Husserl Stud (2009) 25:15–43
DOI 10.1007/s10743-008-9051-5
On Husserl’s Remark that ‘‘[s]elbst eine sich als
apodiktisch ausgebende Evidenz kann sich als
Täuschung enthüllen …’’ (XVII 164:32–33):
Does the Phenomenological Method Yield Any
Epistemic Infallibility?
George Heffernan
Published online: 13 February 2009
Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2009
Abstract Addressing Walter Hopp’s original application of the distinction
between agent-fallibility and method-fallibility to phenomenological inquiry concerning epistemic justification, I question whether these are the only two forms of
fallibility that are useful or whether there are not also others that are needed. In
doing so, I draw my inspiration from Husserl, who in the beginnings of his phenomenological investigations struggled with the distinction between noetic and
noematic analyses. For example, in the Preface to the Second Edition of the Logical
Investigations he criticizes the First Investigation as having been ‘‘one-sidedly’’
noetically directed and as having thus neglected the noematic aspects of meaning
(XVIII 13–14). Also, in an addendum to the Fifth Investigation he notes that in the
transition from the First Edition to the Second he has learned to broaden the concept
of ‘‘phenomenological content’’ to include not only the ‘‘real’’ (reell) contents
(noetic, subjective) of consciousness but also the ‘‘intentional’’ (noematic, objective) (XIX/1 411). The fact that, in gradually moving from consciousness (noesis) to
what consciousness is of (noema), Husserl struggled with this distinction is an
indication of the immensity of the perplexing problems and potential solutions that
Hopp has led the phenomenology of knowledge into by introducing his useful
notions of agent-fallibility and method-fallibility. Like Husserl, he has focused
mainly and mostly on the noetic issues; like Husserl as well, I will try to move step
by step from the noetic area into the noematic. I conclude that Hopp’s approach has
the potential to become seminal.
G. Heffernan (&)
Philosophy Department, Augustinian College, Andover, MA, USA
e-mail: George.Heffernan@merrimack.edu
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Die wahre Methode folgt der Natur der zu erforschenden Sachen, nicht aber
unseren Vorurteilen und Vorbildern.
Husserl, ‘‘Philosophie als strenge Wissenschaft’’, XXV 261
1 Introduction: What is a Philosophical Method?
In his paper ‘‘Phenomenology and Fallibility’’, Walter Hopp expresses a crucial
concern about the ability of Husserl’s phenomenology to deliver on what it seems to
promise. One must, of course, agree with much of what Hopp says about the
problematic relationship between the method of phenomenology and the fallibility
of phenomenologists in particular. The real strength of Hopp’s analysis, however, is
that it forces philosophers to revisit the freighted relationship between phenomenology and fallibility in general. Hence the question: What exactly is the
relationship between method and fallibility from a phenomenological standpoint?
Is this relationship accidental or coincidental or occasional—or perhaps necessary?
And, if not the latter, then what is the point of this method? Finally, does
phenomenology yield any kind of epistemic apodicticity?
Long before Husserl, philosophers and scientists were thinking hard about
method. To be sure, a philosophical method may differ in certain respects from the
scientific method. None the less, the scientific method—involving (1) unambiguous
formulation of a problem, (2) meticulous comparison of theories and facts, (3) openmindedness to open-endedness with respect to evidence, (4) public dissemination of
results, and (5) replicability of results by oneself and others—can function as a
generally valid procedure for interdisciplinary intellectual endeavors. It should not
be confused with the experimental method or with the specific methods of the natural
sciences or the social ones, including (1) the use of quantifying techniques, (2) the
implementation of artificially created and controlled experimental situations, and (3)
an interest in the discovery and application of universal generalizations or laws.2
In sharp contrast to the scientific method that was often confusedly and
naturalistically applied to philosophical investigations in his time, for example, by
those thinkers who would have reduced the discipline of mathematical logic to a
branch of empirical psychology,3 Husserl originally developed, for valid and sound
reasons, his own philosophical method, which he refers to as ‘‘the phenomenological method’’.4 By means of it, he aims to provide what he thinks philosophy,
particularly transcendental philosophy, has been lacking: a genuinely scientific
method for clarifying all the phenomena that human cognition can experience. Yet
the phenomenological method does not consist of a set of rules—pace Descartes’
Regulae ad directionem ingenii and Discours de la me´thode—the following of
1
All references to the works of Husserl are to Husserliana by volume (Roman numerals) and page
(Arabic).
2
See the skeletal but helpful account of Hatfield (1998).
3
See Logical Investigations, First Part: Prolegomena to Pure Logic (1900).
4
See Logical Investigations, Second Part: Investigations into Phenomenology and Theory of Knowledge
(1901).
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which guarantees certain felicitous results. Hence the question: Does the proper
application of the phenomenological method yield ‘‘infallible’’ results, or does it
rather leave phenomenologists liable to fallibility?
2 Clarification: What is the Phenomenological Method?
Thus the inquiry leads from Hopp on the connection between phenomenology and
fallibility to Husserl on the relationship between phenomenology and ‘‘infallibility’’.5 The phenomenological method may be said to exhibit the following
characteristic features (in alphabetical order):6
(1)
(2)
(3)
apodictic—it does not yield results that may or may not be reliable but rather
results that are indubitable because demonstrable;
critical—it incessantly and indefatigably reevaluates its own proceedings and
results by means of a process of self-reflection (Besinnung);
descriptive—it eschews presuppositions, constructions, and hypotheses, and
prefers experiences, investigations, and reports;
5
Although Hopp does not usually (and not at all after his introductory remarks) use the words
‘‘infallible’’ or ‘‘infallibility’’, I will do so regularly. After all, it is a bit unnatural to use the words
‘‘fallible’’ or ‘‘fallibility’’ repeatedly without ever using their corresponding counterparts. What everyone
really wants to know anyway is whether the phenomenological method does grant the highest conceivable
degree of warrant. This is an issue that confronts the readers of Husserl, even if he too does not talk of
‘‘infallible’’ or ‘‘infallibility’’, nor of ‘‘fallible’’ or ‘‘fallibility’’.
