the peace of the maternal womb. But, since it is impossible to go back, and we proceed in any case toward the future, it is the future that becomes primordial peace, negation of life's labor, of the "discontent of civilization" [disagio della civiltà], as Freud said. This future, lived in this way, is self-destruction. It is suicide raised, as with the Mayas, to divine deed.

        The forest, in Amazonia. Its magic. "Stay here" [Resa=Resta?], it says. And it devours you. The absurd of Recife's equatorial climate. The city's bustle against a background that wants to convince you that everything is useless, that each step forward toward truth is also a step backward toward error.

May 4, 1956

        Valéry: "Notre esprit est fait d'un désordre plus un besoin de mettre en ordre." The struggle against disorder, obscurity, oblivion, fetishism, injustice, evil, incomprehensibility. There is something in the universe which seems to resist, which opposes awakening. A deep sleep. To side with the awakened consciousness, with the intentionality of truth, with reason, which always goes beyond itself. But reason is not a word or a set of unconscious, mechanical operations. It is life itself, it is logos. Intentionality is the living logos. In a non-abstract sense, it is logic. The danger of killing the life of logic with formalization, with logicism. Logos as continuation of life, beyond everything, despite everything. Once again Valéry: "Continuer, pour suivre quelque chose, c'est contre tout. L'univers fait tout ce qu'il peut pour empêcher une malheureuse idée d'arriver à son terme."

June 13, 1956

        I read once more the Critique of Pure Reason (dialectic). Antinomies. The first antinomy. Thesis and antithesis, says Kant, are not abstract and formal, "legalistic", but depend on "the nature of the thing." Space and time are not "objects." The synthesis can not be completed. Infinity. Transcendental infinity. Dialectic therefore is not an abstract construct. Reason—the plane of dialectic—should therefore, against intellect, be located on the plane of sensibility. Kant did not see this substantive commonality between sensibility and reason. Man feels reason. He feels the past that precedes him as infinite. He feels that before him there has been a history of the earth and of the universe. He feels that he can not bear infinity, the undetermined, the apeiron; that in it he could lose his own existence. He reacts. In the same feeling of the apeiron there is the feeling of the limit, of the peras (relationships with the "sublime" in the Critique of Judgment). He feels that the implication of the finite and of the infinite is not static, but has a temporal and intentional direction. All this applies to a phenomenology of perception.

June 14, 1956

        Against infinity, which would ultimately be total indetermination, non-existence, what exists stands as permanence, rhythm, beat, temporal becoming which turns into figure. Scansion. Figurative structure. Rhythm eschews identity, remaining within analogy. Gradual variations. Birth, gradual duration. Maturation. Gradual dissolution. Intersection, conjunction, resonance, harmony. This is true of all that we perceive, of a phenomenology of the givenness of things, of their way of being phenomena. Rhythm, the rhythm in things, arranges itself both in different times and in different spaces. The shifting of rhythm. Kinesthetic analyses in Husserl. Figures, geometric figures in motion. Topology. Spatial resonances and analogies. Proportions. Fullness and emptiness. Volumes. Masses. All this is on the plane of the Lebenswelt, not of theoretical abstraction. Idealization in order to arrive at geometry as science, and also to constructive technology.

July 5, 1956

        Perspectivity of nature. Nature, in the web of its relationships, contains both the forms which in it will emerge in the eyes of an insect, and those which will emerge in the eyes of man. Structure and rhythm can be translated into many languages, into many emergent forms. The problem of the translatability of the Gestalt. Between permanence and emergence there is a dialectical jump which makes "no man's land" possible. What Mereleau-Ponty says in his essay on Cézanne reminds us of Kirkegaard's Fear and Trembling.

July 23, 1956

        To sleep. Thought seems to agree with the body: it does not emerge from the body. While asleep, do I live only as subject? Not only as dream, in any case. I am in deep touch with a kind of anonymous corporeity. While awake I begin to look, to move. My body becomes one of my expressions. While asleep such expression is disincarnate, is not realized in real movement but in a phantasm. Only in wakefulness is there a kinesthetic expression, a gesture which is actually performed. Language itself has its origin in gesture, in the life of the body. Gestural language.

Senigallia, August 8, 1956

        On the Rocca dei Della Rovere . "Piazza del Duca." When I was three and a half, I used to live in a house on this square. From my window I could see the towers, the moat, the drawbridge.

        On the same square, the palace which today belongs to the Baviera. The palace in which Valentino had Vitellozzo Vitelli and the others assassinated.

        The city bastions. I am thinking of the morning when Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta, whose effigy Pius II had ordered burned a few months before, discovered to his amazement that Federico di Montefeltro's army was encamped around the town. Federico's troops had covered forty-five kilometers in one night. Sigismondo's defeat near the Cesano, shortly before the final defeat following the fall of Fano.

        The Cesano is a stream with a very wide bed. If I cross it and climb toward the interior I find the town where I was born. After the Cesano, the Metauro, and after the Metauro, Urbino.

        Urbino is the capital of the hills, of all the Marche's hills, to which the full meaning of this line applies: "The shimmering shoreline, from afar." Urbino was not a marine town and did not worry Venice. It always managed to play its cards well with the Pope. Towns that lived on, like that—always somewhat teetering, as if in a gamble, without a proper civitas. There remain, beyond violence, the symbolic dreams: Malatesta's Temple, Federico's Castle.

Milan, September 22, 1956

        To place between brackets, to reduce to subjectivity, is an act required by life, by a life which wants to be meaningful, which wants to choose its own meaning, the meaning of the others, the meaning of the world. To live is always to live beyond, to project oneself into transcendental figures, figures which are typical, essential forms of meaningful life, of true life (which are, for Husserl, the essences, the eide).

        Reflection. Reflection lives in time and projects itself ahead of itself, with an intentionality aimed at something beyond itself. What it discovers is truth, a truth which was in me, but asleep, forgotten. The gaze, projected into the future, is the same gaze which re-awakens the past and discovers the sense of the reality of the present.

November 6, 1956

        I experience things as hard, impenetrable. Space constricts me, limits my freedom. So does time. It seems obvious that I can not go back, that I am not allowed to experience irreversibility. I am not speaking of the technical concept of irreversibility, but of a lived, preconceptual, precategorical experience, of the impossibility of a return. For years I have been insisting on this point, but [some] pretend to believe that I mean to speak of the second principle of thermodynamics, in the sense that physicists use. I am speaking instead of an experience which precedes physics as a science, of an experience of the life-world, of the Lebenswelt. Irreversibility is one of the fundamental structures of the Lebenswelt, just like economic need, which does not wait for economics as a science in order to exist: in fact economics would not exist if there were no "economic structure" (Marx, [A Contribution to] The Critique of Political Economy). Husserl did not see this point except in relation to individuality, when he notes that the individual does not repeat himself and exists only once.


February 8, 1957

        Myth, like the word, is the most dangerous of gifts. It can reveal the horrendous world of indistinction, the lack of difference between truth and error, between life and death. Such indifference [?], in Dostoevsky's The Devils appears as the foundation of the demonic. But myth reveals to us that we can not not detach ourselves, that we must detach ourselves from the nostalgia of the mother's womb. Since it is not possible to go back, the pain for the loss of the mother appears as need, as eros, as direction toward truth, as intentionality. Life as logos and faith, faith in the possibility of harmony. Tension of the senses and of the psyche toward truth, the daily labor needed to realize it. Those who had been initiated in the mysteries must have felt something similar to this faith, when the cut ear of wheat was shown to them, in silence.

April 14, 1957

        If we really think about what we say to many persons with whom we speak every day—and who perhaps call themselves friends—it may seem we live in a desert. It is almost always clear what they want, what they wish you to say or do. It is especially clear when they believe it is not. We ourselves are like that to the others. An authentic encounter is a rare event. When it happens it is as if the root of the world had been reached—a solid, yet fragile, root which allows the world to make sense. Communication is sensing, consenting, reciprocal sensing (Einfülung). It is not a theory of communication. Philosophers of communication often do not make it possible. For the most part of men, for each one of us—because we are such part—life is diplomacy.

April 16, 1957

        The word detached from the body and from its history does not exist. The written word does not exist: by reading it we bring it back to its original incarnation, to ours, if we fail to imagine the living person who wrote it. The disincarnate word, if it were possible, would have no meaning. That is why sometimes we realize that a person who is speaking to us, if we look at him, if we see the play of his physiognomy, if we make present in us, in our body, the rhythm of his discourse, and the pauses, the stresses, the sudden suspensions, the silence, is pretending.

April 18, 1957

        An encounter does not have a purpose only for one and the other. The purpose transcends those who meet. It is in the sense of the relationship. Both live for the meaning. They are themselves, and truly themselves, if neither is only himself.

        The gaze (Sartre). The other's gaze. I live in his gaze, and I know it. He sees me, he listens to me. Reciprocal incarnation in the sexual act. Both closing in, each one in himself, or each one losing himself in the other—both becoming, once again, solitude.

April 22, 1957

His entire person is expression. His body: a way of living the feeling. Language which becomes physiognomy, gesture, communion of Leib and Seele.

        There is a style, a music which remains always the same in life. Even while waiting for the unexpected, which is present, in fact, precisely in the waiting.

April 30, 1957

        Saint-Exupéry. A man who did not want to analyze but to realize himself. The dangerousness of his need for challenge. He wants to risk his life because for the joy of finding himself alive again. It is clear in Pilote de guerre. It is striking that he describes an action in which he managed to save himself, when we can presume that he lived a very similar adventure in the 1944 action in which he died. He seems to have described his own end.

Rome, May 1, 1957

        Saint-Exupéry's Citadelle irritates me for its moralistic attitude and for its sententious, artificial style. In order to have a sense of himself, Saint-Exupéry had to reach the limit of risk. Do we have a better sense of ourselves when we are in danger? Is the sense of our subjectivity more intense? Two years ago, after the car accident, it was precisely as I was recovering my memory that there grew in me the fear of having lost it, of not having been there [?]. But that I had not been there I learned it later, when I could remember. The terror of losing one's presence is possible only in the presence. I remember very clearly that I could not give up analyzing myself. What does it mean to realize now that in a previous time we were not conscious, that we did not feel? Presence of non-perception within perception.

Milan, May 8, 1957

        Reality and dream. It is not so easy to distinguish between them on the factual plane or on the logical plane. Will the distinction be in terms of the various degrees and ways of feeling that toward which we tend, that toward which we go beyond ourselves, thus in terms of the degrees and ways of intentionality?

Turin, May 15, 1957

        On the Milan-Turin expressway, in full sun. The plain left the green in the background; its presence was in the yellow, overly harsh patches. Light which bends shapes and lines. Excessively strong presence of perception. Is abstraction a defense?

Milan, May 18, 1957

        It's three thirty in the morning. I look out of the window. Faraway rumble of trucks. Houses are incomprehensible. It seems impossible to me that they remain there, indifferent, with so much human life enclosed within their walls. A drunk man walks by. Screams.

        The philosopher: not only does he think the world always anew, but he lives it, he perceives it always anew with all of his senses, as an incumbent problem. Words and screams which demand an impossible solution? Then silence arrives. A full, vibrant silence. A background against which things are drawn as if they were virgin, just born now, in this moment. And they acquire a meaning, they become translucid, they allow a glimpse of their sense of truth. Be calm, therefore. Don't force things. Let them introduce themselves. You are not their owner.

May 20, 1957

        The truth of the body, in the body. The idea of a deeper understanding of the phenomenology of Leib all the way to the problem of Einfülung among different types of humanity.

        Memory of the Brazilian forest and the days spent in Bahia. The sense of a nature that penetrated me? My wake in front of the ocean? A black man singing in that solitude, playing a string instrument unknown to me.

        A song that made me think of long years of suffering and slavery—or of the land of the ancestors, of the ancestors transported in chains, of a land that black man had never known.

May 21, 1957

        The black man. Africa's awakening. It offers us a face of our humanity that until now we did not want to recognize. I feel he disturbs me deeply. Einfühlung: if I feel in him, in the black man, then something of myself is revealed to me which otherwise might have remained hidden forever. As man, therefore, I am also black, even though I never knew it. At first this frightens me, it makes me lose the sense of my life-ground, of the history which has sedimented in me. The discovery of the logos in Greece. But this logos, in order to be real logos, must not be just Greek. It can not renounce itself, but in order to be itself it must feel itself as part of an alterity which it had not yet recognized. A wider and wider, deeper and deeper, more and more difficult constitution of human intersubjectivity.

        There is an African civilization, an African thought. There is an Indian civilization, an Indian thought. There is a Chinese civilization, a Chinese thought. And our Greek thought, in order to be itself, must discover itself in the other thoughts. To renew itself, to become other, in order to remain, to become logos again.

May 22, 1957

        Is black man primitive? And what does "primitive" mean? Durkheim, Lévy-Bruhl. Husserl's unpublished K III 7 and his interest in Lévy-Bruhl. From a certain point of view (but it is only one of the many points of view), what is "primitive" is "precategorical", and in this sense it is not made obsolete or negated by "civilization," but continues in "civilization." I put "civilization" between quotation marks. In fact it is precisely to the extent that our categorical civilization is abstract that it is in a crisis. It has "concealed" its own origins, because it no longer knows how its concepts have been formed, it no longer knows what their purpose is, their meaning. Our concepts are valid in this or that field, but we no longer know if they are valid for man, for the subject who operates in all fields.

        Yet, in some sense, it is true that primitive man is "barbarous;" like us however, like us Europeans of the two world wars. If primitive man must free himself from his barbarism, from sado-masochistic relationships, from aggressivity, if this is true, to the extent that it is true, then we too must free ourselves from barbarism. If primitive man is abnormal, if his way of feeling is pathological, then we too are pathological. The sense of the cult of Asklepiades in Sophocles: mankind is ill, like Philoctetes, and Sophocles knows that even illness, if recognized, can have a positive function. But we Europeans—have we recognized our illness? We, the children of Hellas—have we understood what Sophocles had understood?

        We all. white, black and yellow, are faced with the task of a radical transformation. The radical transformation, which on the static plane appears in Husserl as the return to the cogito and as constitutive intersubjectivity, on the genetic and historical plane presents itself as a revolution, as the task of establishing a rational humanity, of constituting man in his human essence. The task is the same, for us and for the so-called primitive man. There is a rational entelechy of humanity, as Husserl puts it, which is yet to be established. There is therefore no distinction between the barbarous, primitive man and the civilized European. Despite the accomplishments of science and technology, European man must recognize his own barbarity, sometimes tamed, but often erupting (Freud). Primitive man discovers that his own world, the precategorical, non-abstract world, is more than ever necessary to European man, who has lost it, because he has lost what Lévy-Bruhl called participation, that is the universal correlation, the relational life, the connection of our thought with the body, with lived nature, with the "secret art of nature" (the inexhaustible fecundity of "transcendental schematism"). Thus the valorization of the primitive is not the return to the barbaric and the irrational. That is what European man, who considers himself definitely civilized, thinks.

        Both, European man and primitive man, must find a deeper rational essence of man. To discover the "primitive world" is to discover the rooting of logos in matter, in nature, in corporeity, in the concrete precategorical operations from which scientific categories originate (the value of rhythm: all that we indicate abstractly, primitive man lives). It means to discover the life of reason, relational reason rooted in concrete relationships, constituted by concrete operations. It means to keep life concretely lived in logic and to understand logic as the expression of real operations. European man is in a crisis because he no longer knows how to find in himself what is valid in primitive man, in the "total" world in which primitive man lives. And, in turn, primitive man must arrive at logic, at science, not fetishized science, but that science of sciences according to which mankind must realize itself (the science of history? phenomenology?). We must teach primitive man our science, if we do not fetishize it, and our technology, if we free ourselves from our barbarism, from our irrationality. Primitive man can teach us his own way of feeling and of living in participation, in relationship, in communion, if he frees himself from his barbarism, from his irrationality. But it is a question of mere reciprocity. Primitive man has become aware that his view of life is necessary to European man, much as in Hegel the servant becomes aware that without his own labor the master can not live ("servile consciousness" [?]). To the extent that European man does not understand primitive man, he does not understand himself, and the revolt of primitive man is the self-alienation of European man, the self-destruction of European "civilization." The black man disturbs me because my barbarism is projected onto him; he disturbs me because I have lost myself as man; because I have not yet become man; because I find myself still in the prehistory of mankind.

May 23, 1957

        African man to whom [Richard] Wright dedicates Black Power: A Record of Reactions in a Land of Pathos [New York, HarperPerennial, 1995 ?]. African man considered as a "thing" to buy, fetishized, objectified. Not considered as a subject, as my alter ego. He is the African man who, "isolated in the forests of Western Africa, created a conception of life terrifying in its great simplicity, yet irreducibly human. [check!]"

        Object. For Husserl society is human and rational insofar as it is a society of subjects. Wright quotes Husserl (in the English translation of Ideen I). It is clear why he quotes him, even though it is better to read the quotation in the German text (cf. Ideen I, Husserliana 3, edited by Walter Biemel. The Hague, Netherlands: Martinas Nijhoff Publishers, 1950, p.110) [check!]. Wright understood that it is possible to think, to imagine a world in which perception, as world lived and felt in the first person, with "participation," as Lévy-Bruhl would say, by the subjects (in Durkheim's "social life"), is the world as always given, the vorgegebene Welt, a world not reduced to the abstract categories assumed to be concrete. One may think, says Husserl, that things, as they are given to us in perception, can not be reduced to mere physico-mathematical concepts. Even if the latter. according to Husserl, originate precisely from the precategorical, from the complete fullness of experience. The problems of paragraph 47 in Ideen I are taken up again and clarified in Krisis. What is incredible is that Wright was able to see and foresee in it precisely what Husserl will say later. It is significant that a black intellectual can teach us how to read Husserl. Remember in Lévy-Bruhl and in Durkheim the relationship between the primitive and mythical world and the problem of the origins of categories. Durkheim's entire work could be reassessed if we could see in his "society" the ideal of an intersubjective society, of an intentional society.

May 24. 1957

Remember in Durkheim the "social" origin of categories, that is, in phenomenological language, the origin of categories from intersubjective, precategorical life. It is because they derive from intersubjective perception that for Durkheim categories are founded on "the nature of things." Durkheim's idea that the totem is the presence of the specific in the individual. The totem, in phenomenological language, is the eidos of a group, of a clan. And it is true that it is the projection of the links which unite the clan, namely [the projection] of the operations of the same type, of the typical-social operations immanent in each individual. The relationship, in Husserl, between eidos and the operations, Leistungen, typical of the subject and of the subjects.

        Cult of animals in the Egyptian religion. The hypothesis that Egyptians saw in animals the lack of individuality, the lingering of a specific essence (as in angels), the eidos.

May 25, 1957

        Husserl between static phenomenology and genetic phenomenology. In the former the original is the actual subject. In the latter the genesis of the subject. In the former it is intersubjectivity that reflects upon itself; in the latter it is the rediscovery, in reflection, of the genesis that has allowed us to arrive at reflection. Discovery and re-presentification of the childhood I have in me. Discovery of the primitive life I have in me, of that life which I must re-presentify in order to understand the meaning of the present. All this is grounded on the phenomenology of time.