6
Cf., e.g. (M. = method, ph. = phenomenological, tr. = transcendental): I 43 (tr.-ph. M.), 103 ff. (ph. M.;
eidetic-descriptive M.), 106 (special tr. Ms.), 119 (intentional M.), 170 (intentional M.), 179 f. (genuine
ph. M.); II 3, 23 ff. (ph. M. as ‘‘Denkhaltung’’), 43, 51, 58 (differentiae specificae of ph. M.); III/1 5 (M.
of epoché), 55, 65 (M. of bracketing), 69, 125 (M. of tr. reduction), 130 (ph. M.), 136 f., 139, 144 (M. of
eidetic science), 145 (M. of ‘‘Wesenserfassung’’), 149, 161, 162 (ph. M.), 170 (phenomenological M.;
psychological M.), 171 (inductive M.), 223 (methodology of phenomenology [Methodik der Phänomenologie]), 229 (ph. M.), 288 ff. (M. of clarification); V 138, 144, 148, 160, 162; VI 7 f. (new method of
the positive sciences), 10, 12, 14 (ph. M. and apodicticity), 19, 23 (M. of idealization), 24 (productive
M.), 29, 30 (M. and apodicticity), 31, 36 (inductive M.), 39 ff., 41 (methodology [Methodik]), 42 (naturalscientific M.), 43, 48, 49 (geometric M.), 52 f., 57 f., 60, 61 (natural-scientific M.), 64 (natural-scientific
M.), 67 (M. of expansion or extension of knowledge), 68 (methodologization [Methodisierung]), 73 (ph.
M. and apodicticity), 88, 94 (rational M.), 106 (regressive M.), 103 (transcendental-subjective M.), 113,
116 (regressive M.), 118 (regressive M.), 120 (regressive M.), 121, 135 ff., 149, 156, 173, 182 (eidetic M.
of ‘‘Wesensforschung’’), 185, 190 f., 193 ff., 202, 205, 207, 213 (M. of tr. reduction), 219 (naturalistic
M.), 224 ff. (descriptive and explanatory M.), 230 (eidetic M. of theoretical ‘‘Wesensforschung’’), 237
(M. of intentional analysis), 239 (‘‘die eigentümliche Methode der Epoché’’), 243, 246, 251 (M. of
epoché), 264 (M. of epoché), 271, 274; VII 8 f. (M. of perfect clarification), 11 (rational doctrine of M.),
13, 17 (doctrine of M. [Methodenlehre]), 26 (M. of truth), 30 ff. (doctrine of M.), 33 (doctrine of M. of
knowledge), 34 (doctrine of M.), 35 (rational doctrine of M.), 53, 54 (doctrine of M.), 73 (methodology
[Methodik]), 91, 123, 138, 139 (M. of ‘‘Wesensintuition’’), 142 (philosophical M.), 146 (M. and
intuitionism), 167, 176, 194 (consciousness of M. [Methodenbewußtsein]), 195; VIII 4, 5 (M. of
justification), 38, 78, 80, 87, 92 (M. of epoché), 111 (M. of bracketing), 121 (M. of epoché), 128 (ph. M.),
130 (ph. M.), 138, 141 (M. of epoché), 142, 164, 165 (M. of epoché), 166, 168 (tr. M.); XVII 6, 11
(rational M.), 40, 190, 205, 219 (radical M.), 233 (scientific M.), 252 ff. (rigorous M.; eidetic M. of
‘‘Wesensforschung’’), 265 (radical M.), 270 (M. of intentional research), 285, 298; XVIII 35, 37, 38
(algorithmic M.; M. of classification), 39 (mechanical M.), 40, 132 (doctrine of M.), 165, 255; XIX/2 783
(ph. M.); XXV 16–17 (M. of clarification), 18–25 (the experimental M.), 25–37 (the true M.), 38–39 (this
ph. M.), 61–62 (all indirectly symbolizing and mathematicizing Ms.).
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(4)
(5)
(6)
(7)
(8)
(9)
(10)
(11)
(12)
(13)
eidetic—it imaginatively seeks out the constant essences of things and does
not sensualistically sink in their fleeting accidents;
elucidatory—it inculcates the user with a healthy respect for discerning
clarifications and with a healthy suspicion of generic explanations;
idealistic—it posits that the fundamental relation between consciousness and
being is not confrontation but constitution (Konstitution);
intuitive—it looks at what is there in plain view or not and declines to make
deductions in terms of the ‘‘conditions of the possibility’’;
phenomenological—it brackets out things as they may be in themselves and
brackets in things as they appear (it is ephectic [epoche´]);
philosophical—it strives to live up to the perennially valid ideal that the
unexamined position is not worth holding for a human being;
rational—it enables the human being to fulfill its highest aspirations
understood as the entelechy of a thinking-speaking-animal;
scientific—it aims at rigorously examined and systematically organized
knowledge founded on truth and grounded in evidence;
transcendental—it grasps consciousness as ‘‘consciousness of something’’
(Intentionalität) and focuses on being in so far as, and only in so far as, it
gives itself to and is taken by consciousness (Bewußt-sein); and
universal—it does not restrict itself to any region or regions of human
cognition but rather comprehends them all, for example, both the Naturwissenschaften and the Geisteswissenschaften.
This list is remarkable not only for those features which it does contain but also for
those which it does not. For example, Husserl does not claim that the phenomenological method is ‘‘infallible’’, that is, that it leads to ‘‘incorrigible’’ cognitive
results. If he did, then this claim would be as remarkable as it would be risky.
Indeed, today’s generally accepted scientific method—which has had to deal with
methodological fallibilism,7 anarchism,8 reliabilism,9 and so forth—also does not
make any such claim about its cognitive results. To the contrary, claims of
‘‘unfalsifiability’’ are usually regarded as naively untenable and paradigmatically
unscientific, especially by those who view the ‘‘growth of scientific knowledge’’ as a
matter of ‘‘conjectures and refutations’’ and take an ‘‘evolutionary approach’’ to
‘‘objective knowledge’’.10
Yet the observation about method and infallibility is not dispositive, for Hopp
does have a point, and it is a pivotal one. After all, does Husserl not repeatedly
emphasize that the phenomenological method leads to absolute, adequate, and
apodictic knowledge of human consciousness and its contents? Hence the problem
lies not so much with the phenomenological method as much rather with its
purported yield. Whatever Husserl does or does not claim about the method, it
seems clear that, in applying it, he seeks to attain to a certain kind of knowledge,
7
Peirce (1931), sec. 1.120: ‘‘The Uncertainty of Scientific Results’’.
8
Feyerabend (1975, 1978, 1987).
9
Goldman (1986, 1992).
10
Popper (1934/35, 1963, 1972).