        Since the subject lives in the body, since subjects are animate[d] beings and live in their own natural, cultural worlds (Umwelten), genetic phenomenology is a phenomenology of the genesis of concrete men, and in this sense it is anthropology. Husserl's letter to Lévy-Bruhl (March 11, 1935). Einfühlung of our society with another society. To comprehend its world in ours and to feel ours in its world. Can we presentify Lévy-Bruhl's primitive life? Is it a life which is only pure flowing presence, nur strömende Gegenwart? In us too there is sometimes a pure flow of life which does not retain anything (absence of retention; in a certain sense: unconsciousness). Pause of consciousness in the time of our life. These pauses (like sleep) divide us into many I's: we ourselves, unique, are intersubjectivity. That is why intersubjectivity is possible in time, and in time we find ourselves, as actual humanity, with another humanity divided from us by the pauses of awareness. I believe this is one of the most important aspects of Husserl's thought. We must meet ourselves—for [?] the sense of concordance [?] of our life—and [but?] we have forgotten ourselves, this and that time of our life and of our history. Thus mankind must find itself by feeling that it is also primitive mankind or black mankind. Otherwise it loses its own sense of concordance [?], its own meaning. Did Husserl really think this way? I am reconstructing [it?] using my intuition and attempting a new development...But the problem is the very same one which in Krisis presents itself as the problem of the encounter between men of different eras (history, historiography).

May 27, 1957

        [Lao (Lie) Tzu?] Lie: "Can we say emptiness, can we say peace?" This emptiness and this peace have been known... Then we wanted to take and give them [?]. They have been replaced with abstractions, like "goodness" and "equity." But the peace which "had always existed" is not behind us. It is before us. The danger of Taoism. The profound sense of its dialectic: not to lose oneself in the words that replace things. Meaning is hidden in things and expresses itself in words. But it is also after, in that which words indicate, in that which must be done so that words may not remain words.

May 28, 1957

        Karma as "life impulse" [Bergson's élan vital ?] seems ruled by a law which causes each impulse and each manifestation to tend to exhaust themselves. Stcherbatzsky (The Conception of Buddhist Nirvana, Leningrad 1927) compares karma's law to irreversibility and entropy. For Rosenberg (Probleme der Buddhistisch Philosophie, Heidelberg 1924) karma is will but also the product of the will. Karma is what remains of what precedes. It is the fact that there is always a future. If time continues it is because of the universal correlation. Two crossed conceptions of time: 1) time as residue of the past and thus as non-ineliminability of the future; 2) time always consumes itself, always dies. Continuous becoming, dhava. Relationality in the open totality, sarvam. Is nirvana the attempt to suppress the world? Of the world or of the mundane? Of the mundane as objectification, perhaps as a chain of objectifications. Nirvana must not be the will of the negation of the world but, precisely because it must not be artificial will, it must discover in the world something which is world without being mundane. That is why Gautama ends up condemning ascesis as will that fights the body (the seven years preceding the Sermon of Benares). Nirvana should lead to non-will, that is to spontaneity, to the spontaneous life of the body. The paradox is that only by not seeking the mundane is it possible to discover in ourselves the spontaneity (the subjectivity) of the life of the world. Time must then become continuous deliverance, perennial presentification, infinite becoming of presence.

May 29, 1957

        The effort of rethinking Buddhism. The attempt to appropriate remote experiences.

        The profound affinity of relationsim with Jainism (Mahâvîra Vardhamâna). Reality is not constituted by substantiality but by the modalities of attributes, of relations. No existence or, better, no "situation" is in itself independent of environmental relations. A situation resolves itself in the modes of its possibilities (syâdvâda). Each thing which exists, or does not exist, which exists and does not exist, is in a relationship with something other than itself.

May 30, 1957

        Glory has no meaning, power has no meaning, your personal success has no meaning. Vanity. That vanity which Husserl always fought. And he was sincere. He did indeed love truth and live for truth. Glory is the mundane, and the meaning of life reveals itself only in the negation of the mundane, in operating within the world without being prisoner of the world. I firmly believe it.

        It is not a renunciation to operate in the world, to live in the world: it is the desire for those actions whose meaning is truth. We must be capable of this, we must want to live thus, we must try to live thus.

        Tolstoy: "Looking into Napoleon's eyes, prince Andrea was thinking of the vanity of greatness, the vanity of life, whose meaning nobody was able to understand. and of the even deeper vanity of death, whose meaning nobody alive was able to understand or explain." [check!] It is precisely because of this acknowledged incomprehensibility of the mundane, of this renunciation, of this refusal to accept it, that in the end Andrea discovers "an undetermined, unconceivable force which can not be expressed in words," "something incomprehensible and more important than anything else." [check!] But it is not a question of some thing, or of some being or of nothing. And it is not a question of some inexpressible thing, but of the root itself of expression, of the fansis of each phenomenon, of the logos which wants to live and re-awaken and which can not re-awaken if it is prisoner of the will for power, the will for domination, of the thirst for glory and vanity, of fetishization, of objectification. The logos which always lives in us, in us as subjects in the first person, human beings evident to themselves, in a truth so close, so ours, that we ignore it because it is so close, so much here, now, clear, evident, present.

Rome, June 11, 1957

        How few things we know how to say, how little we know how to write that is worth being written. For those who really count, humble but authentic, anguished but unable to express themselves with the word anguish, defeated but truly the only salt of the earth, even if we do not know their names. Perhaps there is something in the universe such that real suffering or acts of authentic truth are never lost. Perhaps these are stronger than the power of atoms. To be able to live thus, to incarnate ourselves in this conviction, to feel really that everything mundane is vanity, to feel finally that even the desire of nothing—as Gautama said so wonderfully—is impure desire. Will we succeed some day in understanding that it is the simplest things which give us the meaning of life? We must believe that this is our path, that mankind's path, often so terrible, is toward this, that life is life for this, that things, stones, flowers, animals, men are there because of the meaning of truth which awaits to be revealed, because of intentional truth.

June 12, 1957

        Villa Borghese. Instead of preparing for the conference on Mann, I am thinking of Proust. Sedimentation. Past which constitutes itself, makes itself, condenses and then reveals itself in a gesture of the present. It is not merely a time lost and found. It is a time that was ripening and now blooms in a music which has become visible, corporeal. One can hug it, in the surprise of finding it over and over again, of feeling it precisely as it is, in the happiness of its presence.

        What is sedimentation? Sleeping meanings which are waiting, meanings imprisoned, yet ready, intent on a call that will awaken them, renew them. How often the occasions of our life are not lost. They are imprisoned. By chance, by a word, by a telephone number, by a train's delay. Imprisoned by a spell, like the souls in the Celtic myth Proust talks about. "Captives...dans une chose inanimée, perdues en effect pour nous jusqu'au jour...où nous nous trouvons...entrer en possession de l'object qui est leur prison."

        Sedimentation is in the object, but it is not the loss of meaning: it is rather the preservation of meaning. It is not therefore objectification. Husserl speaks at length of sedimentation and assigns to it enormous importance. But it is a theme that needs to be explored further, to be taken up again.

        We encounter objects. That is, objects gives themselves to us in a very special way when within them they contain sedimentation. We then discover that there are imprisoned in them occasions which still want to offer a possibility, want to be expressed, to be realized, to live. They are prisoner of the objects as if they were really, forever lost. It is a singular form of objectification which may throw some light on the entire problem of objectification. The imprisoned occasions, "tressaillent, nous appellent et sitôt que nous les avons reconnues, l'enchantement est brisé. Délivrées par nous, elles ont vancu la mort et reviennent vivre avec nous."

        The sense organs are the deposits of sedimentations, and the places and times of our living enclose the occasions. They retain the present of the past, they ripen it for the future. for its possible future. All things are deposits of a new possible life and of a new encounter. This is a particular function of the sense organs and of things, a function linked to matter, which seems to enclose in itself a future life, a life that is yet to bloom.

Milan, June 14, 1957

        Lulli is dancing. A dress with green and amaranth stripes drapes her, as she moves, with colored phantasms (phantasms in Husserl's sense). Her happiness is entirely in the rhythm. I live in her, I feel myself in her movements, in the body she animates, in the whole environment which in her becomes present and hers. The world is no longer incomprehensible. We feel it in our body and in the reciprocal feeling of our bodies. It is a world which moves from within, which expresses itself. And the more within the more it expresses itself, the more it is alive in exteriority.

July 22, 1957

        Today Banfi died. They called me suddenly. At the clinic I found his other friends. I thought of all of us—of all of us before this death. It will be difficult to take it in. His entire work, from now on, acquires a different meaning and I feel it requires a new assessment.

        In these last few months I often talked with him. He lived as if he were not ill. And one could not speak to him about his illness. The last authors he mentioned: Galileo, Husserl, Simmel. And all this was resolved in his communism. With his attitude he wanted to say, to the very end: life is more important than death (Husserl: Ohne Leben kein Tod).

July 31, 1957

        It is to Banfi himself that I apply what he wrote on Galileo: "Such is Galileo's exuberant nature, his curiosity for each actual, concrete problem, his thirst for a pleasant and free life..." Galileo's telescope is not only a scientific instrument but the symbol of a new philosophical orientation, of the defense of common experience, "despite all philosophical claims about its subjectivity and relativity." The eye, made sharper, discovers in experience "an infinity of new elements and structures." Experience "no longer appears as mere illusion" but as "a field of progressive, infinite riches, in the development of which the forms, the relations, the very concepts normally established reveal themselves as provisional." For "vision," for what Banfi, drawing from Husserl, calls the visual, "eidetic" dimension, the relation between experience and reason is possible.

        "What Galileo, first among all men, saw was the schema, mysterious in its remoteness, of a lunar dawn: the splendor of the sun on the peaks high over the shade and the spreading of light through the valleys and planes open to the serene clarity, while behind the mountains, against the light, their shadows are outlined—as if their luminosity had faded ever so slightly."

        For Banfi, Galileo's experience was above all the dynamic synthesis between sensibility and reason and, at the same time, the translation of "the thing" into rational structure. Demonstrations for Galileo are not didactic exercises, but interpretations of experience which, under the appearances, reveals its universally objective structure or, to use a common phrase, the "reality of things." The "reality of things" or "the things themselves" of Husserl.

Segni, August 4, 1957

        In the phenomenological stance there is a continuous intertwinement of philosophical reflection with everyday life, with the life of the body, with communication, with the renewal of the vantage point from which one considers living experience, with the past which dissolves and coalesces again: profound, intentional immanence in time of philosophical reflection.

        The world of esthetics: the world of pain and of pleasure, of liberation from pain and of hedonistic intentionality. The world of needs: the need which endows an essence with intentionality and turns it into a vision of satisfaction: empiricist, sensualistic origin of essence.

        Dialectic in the Cartesian Meditations. The emergence of self-consciousness and intersubjectivity. The intentionalization of essences can also appear as dialectic of sensible temporality, as dialectic of need and of satisfaction, of pain and pleasure.

        Empirically, factually, the negation of the mundane stems from the sense of the absence, which contains in itself the direction toward the liberation from what is missing, toward satisfaction and communication. Negation is incarnated in Eros, the son of Penia [*]: in need, in pain. Direction: from pain toward pleasure, from the negative toward the positive, from absence toward presence. Immanent direction in the absence of time, in the emptiness that temporality opens, in irreversibility, in consumption. It is precisely from that which is consumed that eros is born: it indicates an intentionality, an esthetic, eidetic direction. Hence the positive value of satisfaction: elementary ethical sense of man's simple life and of the humility of his needs.

[*] "The personification of Poverty, she has only one myth, and that comes from Socrates, reporting the words of Diotima, priestess of Mantinea, in the Symposium: after a feast among the gods Penia married Poros and by him gave birth to Eros." From Pierre Grimal, The Dictionary of Classical Mythology. Blackwell Publishers, Oxford, 1996. (Translator's Note)

August 8, 1957

        The teleological vision that Husserl offers in the Krisis is also a synopsis, never definitive, of knowledge: an eidetic and, at the same time, transcendental horizon. The sense of eidetic intuition causes a re-birth, under a new form, of Platonism, the value of rational clarity as the ideal goal, as the sense of history and civilization. The vision of an organic knowledge, of an intentionality that opens up a horizon of culture forever new, is correlated with the continuous reconquest of the Lebenswelt. Precisely because it opens us up to a new horizon, phenomenological reduction allows us to live in the concreteness of experience. Experience and rational vision are infinite, just as the past is infinite, and infinite is the future: infinity surrounds us but is actualized in the concreteness of time.

Milan, September 15, 1957

        The sense of living history does not allow the reduction of history to historiography. Historical narrative must not substitute for historical life. The schemata of historiography must not be badly [?] concretized and assumed as real historical things. In order to reach historical life, it is therefore necessary to apply the epoché to the historiographic "things," to free ourselves from historical-ideological fetishization, from the abstractions of the grand general schemata. In daily labor, in the contact with nature, we thus recover Husserl's "thing itself" as concrete human life. We recover and live again the sense of simple life, the value of humility. Whitehead: true historical life is "in the real, individual feelings of quiet people who live on secondary roads and in country towns" (Essays, 1948, p.18) [check!].

October 20, 1957

        Valéry in Léonard et les philosophes: "Peindre, pour Léonard est une opération qui requiert toutes les connaissances et presque toutes les techniques...Il se meut en quelque sort à partir des apparences des objects..." The "appearances" are Husserl's phenomena, and Leonardo's attitude is thus a phenomenological attitude.

        To paint is to see phenomena. The painterly vision, even the vision of what is not normally visible, is precious for knowledge. There is thus a kind of reciprocity between the vision of the phenomenon and science, between the action which realizes vision in technology, and knowledge. Valéry again: "Cette réciprocité remarquable entre la fabrication et le savoir—par quoi la première est garantie du second—est caractéristique de Léonard, s'oppose à la science purement verbale, et a fini pour dominer dans l'ère actuelle, au gran détriment de la philosophie, qui apparaît chose incomplète, parole sans action." Vision affords therefore a correction of philosophical verbosity: the word becomes action. In reality the active word is the natural technology, the extension of nature into technology.

        We must study Leonardo again in order to insist on the visual, eidetic value of painting. Painting contains both the "forms which are" and "those which are not in nature." "His drawings are so excellent that they explore not only the works of nature, but infinitely more than the works of nature." Leonardo always has a sense of the vision of "possible forms." And when he talks about experience as mediation, "the interpreter between industrious nature and the human species," he is thinking of visual experience, which is the model on which any other experience is based. Painting realizes form physically: in painting there is a proof of the possibility of a synthesis between the sensible and the ideal. Leonardo is sure that reason and ideas operate within nature because they are infused in her. Man "sees" them and can reduce them to abstract reasoning. But their operation is possible because reasoning, before being such, is vision, and before being vision is natural relation (in Kant it is the secret art of schematism that lives in nature). The necessity of natural operation is the necessity of the relation among ideas: nature operates as reason teaches to operate, and reason teaches to operate according to natural necessity. Schematism is here the actualization of the rational in the work. The mediating experience reveals to us that nature "operates under necessity, and can not operate otherwise than as reason, her steering force, teaches her."

November 18, 1957

        Phenomenology, relationsim, moral problem. The importance of the fact that in any perception it is possible to see a type, an essence. Essences are always related and "social." New aspect of Husserl's discourse on solipsism. It is precisely in solipsism that the I finds essential structures that link him to the others. To know means to discover, in the individual, models, types, norms.

December 15, 1957

        Sparse drops of rain are falling on the smooth surface of the pavement, free of ridges, of relief, of traces. Cars are driving by, secure and anonymous. The return of night. The garage and its neon lights, the wait for tomorrow's labor. Everyday struggle for the idols. I go and have a glass of wine with a guy I don't recognize, but with whom I feel perfectly fine.


January 8, 1958

        The cobbled pavement on which I am walking...The hardness, the compactness, the impenetrability of things. To the philosopher, to the man who lives in the philosopher, all this may become enigmatic, becomes enigmatic. Everything: the city, his own home, the table at which he works. And all the events in which he lives, and the people. They are there. But in some way I negate the events and the people and the things. This negation is fundamental. I can not negate what is there, I can not negate the world in which I live. Yet, I say no. I do not accept the impenetrability, the opacity of things. To say no is, phenomenologically, "to put between brackets," to exercise the epoché, the suspension of one's judgment.

        When I bracket the world, I find myself in a strange situation. It is still as it was, but I look at it, I feel it, I "experience" it in a different way. The world? Not the world, but the particular aspects of the world that I touch, that I see, that I hear. I am at the center of an infinity of perspectives, I am a point in which an infinity of lines cross, through me, disappearing everywhere in the infinity. I, the subject, am the center of an infinity of relations. Yet all these lines, all these relations, all that I touch, that I look at, that I hear, every thing, and the living beings, the plants, the animals, the people, are as if suspended, waiting. I sense them, I look at them, with infinite amazement. Not only as if I were seeing them for the first time. It is a stronger, deeper experience. The tree does not live any longer in the air, it has crystallized, and with the tree everything else. It is waiting. It exists in this waiting. It no longer has an obvious, everyday meaning. I must give it its meaning. I, the subject, am he from whom the world is awaiting its sense, its meaning, its purpose. I am the instrument by which the world can become true, can transform itself into truth. I must see it therefore as it appears to me, I must describe it, turn it into revelation, phenomenon.

        The world is there: it was created, as they said. The world is there and until now I thought it was natural, that its being there was obvious. Now I know that its being there is obscure, enigmatic, hidden. My no is the no to a world without a meaning for me, even if it has had a meaning for others, even if its soil carries the traces of other steps and is loaded with the sediments of the innumerable meanings it has had for the others. But these meanings are crystallized, are sleeping. I must awaken them. To awaken them I must say no to everything which is asleep, which is obscure, concealed. I must awaken myself, become awake as I have never been until now. To find again in me and in the world which springs from me, the source of all meanings. The world is born in me, is born in me for the first time, because for the first time I find it meaningful. I am alive in the awakened life, in the Wachleben, as Husserl says. From now on, in me, and in the others who are awake with me, who operate with me, the world will be transformed into a true world. This truth reaches beyond me, it appears to me as an infinite idea which I keep trying to approach. Thus I have made a revolution. What was there, the world that was already there, is now in front of me: it is no longer a world already made, but to be made. It has become a task, a goal which gives meaning to life, to my life and that of the others. The epoché has allowed me to discover a life which goes beyond what I have already lived, a life which keeps reaching beyond itself, which always transcends itself by transforming what has already been done into a task, into meaning of truth. This life in which I really live is intentional life. Intentionality continuously resolves the obscure and the impenetrable into a clear vision, into a meaningful horizon, into an essential form of truth. What phenomenology aims for is not therefore the search for being, of a being which would be behind things. Its goal is the truth which is not behind us but in front of us. and which is already present in the already made things of the world, but asleep. To awaken things, to become ourselves this awakening in which everything awakens, is to return to the authentic life of the I, to its continuous self-transcending, to the paradox of intentionality. To return to the subject, to ourselves, to myself. To awaken continuously in the amazement at the landscape of the world.