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that this knowledge involves a certain kind of evidence, and that this evidence can
only be described as absolute, adequate, and apodictic. The cognitive results
justified by such evidence would then be:
(1)
(2)
(3)
absolute—they are obtained in such a way that they cannot be relativized by
any better, other, different findings;
adequate—they are achieved in such a way that they leave nothing that should
be filled qualitatively or quantitatively empty; and
apodictic—they are available in such a degree of certainty that they allow for
no possible dubitability.
So far, so ideal. For obvious reasons, it is useful to call such knowledge ‘‘triple-A
type’’. Hence the question is whether the phenomenological method can deliver on
what it seems to promise, namely, ‘‘triple-A type’’ truths justified by ‘‘triple-A type’’
evidence. The point is that, if Husserl does claim that the phenomenological method
yields absolute, adequate, and apodictic evidence, knowledge, and truth, then he
also seems to be claiming, by implication, that the phenomenological method yields,
as well, cognitive results that are not fallible, as well as that, in this sense, the
phenomenological method itself is ‘‘infallible’’.
Thus it is not surprising that the basic move of the phenomenological method is
the epoche´. Husserl brilliantly appropriates this classic skeptical (!) trope in order to
argue that there is such a thing as an absolute, adequate, apodictic perception of
something (cf. the Stoic [Zeno’s] notion of the ‘‘apprehensive appearance’’
[phantasia kataleptike] as the ‘‘criterion of truth’’ [kriterion tes aletheias] and the
Academic [Arcesilaus’] critique of it).11 Yet the phenomenological method of
epoche´ differs radically from the skeptical method of epoche´. The skeptic, on the
one hand, brackets judgment out, that is, abstains from judgment, in order to avoid
error (cf. the skeptical notion of ‘ineradicable indeterminacy’: Pyrrho’s epoche´ and
Sextus’ ta adela).12 The phenomenologist, on the other hand, brackets objects in,
that is, restricts judgment, in order to achieve knowledge. The guiding idea of the
phenomenological reduction is to lead (reducere) the objects of which consciousness is conscious back (reducere) to the acts of consciousness in which they
constitute themselves.
3 Interpretation: Does the Phenomenological Method Guarantee Any
Epistemic ‘‘Infallibility’’?
In ‘‘Phenomenology and Fallibility’’, Hopp argues that Husserl’s position on the
relationship between the certainty promised by the theory of the phenomenological
method and the difficulty presented by its practice is coherent. For my part, I shall
argue that Husserl’s position is sound, but I will do so in a way substantially
different from the way in which Hopp does. What I will question is whether Husserl
is indeed committed to that apodicticity to which Hopp—as well as Husserl
11
Diogenes Laertius, Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers, VII 54 and IV 28.
12
Idem, op. cit., IX 62, 74 ff., and Sextus Empiricus, Outlines of Pyrrhonism, I 1–13.
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himself—seems to suggest he is. Yet I also propose that we explore other forms of
fallibility than those that Hopp provides, as well as that we analyze the functions of
these other forms of fallibility in the phenomenology of knowledge. Thus I judge
Hopp’s approach—which is original, significant, and tenable, and which has the
potential to be seminal—not destructively but constructively, and I even propose
that we extend and deepen it. Finally, I think that Hopp’s manner of philosophizing
is especially engaging in that it represents a fine case study in how to do
phenomenology analytically.
In his introductory remarks, Hopp begins with that ‘‘bit of a puzzle’’ which ‘‘the
discipline of phenomenology’’ presents (1–2):
On the one hand, Husserl insists that phenomenological inquiry results in
knowledge of a very extraordinary type. … it is clear that the knowledge we
acquire through phenomenological reflection does, according to Husserl,
possess a degree of warrant appreciably greater than we could hope to attain in
the sphere of ordinary empirical objects. The objects of phenomenological
inquiry, namely the essential features of types of conscious experiences, are
supposed to be given to us, and given in the most complete manner possible.
Phenomenological cognition is, if not infallible, very nearly so, and much
more nearly so than, say, your knowledge that you have a left hand.
On the other hand, Husserl himself admits that phenomenological inquiry is
exceedingly difficult, that the risk of error confronts us at every step, and that
virtually every concrete result of philosophical substance is a hard-won
achievement. This is something that we can verify for ourselves, simply by
doing phenomenology. Moreover, there exist widespread disagreements
across a number of phenomenological subject matters, such as the nature of
perception, consciousness, self-knowledge, and so forth. And so phenomenological cognition is supposed to be nearly infallible, and yet we are very
fallible phenomenologists.
Hopp then asks whether ‘‘such a position’’ is ‘‘coherent’’ and answers:
I believe it is. By distinguishing between method-fallibility and agentfallibility in what follows, I will argue that the fact that we are fallible
phenomenologists does not entail that the phenomenological method itself is
unsuited to discover the essential features of lived conscious experiences. I
will also argue that the fact that we are agent-fallible with respect to the
phenomenological method is perfectly consistent with the claim that we
possess knowledge with a very high degree of epistemic warrant when, on
occasion, we carry out that method properly.
Noting that ‘‘Husserl does not … hold that any knowledge is infallible’’ (1), Hopp
suggests that, in investigating the connection between actual phenomenology and
imagined infallibility, we think about forms of fallibility. In following his lead, I
wonder, first, to what extent he will weight agent-fallibility as ‘‘a’’ or ‘‘the’’ source
of the problem of fallibility. I am curious, furthermore, as to whether and to what
extent he will identify and weight other forms of fallibility as well. And I inquire,
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finally, whether we will be able to recognize and make fruitful use of valid forms of
fallibility that he does not mention or develop.
In the First Part of his paper, Hopp begins with the uncontroversial observation
that phenomenological inquiry is ‘‘often exceedingly difficult, and presents us with
many opportunities to get things wrong’’ (2). Indeed, Husserl emphasizes how
discerning (II 58–59), how difficult (XIX/1 13–17: ‘‘Die Schwierigkeiten der rein
phänomenologischen Analyse’’), how rigorous (XXV 3–62), and even how
‘‘unnatural’’ (III/1 56–66, 135–137, etc.) phenomenological reflection is. In
addition, the circumstantial evidence that ‘‘we are fallible phenomenologists’’ is
cogent (3). In fact, there is a ‘‘lack of any overarching consensus on virtually every
significant issue’’ (3), and this seems to suggest a concomitant lack of replicability
of results by others—a crucial characteristic of the scientific method. This apparent
shortcoming alone ‘‘cries out for an explanation’’, says Hopp (3).
The chief source of the problem appears to be the dire disjunction between the
evidentiary achievements promised by the theory of the phenomenological
method, on the one hand, and the evidentiary results delivered by the practice of
it, on the other hand. Thus certain descriptions of phenomenological investigations
in Husserl’s Logical Investigations (XIX/2 645–656), The Idea of Phenomenology
(II 60–61), Ideas I (III/1 319–321), and Cartesian Meditations (I 55–57), for
instance, convey the distinct impression that the phenomenological method will
yield results with an extraordinary degree of warrant. As Hopp says (4): ‘‘For an
object to be given in the strictest sense—given in precisely the way in which it is
meant, and meant in just the way in which it is given—is … the ideal of adequate
evidence.’’ To be sure, according to Hopp, ‘‘the objects of ordinary perception do
not permit themselves to be given in this way, since there is always more to them
than what is strictly given intuitively in any perception of them’’, and experiences
of this sort possess ‘‘evidence in a looser sense’’ (4). None the less, according to
Husserl, the ‘‘ideal of adequate evidence’’ remains the gold standard of
phenomenological epistemology. This poses a question to which phenomenology
must find an answer, namely: If the ideal of adequate evidence were to be
realized, then how could there possibly be any room for reasonable doubt or
conceivable uncertainty? Thus Hopp notes (5): ‘‘If this ideal is what the
phenomenologist does achieve, then phenomenological cognition ought to be
much less fallible than we know it to be.’’
At this point, I want to anticipate that a great deal is going to depend on which
of Husserl’s texts we select in order to make our arguments. In fact, and as Hopp
too indicates (3–4), some of Husserl’s texts convey extremely one-sided
impressions of exceedingly complicated investigations into the phenomenon of
evidence. In the next section, I will explore how even a very brief Entstehungsund Entwicklungsgeschichte of the concept of evidence in Husserl’s work shows
that it is not at all clear that his dominant way of describing the phenomenon of
epistemic justification is in terms of ‘‘absolute’’, ‘‘adequate’’, and ‘‘apodictic’’
evidence.
In the Second Part of his paper, Hopp makes the distinction that makes a
difference (5 [emphasis added]):
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There are a couple of reasons why we, as individual thinkers, could be fallible
phenomenologists. Either (a) we are rather poor at carrying out the mental acts
prescribed by the phenomenological method, or (b) that method itself is
unsuited to discover the essential features of lived experiences.
Thus the source of our fallibility could be that ‘‘it is difficult, perhaps exceedingly
so, for us to carry out the required intentional acts to have phenomenological data
given to us in an evidential manner’’, or it could be that ‘‘phenomenological data do
not give themselves to us in an evidential manner even when we carry out the acts
prescribed by the phenomenological method in the right way’’ (5). Simply put, then,
according to Hopp (5 [emphasis added again]):
When it comes to acquiring phenomenological knowledge—or any knowledge, for that matter—there are at least two distinct sorts of possible
impediments: we could either be inept at wielding the tools required for the
job, or the tools themselves might be defective.
Referring to these sources of fallibility as ‘‘agent-fallibility’’ and ‘‘methodfallibility’’, Hopp provides the following definition of the latter (5):
A method M is method-fallible with respect to some subject matter S if
carrying out the mental acts prescribed by M does not result in warranted
beliefs about S. … A method that is not method-fallible with respect to S is
warrant-generating or … ‘‘epistemizing’’. A method that is epistemizing with
respect to some subject matter is one which, when carried out properly, is
capable of generating beliefs about that subject matter which possess a high
degree of epistemic warrant.
And the following definition of the former (5):
A thinker T is agent-fallible with respect to some method M if T is incapable
or barely capable of carrying out the mental acts prescribed by M. … The
opposite of this is agent-reliability: a thinker is agent-reliable with respect to
some method if it lies within the scope of that thinker’s power to carry out the
cognitive acts prescribed by that method most of the time he attempts to do so.
In general, Hopp’s remarks on these two (‘‘at least’’) forms of fallibility move me to
think that we should be looking for possible sources of fallibility that he neither
includes nor precludes. In particular, we may wonder whether it makes sense to
think about ‘‘evidence-fallibility’’ as that kind of fallibility which is rooted in
‘‘object-indeterminacy’’ as a useful supplement to Hopp’s agent-fallibility and
method-fallibility. Therefore, consistently with his definitions, I would define
evidence-fallibility thus:
An evidence E is evidence-fallible with respect to some object (or objectivity)
O if performing the mental acts prescribed by E does not result in warranted
beliefs about O. An evidence that is not evidence-fallible with respect to O is
warrant-generating or … ‘‘epistemizing’’. An evidence that is epistemizing
with respect to some object (or objectivity) is one which, when properly
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achieved, is capable of generating beliefs about that object (or objectivity)
which possess a high degree of epistemic warrant.
Mutatis mutandis, I would define object-indeterminacy thus:
An object (or objectivity) O is object-indeterminate with respect to some
thinker T if T is incapable or barely capable of performing the mental acts
prescribed by O. The opposite of this is object-determinacy: an object (or
objectivity) is object-determinate with respect to some thinker if it lies within
that thinker’s power to perform the cognitive acts prescribed by that object (or
objectivity) most of the time that he attempts to do so.
For example, a football referee may be perfectly agent-infallible and methodinfallible in the perfect game sense (I do not mean ‘‘American football’’ but rather
football). That is, he is competent, conscious, and conscientious. Yet those factors
may be necessary but not sufficient conditions for his calling the game in a way that
reliably reflects the phenomena on the field. After all, football is (in)famous for
employing only one referee, who must be omniscient—not to mention omnipotent—but who cannot be omnivident. As a result, the football referee is often caught
out on a bad call, and sometimes on a dispositive one (e.g., awarding a gamedeciding penalty shot), because he can only perceive the players, the ball, and the
play itself in so far as they give themselves to him through ‘‘shadowings forth’’ or
‘‘adumbrations’’ (Abschattungen) in the phenomenological sense.13 Hence his
decisions are ineluctably absolute, even as his evidences are inevitably inadequate.14 Changing the method of refereeing, for example, by adding additional
referees, regular consultations with the line judges, or instant replays, would entail
altering the pace, flow, and dynamic of the game, and thus also its very nature.