February 5, 1958

        Today Father Van Breda arrived. Rognoni and I went to pick him up at the station. In our conversations a slow approach to Husserlian problems, especially through the French interpretations. News about the "Archives."

February 8, 1958

        Father Van Breda's lectures: in Milan on the 6th and in Pavia on the 7th. The difficulty of understanding the problem of intentionality in its proper sense. Van Breda says that until the end of his life Husserl refused to interpret phenomenology as a metaphysics. Perhaps it is a metaphysics, but not of the ens qua ens, but of the ens qua verum. I like the formula, but without the ens. In other words, I think that in Husserl being resolves itself in the intentional horizon of truth and therefore that phenomenology can be considered neither a metaphysics nor an ontology in the traditional sense of the two terms. It seems to me that the problem is that of the relation between time and the horizon of truth of time.

March 11, 1958

        Lebenswelt is not "misplaced concreteness" [Whitehead, translator's note] or substantiation of a category. There is no spontaneity in nature, for man, except through the exercise of the epoché, that is except through transcendence—reaching beyond life as we are exposed to it in what Husserl calls a "naturalistic" stance. Relationship with the religious problem,. Only he who reaches beyond life conquers it [Rilke? translator's note]: he who wants to remain in life, instead, loses it. A second birth, and thus Lebenswelt, even simply in its corporeal aspect, as second life.

March 12, 1958

        Relationist phenomenology is not "vitalism." The paradox is indeed this: that life as positivity can be recovered only after the epoché. Once we negate any mundane sense in the suspension of judgment, once we reach beyond the world in vision, then we find life again, because it has always been there—but we recover it with its sign changed.

13 March, 1958

        Not to confuse the original with the barbaric. The original is after the epoché and we reach it through education and civilization. The barbaric is cruelty, the ingens sylva from which we must extricate ourselves—with a continuous struggle, because its function is that of a "challenge." Critique of Rousseau.

March 14, 1958

        The man who was born blind, in John. Sense of vision: the Husserlian eidos. Verse 39 of chapter IX is amazing: "I came into this world...so that those who do not see and those who see may become blind...": [check!] let them realize therefore that they can not see and let them understand that they have never been able to see, that they were born blind. The sin of the Pharisees is their belief that they are not blind, that they can see. And they ask themselves: are we still blind? And Jesus (IX, 41): "If you were blind you would be without sin, but you say 'we can see;' therefore your sin remains." Open your eyes. Learn to see. Do not believe you can already see.

March 15, 1958

        The original, the authentic, is not the return to the starting point, it is not going back (the irreversibility of life prevents it), but the rediscovery of nature, new, after the epoché.

        In the process of the epoché, by means of the Weltvernichtung, what used to be sure becomes anguish. But the epoché is not only a cognitive process. It is the insertion of oneself in a lived reality, in the temporal process.

March 16, 1958

        When I use the verb "to feel," I am thinking of Husserl's Einfühlung. Philosophy is born from the amazement that there exist Einfühlung, from the marvelous fact that we live in the others and feel their suffering and their entire life which adapts [?] them to the present, to their perceiving, seeing, hearing, to their Stimmung, which agrees with ours. That is how we live—with the others within us. It is possible for us not to let this Stimmung, this profound coherence happen in us—we can do so to defend ourselves, not to make ours the pain of the others. Is the ego perhaps constituted also by defensiveness? Or, by closing ourselves to the Einfühlung, do we lose, in the end, ourselves, just as we lose ourselves if we annihilate ourselves in the other?

March 17, 1958

        In the "projection" onto the physical object, reality is lived as active, as subjective, as human. The projection must be connected to Merleau-Ponty's subject-object ambiguity, which must be meditated again and corrected with regard to Husserl's unpublished work on time.

        With respect to the Einfühlung the association must not be confused with traditional psychological associationism. To associate means to agree in a Stimmung. But association and agreement presuppose a fundamental schema. Schema is here understood in a Kantian sense: figure, Bild, image.

        Reality is lost as it is given, but must be recovered as eidetic figure, as intentionalized [?] essence, as agreement for the future project, for the telos. We find reality again in the common, relational, agreed, associated goal: for the aim and sense of existence.

        Without the Stimmung for the teleological intentionality we lose our presence in the world. The world becomes dream (Hamlet, The Tempest).

March 18, 1958

        Hamlet: fear of something after death, fear that even the slumber of death be full of dreams: to sleep, perhaps to dream. Hamlet's madness is also the indication of a modal sense of life, of life dominated by death, incapable of action because it senses the enormous importance of the fact that man dreams. Man dreams and imagines, because he can not not dream and not imagine, faced with what he does not know. The unknown seems to allow only dreams, and man can never live in full reality. Life confuses itself in the face of infinity, of the undiscover'd country from whose bourn – No traveller returns. If death exists and is present in us, the world can always resolve itself in imagination, in dream, in art. It was an act of critical interpretation to write on Shakespeare's cenotaph Prospero's words:

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
the solemn temples, the great globe itself,
yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
and, like the insubstantial pageant faded,
leave note a rack behind. We are such stuff
as dreams are made of...

        Our incorporeal life is like a theatrical show: idolum theatri. We dream, we represent, we recite life. Perhaps it can be saved only by the sense of theological eidos, by meaning as Husserl reveals it to us in the Krisis. Dream, in eidos, becomes truth, even though all that is human and cosmic is only a dream. Philosophy appears as salvation in truth (is this not one of the most secret senses of phenomenology?). In dreams there is the hope of truth.

        The illusion of "realism" is the illusion of a humanity without dreams. Perhaps this is what Shakespeare wanted to tell us with the character of Caliban. I am thinking of the old Shakespeare, who renounces all his work for an unknown truth, just as Prospero renounces his magic arts:

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
and what strength I have's my own,
which is most faint: now 'tis true,
I must be here confined...

        Man's island is his human existence which, on the other hand, can have a sense of truth precisely because of its limits, of its boundaries.

March 25, 1958

        The phenomenological stance sometimes makes you think, allows you to live philosophy, but it does not disposes you to write, "to set down" your ideas. In this sense, even in this sense, it is Socratic.

March 26, 1958

        Suddenly, on the wet plane, the shining green of the grass. The soil giving in under your feet, the fires lit by the farmers and the thick and slow wavering of the smoke. In the fusion of the colors of the countryside, the houses, the roads, the telephone poles chasing each other...: indifference, as if nothing were happening. Things. The indifference of things is frightening because it is the stiffening of life.

        The sick, in a hospital: the pungent taste of a waiting solitude, of a hoping pain, of a unbearable and unexplainable night. Outside, everybody walks towards something or someone. In hospitals, always, everywhere in the world, every day and every night, the sick are there. Their life is bare, like the living flesh showing through the torn skin. The habitual, precise, mechanical movements of the nurses, of the doctors. Defense of availability, of life discovering itself in pain, in the intensification of time in each instant's decision. To find the words, words which may live, which may not be fetishized.

        Word, logos, as intentional life, as expression of the meaning of the world.

March 27, 1958

        Via della Passione. At the end of the street, the church, with its Stendahlian yard which determines an ariose and contained [musical] bar in the echo of a past which it is sweet to hear again. But I am in a hurry, always too much in a hurry.

        I go through the same streets, back and forth, on the same streetcars, on the same buses. The network of predetermined itineraries extends over the city and the "live" history (in Husserl's sense) of human beings runs through it. It seems as if their gazes leave something along the streets, along the walls of the houses. They remember having passed, for years, by the same building or by the same store. Two years or two months ago, when they still had hope, or had lost any hope, and were waiting for what did not happen, or were asking themselves what that future might be that is present, now, in front of that building or that store.

March 28, 1958

        I am thinking again, from the point of view of the Krisis, about regional ontologies, about a never definitive, eidetic, visual and at the same time transcendental synopsis of knowledge. Re-evaluation of eidetic intuition, which gives rise to a new form of Platonism and of the value of rational clarity as ideal goal, as sense of history and civilization. The vision of an organic knowledge, intentionality which opens up a vision forever new, is correlated with the continuous reconquest of the Lebenswelt. Epoché, precisely because it opens us up to a new horizon, allows us to live in the concreteness of experience. Experience and rational vision are infinite, as infinite is the past and infinite is the future: infinity surrounds us as something potential and obscure, and yet it lives in the concreteness of our finite time. This suggestion, drawn from Husserl, is organic and oriented: from this point of view it is not without analogies to Whitehead's philosophical perspective. Now I know what, years ago, I should have written about Whitehead.

        Whitehead's feeling is Lebenswelt. In feeling the universe is not concluded in a finished theory. It realizes itself in a process, in the history of the various lives, in any interrelation of events in time. Things become open monads, in the past and in the future, linked to an infinity of other monads. These monads, precisely because they are spatio-temporal centers, not closed monads, intersect and encounter each other. Sociality of events, groups of events which relate to other groups of events in time and space. Husserl's intentionality is analogous to Whitehead's "esthetic" feeling.

        History is not the methodology used to write it. The concreteness of life's process is that which is truly historical. Lebenswelt is Lebensvorgehen whose sense is given by temporality to the extent that temporality can realize a telos. And because temporality is consumption and death, life has meaning if it succeeds in transforming death into life. This is what the original religious myth of death and rebirth teaches us.

March 31, 1958

        In the square, on the right side for those who come out of the station, at a distance sufficient for its size to stand out, they are building a skyscraper. A year has already passed since they laid the deep foundations. The skyscraper has now reached the twenty-sixth floor. On each floor, as it is completed, they place a large billboard in black and white, illuminated at night, which indicates the number of the floor, so that the gaze can count all the numbers, from the ground up and vice versa. The skyscraper was already quite tall when, still on the right, a new skyscraper started to go up. This second skyscraper, built almost entirely with prefabricated steel beams, quickly reached the height of the other. Instead of a black and white billboard for each floor, to show the speed of construction, progress is indicated every five floors, with white and red billboards, which start at five and have reached, so far, twenty-five.

April 4, 1958

        Masochism is the negative compensation of those who have a tendency to dominate, to impose themselves, to violate the personality of others. The dominator, the capitalist of the body and of the spirit, pays with masochism his own will to impose himself, the recitation of the comedy of superiority. In fact, any true superiority does not belong to the subject, is not his possession. Because of the compensation or vengeance of things, the subject who wants to impose himself as constructor of the world and of the others, ends up destroying himself.

        The idolatry of the I is inverted in the negation of the I.

        Sadism is born from weakness, from a feeling of submission, from the fear of not being able to live like the others. The others appear cruel. The weak wants to become healthy and strong like the cruel. Sadism ultimately hides the insane fear of incapacity and impotence.

May 9, 1958

        The original is the problem of the world which demands a solution: it is not being.

        It is temporal: it is placed between two infinities in the present. It is a center, Kern, in the infinity. Infinity is a halo which surrounds everything finite and becomes, in each Kern, a demand for meaning.

        The original has a temporal direction which must become meaningful: man's work is a solution to the problem—never resolved once and for all. Acting in time is not just living, but living according to a meaning in front of the inexhaustibility of the problem. Thus historical, temporal solutions, eidetic solutions, the complex of a civilization's solutions, precisely because they are limited, are solutions forever.

June 3, 1958

        In the cool wind that blows in the night—and our hopes and our pains are sometimes linked to seasons and seem to fuse with rain, with snow, with the awakening of spring—perhaps a thread of trust is revived: that life's horrors may be forgotten, and that its labyrinthine and tortuous problems may be transformed into values, with the passing of time, with acceptance, with patience, along the slow and irreversible path toward death. A smile consoles you, a gesture of affection reaches you, even if it does not know your anguish.

June 4, 1958

        One ought not to underestimate the fact that Husserl placed the Cartesian cogito at the center of the phenomenological method. However, one ought not to be mistaken about the meaning of such centrality. The fact that the philosopher must begin with the cogito is not the reduction of the field of philosophy to the analytical-mathematical method. The philosopher begins with the cogito because he, and man, only in himself, finds, in the experience of his own egoity, a life that presents itself the way it is, in its evident actuality. Here too one ought to notice right away that evidence is, before anything else, the direct and full presentation to us, in an indisputable way, of all the contents of our living: sense, feeling, memory, image, vision.

        There is therefore a distinction, from the very beginning, between that which presents itself to us indirectly, and that which we live directly.

        Indirect is that which is not lived by us in flesh and bones, which is not leibhaft. It is that which is received and accepted on behalf, as a testimony of others, or as the result of an activity which is not ours. That which is lived by us directly, instead, is indisputable and thus alive. Those experiences which we know vicariously are not lived. The meaning of the preliminary distinction between direct and indirect is in everyday life. It often happens that we "understand" a fact, or a theory, perhaps in a way that we can recount them, and we are sure we have "understood." Yet, we may realize, later, that we have not made such fact or such theory ours, that they have not entered us, that they have not been lived by us as evident.

        The distinction between what we experience as lived and what we do not experience as such is important not only in "theory," but above all in our way of living. Undoubtedly in our experience of life we experience the fact that there is nothing which is totally and fully alive; just as there is nothing which is totally and fully dead. In other words, there is no sharp cut between life and non-life such that on one side of it one might situate what is directly lived and on the other what is not lived: life on one side and death on the other; being on one side and non-being on the other. In reality we experience the fact that there is nothing which is not felt by us, even in a minimal, infinitesimal act of perception. On the other hand, there is no moment of life which presents itself as the immediate fullness of the absolute, as equality between the I and the world, between subject and object, between finity and infinity, between part and whole. From this point of view, then, we can say that we live, in some way, also what is indirect. We live, therefore, also what we realize we have not lived fully, or lived only very partially, or in a minor key, such that what we lived did not present itself to us as ours, as indisputable, as evident, as leibhaft. Yet one can say that "the sense of our life" is indeed a "sense," because it moves from an indirect life toward a direct life; from a less realized life toward a more realized life; from a life which is less ours toward a life which is more ours; from a less present life toward a more present life (precisely in the Husserlian meaning of "presentification"); from a more limited life toward a less limited life; from a life which is a non-related part to a life which is the more alive the more it is a part in which relation lives, the more in our ego, and in its direct living, the intentionality of the universe lives, and all that was at first felt or lived distractedly, not realized, and even perhaps felt as hostile, or as other, o received by abstract communication, symbolically, vicariously, instead of being ours, actual in our lebendige Gegenwart, now lives.

        There is therefore a sense of life which we might call gradual, a direction which seems to proceed from the less to the more, from the indirect to the direct, from symbolic participation to the real participation in which the lebendige Gegenwart is communion, relation.

        In order to have a sense, life itself can not but situate itself in a gradual direction, as a "living less" which demands and calls for a "living more." This direction (direction as "sense") is not a theory; it is not a deduction from certain premises; it is not even something we have because we receive it from others, or from the cultural environment in which we live; it is not, finally, something indirect, but the minimum of direct which in us, if we live, even when we pretend that we do not want to live, or believe we can no longer live, is always present.

        It is in terms of this new meaning that we can doubt everything except the fact we are doubting. The experience of the cogito can be expressed in the following way: we can live everything vicariously and distractedly, except indeed the fact that, even when we live vicariously, we live. The sense of life, therefore, is immanent in life itself and is immanent also in the most distracted, least present, least lived "with evidence," life.

        From a formal point of view the preceding discourse can be reduced to a tautology, and tautology could, on superficial considerations, have no other sense than to state that the value of life is life.

        But if tautology can be also considered as formal and empty identity, in reality the meaning of the fact that, even when I live at the lowest possible level, I can not but live (even when I doubt everything, I can not doubt the fact that I am doubting), does not lie in the reduction of the non-negativity of the sense of life to a tautological proposition cut off from its root, that is from the direct experience of living, always present also in non-living; but, instead, in the fact that the statement concerning the sense of life is apodictic insofar as it is "lived," insofar as it is presentified evidence. It constitutes what remains undeniably present in any case; it constitutes what remains after any suspension of judgment and negation of the world and of the I; it constitutes, finally, the translation of the undeniableness of the cogito into the non-deniability of my living and, in the end (if there is no sharp distinction between my living and the living of infinity in me), of universal living. The sense of life, as it has been suggested here, is perhaps the true and proper phenomenological residue.

June 11, 1958

        We live also the non-actual given. We perceive the unperceivable (that is what I said in 'Significato del Parmenide' and said again in 'Tempo e percezione').

        Phenomenology tends to bring what is true closer to what is alive ("truth is life").

        The intentional convergence of life and truth is probably the most profound sense of Husserlian intentionality. It is only if I transcend myself in the essence that, in the real, present particular, I discover the incarnation of the exemplar, of the typical, of the eidetic, of the true.

        To live our life trying to realize it, and to live discovering in it the experience of what is true, essential, is a way of living which is grounded in time. The search for this life appeared to Proust as la recherche du temps perdu.

June 24, 1958

It is curious that the insistence with which it is firmly claimed (by saying that even this firm claim is "hypothetical" and not absolute and metaphysical) that any philosophical proposition is a pure "proposal," does not make us think that any perspective is linked to the experience, always precarious, of our life, to our "human, all too human," situation, which means a situation not only humble and quotidian, but also not bookish and not "academic."

        Confronted then with time, finity, death, it seems that we should not say that they condition us, because even "conditioning" would be dogmatic-metaphysical. These arguments are the greatest depth certain philosophy seems capable of reaching. When they are not just "chatter," they are a psychological reaction like any other. The best way to overcome dogmatism is not to be the dogmatists of anti-dogmatism. The theory of anti-dogmatism is just as good as dogmatism. These positions are not valid per se: they are instead the "private" position which is "lived" in them, always in different ways. Such different ways are linked to personal history, to taste, to human and cultural experience. to "style." Why then polemicize against the non-philosophically "documented" essay and believe, for example, that Sartre was not serious because he wrote novels? The so-called "anti-dogmatism" is accompanied, strangely, by a constant polemic against "literary" philosophies and by a disconsolate and uncritical faith in "scientific" demonstrations. After all, it is the climate of disappointment for the loss of the possession of truth. "Anti-dogmatism" seems to argue thus: "Since I do not have such possession of truth, it is necessary to demonstrate that nobody must have had it and nobody should have it." This is a demonstration with a very compromising pretense. Culture is full of works which do not pretend at all to demonstrate that they are decisive truths and which present themselves "naturally," as impressions, sensations, fantasies, observations, considerations, feelings and resentments.

        In his dialogues, Plato presents each philosophical thesis as improvised and as the "impressionistic" discourse of a character facing another, in a certain situation relative to certain temporary references.

        In films there is the usual warning: "Any reference to real persons or events is purely coincidental." [check!] In order to satisfy the crypto-dogmatic defenders of anti-dogmatism, it would be sufficient to preface each book with the following note: "Any statement contained in the present work should be considered as a pure suggestion and as a working hypothesis." [Bohr, translator's note] With such note it is possible to let through, without alterations, any dogmatism.