Football might begin to resemble ‘‘American football’’, thus allowing for enhanced
commercial exploitation by means of in-game television advertisement. Yet football
fans are content with more drama and less rigor. Nor would the suggested changes
completely eliminate indeterminacy. By popular demand and by official decree,
then, the game stays as it is, that is, delightfully but maddeningly objectindeterminate and thus fraught with evidence-fallibility. In this case, it lies in the
nature of the things themselves (die Sachen selbst) that evidence-fallibility and
object-indeterminacy dominate method-reliability and agent-infallibility. It is an
essential and ineradicable part of the game.
Given that Hopp has made us wonder about possible forms of fallibility, then, it
makes sense to ask why we should stop at the two that he examines. Why reduce the
matter of phenomenology and fallibility to a matter of either agent-fallibility or
method-fallibility? While the given definitions of evidence-fallibility and objectindeterminacy may still need some work, for now we may remain Ockhamistically
optimistic: Forms of fallibility should not be multiplied beyond necessity (formae
fallibilitatis non sunt multiplicandae praeter necessitatem).
13
Cairns (1973), p. 2.
14
Husserl, Ding und Raum: Vorlesungen 1907, ed. Ulrich Claesges (The Hague 1973), pp. 105–139.
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In the Third Part of his paper, Hopp explains the usefulness of his distinction
between method-fallibility and agent-fallibility (6):
The obvious payoff of this distinction is that we can, at least hopefully,
account for our fallibility as phenomenologists without damning the
phenomenological method itself. If we are fallible phenomenologists, and if
phenomenology is epistemizing with respect to the essential features of lived
conscious experience, then we had better be agent-fallible with respect to that
method. For suppose that the reason for our fallibility were that the
phenomenological method is method-fallible with respect to the essential
features of lived conscious experiences. Such a claim would be fatal to
phenomenology itself. If it were true, then even someone as agent-reliable as
God could not, by employing that method, arrive at warranted beliefs about
the essential features of consciousness.
Thus it emerges that the distinction between agent-fallibility and method-fallibility
is a tactic, whereas the strategy is to locate the fallibility of phenomenology not in
method-fallibility but in agent-fallibility (6): ‘‘The challenge now … is to explain
how we could be agent-fallible with respect to the phenomenological method.’’ Yet
the problem is that, when one applies the phenomenological method, then the matter
analyzed is ‘‘given’’ (7): ‘‘But how, if the relevant objects and states of affairs are
given to us, is there any room for agent-fallibility?’’ Hopp champions Husserl’s
solution by juxtaposing two fundamentally different conceptions of ‘‘givenness’’,
the traditional, according to which something is present and someone is passive, and
the phenomenological, according to which something constitutes itself for someone
and that someone is conscious of it (7).
In fact, Husserl clarifies the relationships between being (Sein) and consciousness
(Bewußtsein) in terms of what, in the language of transcendental idealism, he calls
‘‘constitution’’.15 Thus the German ‘‘Evidenz’’ has a substantially different
denotation (not to mention considerably different connotations) from the English
‘‘evidence’’. The latter refers mainly and mostly to whatever speaks for or against
the truth or falsity of a statement or for or against the existence or non-existence of a
state of affairs, whereas the former relates to the showing of that which shows itself
from out of itself.16 According to Husserl’s mature phenomenological definition,
evidence is ‘‘the intentional achievement of self-givenness’’ (‘‘die intentionale
Leistung der Selbstgebung’’ [XVII 166]). This ‘‘givenness’’ is as much an
achievement of the having subjectivity as it is a function of the given objectivity.
Hence Husserl’s concept of the ‘‘given’’ is, properly understood, also a concept of
the ‘‘taken’’. This is especially evident in the cases that involve not acts of senseperception and their correlative objects but categorial intuitions and their
corresponding objectivities. These intentional objectivities exhibit variegated
structures in that they involve, for example, founding and founded relations, parts
and wholes, levels and layers, aspects and dimensions, and so forth. As Husserl says
(XI 218):
15
Sokolowski (1970).
16
See Heffernan (1998).
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25
Das große Thema der Transzendentalphilosophie ist das Bewußtsein
überhaupt als ein Stufenbau konstitutiver Leistungen, in denen sich in immer
neuen Stufen oder Schichten immer neue Objektivitäten, Objektivitäten immer
neuen Typus konstituieren, sich immer neuartige Selbstgebungen entwickeln,
ihnen zugehörig immer neuartige vorbereitete Wege möglicher Ausweisung,
möglicher Ideen wahren Seins. Alle anderen Stufen sind dabei in die höheren
aufgehoben, aber in ihnen nicht verloren, vielmehr selbst jederzeit bereit für
entsprechende Blickrichtungen und Nachweisungen.
Das alles gilt es in phänomenologischer Methode, also im reinen Bewußtsein
und in der systematischen Ordnung zum Verständnis zu bringen.
The acts of evidence, that is, the ‘‘achievements of self-givenness’’ in which
consciousness intends these structured objectivities in categorial intuitions,
necessarily involve degrees, grades, and levels. This holds for a complex judgment
about a composite state of affairs, for an interpretation of a deep piece of literature,
for an analysis of a complicated game of football, and so forth. The phenomenological method of intuiting essences itself also requires ‘‘a gradual procedure’’ (ein
schrittweises Vorgehen [III/1 144–145]).17 All these things indicate another kind of
fallibility, namely, the evidence-fallibility that is founded on and grounded in
object-indeterminacy.
Thus Hopp employs the distinction between agent-fallibility and methodfallibility to inculpate the agent and to exculpate the method (8–9):
In light of Husserl’s account of givenness, the fact that we are fallible
phenomenologists can be explained without impugning the phenomenological method itself. The fact that acts of phenomenological reflection might
require work, and be founded in complex ways on other acts—including
those acts in which we effect the various reductions—means that there are an
awful lot of ways one can go wrong when carrying them out. We are agentfallible with respect to the phenomenological method because it is difficult,
for creatures like ourselves, to do each of the following: (a) perform the
phenomenological reductions in order to prevent ourselves from ‘‘knowing’’
about our subject matter in advance of our inquiries; (b) fix our attention on
our acts of consciousness in addition to their objects; (c) formulate concepts,
carried out in the appropriate meaning-intentions, that uniquely pick out the
features and properties of those acts; (d) fix those concepts, with just those
meaning-fulfillments or fulfilling conditions, terminologically; and (e)
perform eidetic abstraction and variation on the properties that we have
managed to fix intuitively and conceptually. Our fallibility as phenomenologists might be due not to the fact that the phenomenological method is the
wrong tool for the job, but owing to the difficulty creatures like us have
wielding it.