Camogli, July 1, 1958

        Strangely related reflections. Is Schelling's reference to Boehme not the reference to an ambiguous fundamental principle in which good and evil, light and darkness, are confused? Is man's freedom the possibility to overcome ambiguity? It is against this ambiguous background that I see the positive sense of Husserl's Lebenswelt, insofar as it is joined, in presence, with evidence. Transformation of the world into visible essences in which everything, even the fantastic, even dream, can become reality. Perhaps these were the thoughts that led me to rediscover the echo of Valéry's Cimetière marin: "Le temps scintille et le songe est savoir." The small cemetery in Sori, near Camogli: the joy of the sea: "changement des rives en rumeur." Connections of these impressions with my thoughts on life as an answer to an inexhaustible problem. Valéry reacts to the idea that life may spring from death, yet even his poem springs from death and transforms it: it is a live answer to death. Therefore
not the "maigre immortalité noire et dorée," but the sense that any live answer, precisely in its finity and in its temporality, precisely because it can not be repeated, is eternal.

        Passion for the sea. Not only "recompense après une pensée," but rupture, the epoché of the system, of books, of the crystallization of the world in abstract thoughts:

Envolez-vous, pages toutes éblouies!
Rompez, vagues! Rompez, eaux réjoiies,
ce toit tranquille ou picoraient des focs.

July 3, 1958

        To describe what happens in us when we think? To describe: to see the shape of thought in motion: the universe which thinks itself in us, and in us it struggles to become clear, to come to light? Not autobiography, but history of what happens in us when we think. A philosophical system is perhaps an artificial pause, deliberately made static, in a more profound dynamism of truth which emerges from our body, from the world, from the movement of the "open" infinity which is temporalized in us.

Arenzano, July 5, 1958

        Meditations on Husserl's Ideen III, especially on the Nachwort and on a few Beilagen. The first: on the Einfühlung. The pure subject has its own Umwelt, its being here and now (p. 109): it is clear that everything is grounded in time and that the sense of constitution is strictly linked to corporeal inter-monadicity.

        Defense of the intuitive and its distinction from the mystical (p. 45). Notice how Husserl's intuitive is analogous to the schematic, where the Kantian schema is understood also as model. Schematism allows, in the end, experimentalism (p. 52). The importance of Husserl's intuitionism vis-à-vis the technologism of our century: "evidence" reacts to technologism as such and finally leads to intentionality, in fact it is the proof itself of intentionality (pp. 95-97).

Milan, July 7, 1958

        A few ideas, in the afternoon, on Lucretius' De rerum natura and on Empedocles' influence. In Lucretius eros is a dominating theme, and it is precisely in book VI that it transforms the poem from epic celebration of science to dramatic perception of ambiguity. The history of human civilization is also the history of the purification from ambiguity.

        The plague in Athens makes us think of the relationship between Thucydides and the physicians: nature as illness and as healing (what Jaeger calls "Hippocrates' axiom:" nature heals itself). Lucretius felt a secret relationship between illness and civilization and, perhaps, between madness and civilization. The myth of his insanity is strictly related to the poem. In Lucretius are reflected Empedocles' contradiction between man and nature, and between hatred and love: in the end Empedocles' influence is stronger than Epicurus'.

        Lucretius and Catullus: there is a religiosity in Lucretius as there is in Catullus (Carmen 76) and the eros in book IV of De rerum natura makes us think of Attis.

        Lucretius discovers anguish, like Caesar. Caesar's answer is Roman civilization, Cicero's the epic of the law (the XII tables to preface the philosophical "libraries").

        Catullus? After all, does the glory of Rome and of Ciceronian res publica with the Somnium Scipionis matter to Catullus as an answer to death? I, Catullus, in love with Lesbia [?], am singular, an individual. Catullus-Kirkegaard, proletarian of eros, even if Catullus was able to love and Kirkegaard was not. Catullus asks the gods for grace for his pain [??]. More profoundly than Kirkegaard he lives the ambiguity of eros and its dialectic, similar to that of Lucretius: communion and non-communion of the bodies, solipsism. Yet Lucretius trusts the positive principle of life: Venus.

        Times of devastation: Marius, Silla, Caesar, Lucretius, Catullus, Clodius and Clodia: a beautiful theme for Sartre and even for Thomas Mann. Dictatorship. The pax romana as solution for a wild, too difficult age. Then Tacitus: solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant. This, today, would be peace, after a war fought with atomic weapons.

July 8, 1958

        Machiavelli presupposes that "all men are guilty." [check!] "Men never do anything good, except out of necessity:" [check!] laws arise because there are no good habits (Discorsi, I, 31). I am thinking of Hobbes and, also, of Vico's ingens sylva. The idea of applying these thoughts to the threat of atomic weapons: men should be compelled (in reality, things are like that now) by the atomic bomb not to engage in an atomic war. This presupposes that they opt for life, that they posit life as value. It is not certain that they may be able to continue to opt for life. For this reasons they are mad.

July 9, 1958

        Cassirer: apart from the effects it had in history, the Prince remains a mystery. The mystery is the problem of evil, of Kant's radical evil which Western man wants to overcome with technology. Let us not forget that Buddha's nirvana is actually grounded on the respect for life, on the choice of life as value.

        The original barbarism. Hobbes, Vico, Machiavelli: "In the beginning of the world its inhabitants, being few, lived for a time scattered like beasts" [check!] (Discorsi, I, 2). This is Lucretius' life more ferarum. The danger of the confusion between the original and primitive barbarism. Even "civilized" mankind, when it senses itself as it is, realizes the amount of barbaric archaism it contains.

        The true sense of Rousseau's problem: to succeed in discovering the positivity of the original. The ambiguous is Rousseau and Machiavelli taken together.

        The solutions of our time: yesterday Frank Rosenblatt announced the construction of the 704, the new electronic super-brain. The principles used in the 704 allow the construction of "perceptrons," which are capable of recognizing human faces, of doing translations, of speaking. "Perceptrons," Rosenblatt declares, will be able to learn to reproduce themselves and will be able to become conscious of their own existence. He adds, as a marginal note, that they may also "mean destruction or survival in a modern war."

        Doctor Joan Henley, back from Moscow, declares that the Russians are already well on their way to perfect the techinque of the "return from death." They managed to resuscitate a dog which had been dead for 5 minutes. The Americans are 2 minute behind.

July 24, 1958

        A love story of our time, for instance that of Swann or Marcel, compared to a love story of the nineteenth century. Part one: yes, Swann's love for art, but also "dolce stil nuovo." Thus the man, or the woman, freely sees images, "eide" of the other. The beginning of a love can be epoché: the discovery of a new sense of life.

        Part two: discovery that reality is different: facticity.

        Part three: the attempt to take possession of the other, to become the owner of the other, reducing the other to thing. Naturally the other, having become thing, now makes love impossible. Consciousness of the insuppressible limits between the egos. The impossible coherence forces them to overcome the mundane eros.

        Part four: return to the essence through art, or the novel or, in general, through culture. Once again essence is reborn, not as a given, but as irrepressible sense of the world.

July 28, 1958

        To study the relationship of the ego and of Husserl's monad to the confused Jungian problem of individuatiom and thus of the Selbst.

        Person, original images, animus-anima, as moments of a phenomenology.

        In Jung individuation tries to free the Selbst from the false fetishization of the person and from the negativity of the suggestions stemming from the unconscious "which has not undertaken the epoché." To re-read Jung in order to transcribe, and correct in a phenomenolgical sense, the animus-anima in Binswanger's dual relationship. To see then the possibility of a phenomenology of groups understood as modalities of existence, characterized by the way in which Husserl's monad, with its Umwelt, inserts itself in temporality and in the teleological intentionality of the Krisis.

        The Selbst, understood as integration of consciousness and the unconscious, and thus as teleological correlation, as lived idea. The Selbst is an "set," a totality which is never achieved in fact, and thus ideal: we can not understand it and we can not realize it because we are part of it. To establish a relationship between the dialectic of the Selbst and the yang-yin. It is curious that the rational origin of this problem is to be found in Husserl's studies on logic, precisely in the third of the Logische Untersuchungen (devoted to the part and the whole).

Bellaria, August 12, 1958

        With regard to the birth of existentialism from phenomenology, one can make, among others, also the following remarks. Phenomenology is the vision of truth, but truth is infinite. It is possible to refer intentionality to [to intentionate ?] regions of essences, it is possible to maintain that the characteristic of truth is its "visibility," but truth remains inexhaustible and unconquerable. Nothing prevents us from saying, in this sense (but this is only one of the possible senses), that truth is transcendental, according to the meaning that the school of Marburg and Banfi gave to the term transcendental. In a parallel way, consciousness is transcendental in the sense that it directs us toward a limit truth and draws from it, so to speak, the various "eide." The transcendental horizon is teleological and infinite: consciousness draws from infinity the visions of the horizon. The term transcendental can be attributed to the eidetic intentional activity of consciousness which applies intentionality to the visions of the "schematic" regions in the infinity of truth.

        It is not possible, and it is certainly not possible for Husserl, to have a consciousness which is not in a body, which is not in existence, in time, in perception. Now, just as truth is infinite, perception as Lebenswelt is infinite: we live what we perceive of the life-world, but what we perceive is the visible tip of a submerged continent, the continent of the non-perceived on which the islands of the "perceived" stand. For phenomenological relationsim the same relation which exists between the infinity of the Lebenswelt and the infinity of the transcendental is the relation between past and future. More precisely: it is not, but it can become a relation between past and future as a relation, never attained as identity, between Lebenswelt and transcendental truth. Temporal irreversibility is the ground which makes the relation possible and this relation incarnates itself in the schema as synthesis of living and true forms which situate themselves between two unfathomable infinities. Transcendental consciousness is thus also the natural ground (when nature is understood as living presence, not as fetishized nature, to which Husserl applies the epoché), the physical ground of the body and of the universe. What we call nature, in the new phenomenological sense, is not possible without the relational synthesis of the body, without the synthesis between truth and existence which is expressed in schematism.

        Placed between two infinities, existentialism tends to break the relational synthesis between nature and truth, between existence and idea, between sensibility and essence: relationsim rediscovers the synthesis, by repeating all over again the experience of phenomenology and by renovating the Kantian schematism. Born from phenomenology, "positive" existentialism takes up phenomenology according to relational intentionality.

        It was necessary for me to rediscover transcendental intentionality in the corporeal and historical reality of man. For this reason, already in the '50s, I had to say that man is the transcendental (Il nulla e il problema dell'uomo).

        Phenomenology is also a way of feeling, of living, and discovering truth in life. It is the continuous experience of truth in life and of life in truth. It is from this "schematic" and historical-natural experience that science and technology are born, just as the forms of art, of ethicism, of culture in general are born.

The rigor Husserl speaks of is strictly connected to the discovery of the schematic as eidetic: it is the rebirth of Platonism as foundation of living knowledge. Existence is corporeity, Lebenswelt: the synthesis, the schema, it is the concreteness of nature, of history. It is what Plato was searching for in the third hypothesis of Parmenides.

        Phenomenology does not discover therefore philosophy as rigorous science in a technical, definitive, systematic sense. Husserl himself is afraid of having fallen, sometimes, into such a fetishism.

        Phenomenology is the experience of life as movement toward truth, as continuous discovery and rediscovery which locates itself between the obscurity of the infinity of non-perceiving and the light of the infinity of truth.

August 14, 1958

        The beach is a stage for innumerable Bosch figures. Legs, stomachs, breasts, genitals. Shriveled bodies deformed by old age, faces that resemble every animal species. Naked humanity which suggests a charnel. Almost all vices seem to be represented in this or that type. Each body has its own story, its own drama: often it is a grotesque caricature. Of course I could also say that I see some beautiful women and handsome men. Yet they too have something artificial and constructed about them. The eye wonders, in vain, until it finds the children, in whom the human condition renews itself in order to continue the arduous path, despite the sadness, the grotesque, the diabolical.

        A tiny, four years old French girl. As soon as she can, she runs to the water, and after each dip she falls asleep. She reacts immediately to any stimulus, good or bad. She cries and she laughs. Her eyes are of a hungry, almost aggressive blue.

        The sense of life that thrusts forward again: intentionality. The living process does not advance as a staircase, one step after the other. It is a curve which reaches a maximum and then falls down, impoverished, and disintegrates. Moments when each living being, each civilization, reaches the fullness of the day in the aspiration toward its own essence.

        In the eyes of the children there is the purity of the morning breeze on the sea: of the horizon open to the possible.

August 15, 1958

        The happy solitude of the sea (the other side, the positive one, of Philoctetes' solitude). Union of male and female, of water and sun. Great myths. But it is impossible to absolutize a female principle and a male principle: the male and the female too are related, and one always contains in itself a part of the other. Just as the subject contains the object, and vice versa.

        The shaping of our personality with the separation from the mother. Constitution of the ego and of the solipsistic solitude. The sense of the maternal, inevitably lost, projects itself in front of us as the image, as the eidos of the female.

        The analogous constitution of woman. The need for fertilization, while for man the eidos is the image of the mother not fertilized but to be fertilized.

        The complex dialectic of the egos incarnates itself not only in the body, but also in the pairing, understood in the various modes of eros, from sexuality to poetry and to thought. Pairing in the end is Binswanger's "dual" existence, which Husserl denotes with the term Paarung. The relationship with one's children, in whom the impossible return to the maternal womb (impossible because of irreversibility) becomes in fact a new beginning, a rebirth (I keep thinking of Nicodemus, John, 3, 3).

        In the psychoanalytic dialog itself, the dialectic of the Oedipus complex is made completely static if it becomes the pretense of a return.

August 16, 1958

        Sensible self-consciousness. The two terms, juxtaposed, presuppose the entire problem of schematism, the problem of alterity (of inter-monadicity) and therefore the overcoming of solipsism. Scientific discourses, if one undertakes the phenomenological reduction, appear as discourses in which subjects remain solipsistic (Wittgenstein). It is necessary to ground formal logic itself phenomenologically (according to the Husserlian prescription).

        "Feeling," as fundamental experience, is always the paradox of feeling the other as something which is not simply the object of my feeling. Within a Husserlian framework, the starting point is the cogito which gives intentionality to the cogitata. But the cogitata are transcendental relative to the cogito, even though they receive their intentionality from the cogito, only when the problem of the plurality of the cogitos is resolved, that is when the ego transforms itself into monad (in the sense that Husserl assigns to the term monad in the Fifth Meditation).

August 17, 1958

        At the beginning of his Meditations, Husserl speaks of phenomenology as a form of neo-Cartesianism, seeking the value, always relevant, of the Cartesian Meditations. When Husserl reminds us that Descartes is seeking absolute foundations, it is necessary not to forget that in Husserl's language such foundations are "intuitions" beyond which it is impossible to go. It is in this sense that intuitions are original. And it is because they are original that intuitions are evident.

        When from this position there develops the ego cogito cogitata qua cogitata principle, it is necessary to realize that, if on the one hand the cogitata are, so to speak, internal to the cogito, on the other hand they are also external in the sense that they are transcendental. The profound sense of intentionality is that the cogitata, to which the cogito lends intentionality, are also transcendental relative to the ego. If the relation between ego and cogitata does not yield transcendence, the proposition ego cogito cogitata can be considered (but this is not the only possible point of view) as pure tautology, a statement whose sense is not altogether negative. As tautology it can approach a formal truth, a mathematical-tautological discourse. If one takes such perspective to its extreme consequences, the plurality of the egos disappears: this is the reason why formal truth can present itself as a pluralistic solipsism without subjects. Even though this is not the only way, it is true that it can be considered (Wittgenstein) as one of the methodological ways in which formal logic and mathematical tautologism are formed.

        It is necessary to observe that the methodological procedure which leads to formalism is clear thanks to the reduction of the ego to solipsistic point. The cogitata thus "appear" independent of the ego and of experience. The solipsistic reduction of the ego makes the formalization of the cogitata possible. That is why the cogitata can appear true insofar as they are tautological, that is independently of the fact that they are, or they are not, the thought of an ego, and independently of the fact that a world exists or does not (Russell), that a body (in the Husserlian sense of Leib) exists or does not.

        According to the above perspective, the strenge Wissenschaft appears as tautological form, and tautological form as the elimination of transcendence. But in the ego cogito cogitata relation, once transcendence is suppressed, intentionality too is suppressed. It is thus necessary not to forget that intentionality requires both the possibility of applying intentionality to a truth, to see an eidos, and the effective transcendence of the truth of the eidos, and therefore of the cogitatum relative to the cogito.

        One could say that the relation must be transcendental without creating an abyss between ego and cogitata (or between feeling and object of feeling). In other words, the relation must be both immanent and transcendental. It is very important that the last Husserl sees clearly that such immanence-transcendence is possible only as temporality (cf. C. 2, I, 11-12).

        If the originality of the ego cogito cogitata is internal, if, in other words, it is clearly the starting point of philosophy as rigorous science, it can explain phenomenologically tautological and formal discourse. But it is necessary to deny that, since the ego of formalism is solipsistic, solipsism is true. Solipsism, in fact, for a formalism that is sufficiently serious, has a methodological sense. That formalism can avail itself of solipsistic reduction does not mean that I must transform the solipsistic ego, which is the moment of a method, into real ego, into thinking subject, let alone into concrete monad and into human person. One can observe that, if solipsism is assumed as real, the I transforms itself into nothingness and the I is confronted with the compactness of being, which must be broken precisely at the moment in which the I surfaces: thus, in Sartre, the in itself is broken by the for itself. Perhaps it is worth emphasizing a certain analogy between Sartrean ontologism and formalism. Something similar happens also in Heidegger. Man is the incarnation of being, but being then destroys its own incarnation, that is what is human. In such self-destruction man is in the service of being. In formalism posited without reduction, the ego is destroyed by form, by mathematics, by tautology. On the technological plane, if mathematical tautology is considered as foundation of technology, man self-destructs for the sake of technology, just as in Heidegger man self-destructs for the sake of being.

        The transformation of the solipsistic I or of solipsistic pluralism (of solipsism à la Wittgenstein, without subjects), in reality fetishism, is substantially the extreme aspect of what Whitehead called "misplaced concreteness." The reality in which the methodological concept is mistakenly concretized ends up annihilating the very existence of the I. This is one of the facets of the contemporary world: men are annihilated by what man has built. Technology tends to annihilate its builders. Man anihilatess himself by becoming instrument, by becoming the moment of a method, the link in a methodological operation. The extreme form of alienation and fetishism.

August 18, 1958

What Husserl calls the tendency to transcendental subjectivism is for him a task that is identified with the need for coordination in western philosophy. Confronted with the irrelativeness and the disorder of contemporary philosophy, we find ourselves as Descartes did in the cultural and scientific situation of his time. This situation dictates a radical search which finds expression in this question: what is the foundation of a true philosophy? The first answer is not a solution, but the perspective of a search that considers the foundation as evidence rooted in the subject. The path of transcendental phenomenology presents itself at the beginning as the search for the meaning of a radical return to the cogito (but we ought never to forget that the cogito, in the end, is operation, the Leistung of cogitare, immanent in time and in the body). The search is a meditation in the Cartesian sense, but Cartesianism is radically transformed. Descartes, according to Husserl, was not able to avoid certain seductive errors.

        A radical beginning is the beginning that each one of us finds in himself, if he lets go of the convictions he accepted before undertaking the epoché. But this means, above all, to let go of the so-called scientific "truths." Science is bracketed precisely because we are looking for philosophy as rigorous science. Philosophy as rigorous science is therefore not such in the sense in which the sciences Descartes is thinking of, namely geometry and mathematical physics, are rigorous. It seemed obvious to Descartes that science should have a deductive character. In this way the certainty of the cogito becomes for him an axiom and fulfills in Cartesian philosophy a function analogous to that of the axioms in geometry. It is clear that Descartes offers a pre-established judgment of science, and it is in conformity to such judgment that he constructs his own philosophy. What he did not understand is that in a radical philosophical beginning it is mathematical science itself which is doubted. Husserl can not accept any pre-established judgment of science, and thus of philosophy itself, while on the other hand he does not want to give up the requirement of providing a foundation to science and philosophy. The new meditation will be directed precisely by this requirement: such requirement points to a goal which must surface in the course of the meditation.

        Science does not give us the idea of philosophy as rigorous science, but we can formulate the hypothesis that in the sciences too the tendency toward a goal is at work. Such goal will indeed be the foundation. As it is clear from the third paragraph of Husserl's Meditations, the hypothesis that the sciences are grounded on a rigorous philosophy, which in turn is such insofar as it presents itself paradoxically as foundation, is a hypothesis which appears and "is lived" as an idea.

        We are not in possession of philosophy as rigorous science, but we have an idea of it, which is in fact the telos toward which both science and philosophy tend. In the usual scientific language this "having an idea" is expressed, in fact, as the formulation of a hypothesis. In this way Husserl arrives at the vision of an idea which directs science. This idea is not only "legislative" in the sense of the Marburg school, because it is also "seen" and intuited as essence or, more precisely, it is lived as essence. Science itself, according to Husserl, lives because there is in it implicit vision. Vision as "pretense" resolves itself into intentionality, in the telos of science. But when the pretense is exhausted in possession, when an existing science convinces itself that it has realized the idea, there is born the crisis of the sciences and of philosophy itself. In this case science and philosophy, as the Krisis teaches us, destroy themselves because they lose philosophical intentionality.

August 19, 1958

        Perhaps in dreams there surface not only lived events, but also those that were not lived, that we could have or could live. Past situations do surface, but mysteriously synthesized with all the situations that have happened and even with those that could have happened.

        Our personality is not a stable, defined I: the I that is realized historically is the finitization [?] of an infinite world of possibilities only some of which are realized. The historical I, as I of wakefulness, is the product of a limitation imposed by things, by facts, by our decisions. In dreams there appears a different "cosmic" I, much freer than the one linked to the continuity of everyday events. What was rejected and not realized reappears, and so do different intentions, often opposite to those realized and lived.

        Anaxagoras said that every homoeomery contains a representation of all the others: every homoeomery is infinite and contains all the other infinite homoeomeries. In this sense one can say that it is cosmic. The actualization, the happening of facts, the realization of the infinite homoeomeries in the finite, was assigned by Anaxagoras to the Intellect. The Intellect for him fulfilled a role analogous to the principle of sufficient reason and thus actualized the homoeomeries
in temporal existence. In other words, the fact that the cosmic I lives in the infinite compels it to constitute itself in a history, whose events, once they happen, are conditioned. In that sense temporal history is constitutive as genesis. Fantasy and dream can imagine a life different from the lived one, and such imaginary life can be, in dreams, suffered or lived, while the body that lives in wakefulness continues to grow old, to be unable to return to the past, to die. But these fantasies, as fantasies, influence our life, even if unconsciously. In this way our life of today not only is influenced by what we have actually been, but also by what we have not been, by what we have been unable to be and by what we have not wanted or been able to be.

        The remarkable consequence of the above is that the non-lived, the non-being of actualized historical life, is present as a non-being which is. It is a non-being which historically has not been and which, precisely because of that, can present itself only as dream, as fantasy, as image. The image then is, among other things, the expression of what historically we have not been and of what we can no longer be.

        If each ego, like the homoeomery of Anaxagoras, has in itself infinite representations and possibilities of other egos, then fantasy expresses in us other possible egos. The cosmic ego can present itself (not exclusively) as possibility: the historical ego is the limitation of possibility. Every realization of ours is a no said to other lives which we could have lived and which for us are non-being.

        Perhaps the lives we discard in order to be ourselves, the lives that not only we freely discard, but the facts compel us to discard, are the other lives (the ego as the other and the stranger in Husserl's Fifth Meditation), which are present in us as the being of non-being. These other lives have been lived in the past, in other historical periods; they live in the present, in situations different from ours: they will live in the future. It is the presence of the being of non-being of our personality—and thus the negative presence of the other personalities in us—which allows us to understand the others. The others can present themselves thus, as what we have refused to ourselves in order to reach our individuation. Every personality surfaces against the background of the cosmicity of the possible egoity present in all.

        The principium individuationis is a complex play between the non-being of all the other personalities and the factual existence of our personality. This situation appears to me as a rebirth of the dialectic in the Sophist, which almost spontaneously seems to apply by itself to the problem of egology and of inter-monadicity (it was already present, after all, in Esistenza ed immagine, suggested by T.S. Eliot).

August 22, 1958

        Tonight a severe thunderstorm, in the distance, over the sea. I could see, near the horizon, the succession of lightning, but the thunder did not reach this far.

        Lying on the bed, the window open toward the sea, which is not fifty meters away, I was listening to the complex polyphony of the waves. At a certain moment I thought I was hearing some faraway song. Who was singing? It seemed a chorus. Women voices, very high pitches, though strangely concealed, almost secret. It was not possible to tell apart the sound of the waves and the song. This gave rise in me to a sense of anxiety, as if human voices were becoming natural sounds, and natural sounds human voices. Perhaps, I thought, it is that group of Germans I left in the dining room. They were drinking: perhaps now they have started singing together. The men are sing softly: this is probably why I am hearing only a female choir. After a while I got up. There was silence throughout the hotel. The dining room was empty and dark. The choir kept singing. I tried to listen to it carefully, analyzing the sounds: the waves, the wind, a diffused echo in the night air, which resonated in a subdued way, a succession of chromatic notes, continuously repeated. Clearly the circular repetition of a them entrusted to the cellos. The orchestra was developing it into an insistent call, with an unknown kind of trumpet which surfaced from a sea of harps. A call, an invitation which might have meant: "Stay here, don't seek any more, don't go any further: here, in eternal repetition, there is peace, joy, appeasement. Here man is nature and nature is man: here there is no longer any aiming for, the pursuit of images and ideas, the goals which always reveal new goals, the horizons which promise a limit which appears always farther away, beyond. Here there is no longer intentionality, there is no more life." Peace in the perfect repetition of the wave in a circular chromatic theme more and more subdued, in undifferentiated identity. It was the song of the Sirens.

August 23, 1958

        It is true: perception is ambiguous, but it is not identical. The return to the perfect identity between subject and object is death. But subject and object are not the absolutized terms of idealism and of realism: they are inherent in the dialectic of time, in permanence and in emergence, in the consumption of existence and in its revival according to an intentionality which is anguish, but also love of truth as life and of life as truth. The danger of interpreting the return to "the ambiguity of perception" (Merleau-Ponty) as a return to the indistinct, to the unconscious, to the primordial, to death. It is not and can not be (because of irreversibility) a question of a return, but of going ahead toward the other and toward the future: time and truth.

        In the sweet song of the Sirens there is no distinction left between past and future, and the present dissolves in the eternal and in nothingness. But the eternal is eternal only because it is in time, between an unlimited horizon behind us and an unlimited horizon in front of us, or between a Kern and an unlimited horizon around us, in which intentionality must be recovered. What has happened is here, irrepressible, present in us. What has happened is the inevitable side of what has already been lived. The future is the possibility of change, of redemption, of rebirth. And it is also the legacy which was left to us by those who have lived and which we will leave to those who will come: Sovenha vos de ma dolor.

August 27, 1958

        In the limpid afternoon, due South, there appear the promontory of Pesaro and then, farther away, mount Conero, Ancona. Due North, the pine forest of Cervia. My thoughts run through to Ravenna. Due South-West, San Marino. Mountains which become hills.

        Difficult and dangerous lives...: the Malatesta, Federico da Montefeltro. The unbelievable Urbino and the Malatesta Temple take me back to my Renaissance, as seen from here, from the arcane shores of the Adriatic. Towards the sea, the golden promises of the Orient.

        In all this meridian light, the sense of desolation of the waves breaking against the rocks of an ancient tower—like at Porto Nuovo di Ancona. Leopardi's song, millenary, cosmic, descends on the Mausoleo di Teodorico, on the Battistero degli Ortodossi and S. Apollinare in Classe, on the Castello di Federico, on the Tempio di Isotta, on the Rocca Della Rovere, suspending everything. An "epoché," a suspension that turns things into figures, poetry into "eide."

August 28, 1958

        I am writing in the light of the moon, in solitude, in front of the sea. Its rhythm is mine. I do not feel it as something which stands opposite to me; yet it is there, transcendent.

        The light is too strong and the stars disappear. I find up there, above my head, Vega, but I can not make out the constellation of Cygnus. On the moon there is no atmosphere to diffuse the sunlight into the blue: blindness in the impenetrable blackness. Solitude without color.

        The legend of the werewolves. The light of the moon—mirror of the sun, like death is the mirror of life, as nothing is the mirror of being—penetrates deeply into the mind. The epileptic, in the reflected light, howls like a hungry wolf, without hope. The "why" of existence screams without holding back any longer: expressionism.

Milan, September 10, 1958

My attempt is to influence Italian philosophy and culture with phenomenology. Mine is relational phenomenology which would take into account the entire history of phenomenological thought and go beyond existentialism. The central points are: time, as it was understood by Husserl since 1904-05, and relation, as it appears in the Fifth Meditation and in the Krisis. Some unpublished manuscripts of Husserl's on time are an answer to Sein und Zeit. By now we can no longer do without such answer. Positive existentialism transforms itself into phenomenology as relationsim.

Venice, September 12, 1958

        Conversations with Stravinsky and with Rognoni (to whom I owe my acquaintance with Stravinsky). The problem of the relationship between twelve-tone music and the latest works by Stravinsky. Stravinsky explains to us how the idea of the Lamentationes came to him.

September 18, 1958

        Venice: the past which becomes, in Husserl's sense, presentification and which, at the same time, preserves the lived horizon. Continuous comparison between today and yesterday, presence of all that has happened here, known and unknown. Venice seems to return any gaze which was ever cast on her and to communicate to us secret messages of unknown lives which reach us as if they had remained somehow inside the stones of the great palaces, in the labyrinth of the narrow alleys, on the thresholds worn out by the waves.

        In San Canciano I sleep in a trecento house. My room looks down on a canal: the infrequent sound a distant steps makes the silence feel even more alive ("lived" silence). I look out of the window: the canal is crossed by a large stone bridge on the right, and by a small iron bridge on the left. Down there, where the canal turns, a song can be heard. It is an ancient dirge, which follows the rhythm of the oar. Finally a merchant gondola arrives, loaded with fruits and vegetables. The gondolier continues to sing while he crosses my zone of silence. After he disappears, at the other bend, I can still hear, for a while, the dirge, which then fades in the darkness and merges with the water, with the houses, with the bridges, absorbed by the worn-out stones, transfused in an imprint of time.

September 19, 1958

        This afternoon it was my turn to give a lecture at the "Symposium on Esthetics." I made reference to Gilson's talk, and especially to that of Ingarden. Gilson had remarked that judgment, in general, follows the principle of non-contradiction. Esthetic judgment, instead, is contradictory relative to the traditional model of judgment. Without realizing it, Gilson posed the problem of the relationship between logical judgment and factual experience, between logical verification—as the logical positivists would say—and Lebenswelt. Calogero addressed all of this, in his own language, stating that esthetic judgment does not require a theoretical identity, but a dialog. Referring in part to Imgarden's talk, I tried to bring the discussion back within Husserl's horizon. Esthetic experience is not tautological, because it is rooted in the Lebenswelt and because it poses the problem of the real body, of the experience of the other, of the world which constitutes itself in inter-monadicity (Fifth Meditation).

Milan, September 26, 1958

        A more and more vivid impression of Stravinsky's Lamentationes. This evening, however, I listened to Schönberg's Quartet opus 37, and as I am writing, the beginning of the third movement lingers in me, a felicitous harmony of expressive intensity and constructive form. I believe the true value of Schönberg lies in the transformation of expressionistic disorder into an amplification of harmony, which tries to transfigure anguish into a more ample opening to communication and to love.

September 27, 1958

        Solipsism and expressionism. Not to confuse the "original" of cubism and neoclassicism with the "original" of expressionism.

        Klee: "Nobody can grasp me in the before-life. My abode is just as much among the dead as among the non-yet-born. Closer than usual to the heart of creation, but not close enough yet." [check!] The word "creation," as used by Klee, makes me think both of Plato's "poiesis" and of Husserl's Paarung.

Adorno underlined the relation between twelve-tone structure and logical positivism, insisting also on the atomistic base. The awareness of any esthetic experience makes sense, instead, when such experience senses itself as part of an unreachable horizon, when it senses itself as intentional tendency toward an open synthesis. The difference between the finite, which lives without fetishizing it the teleological horizon, and the finite which wants to contain the absolute, which wants to be self-sufficient (and thus non-relational). Our situation: to realize ourselves in a part, in an aspect, while seeking to express in it the synthesis without falling into dogmatism. It is in the end a question of applying Husserl's Krisis to contemporary art

        This evening I listened again, with Rognoni, to Webern's Cantata II, in order to compare it with Stravinsky. I also listened to Noces. Then I am thinking again of the Lamentationes. The latest Stravinsky seems important to me: he has the sense of man's dying and being reborn in time. The conclusion of the Lamentationes, a conclusion in which we must note the innovatio: "Innovas dies nostros sicut a principio."

September 29, 1958

        What Binswanger tried to do with the Daseinsanalyse must be corrected not only from the point of view of the Krisis, but also from that of the Cartesian Meditations (I am thinking of course of the Fifth Meditation).

        For Binswanger it is a question of bringing the psychopathological worlds back to existential modalities on the basis of a ground structure. It is this structure finally that allows communication (in Husserl's language: inter-monadicity). Storch follows this direction when he speaks of being as being-for-the-others. It is in the context of the fact that for Husserl the world, after the exercise of the epoché (the last one, that of extraneousness), is constituted in the inter-monadicity, that Boss's eros-world dialectic can be taken into consideration.

        Biswanger's existential modalities are strongly linked to the solipsistic experience and to the "dual" experience. The true meaning of "dual" is clear in the forty-fourth paragraph of the Cartesian Meditations, at the beginning of which Husserl very aptly clarifies the sphere of the proper (Eigenheitsphäre). In the new epoché I distinguish myself from the "naturalistic" Mitsein, from that being with the others that Storch seems to me to assume without the necessary phenomenological reduction.

        The true sense of the other, of the alter-ego, and thus of what in Binswanger is the "dual", must be clarified precisely through the reduction (cf. Cartesianische Meditationen, p. 125). The "dual" is analyzed explicitly by Husserl in the fifty-first paragraph: the "dual" is the pairing, the Paarung—a fundamental concept in intentional psychology (cf. Ideen III). "The Paarung is the configuration as Paar, which will later become the configuration of groups, of multiplicities—it is a universal phenomenon of the transcendental sphere (and, at the same time, of the intentional-psychological sphere)." [check!] A phenomenology of the Paarung, and later, of groups (which are in a dialectical relation with one another) is thus possible.

        In the Paar, in the original pairing, the creative presence, the lebendige Gegenwart, which is never possible in solipsism (dialectic of eros in Plato's Symposium, later continued in the dialectic of the Sophist) is finally actualized. The original is always living, is always gegenwärtig. The other is never identifiable with the ego. The other can never be completely given in an original perception (Proust wants Albertine to be his, his possession: in this way, as Sartre saw, the Hegelian dialectic of servant-master enters eros. That the other can never be assimilated to me (and vice versa) is the guarantee of freedom. Erotic possession, the identification of one and the other in eros, is thus fetishism, which tends toward the destruction of the person in the Paarung (and then in groups, in ideologies).

        In Husserl there is no analysis of the Paar as male-female relationship. For this reason phenomenology must re-examine the history of psychoanalysis without falling into dogmatism.

        For the Krisis [?]: just as the crisis of civilization derives from the pretense of the possession of truth on the part of science and technology, so there is a crisis when there is a pretense on the part of the Paarung, to incarnate an identity, a perfect love. A Daseinsanalyse of the collective, a psychopathology of history must be possible. Contemporary art and philosophy denounce a collective psychopathological situation, but provide also an indication for going beyond it. By association, I must say that the analysis Adorno gives of music lacks the sense of intentional direction, of the sense of "telos" (Adorno has not understood at all the meaning of Husserl). That twelve-tone music participate in the demonic and Stravinsky in the schizophrenic must be understood in this way: it is the participation of the physician in the illness, so that the illness may be "expressed." Expression, already in Kirkegaard, is liberation of the truth, not fall in the mortal illness. The mortal illness is the extreme dialectical limit: its intentional sense is that of a passage, if there is no other means, from the negative in order to arrive to truth.

        The diabolic is the pretense that only the negative can lead to salvation; that is, the conviction that good is a function of evil. Instead, one can not understand evil except in terms of good, and this is true also for psychopathology. It is necessary, therefore, to ask ourselves: which is the positive telos, the truth that neurosis wants to reach? Which is the good that gives a meaning even to madness? Proust intuited this point with regard to Charlus: "Or les aberrations sont comme des amours où la tare maladive a tout recouvert, tout gagné. Même dans la plus folle, l'amour se recoonaît encore. L'insistance de M. de Charlus à demander qu'on lui passât aux pieds et aux mains des anneaux d'une solidité éprouvée, à réclamer la barre de justice et, à ce que me dit Jupien, des accessoires féroces qu'on avait la plus grande peine à se procurer, même en s'addressant à des matelots—car ils servaient à infliger des supplices dont l'usage est aboli même là ou la discipline est la plus rigoreuse, à bord des navires—au fond de tout cela il y avait chez M. de Charlus tout son rêve de virilité, attesté au besoin par des actes brutaux, et toute l'enluminure intérieure, invisible por nous, mais dont il projetait ainsi quelque reflets, de croix de justice, de tortures féodales, que décorait son imagination moyenâgeuse." (III, p. 840). Compare it to the Middle Ages of Mann's Doktor Faustus, represented above all by Adrian Leverkühn's home town. The ideal of virility of Charlus is analogous to that of Saint-Loup, brave, aristocratic, idealistic (Saint-Loup dies in the Great War). The ideal of virility, in turn, is the aberration of normal love, is the rejected good which returns under disguise.