Again, the question is whether any important forms of fallibility are being
overlooked or underestimated. Above all, what about the evidence-fallibility that
17
Sokolowski (1974), pp. 57–85.
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has its source not in the imbecility of the agent but in the indeterminacy of the
objectivity? Yet Hopp’s account of fallibility appears to be one-sidedly noetic,
whereas the noematic aspects of the phenomenon also need to be investigated and
clarified. Especially, we need to look at the epistemic quality of the acts in which the
objectivities constitute themselves in and for consciousness. This suggests indeed
the possibility of another form of fallibility, namely, evidence-fallibility.
In the Fourth Part and the Fifth Part of his paper, Hopp shifts the focus of the
inquiry from issues of fallibility to items of justification (9):
This might be a satisfactory account of why we are fallible phenomenologists. It is, at any rate, surely part of the story. But explaining our fallibility
is only half of the problem. The other half is to explain how, given this
account, we can acquire phenomenological knowledge. For if Husserl is
right, correctly using the phenomenological method to uncover the essential
features of consciousness does result in knowledge. Surely he thought that
he himself had acquired knowledge by these means, and so, I reckon, do
many of us. Therefore, when we do employ that method successfully, we
will acquire knowledge; the relevant objects and states of affairs will be
given to us precisely as they are meant. But how, given this account, is that
possible?
How, indeed, is it possible for fallible agents to acquire genuine knowledge—
remembering that there is a strong view, going back at least to Plato,18 that
knowledge is of what is real and is thus infallible? Yet, recognizing that the
achievement of evidence does not require the attainment of adequacy or apodicticity
(10; cf. XVII 165–170), Hopp proceeds to analyze how to bring together fallible
agents and achievable knowledge.
Along the way, Hopp encounters and eliminates two sets of problems, the one
posed by an internalist theory of epistemic justification, and the other by an
externalist (reliabilist) theory. Against the former, Hopp argues, employing the
example of Husserl’s ‘‘Principle of All Principles’’ (Das Prinzip aller Prinzipien
[III/1 51]) as well as his insight that ‘‘intentionality and evidence are essentially
correlative concepts’’ (XVII 168; cf. XXIV 164), that ‘‘the internalist claim that all
of the factors that contribute to the justification of a belief be cognitively accessible
to a believer is simply too strong to be credible’’ (10). Against the latter, Hopp
argues, appealing to Husserl’s observation that ‘‘givenness is givenness’’ (XVI 300),
that ‘‘the reliability of an agent, his dispositions to form beliefs in a certain way, is
not a necessary condition of his having evidence in a given situation’’ (13).
These sections of the paper are, of course, useful. They do not, however, do for
method-fallibility what the other parts did for agent-fallibility—conceptually clarify
it. Yet that may be the point, given Hopp’s strategy of shifting epistemic culpability
from the method to the agent. In any case, these sections did also represent the last
big chance to explore the possibility of other forms of fallibility besides agentfallibility and method-fallibility. Still outstanding, then, is the question: Are there
18
Politeia 476d–477b, Theaetetus 152c, Timaeus 51e–52c—leaving out Parmenides.
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27
really no phenomenologically important forms of fallibility other than agentfallibility and method-fallibility?
In his concluding remarks, Hopp says something that sounds a little odd, given
what he has said thus far (13):
To wrap up, then: by distinguishing agent- and method-fallibility, I have
attempted to provide the beginnings of a non-exhaustive explanation of how it
is that phenomenological insights can have a very high degree of warrant,
even though we are quite fallible phenomenologists. I have also attempted to
explain how our beliefs can have a very high degree of warrant even when we
are agent-fallible with respect to the method whereby we arrived at those
beliefs. This is, of course, only a beginning: I have by no means established
that the method of phenomenological reflection is in fact a good way of
acquiring knowledge of the essential features of conscious lived experiences; I
have only established that its being so is compatible with the facts that
phenomenology is arduous and that the discipline itself is fraught with
controversy and disagreement.
This concluding statement is perplexing because Hopp has usually selected those
passages from Husserl’s works which make it sound as if the normal case of
evidence there were the ideal of adequation, whereas it is by no means clear that this
normative concept is also the dominant concept of evidence in Husserl’s writings.
To the contrary, Husserl’s phenomenological clarification of evidence eventually
but forcefully yields a ‘‘relativity theory’’ of evidence (VIII 34, XVII 284, 288).
Again, Hopp’s analysis of the relationship between fallibility and phenomenology is
one-sidedly noetic and not at all noematic. For it examines agent-fallibility and
method-fallibility but does not investigate evidence-fallibility. Yet this form of
fallibility, which is founded on and grounded in object-indeterminacy, is that which
is most intractable to agent and method. Hence the question: Where’s the noema?
After all, the chief leitmotif in Husserl’s phenomenology of evidence is that
evidence is at least as much a function of the object(ivity) as it is an achievement of
the agent or a yield of the method. This too suggests that there may also be
evidence-fallibility.
4 Explication: What is the Phenomenological Concept of Evidence?
It is hard to find a philosopher who gives a definite description or a precise definition
of ‘‘evidence’’.19 Yet Husserl poses the question, ‘‘was die Evidenz sei’’ (XXX 323),
and provides this answer (XXX 326–327):
Vertieft man sich in das Evidenzbewußtsein und macht man sich daran klar,
was es eigentlich ist, nämlich selbstgebendes Bewußtsein im Gegensatz zu
19
An exception to the rule is: Thomas Kelly, ‘‘Evidence’’, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy @
http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/evidence/. A good example of a philosopher who sought to define
‘‘knowledge’’ in terms of evidence without ever genuinely defining ‘‘evidence’’ is Chisholm (1966/1977/
1989).
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bloßem Meinen, ohne selbst zu fassen, [im Gegensatz] zu leerer Intention
ohne Erfüllung, macht man sich … diesen Unterschied klar, so sieht man, daß
selbstverständlich derart selbstgebendes Bewußtsein zwar Rätsel lösen, aber
nicht selbst mehr Rätsel enthalten kann. Alles Rätselhafte, alles Problematische liegt auf seiten des bloßen Meinens. Das schauende Selbsterfassen,
Selbsthaben, als ein Rätsel behandeln wollen, das heißt selbst nicht verstehen,
es heißt von oben her über Evidenz philosophieren statt sich die Evidenz selbst
anzusehen, sie sich selbst zur Evidenz zu bringen.
There is a special relationship between phenomenology and evidence. Is there also a
special relationship between phenomenology and infallibility? That is, what does
the phenomenological clarification of evidence show about the possibility of
absolute, adequate, and apodictic evidence?
The more selective one is in the choice of which of Husserl’s texts to base the
answer on, the more likely that answer is to be inadequate.20 On the other hand, to
paraphrase an ancient adage: philosophia profunda est, sed vita brevis.21 To
compromise means to be both as comprehensive and as concise as possible in
providing a synopsis of Husserl’s views on evidence.
4.1 Logical Investigations (1900/1901, 1913/1921)
The ‘‘subjective’’ definition of evidence from the Prolegomena to Pure Logic—‘‘das
‘Erlebnis’ der Wahrheit’’ (XVIII 193)—turns out to have been merely provisional.
Now the phenomenon of evidence, clarified in terms of the distinctions between
empty and filled intentions and present and absent objects, proves to be
fundamentally multivalent. On the one hand (LU VI, Chapter Three: ‘‘Zur
Phänomenologie der Erkenntnisstufen’’ [XIX/2 596–631]), there is the loose concept
of evidence in the relative sense (‘‘Evidenz im laxen Sinne’’ [XIX/2 650]), according
to which degrees, grades, and levels of evidence are not only possible but also
necessary (XIX/2 651): ‘‘Von Graden und Stufen der Evidenz zu sprechen, gibt dann
einen guten Sinn.’’ On the other hand (LU VI, Chapter Five: ‘‘Das Ideal der
Adäquation’’ [XIX/2 645–656]), there is the strict concept of evidence in the absolute
sense (‘‘Evidenz im strengen Sinne’’ [XIX/2 650]), according to which degrees,
grades, and levels of evidence are not only unnecessary but also impossible (651):
Der erkenntniskritisch prägnante Sinn von Evidenz betrifft aber ausschließlich
dieses letzte, unüberschreitbare Ziel, den Akt dieser vollkommensten Erfüllungssynthesis, welcher der Intention … die absolute Inhaltsfülle … gibt.
Remarkably, the distinction between adequate and inadequate perception does not
correlate without further ado with (1) the distinction between categorial and
sensuous intuition (LU VI, §§ 40–66, esp. 44–48) or with (2) the distinction between
internal and external perception (XIX/2 769–771).
20
The best book-length study in English of the formation and development of Husserl’s concept of
evidence remains Levin (1970). See also Tugendhat (1967) and Levinas (1930).
21
Cf. Seneca, De brevitate vitae 1.1, and Hippokrates, Aphorisms 1.1.
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29
Point: The phenomenological quest is for ‘‘triple-A type’’ evidence, knowledge,
and truth; the philosophical question is with respect to which objects and
objectivities these epistemic values are attainable.
4.2 The Idea of Phenomenology (1907)
Absoluteness, adequacy, and apodicticity of evidence are intimately and repeatedly
associated. The existence of ‘‘cogitatio’’ is supposed to be guaranteed by ‘‘ihre
absolute Selbstgegebenheit … ihre Gegebenheit in reiner Evidenz’’ (II 8). There is
also ‘‘Evidenz … Selbstgegebenheit’’ of ‘‘cogitationes’’, which are ‘‘fraglos
gegeben … im strengsten Sinn adäquat selbstgegeben’’ (II 60). Here ‘‘evidente
Gegebenheit … im echten Sinn’’ is understood as ‘‘absolute Gegebenheit des reinen
Schauens’’ (II 9). Thus the three features of ‘‘triple-A type evidence’’ are
inextricably linked (II 9–10):
Das Fundament von allem … ist das Erfassen des Sinnes der absoluten
Gegebenheit, der absoluten Klarheit des Gegebenseins, das jeden sinnvollen
Zweifel ausschließt, mit einem Wort der absolut schauenden, selbst
erfassenden Evidenz.
‘‘Triple-A type evidence’’ is ‘‘pregnant’’, ‘‘immediate’’ evidence (II 35):
… absolute und klare Gegebenheit, Selbstgegebenheit im absoluten Sinn.
Dieses Gegebensein, das jeden sinnvollen Zweifel ausschließt, ein schlechthin
unmittelbares Schauen und Fassen der gemeinten Gegenständlichkeit selbst
und so wie sie ist, macht den prägnanten Begriff der Evidenz aus, und zwar
verstanden als unmittelbare Evidenz.
Adequacy is seen as an integral part of the definition of ‘‘evidence’’ (II 59):
Das Fundamentale ist … daß Evidenz … dieses in der Tat schauende, direkt
und adäquat selbst fassende Bewußtsein ist, daß es nichts anderes als adäquate
Selbstgegebenheit besagt.
‘‘Knowledge’’ is defined in terms of evidence (II 74; cf. 76): ‘‘Nur in der Erkenntnis
[ist] das Wesen der Gegenständlichkeit … gegeben, ist es evident zu schauen.
Dieses evidente Schauen ist ja selbst die Erkenntnis im prägnantesten Sinn.’’
Point: The strong focus on consciousness as such suggests that absolute,
adequate, and apodictic evidence is available and attainable.
4.3 Ideas on a Pure Phenomenology and Phenomenological Philosophy (1913)
The argument of a systematic ‘‘Phänomenologie der Evidenz’’ (III/1 333–337) is
that genuine scientific evidence can be obtained not in regard to ‘‘facts’’
(‘‘Tatsachen’’) but in regard to ‘‘essences’’ (‘‘Wesen’’) (III/1 3–55), and not in
regard to the world but in regard to consciousness (III/1 56–134). Such evidence is
adequate, as distinguished from inadequate (III/1 13–16), and apodictic, as
distinguished from dubitable (III/1 19–20). These features qualify evidence as
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absolute (III/1 91–94, 96–99, 103–110, 118–119); the evidence being sought is
‘‘perfect’’ (‘‘vollkommene Evidenz’’) (III/1 65, 205, 226, 322). As a principle of
evidence, ‘‘das Prinzip aller Prinzipien’’ says (III/1 51):
… daß jede originär gebende Anschauung eine Rechtsquelle der Erkenntnis
sei, daß alles, was sich uns in der ‘‘Intuition’’ originär (sozusagen in seiner
leibhaften Wirklichkeit) darbietet, einfach hinzunehmen sei, als was es sich
gibt, aber auch nur in den Schranken, in denen es sich da gibt …
The definition of ‘‘evidence’’ is peculiar: ‘‘die Einheit einer Vernunftsetzung mit dem
sie wesensmäßig Motivierenden’’ (III/1 316). Again, there is a stricter and a looser
sense of ‘‘Evidenz’’. Evidence is ‘‘usually’’ (‘‘gewöhnlich’’) absolute, adequate, and
apodictic (III/1 317–319). Yet relative, inadequate, and assertoric evidence is also
evidence. The same holds for ‘‘mediate’’ (‘‘mittelbar’’) or ‘‘derivative’’ (‘‘abgeleitet’’)
or ‘‘impure’’ (‘‘unrein’’) evidence, as distinguished from ‘‘immediate’’ (‘‘unmittelbar’’) or ‘‘original’’ (‘‘originär’’) or ‘‘pure’’ (‘‘rein’’) evidence (III/1 314–333). In the
end, ‘‘evidence’’ is ‘‘ein eigentümlicher Setzungsmodus … der zu eidetisch
bestimmten Wesenskonstitutionen des Noema gehört’’, for example, ‘‘der Modus
ursprüngliche Einsichtigkeit zur noematischen Beschaffenheit ‘originär’ gebende
Wesenserschauung’’ (III/1 334).