        Charlus is dominated by the animus, insofar as, in fact, he [?] is a woman. The animus-anima labyrinth characterizes Proust's entire work. But it also goes back to the sense of the collective, not so much to the archaic myth as to the psychology of groups and populations. The collective is not an abstraction (which, as such, must be subjected to the epoché, but lives in the dialectic of "groups." The Krisis must give us the possibility of lived life to transform itself into phenomenology and vice versa. It must help [?] us to go beyond the abstract collective, badly characterized and fetishized. Once again, an indication in Proust (related to the discourse on Charlus): "Ainsi change la figure des choses de ce monde; ainsi le centre des empires, et le cadastre des fortunes, et la charte des situations, tout ce qui semblait définit est-il perpétuellement remanié, et les yeux d'un homme qui a vécu peuvent-ils contempler le changement le plus complet là où justement il lui paraissait le plus impossible." (III, p. 1019).

        The psychology of the collective is not, as psychology of living and present men, the fetishism of the method of psychological (Husserl would have said "naturalistic") science. Even from this point of view the old Husserlian struggle against psychology's "naturalism" becomes more and more important. For analogous reasons, Marx fought the "naturalism" of political economy (as falsified science) in order to capture what is not fetishized in economic life.

        We can never grow too tired of repeating that for Husserl the rigor of science is an idea, a telos, not a conquered reality: rigor is teleological-intentional truth. Science, as understood by the logical positivists, is fetishism, from Husserl's point of view. Perhaps Husserl himself ran the risk of fetishism (I often imagine he might have "seen" the symbolic figure of Galileo while thinking of himself). But in reality Husserl's intentionality was never the dark side of Galileo, just as Husserl's "living history" is not the history of historiographic schemata and of fetishized collectives, but the history of the lives of men and of the philosopher, the living sociality constituted by the ground relations of the egos, of the groups, in the historische Zeitlichkeit (Krisis, p. 494). The philosopher lives in intentionality, and in this sense his Dasein is geschichtlich (p. 488): with intentionality he individuates himself, with the others, in the lebendige Gegenwart (p. 489). It is from this point of view that evidence is profoundly joined to life and that phenomenology truly finds in evidence a beginning, a method and a goal (Brand).

October 30, 1958

        How to teach phenomenology? How and in which sense it can be transmitted? Certainly many approaches are possible. But perhaps the one which has been used more often is the invitation to description. When, after reading without sufficient understanding the Cartesian Meditations, in 1933, I asked Banfi to help me, he did not speak to me about the content of that book. This fact is significant. For phenomenology, books are means for live, oral communication. Written words (myth of Theuth in Plato's Phaedrus) have their own negative side, if they do not produce a new discourse, if they are not re-awakened and made present.

        Banfi said something very simple. We were in his study. "Do you see this vase of flowers? Try to say, to describe what you actually see." I did not want to accept his suggestion, and proposed instead the traditional problems of philosophy. Now I know very well what Banfi wanted to say and I know what it means to me.

        I could say that the vase of flowers is a cylinder. In reality, however, the term "cylinder" is too compromising because it comes from a science I know, but of which, for methodological reasons, I must not avail myself. It is better that I "look" at it freely and try to use and refresh common language. For example: the surface of the vase, in the center appears to me closer, while gradually toward the sides it is farther. It recedes with the modalities typical of a curve, in such a way as to give me the idea of roundness, and I can presume that such idea will be confirmed if I move and see how it appears to me, how the vase reveals itself to me, as I keep looking at it as I move. But the vase is not simply a form. It is a solid, it has colors. It is located in a certain light, in a certain chiaroscuro. If I approach it, I can touch it. The visual sensations are in a specific relation to the tactile sensations. I can move it, and put it back in its place. It is localized relative to me. In order to carry out these operations I need time. Time to look at it, time to touch it. I can interrupt this time, close my eyes and stop touching it. But if I close my eyes, something of that vision remains in me (this remaining is retention), something which I find again when I open my eyes. I find again what I saw, where it was: I say it does not move. If I find it somewhere else, I say it moved. If I move closer, with my eyes closed, I find the vase again even if, from the position in which I opened my eyes, I had never seen it. This presupposes that, seen from the side opposite to the one from which I am looking at it, and from which I have never looked at it before, the vase will present itself to me in a certain way: I am waiting, I am in the time of waiting (in protention). It may be that the vase is not the way I thought it was. I realize then that I have not seen what I expected to see, that my presumption that it was in a certain way has not been confirmed. How many factors are involved! The ones I mentioned are just a few indeed. In reality, what is involved is the way in which I experience reality, my Erlebnis of the thing, the way in which the things gives itself to me, how it gives itself to me. Phenomenology is the science of the modalities of such giving, is the science of the "how." It allows me to see how I "constitute" things, the world. But there is more. I experience my perceptions, my feelings, my body, the impenetrability and the materiality of things, the peculiarity of living bodies (of the Leiber), of all their operations and of the history of their operations, including cultural and social operations.
I learn what it means, for me directly, and then for me and for the others, for a surface to be in relation to a color, for a thing to be in an environment in which it is surrounded, "circumstantiated," by the other things. I learn what it means for it to be caused, for an organic body to be conditioned, for a human being to be able to act according to diverse motivations. I distinguish between what I must call illusory and what is real. I learn to correct my experiences gradually, to see how they can adapt to each other and change in order to reach a concordance. I become aware of the existent and the non-existent, of the probable and the improbable. I experience the fact that often things are not as I thought. When they are seen well, "lived" well, described without committing them, as far as possible, to oblivion, they continually force me to correct my impressions, not to trust them unconditionally, to see them again as I re-live them in my memory. Even having waited for what did not happen has a meaning for me, for what constitutes itself in me, for the agreement or the lack of concordance of all my experiences, of all my Erlebnisse (Music of life: Whitehead, Joyce, Proust).

        No thing is separated from the others, even if the modes of the relations or of the encounters are very different. In each thing I succeed in describing, even if with a provisional clarity, there is a "form," a character, a mode of presentation, an eidos which has a unity of its own, despite the always possible corrections. Such unity is typical, I find it again in other things, so that the color of this flower is given to me, united to a certain form and to a certain perfume, by all the flowers of the same species. I recognize flowers as flowers precisely because they all have a certain eidos, the same essence.

        Each individual thing, even if in its individuality it does not repeat itself (no flower is the same flower, no experience is the same experience), has a permanent essence, a style, despite oblivion, despite corrections. I, and each existing individual, exist as individuals, are unrepeatable, live once and for all (and in this sense we are eternal). But the analogous individuals have an existence of their own, and the various essences, permanent and emergent, ancient and new, are all linked one to the other, all in me as I am in the others who have been, who are, who will be.

        Phenomenology is the science of essential permanencies and of the modalities of their variations. It is the science of the style of life and, like style, it modulates itself in a continuing and refreshed description of all that reveals itself in the flow of my experiences, in my subjectivity, in the subjectivity of the others. It is the science of primal revelation, of the original revelation: the science of phenomena, of the fansis.

        Each experience is related to all the others, yet all experiences, and the correlations which hold among them, must always be investigated and verified again and again. No complete, absolute things is ever given to me: it is an ideal limit. The relation among things, among the things which are closest and those which are far, the most distant ones, tends to a universal correlation, to a goal which always confers meaning to the constitution of the world, in me and in the others. It is the connection among all the subjects, among all the monads (thus the truth of me, of the others, of the world). What I want to clarify, make rational, is the action aimed at this concordance (cognitive action, scientific action, work and technical action, in all its modes). I want to bring it to light, to realize it as phenomenon, as sense and reason of a world always in fieri. This will, which is reason, and this life, which is truth, announce themselves in every experience of mine.

The description of the vase contains in itself the meaning of the world, of my life, of the life of everybody. It has it in itself as a truth which must be lived, gradually realized, constituted according to an infinite telos. Infinite, yet potentially present in each of my experiences, if I take the time to examine it, to turn it into a phenomenon. What I see, as it give itself to me, what is evident, is ready to offer me a gift. I can and I must prepare myself to receive it. This gift is the meaning of my life, of the life of the others, of the life of the world, always refreshed and always capable of being refreshed.

        Truth is here and now (in evidence, in presence), close, more than close. It is in each fact, even in the humblest of all. It is here, enclosed, concealed, potential. It is limited, but it is present. It is finite, but it is the pointer to an infinite task. I, I myself, with all my moments of fatigue and of error, can not in any case negate myself as presence. Any negativity, any sadness, any evil, is evil because it presupposes the good, a good we all possess, if we only want to acknowledge it, a good nobody can purchase, which can not and must not be reduced to a commodity, to fetishized object. It is a good which we can only live, if we accept it as a gift.


January 12, 1959

        Continuing study of Husserl's texts. Lectures. I write down the lectures to transform them later into essays which one day I may collect, together with those already written, in a book. The theme always remains that of the relation between time and truth.

Padua, March 12, 1959

        Husserlian Days. Important discussions with Garin, who gave a historical presentation of the problem of phenomenology. We feel it is not very likely we can succeed in explaining ourselves to a public for which phenomenology is nothing but an occasion for polemically stating once again our own convictions. Garin's, Prini's and my lectures may be published under the title: Bilancio della fenomenologia e dell'esistenzialismo.

Milan, April 10, 1959

        Aron Gurwitch was here in Milan for a conference on Husserl. Of Lithuanian origin, he was later a disciple of Husserl in Germany. He has contributed more than we think to the diffusion of phenomenology in France, where he lived from 1933 to 1940. Later in the United States, at Harvard, and now at Brandeis. Gurwitch was happy to talk about Husserl with young people. He recalled the difficulties phenomenology has encountered everywhere. In France, he says, there was nothing. His personal memories of Husserl.

May 6, 1959

        The word "life" as it is used by phenomenology. The non-phenomenologist is ready to hear its "vitalistic" tone. If you explain to him that it is a question of the meaning of life, of its intentional sense, of its essential truth, he will say that phenomenology is idealism. If you explain to him that in Husserl the subject does not create anything and that, in general, phenomenology does not build anything and therefore that the verb "to live" means to experience how each one of us "lives" the world in the modalities of perceptions, because each one of us is his own psyche and body, he will likely say that phenomenology is psychologism. If he is told that the subject is not a mythological invention but the real subject, in flesh and bones, he will say that it is realism. Now, what characterizes phenomenology is that it appropriates the problems of idealism, of psychologism, of realism, but one can never claim that it is reducible to these formulas or their sum total.

June 4, 1959

        Not life, not life simply endured, life before reduction, but the meaning of life. Every day this meaning is lost and must be recovered. It is not lost only because of the lack of attention and reflection. It is lost amid the lesser tasks which we believe to be decisive, in stupid struggles, in compromise, in "bad faith." Continuous redemption. There is a sort of ardor in wanting to burn error. A sense of rebellion prompted by hypocrisy, against everyday illusions, against the need to possess things, ideas. Boredom, fatigue. If the intentional sense of truth does not vivify our gestures, fatigue consumes them. Ambitions, in their true nature, are boring. The sky is indifferent, trees become approximate figures, everything loses its expression. Then there comes the sense of refusal, the need for an act that may allow new colors to spring forth, that may allow things to live, transforming them in true sensations, in true perceptions, in expressions of the logos.

July 3, 1959

        As the first "nucleus" of inter-monadic society, the Paarung is constituted when the maternal thou is replaced by the other person. Proust replaces the mother with Gilberte, Oriane and Albertine, and finally, going beyond the idolatry of the other person, with the literary work. At the bottom there is always, finally, a relation which, by lasting and emerging from the past, becomes the I-you and then the us relation, a relation in which objective nature and society are constituted for every one (in Proust the literary work, which, as art, is valid for all).

        If I can speak in the first person it is because I am always thinking of a second person or the second person that I am myself, of the thou that I am, in time, for the I. From this relational nucleus the other persons are born: the he, the we, the you. The problem of the "persons" is fundamental also for logic. Logic speaks in the third person and thus forgets its own genesis from the Lebenswelt: it is for this reason that Husserl posed the problem of the genealogy of logic, that is the problem of Experience and judgment to which, incidentally, Formal and Trascendental Logic was intended to be just an introduction.

        I-you, as Paarung, as the true overcoming of both atomism and idealism without relations. Evidence is presence in time, but presence, in turn, would be alone, and thus presence of nothing, if it were not linked to the past and the future, to memory and waiting. The continuity of my I in time is a relation that stems from a past Paarung and tends to a future and teleological Paarung, which then has a sense not only for my history and the history of the other person, but for the history of the community, of humanity. Thus the problem of the Paarung becomes fundamental also for the sense of history, not "fetishized" history, but non-alienated history, which always rediscovers, at the origin of facts, the living persons.

October 8, 1959

        Today I delivered to Il Saggiatore the essays which will be part of the volume Omaggio a Husserl. A first act of trust in the rebirth of phenomenology in Italy. There will be translations of Ich, Welt und Zeit by Brand, and of the Krisis. But it will be difficult to make those who love only ready-made phrases and formulas, understand Husserl.

November 12, 1959

        What I live, what I "experience," are the lived things, the Erlebnisse. Erlebnis is that of which I have evident experience in the first person: it is, in fact, my having experiences. My living the visions, my touching, my hearing, and so on. The protagonists of Joyces's Ulisses are the Erlebnisse. They are the life of his characters-character, of Joyce as writer, of me as reader. They are in Joyce's internal stream of consciousness of time, in the consciousness stream expressed in his characters, in my consciousness stream. The Stream of Consciousness (James), the Erlebnissstrom (Husserl) flows in me continuously. I live everything in the stream of consciousness. I do not live casually the sensations, the perceptions of which I am aware (in me there live also those which are not conscious—implied in those which are conscious, but in a second, third plane that ends up in the background which is the sleeping world of matter). They are one inside the other, one next to the other, one after the other. They are in a temporal order of their own, and not in a different one. Past perceptions have their own "places," just like the present ones, which are about to pass. They happen in such a way as to happen only once. Husserl says they have their own Einmaligkeit. They do not repeat themselves. They are individuated because they are irreversible (necessary connection between individual and temporality). I hear an A on the piano. There is a necessary time for me to be able to hear it. The A resounds once. It is individuated as A. Pause. Other notes. I hear the A again. The same note is repeated, I say. In reality it is another A, not the one I had already heard. But it is also the A that resounds a second time. The second A is also individuated. I realize that the two have a common essence. The first had it even before I heard the second. How strange: the individual, in what characterizes it (its being an A), in its individual essence, is such as to share that essence with another individual. That is why I speak of common essence. More precisely, I should say: typical essence.

        The individual remains individual in its irreversible position in time. The earlier A is the earlier one, not the current one. But in each irreversible position, in each Einmaligkeit, there is present a typical essence common to the individual and to all the individuals of its species. Phenomenology is the survey, the description of each typical, individual essence. The essences of all the individuals are connected, even if the individuals have different essences. Not only the A has an essence, but also the white of the key. And the white is linked, as a color, to the surface, and this to the solid, and so on. In each individual, therefore, there is immanent the universal correlation of the essences, precisely because the individual is such, that is because it has its own unrepeatable (or "absolute," as Husserl said sometimes) place in time. Thus the flow of Erlebnisstrom makes both the individual and the essential possible, in a necessary connection.


January 21, 1960

        Intentional meaning, sense of truth, in every field, even in art, even in painting (this is the "rationality" of art). Epoché in Cézanne: "We must render the image of what we see, forgetting everything that has been there before us" [check!] (Letter to E. Bernard, October 23, 1905). Constitution of the world. In Cézanne's language: construction. True construction, possible only if "everything that has been there before" is bracketed. Until the end of life. Nine days before his death, he writes to his son: "Only oil painting brings me relief. I must work, keep going. I must paint sketches and canvases...: if I painted them, they could only be constructed from life" [check!] (October 13, 1906). This truth is not the reality of the world in the mundane sense. Cézanne has "forgotten" the world in this sense. For him, a painter, the truth of the world is not something to be reproduced, to be imitated. His world is the one he experiences phenomenologically, the one that constitutes itself in him. He draws this world—his own world, because of the phenomenological principle according to which in the individual there is always the typical—from the typical, "scientific" structure of the Lebenswelt. The radical will of his epoché allows him to capture the essence, the logos, a truth which will be valid for all those who have the courage to accept his gift.

        For a phenomenological esthetics: the eidos in art. Not only visual, but tactile, auditory, kinesthetic eidos. Variations of the image and perceptions. Phantasms and real things. Presumption and realization. Esthetic Erfüllung. Transcendental esthetics.

February 4, 1960

        In the biblical covenant between God and man there is a fundamental clause: "Let it be clear," says God, "that I am the only creator. I—not you—created you. In this matter, I am a jealous God." Where can a thought such as this have originated from? In terms of a phenomenological analysis I see two ways. The first is the projection of the father unto God. The child, in order to be man, must rebel against the father. It is the way of the oedipal complex, Freud's way. Obviously the projection appears as prohibition and as jealousy precisely because the prohibition must be overcome. Man becomes "virile" by violating the prohibition. If the father is God, man reaches the maximum of human virility, and thus becomes God. This position is naive. In fact the father is always divinized. The replacement of the father is heroic: the child becomes either God or the Devil. Man's maturity as man is reached precisely when the divinization of the father ceases. If the father becomes man, the child too becomes man. Usually this happens when the child, in fact, becomes the father of a new child, and so on. Confronted with his own child, the child—having become a father—makes peace with his own father: now he can. It is his turn now to be divinized.

        The second way. In the procreant sexual act I do not engage in it in order to have a child. In the experience of myself in the first person and of the other in the sexual act I do not feel I am procreating, I do not have the experience in the first person of "causing birth." Sexual evidence is the evidence of the other in me and of myself in the other. It can not be the evidence of the child who is not there yet. I will know only later if the consequences are procreative, observes Husserl. But I can ask myself this: "How does it happen?" Phenomenologically, this "how" must be experienced by the subject. But the subject is the subject who begins his own birth following fertilization. It is not I, it is my child, or it is I, but in the act of my own birth. There is a separation here. The separation which begins immediately, as soon as the sexual act is concluded. The woman too estranges herself from me. What she has of me in herself is still mine, but it is not I.

        In love, at the beginning, I projected myself unto her: she has become "my life." Precisely because of this I must possess her: in order to "recover my life." But "my life," instead of being returned to me, becomes concretely another life. That is how we become parents, by becoming another subject. But this is how we are children: we start, genetically, our own history, the history of our own subjectivity. To procreate and to be born are two operations which are mine, mine as a subject, yet which elude me. The first eludes me in the separation that follows the sexual act from which procreation indeed originates. The second operation, to be born, eludes me because only others can tell me it is mine. It is not in the first person. I can not remember my intrauterine life and my birth. The two operations, which elude me, are projected unto God, who becomes the only creator.

        There is an implication: the scientific study of procreation and birth, and finally genetics. As a phenomenological science this falls, in some way, within the purview of anthropology, as well as of psychology and somatology, because its problem is posited as the study of the modalities and the meaning of genesis, experienced subjectively, and thus phenomenologically. One of the consequences of the scientific implication is the following: the scientific study of genesis, the objective scientific study may appear as a substitute for the sexual act.

        A scientist may realize, perhaps [too ?] late, that scientific knowledge has replaced, for him, "knowledge" in the biblical sense, namely the sexual act. This can happen to the philosopher as a researcher of the genesis of the world. Or to the historian: genesis is history.

        Fetishism is fascinating because it replaces the creative sexual act. From this point of view, technology can exert a magical attraction. Technology can replace the sexual act and, in cybernetics, failed procreation. The technician will want to build his child as a homunculus in the unconscious desire to replace men with machines. Goethe's homunculus is the symbol of what Husserl denounces as the "crisis of the sciences."

Paris, March 30, 1960

        I met Ricoeur at the Gare de Lyon. We had not seen each other for fifteen years. He had left Wietzendorf suddenly. I had been asleep. He had not wanted to wake me up and had left a loaf of bread on my bed.

        He was a professor in Strasbourg, and I in Pavia. Later in Paris, and I in Milan. Fifteen years ago he was translating Husserl's Ideen I, and if today I meet him again it is because I have resumed studying Husserl.

April 2, 1960

        Conversation with Merleau-Ponty after my lecture at the Sorbonne. He is not prepared to give a decisive importance to the problem of time. He mentions a book of his where, among other things, he will try to do for biology what he did for psychology in Structure du comportement and in Phénomenologie de la perception. I insist on the fact that only a phenomenological approach to time can clarify the conception, for me too labile, of "ambiguity." We end up talking about Husserl's unpublished works on time and the problem concerning them.

        Ricoeur is particularly preoccupied with the problem of evil. He is looking for a philosophy of yes, not only for a philosophy of no. Phenomenology—he thinks—discovers the negative concealed in us, but can not dissolve evil in a theoretical explanation of evil.

April 3, 1960

        Strolling in the Bois de Boulogne with Ricoeur.

        He is not convinced by my way of reconstituting phenomenology. A different reading of Ideen II in Merleau-Ponty and in Ricoeur. Ricoeur seems to be too closely tied to Ideen I. He has great admiration and great respect for Sartre, but he certainly does not love Sartre's ontology (if it is a question of the first part of Être et le néant, we agree). Speculations on what will be in Critique de la raison dialectique.

        The problem of evidence. Sensible evidence. Ricoeur reminds me of this sentence of Nietzsche: "It is impossible to confute a sound." [check!]

Brussels, April 5, 1960

        The copy of Pensiero, esistenza e valore which Ricoeur has kept and which I had given him as a present at Wietzendorf, has restarted my thoughts concerning what I thought of Husserl in 1936. At that time I saw in Husserl three problems: subjectivity, eidetic intuition, intersubjectivity. It seemed to me then that Husserl had not solved the last problem. Now I think the opposite. Ricoeur does not believe, instead, that Husserl manages to clarify satisfactorily the relation among subjects: yet, intersubjectivity is precisely the center of phenomenology. It is a guarantee [of ?] that the problem of intersubjectivity is difficult. By its own essence it does not admit of easy solutions.

Leuven, April 7, 1960

        In Husserl perception is never a purely cognitive fact in the narrow sense of the word. In each perception there is an interest, a degree of interest, a minimum and a maximum of interest. Practical situation. Changes in our interests and changes in our Umwelt (Manuscript D 1, 1937). The very experience of what for us is more or less real depends on [our] interest.

        Predictable lack of understanding of Husserl's praxis on the part of scholars. Knowing itself is praxis insofar as it is constituted by operations, of Leistungen which in their operations tend to meaning, to truth. Praxis, operation, constitution, things themselves insofar as they are the result of operations, have various horizons. They stretch toward the future, and already now are constituted by their future horizon, by the meaning they will have in the future. Not only: horizon of memories, horizon of oblivion, horizon of the reconquest of what has been forgotten. All these horizons consist of our present life and give it a figure and a form: they give a form and a figure to everything we experience (Koexistenzform, Konfigurationsform: also in D 1, p. 16). The forms of the world we live are woven through time and space. The ground structure is spatio-temporality. Every thing is surrounded by the others, and these constitute its external horizon, and every thing has its internal horizon as its center. Continuous relations between the thing and the surrounding things, multiple relations of cause and effect (not the causality of physics, but the causality prior to the categories of cause, precategorical). This is the way nature, before the operations of science, as it is really seen, experienced, describable in its phenomenal structure. gives itself to us. Nature is the domain (territorium) of my humanity. In its totality, nature should be the synthesis of all possible worlds, and not only of the earthly world. But this synthesis is infinite and, insofar as it is in time, it is an infinite history. Things, worlds, their forms, are modes of relations, finite centers of infinity, presence of the finite in the infinite. Therefore a thing is never a substance (p. 19): each reality is a point in which the infinite is centered. Infinity is present in each of its parts. These are some of Husserl's perspectives in the first Manuscript of group D. In D 17 and D 18 such perspectives are taken up and condensed in the amazing critique of Copernicanism. We can say that the entire group D is about transcendental esthetics. I had come here to Leuven to read group C, but I felt compelled to read also some of the manuscripts of group D. I read too quickly. Nevertheless I manage to take down many notes. I am completely taken by the élan of Husserl's analysis. Things change in my very hands, the world reveals new faces, never seen before. I myself am transformed, become somebody else. Yet, there is in all this something I can not control: a deep affinity, an Einfühlung between me and these Manuscripts, which is finally the Einfühlung between me and Husserl, who returns alive, in a way that amazes me, and also frightens me a little.

April 8, 1960

        What makes me happy but at the same time cautious, doubtful, perplexed, is to find in Husserl analyses which I believed to be only mine. Sometimes they are identical. Sometimes the difference seems minimal, yet essential, and I realize that I would have pursued an unfruitful path—to say the least. But Husserl himself tries different ways. He abandons some. Many converge. Others still seem contradictory—even when it later appears they are not. All intersect and in each way there is at least a note which belongs with the others of the same type, or perhaps with groups of ways remote from the "thematized" one. The theme, announced as central, often does not end up as such: the secondary theme imposes itself and pushes aside, in the non-thematized background, the initial theme. A complex symphonic structure. The abandoned themes are not always silent. They continue, muted, or are briefly evoked within the orchestration of the current theme by two or three notes which, even as they are part of such theme, also belong to the theme that seemed to have been abandoned.

        The constitution of things. The things felt, perceived, lived by all our sensory organs and by our body. which is the organ of the sensory organs. Our body is a living body, Leib. But it can appear as a thing among things, as Ursache. A thing surrounded by the others ("circumstantiality:" the precategorical type of relation between cause and effect). All things are involved in these reciprocal causal relations, and that is why they are things. But is the thing which is there, which I see, and which from here is only a vision, a vision which reveals it to me as much smaller than it really is, real? No, it is a vision, a phantasm. The rich analysis, which Husserl develops in Manuscripts D with regard to the relations between real things and phantasms, is incredible. Things live in circumstantiality, in the perceived, lived causal relations: causality, originally, before being a category, is a modality of perception. The reality of the thing is characterized by its concrete, structural causality. The phantasm, as such, is not involved in causal relations, or it is so only in relation to the thing of which it is a phantasm. This is one of the ways tried by Husserl. Analysis of phantasms, of things, of the constitution of touch in relation to the constitution of sight, of the thing as instrument, as object of use, as Gebrauchsobjekt (in 1910). And, from 1917 to 1921, all the problems of time, of the stratifications of time, of finite periods (the problem, old for Husserl, of birth and death), of individuation. But there is more, much more!

        And then? Does the distinction between phantasm and real thing not indicate Husserl's preoccupation with "reality"? To be sure—what is described is the essence, unreal in itself. But what is such essence if not the revelation (the phenomenon) of reality as such? Of reality which I know as reality precisely and only because it reveals itself to me?

        How remote are the Platonic interpretations of the Göttingen disciples! I am writing these lines, before going to bed, after a full day's work. It would take months, perhaps years to write about all the problems which reveal themselves to me and which I intuit.

Milan, April 28, 1960

        Lecture by Ricoeur in Milan. Ricoeur summarizes for me the contents of the second volume of Philosophie de la volonté which is about to be published. The second volume will have the general title Finitude et culpabilité and will be divided into two tomes: L'homme faillible and La symbolique du mal.

        Ricoeur is looking for an anthropology. On this we agree. If phenomenology becomes a "new science" in Vico's sense, it contains within itself an anthropology. But this anthropology can not be that of Scheler's nor that of Heidegger's. Likewise, it can not reduce itself to mere palaeontology and ethnology. The problem is analogous to that of the relations between phenomenology and psychology, and in the end, between phenomenology and the sciences.

        Another point of agreement: interpretation of phenomenology according to the dialectic between finite and infinite. When Ricoeur thinks of man as mediation between finite and infinite, and for such mediation he avails himself of Kant's transcendental schematism, while he reaffirms the meaning of myth while using even Kirkegaard, I seem to find in him the titles of my own problems (not my own solutions).

        Ricoeur believes that these problems do not exist in Husserl, while I believe that Husserl locates them in the implication between man and transcendental I. If anthropology is grounded in the principle of the non-adequation of man to himself, then I would say that it is grounded in intentional difference.

        By reaffirming myth, Ricoeur reaffirms in his own way the precategorical dimension. The "pathetic of misery" [?] reveals itself in a pre-philosophical dimension. With philosophy there is no absolute beginning: it is preceded by the language of myth and of symbol. For me, Italian, all this is Vico and Croce. And it is Vico again, if in this connection there appears the problem of evil, the ingens sylva of barbarism, always possible.

May 10, 1960

        Evil is not explained rationally, says Ricoeur. To explain it is in some way to fail to recognize it, to conceal it. Hence the function of myth, which indicates evil, without rationalizing it. Perhaps, however, the myth too may conceal evil, and knowledge of evil is not necessarily a failure to recognize evil. The problem of individuation becomes unavoidable here. The subjects of anthropology are individuated men and groups. They are finite with respect to infinity: what is their dialectic?

        Ricoeur likes to criticize phenomenology because for phenomenology the "thing" is only given through "profiles," through "parts." never in its wholeness. Yet, if we follow the finite-infinite dialectic faithfully, we must say that in each finite part there is the infinity. Something similar can be found in Cantor's concept of "set" and in Anaxagoras' homoeomery (1956-57 lectures on the pre-Socratics in Pavia, and 1958-59 lectures on the Cartesian Meditations in Milan).

If the part and the whole were separate, there would not be things, there would not be men. Likewise, if they coincided. But the part has in itself the whole, of which it is part, even though it is not the whole. The totality that lives in the parts, thus conceived, is not a real totality, but an intentional totality. The origin of evil lies in the assumption of the part as identical with the totality. It lies in believing ourselves perfect and not fallible, to use one of Ricoeur's terms.

        The idea of man situated between finite and infinite is clear not only in Plato, but in the Renaissance (Pico della Mirandola). I think it had a strong effect on Husserl, as a mathematical-philosophical idea, since the times at Halle, probably through his direct contacts with Cantor. It was Brentano who introduced Cantor to Husserl, who in any case had been interested in the problem of infinity also when he was studying Bolzano. That Cantor, in his own way, may have influenced Husserl is difficult to deny. To say the least, Cantor helped him to formulate clearly the concept of "infinite set." This is also, after all, the opinion of A. Fraenkel, Cantor's editor (cf. Briefwechsel Cantor-Dedekind, Paris 1922, p.5).

Paris, September 23, 1960

        Royaumont's arguments on dialectic have convinced me of two things: the necessity of studying again Marx and the fact that in France they are not at all aware of the importance of Sartre's work. The Critique de la raison dialectique has not been understood. It is clear that in this work Sartre the existentialist is fading away more and more, and that Sartre the Marxist and the phenomenologist moves to the foreground. The concept of "practical set" has, in my opinion, a decisive importance. To what extent did Sartre think of Cantor? The set is the dynamical solution of the problem of the relations between individual and society, and between part and whole (the "de-totalized totality").

        Science and dialectic of nature. A re-evaluation of the dialectic of nature is certainly possible, but only if we do not pretend to deduce the dialectic of nature from science and from a philosophical construction (phenomenology is not a "construction").

Leuven, September 25, 1960

        This time I am reading only manuscripts in group K, which relate directly to the Krisis, for the Commento I am preparing. I also spend many hours in Husserl's library. I write down long notes. Here only a few remarks.

        In the manuscripts I find innumerable passages on the concept of "concreteness" of the Lebenswelt. It is a real world, and the science of the Lebenswelt is the study of the structure of the world of realities (Struktur der Realitätenwelt). True ontology is the study of such structure (K III 32: one of the last manuscripts, since it is dated April, 1937). The Realitätenwelt is analyzed in connection with subjectivity, logic and intersubjectivity.

September 26, 1960

        As I always thought, Husserl assigns a decisive importance to genetic phenomenology. In the past I could have doubts about the fact that he might indeed seek a phenomenology of concrete genesis. Not any more. The constitution of the other, empathy ["entropatia", see Glossary in The Function of the Sciences. Transaltor's note.], the Einfühlung, is linked to the reconstitution of the history of the monad, of man, since birth. The primitive way in which I experience the other (the first Einfühlung for the child) is the relationship with the mother (K III 11, July 1935). It is therefore linked to birth, which is introduced here, generically, as Ursprung. The other sense of the original, from which the philosopher must always begin through reflection, is the actual evidence of the subject. But such evidence is always one and other, and constitutes an association such that the subject is he himself and, at the same time, the other. This happens both at birth and in living presence, in the lebendige Gegenwart. To translate it into concrete language it would be necessary to refer to the sexual act, where pairing is unity and duality, and from which the child is born, as other from the duality.

        Phenomenology of the child. The problem of the constitution of the external world (for Husserl it must occur after the constitution of the other, so that, if the Einfühlung with the mother or with the person who replaces her were missing, the constitution of the external world would be missing). Through the constitution of the other and of the external world, the constitution of things and, therefore of the names of things, is possible. Phenomenology of language. Analysis of the formation of language in terms of the kinesthetic motions of the mother. The child forms his own space and his own time and thus, says Husserl, "he enters history."

September 27, 1960

        An important point, for me, in manuscript K III 4 (1934-1935), in which the theme of genesis is connected to that of universal teleology (group-E manuscripts). Normality and abnormality. Normal Lebenswelt is teleological and its time is teleological time. Living organisms: presence of totality in their intentional life and in their teleologische Zeitlichkeit (p. 45-49). The totality mentioned here is, as Sartre would say, a "de-totalized totality." Teleology is a law, but not a scientific law in the usual sense: it applies only to the plane of the science of the Lebenswelt, not to the exact sciences (this is so also for the "laws" in Ideen II). Sketch of a phenomenology of animal species: problems of classification, of development, of inheritance. The first part of the unpublished work (to p. 60) was written between the 8
th and the 9th of September 1934. Husserl continues it in April 1935. It is connected to all the themes of the Krisis. Pages 66-73 have been published as Beilage XIV of the Krisis: they are strictly linked to the paragraph where, in Husserliana, the text of the Krisis ends. Insistence on objectification not only in psychology but also in sociology and in cosmology (p. 120).

September 28, 1960

        Husserl in manuscript K III 3 (1934-1935): "Phenomenology, as universal science, is eo ipso also science of rational men and of the forms and norms of their individual, social, political, scientific rationality" (p. 9). [check!]

        The study of the relations between classical and contemporary physics in K III 2 (1934-1935). The problem of "consciousness," of the Selbstbesinnung. The problem of God (in pages which were to be used for the Prague conference, but were not utilized). God is a telos which lives in the evidence of the decision by which, in the finite, I choose the path of the infinite and find myself, by virtue of such decision, non only with, but in the others. God appears as the limit pole of the reciprocal encounter of the monads one in the other (hence Ricoeur's "respect," and much more).

        It is the pole toward which all paths tend, in such a way, however, that they are not converging in a point, but internally into each other in a mutual compenetration. This pole, as sense of truth, lives in the action of each monad which is aware of having humanity within itself, that is of each monad which acquires consciousness of itself in the Selbstbesinnung. Infinite truth lives in the finite, but the finite can never pretend to exhaust it in itself, to objectify it and to have realized it. Each monad is intentional insofar as it lives the truth while knowing that it [the monad] is not the truth. It is not therefore a question of being, of a metaphysical-theological being, but of its sense (and thus of truth), of a transcendental teleological horizon intended as telos of a intersubjective rational life—namely of a life in which each subject is subject for the other, not object. But this means that men must try not only to be each one near the other, but each one in the other. The relation between me and mankind is not Nebeneinander but Ineinander.

Paris, September 30, 1960

        I think I am interpreting correctly Husserl's pages prepared for the Prague Conference. In my opinion, for Husserl the consideration of God as being in the metaphysical and objectivist sense would be idolatry.

        Intentionality is directed toward intersubjectivity, and to the extent in which the action of a monad is right, because it transcends itself beyond its own finity, the monad has within itself the other monads. Hence the possibility of evil, namely the fall of intersubjective intentionality. Not only: I do not live in the other except by going beyond my being, as it is given in intentional truth. If I want to make the other and myself coincide with truth, that is intersubjective being with truth, I negate myself and the other in a complex dialectic which is not only dialectic between myself and the other, but dialectic between myself-other and between the two of us and everybody else (mankind).

        Notice that if God is not a reality or a being, but an intentional limit, the origin of evil, for the individual who is a part, consists in his positing himself as realized totality. This is true for the individual as "phenomenological" or "practical" set. "De-totalized totality" is the intentional intersubjective totality.

Milan, October 14, 1960

        This year's lecture will be devoted to Sartre's Critique de la raison dialectique, in addition to the Krisis. What contemporary thought is seeking is indeed the concept of "practical set." Perhaps the "set," as the nucleus of the relation between finite and infinite, appears for the first time in Anaxagoras (Storia del pensiero presocratico, Turin 1957, p. 110). The highest development of mathematical thought is found in Cantor. But it is not a question of deducing the "phenomenological set" from the "infinite set" of mathematics. The phenomenological set is precategorical: it belongs with the science of the Lebenswelt, not with mathematics.

        Sartre, correctly, grounded the problem of dialectic in the "practical set:" this is the fulcrum of his book. It is probably because of this that he is not understood. Sartre himself, in fact, does not always know how Husserlian is his position (for this purpose it would have been necessary to interpret evidence as the subjective, finite, actual nucleus of finite, perhaps not even perceived horizons: presence of non-perception in perception). In any case Sartre developed dialectic beyond the Husserlian point of view. Thus phenomenology ends up appropriating the problems of Marxism in the very moment in which existentialism reveals itself, to use Sartre's terminology, as a "parasitic," even though unavoidable, philosophy.

        The concept of "practical set" is linked to the concept of totality. Intentional intersubjective totality (Husserl's sketch for the Prague conference) or, as Sartre puts it, "de-totalized totality." The meaning of the movement which leads from individuals or groups (from "practical sets") to de-totalized totality, namely to the ideal term of Husserl's universal teleology, is the intentional movement as meaning, which from sense of being (Seinsinn) becomes sense of truth, sense of history, and thus, for me, meaning of time. The essential and necessary modality of time is irreversibility, on which, among other things, it is possible to constitute also the "economic structure." Time has an irreversible direction, but this direction can be transformed by man into sense, meaning of history, of reality. I can find a confirmation in Sartre, who tends to see meaning as transformation of the irreversible (a concept "almost" extraneous to Husserl) into rationality, into truth. For Sartre, "individual and group" acquire their sense in the "raison intelligible de l'irréversibilité de l'histoire." "L'orientation de la totalisation, est...le sens de l'histoire et sa verité"(Critique, p. 156).

        History is "la totalisation de toutes les multiplicités pratiques et de toutes leur luttes." It can be understood as the product of a totalizing praxis (p. 754). It is always, I must say, a question of an intentional totality which requires: 1) the ideal of truth as ideal of a universal teleology, namely as ideal of an intersubjective society; 2) the foundation of the sciences through the science of the Lebenswelt, and thus through transcendental constitution. I think that Sartre would agree, even if he does not state the problems in a form so rigorously Husserlian.


January 16, 1961

        Analysis of what I perceive as passivity, as impenetrability, as hardness, as resistance. Phenomenology of passivity. Of that which requires effort and labor. In me, as individual, there is the world. There is also, and above all, something "external" which I experience, "live" as "external," as "contraposed." My actions, my kinesthesis, here are praxis and technology. Fetishized technology fails to recognize labor as my labor, as labor of the subject in the first person. The I is "I do", "I can"—as Husserl puts it. We must add: "I work." The problem of matter, of the modalities through which I experience matter and I act in it, acquire thus a fundamental importance. Technology is an extension of myself in the world: it causes matter to become mine, my product, extension of my work. Hence value. To strip technology of subjectivity means to objectify, to alienate the meaning of life.

January 18, 1961

        Phenomenology of matter. It is not an accident that it is the most difficult, and that it must struggle against the most serious concealment. Tight connection between phenomenology of matter and phenomenology of labor. It is clear that it is not sufficient to speak of mutual insertion of the subject into the object and of idealism into realism (Merleau-Ponty: ambiguity). The materialistic dimension is missing. Point out how this absence ends up provoking "spiritualism."

        Materialism is not obvious, as it has been believed until now. Phenomenologically, it is linked to the Erlebnis of the external, to the modalities by which I live the external. I never own things without labor, for free, I never own them entirely: this means that I must constitute them by penetrating them with that particular participation, or Einfühlung, which is established between me and matter in work and in technical operations. Hence the possibility of a phenomenology of technology, beyond objectification and fetishization.

        Technology as mediation, as Kantian transcendental schema which becomes extension of man in work, and in which man is man and nature, and truly appropriates nature. If he does not fetishize it, and if he is not used as object by another man, who makes him a slave by means of technology, he rediscovers nature within himself. Labor, technology, "interiorization" of nature. Each instance of interiorization, in the sense of Sartre's dialectic between interiorization and exteriorization, is an operation which has a meaning, which has not lost intentionality. Capitalism, in its various forms, can also be interpreted as the loss of the intentionality of labor, of the sense of labor, of its teleological meaning.

February 6, 1961

        Hegel's "servile self-consciousness [?]." The servant claims for himself, against the master, the "faculty," the possibility of giving meaning to work. Self-consciousness frees the servant from feeling as an "object," an instrument. The sense of labor, with which, for the servant, death is defeated, is the sense of life, the irreversibility transformed into sense of life and meaning of history (that is, into intentional truth).

        Lectures on the relations between psychology and phenomenology. I already know where they will lead: to the attempt of positing the problem of anthropology in a new form.

March 6, 1961

        I am re-reading Ulysses in the Italian translation. The beach. All right, Joyce quotes Aristotle (I don't wish to dwell on the problems of this quotation). Rather, what comes a bit later, on the same page, is indeed a true phenomenological analysis of kinesthesis. In fact, it implies the entirety of transcendental esthetics. Joyce could not have known the D-manuscripts. But, did he know Ideen I? "Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. [Student's Edition. The Corrected Text...Penguin 1986, p. 31]" To walk through: analysis of what the I can perceive, in movements, as something which can or can not be traversed. It is the I indeed. The Erlebnis of the I, the I's modalities of "living." It is the concrete I, the concrete monad, the monad which is also "corps propre," real body, Leib. The I, with its own real body, constitutes the world by means of the sense organs, and then by means of kinesthesis: "I am , a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. [ibidem]." Husserl's spatio-temporal structure of the Lebenswelt, with regard to kinesthesis.

        Stephen counts: "Five, six: the Nacheinender. [ibidem]." Where did Joyce get such a Husserlian term? (a bit later: Nebeneinander). Stephen, his eyes closed, listens to the sound of his own steps. He thinks about the modalities by which the corporeal I senses the world; about the concordance of the sense organs in that organ of organs, as Husserl puts it, which is the body. But I can open or close my eyes. I do not see the world, yet it is present, it is there, I am ineluctably linked to its Boden. In the unpublished manuscripts D 17 and D 18 man is linked to planet Earth, like to himself, like to his own body. Joyce's irony. But it is possible in any case to read the entire Ulysses in a phenomenological key.

March 28, 1961

        Eliot's The Waste Land (1922) and Joyce's Ulysses (1922, written between '14 and '21).

        "Tonality" which can be found also in The Waste Land: "Did you see anything of your artist brother Stephen lately? No? Sure he's not down in Strasbourg terrace with his aunt Sally?" [ibidem p. 32] "M. Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont..." [ibidem p. 36] Hints. But a bit later "death by water" [see also Eliot, "iv. Death by Water", p. 41. Translator's note] "A drowning man. His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. I...With him together down...I could not save her. Waters: bitter death: lost." [ibidem p. 38]

        The dog: "Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides. Looking for something lost in a past life." [ibidem p. 38] "His hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. Something he buried there, his grandmother." [ibidem p. 39]

        The dog is "vulturing the dead." [ibidem p. 39]

        Joice's texture is complex, and in the phenomenological Erlebnis that distinguishes him, he reveals themes which are very close to those of The Waste Land. Metamorphosis, metempsychosis, ineluctable return of life (in the spring, in April, in "the cruellest month" [Eliot p. 29]). In Eliot: is the dog a friend or an enemy of man? He has the habit of grubbing, of unearthing corpses. In The Waste Land what is buried is also the seed of violence, of life as violence, which sprouts again inexorably according to the cycle of karma. If the dog unearths the seed, in April the plant will not grow and the cycle will be broken. In this case the dog is a friend of man, provided man understands the value of renunciation (of the voice of thunder: da. Namely: datta, dayadhvam, damyata [Eliot p. 45]: give, be compassionate, refrain).

Is the dog, when he does not allow the corpse-seed to bloom, a friend because he breaks the cycle of karma, of violence and pain, or a friend because he can not bear that the body be buried, that the man be dead, and would like, by unearthing him, to make him alive again? The hypocrite lecteur, since he does not want to understand the voice of thunder, will opt for the latter solution.

        The ambiguity may seem even more complex: it is possible to negate life only with an act of violence. That is why Buddha condemned the will to live, but also the will against life, for himself and for the others (namely, both masochism and sadism). The problem is this: to live in the world, but not in the mundane. Hence: not in fetishism and in the fall of meaning, but in intentional meaning.

April 11, 1961

        It was a true joy to be with Sartre here, in Milan. We had breakfast with many friends.

        His insistence on the importance of the problem of subjectivity. He is perfectly aware of the relation of his concept of "set" to that of mathematicians, although he obviously uses it in a different—I would say "phenomenological"—sense. He sees with pleasure a phenomenological reading of the Critique.

        With regard to the problems of the dialectic between interiorization and exteriorization, we begin a conversation which attempts to illuminate the relation between the non-interiorized external [exterior?] and the unconscious. It seems to me possible to discover in this way a very significant connection between what we call "unconscious" and the exteriority of things, of the world, of history. At a certain point our conversation ceases to refer to the Critique and develops along different directions. Sartre's fascination lies in his continuous capacity to be present and to go beyond himself. He burns himself in an uninterrupted intentional movement. He insists on the fact that interiorization is labor, is praxis. I feel a confirmation of my hypothesis of searching to what extent the unconscious may also be a mode of being of the material world in us. A mode of being which is not aware until we make it ours. Even if we are not conscious of it, we are rooted in the matter which is in us. With labor, with the various types of praxis, "interiorization" becomes then one of the fundamental modalities of subjectivity.

May 4, 1961

        Merleau-Ponty died yesterday. "La tradition est oubli des origines, disait le dernier Husserl. Justement si nous lui devon beaucoup, nous sommes hors d'état de voir au juste ce qui est à lui." With these words he opens his beautiful essay Le philosophe et son ombre. I did not know I would read them thinking, in such a concrete and direct situation, of the communication between the living and the dead, of the "dialog with the dead" Husserl speaks of. I had organized a series of lectures in Italy for Merleau-Ponty, and I was about to inform him of the fine details of his trip.

        Despite the differences among the various interpretations of phenomenology, there is in every philosopher who refers back to Husserl a fundamental agreement, and sometimes there surface the same preoccupations. "À l'égard d'un philosophe dont l'entreprise a éveillé tant d'échos, et apparemment si loin du point où il se tenait lui-même, toute commémoration est aussi trahison, soit que nous lui fassions l'hommage très superflu de nos pensées, comme pour leur trouver un garant auquel elles n'ont pas droit,--soit qu'au contraire, avec un respect qui n'est pas sans distance, nous le réduisons trop strictement à ce qu'il a lui-même voulu et dit...Mais ces difficultés, qui sont celles de la communication entre les 'ego,' Husserl justement les connaisait bien, et il ne nous laisse pas sans ressource en face d'elles." In every philosopher there is a horizon of thought which implies a background which has not been made explicit, a shadow. We too must resort to the implicit background in Merleau-Ponty's philosophical horizon. It is the sleepy background which always remains in the world of wakefulness, of explicit reason. The continuity of the egos allows for pauses, for interruptions. The pauses of sleep, the pauses of death. To understand Husserl, says Merleau-Ponty, is to make him alive again in us today: "Husserl délivré de sa vie, rendu à l'entretien avec ses pairs et à son audace omnitemporelle." In Husserl, in Merleau-Ponty, in us, a continuous correction.

June 10, 1961

        Father Van Breda arrived on May 29 and has remained in Italy since. He remarked that in Italy, since February 1958, the last time he was here, phenomenology has made much progress. In his lecture in Milan, and in a very special way in the one he gave in Turin, Van Breda was very happy to underline the importance of genetic phenomenology. Although many of my younger friends were away from Milan, and some from Italy, a remarkable number of people attended the lectures and the receptions.

        Van Breda's insistence is always on the fundamental problem of the ens qua verum, of meaning. This is indeed a key concept for Husserl, easy to state, difficult to understand.

        Perhaps, according to my interpretation, it is even more difficult to grasp the fact that in Husserl the esse of the philosophical tradition resolves itself in verum: the opposite of traditional metaphysics. It is striking to think about the enormous labor that awaits all those who have approached the problems of phenomenology. Encounters with the various scholars are more and more necessary. What is important is that such encounters happen spontaneously, free from prejudices and pre-constituted positions.

June 16, 1961

        For a phenomenology of technology. To try once again the analysis of the real body, of the Leib. The body as presentation, coordinated in me, of all the sense organs, and as certainty of being able to act through its coherence, its form, its whole "schema." Use of my hand. Use of the instrument.

        Automatism. Its negative and positive functions. My relationship with the instrument becomes "unconscious." In the sense that my Leib uses the instrument as its own. All this leads me to think about a tight relationship of technology with the life of our body which lives organically-automatically.

        In technology and automatism are incarnated operations which from abstract become concrete. The body, in order to learn, must forget abstraction, the abstractive effort of attention—formalism. Categories must become corporeal and automatic. In fact, categories derive from corporeity, from the body joined with nature, from the "secret art of nature." In order to arrive at constructing an instrument I must avail myself, at a high level, of artificial categories. Thus I find myself, temporarily, on the abstract plane. The categories exist only in my head, my body does not know them yet. The instrument will function, for me, when the categories are learned from the body, when the body transforms them from potential to actual. When the body expands its own subjectivity and its own operational capabilities. I must learn to steer, to "govern" (intentional cybernetics) the instrument as I steer and govern my body. Governed technology becomes subjective and intersubjective. To use technology not as objectification, but as enrichment of the human subject and of his autonomy, of its ability to self-govern. That is, to eliminate objectified, fetishized technology, which contributes to the fetishism of man. And to eliminate that which makes fetishism necessary, by making also the negative side of automatism necessary.

June 19, 1961

        Schönberg's Moses und Aron at La Scala. I had never seen this opera on the stage. The effect was striking even if, naturally, one can always argue about the interpretation. I spoke with Frau Gertrud Schönberg, and also with Nuria Nono Schönberg, about Schönberg's interest in the religious problem and the Kabbala. Nuria was born in 1932, in Barcellona, at the very time her father had completed Moses und Aron. We talked until very late, with Rognoni, Nono, Castiglioni, Pestalozza, and everybody else. Listening again to the opera I convinced myself that it is the musical expression (at the highest level, particularly in the first act) of an unresolved crisis. Hence its pathos. Is Schönberg's God fetishized from the very beginning? I am afraid it is. If so, it is unavoidable that the story may end in the orgy around the golden calf. Moses' law is already expression, and if expression, instead of being meaning, is considered objectification, fetishism and idolatry, the law is idolatry (Aron).

        "One, eternal, omnipotent—invisible and unrepresentable God." But the invisible, the non-representable, can not be expressed. This concerns music itself as expression. Schönberg has remained prisoner of the riddle. If his opera is a great opera, it is nevertheless so precisely because it expresses Schönberg's drama when faced with the riddle. The opera allows itself to be defined, paradoxically, as the expression of a negated expression.

        What is the meaning of expression? Schönberg did not give an answer, perhaps he could not answer this question. He would have been forced to say that God is not the being who dictates the law. What matters is the life of the law, the life of the meaning of truth: an intentional truth, a limit-truth and, in this sense, never objectified, never reducible to being, never conquered and never representable as conquered. The initial error is to attribute being to God, to posit God as static source of truth and expression, while what was sought in God was the meaning of expression and of its life. Something similar can be drawn, if one were so inclined, from the Kabbala itself.

        The law, as life of truth, is not in the formulation, in the letter, but in the intentional life of man, of the subject, and in the intentional life of intersubjectivity. It is a question not of receiving it as a dictate, but of finding it in each one of us, and in all for each of us, if it is indeed in each of us. Authentic law is infinite norm which is before us, not behind us. It is telos, not letter nor sign which absorbs in itself its own meaning. It is therefore meaning of life and intersubjective life which tends to an ideal, perfect intersubjectivity, and which, on the other hand, condemns itself, if it believes it has reached it. Any idolatry derives necessarily from the pretense of having received or to have conquered a definitive truth, a truth which is, has been and will always be being itself. Intentional life always tends beyond the being we are, and beyond that categorical being itself which we construct abstractly. It tends to an infinite meaning of man. And true expression is this tension. Expression which is not possession of anybody, and which is potentially meaningful to each one and to all.

        There is a premonition of all this in the Kabbala. The true Torah can not be written. It is oral. It is lived, in the living presence, by man, by all men. But then it is the meaning of man's life and it is in this sense that it is expression. The struggle against idolatry, against the vanity of seeking one's salvation or one's condemnation in the judgment of a tribunal (Kafka), is the struggle against objectification and fetishism. It is thus, as Husserl wanted, a return to that subjectivity which, if it is truly such, is intentional life for truth, namely life that lives, by always going beyond itself, in the idea of a perfect intersubjectivity, life that lives on this idea and that can, for this reason, express itself. Not in a sign but in the meaning which always transcends the sign, meaning that finally is logos. Because the logical meaning is an expression: "Logische Bedeutung ist ein Ausdruck" (Ideen I, p. 305).

June 22, 1961

        A stroll. A rhythm that was waiting and now is present. Music of life. My I constituted itself, as Husserl puts it, in a history. But history is a complex web of stories, of motifs, of themes. While I was living a theme, or several themes, in the foreground, other themes were formed and woven through other themes in the background—I did not know it, but now I do. Better: now I know that I knew it without knowing it (Husserl: one always knows more than one knows). The themes in the background were readying themselves for a sudden, and forever anticipated, revelation. They were in the dressing room, applying the makeup. Very seriously, yet playfully. They wanted to come to the foreground with a solemn apparition. Solemn and festive (but where had they disappeared? In Asia, in Africa?). Festive and somewhat ironic. As if to demonstrate that there is not only toil, preoccupation, Sorge, but the slow maturation of a happiness which is waiting for its moment, its presence. Now happiness is here, on the stage. It carries a bit of waiting. Does it "retain" waiting in presence? Is it afraid of not being so beautiful as in absence? No, it know it is more beautiful precisely because of the waiting it carries within. It moves, it walks. Dance step, rhythmic and almost mechanical step of the mime. It expresses love, joy—but it does not take itself too seriously. A ballet in which one encounters humor and passion—without losing any of the reality of things, which in their contradictions are no longer contradictory. A stroll. There is something similar in Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. The Great Gate of Kiev, the final section. Things are the way they are. The roads are roads. But everything is new. Like when from afar one arrives for the first time in a city which reveals of itself that which it will never reveal again.

June 30, 1961

        Janheinz Jahn (Muntu: An Outline of the New African Culture. Translated by Marjorie Grene. New York, Grove Press, 1991) clarifies why the black man is not "prepared to serve simply as material for the technological civilization of the world" [check!]. "African intellectuals want to preserve and insert in the present reality what to them seems valid in the African tradition. Their ideal is not either the traditional African nor the black European, but the modern African. And this means to take up the European elements in a tradition rationally examined, renewed and now conscious of its own values." [check!] The necessary program therefore is to examine tradition "rationally." If the African intellectual proclaims himself irrationalist, as Fanon writes (Peau noire, masques blancs. Paris 1952), it is because the European imposes upon him a conception of reason in terms of which he is forced to consider himself "primitive," a human being without history. Black man has tried to understand what "primitive" meant and has found African civilization. A civilization which is civilization of reason and of body, not only of disembodied reason. A civilization which is a philosophy in the sense that it has meaning. Jahn: "The vivification of existence...which makes a new denomination of the meaning of the world possible: that is what Africa's contribution to tomorrow's universal civilization could be." And again: "If western civilization examines itself, precisely because of the fact that it finds itself in the era of the machine, it can not wish the destruction of African civilization, on the contrary: nothing would be more necessary than a style in which, instead of the simple practical end or of absolute uselessness...what is sense and meaning is once again emphasized." [check!]

        To discover the sense of scientific categories in their precategorical and corporeal origin, for example in rhythm, means to discover that, if there is rhythm, there is a corporeal, empirical, origin of logic, and there becomes possible the ideal of a rational and scientific life, of a "new science" of humanity, in which technology becomes amplification of intersubjective life. White man, if he finds in himself the authentic meaning of black civilization, also recovers the authentic meaning of European civilization. This is "rationalism," rationalism which does not objectify subjects and bodies, rationalism of meaning. The uneasiness of the white man lies in the fact that his lack of understanding of the black man is a lack of understanding of himself as man.