Point: The idea that the degree or level of evidence depends on the character and
constitution of the evident begins not only to emerge but also to dominate.
4.4 First Philosophy—Part Two: Theory of the Phenomenological Reduction
(1923/24)
‘‘Adequate evidence’’ is defined as ‘‘[e]ine Evidenz, die die … ideale Vollkommenheit [der Selbstgegebenheit] hat’’ (VIII 33). Yet there is a serious question about
the character of the connections between absoluteness, adequacy, and apodicticity
here (VIII 34):
Vielleicht liegt nun in aller und jeder Evidenz als Selbstgebung, als
Bewußtsein, Gemeintes als ‘‘es selbst’’ zu erfassen, eine gewisse Relativität,
derart daß, wo immer wir von einer adäquaten Evidenz sprechen und ihrer als
solcher gewiß sind, nur ein ähnlicher und dabei ev. kontinuierlicher und frei
fortzuführender Steigerungsprozeß relativer Evidenzen vorliegt, somit ein
Bewußtsein stetiger und freier Annäherung an ein bewußtseinsmäßig also
mitbeschlossenes Ziel, das als solches—also nur als Idee—evident wird,
während es trotz der Evidenz der Annäherung doch—und evidenterweise—
unerreicht bleibt.
On the one hand, the difference between adequacy and apodicticity of evidence
seems to be not extensional but intensional (VIII 35):
Noch eines ist hier zu bemerken als Charakteristikum einer adäquaten
Evidenz: Es tritt hervor in der Probe des Durchgangs durch Negation oder
Zweifel. Versuche ich, eine adäquate Evidenz zu negieren oder als zweifelhaft
anzusetzen, so springt, und wieder in adäquater Evidenz, die Unmöglichkeit
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31
des Nichtseins oder des Zweifelhaftseins des Evidenten, des aus absoluter
Selbstgebung Erfaßten hervor. Wir können diese Eigenheit adäquater Evidenz
auch als ihre Apodiktizität bezeichnen. Offenbar ist umgekehrt jede apodiktische Evidenz adäquat. Wir können daher beide Ausdrücke als äquivalente
gebrauchen und insbesondere den einen oder [den] anderen bevorzugen, je
nachdem wir eben auf die Adäquation oder [auf] die Apodiktizität besonderen
Wert legen.
On the other hand, the expressed ‘‘equivalence’’ of ‘‘adequacy’’ and ‘‘apodicticity’’
does not appear to obtain after all (VIII 396–397):
Erkenntnis geht auf Sein oder Sosein irgendwelcher Erkenntnisgegenstände.
Müssen Erkenntnisse apodiktisch sein für Sein und Sosein, damit wir sollen
rechtmäßig aussagen dürfen, daß sie sind und so sind? Oder: Müssen alle
wahrhaft seienden Gegenstände, alle Gegenstände möglicher Wissenschaft,
apodiktisch erfahrbar und demnach auch so erkennbar sein? Und nun gar
adäquat! Selbst das Ich-denke ist, wenn auch apodiktisch erkennbar—nämlich
als Erfahrung jederzeit auf die Gestalt einer apodiktischen Seinssetzung zu
bringen—, nicht adäquat erkennbar. Und jedes besondere Tatsachenurteil, das
ich innerhalb meiner reinen Subjektivität aussprechen kann, sofern es
hinausgeht über den Gehalt des davon Apodiktischen—die apodiktische
Strukturform mitgenommen—, ist auch nicht mehr apodiktisch begründbar,
nämlich es bringt nicht apodiktische konkrete Gehalte herein.
Hence the phenomenology of evidence gives an ambivalent account of the
relationship between adequacy and apodicticity as absolutenesses.
Point: It is an open question whether the three features of ‘‘triple-A type’’
evidence can coincide, since evidence again seems to be also a function of the
evident, the manner of givenness also a matter of the given.
4.5 Formal and Transcendental Logic (1929)
Here it is argued that the ‘‘possibility of deception’’ (‘‘Möglichkeit der Täuschung’’)
pertains to the ‘‘evidence of experience’’ (‘‘Evidenz der Erfahrung’’) and therefore
does not cancel its basic character or achievement (XVII 164; cf. 130). The same
is said to hold for ‘‘jedwede Evidenz’’ or for ‘‘jede ‘Erfahrung’ im erweiterten
Sinne’’ (XVII 164): ‘‘Selbst eine sich als apodiktisch ausgebende Evidenz kann
sich als Täuschung enthüllen und setzt doch dafür eine ähnliche Evidenz voraus,
an der sie ‘zerschellt’.’’ Evidence is thus not to be confused with ‘‘eine absolute
Apodiktizität’’ (XVII 165). According to the definition, ‘‘evidence’’ is (XVII 166;
cf. 176):
… die intentionale Leistung der Selbstgebung … die allgemeine ausgezeichnete Gestalt der ‘‘Intentionalität’’, des ‘‘Bewußtseins von etwas’’, in der
das in ihr bewußte Gegenständliche in der Weise des Selbsterfaßten,
Selbstgesehenen, des bewußtseinsmäßigen Bei-ihm-selbst-seins bewußt ist
… das urtümliche Bewußtsein: ‘‘es selbst’’ erfasse ich, originaliter …
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An internal relation is posited between the ‘‘Grundgesetzlichkeit der Intentionalität’’
and the ‘‘universale Funktion der Evidenz’’ (XVII 168): ‘‘Intentionalität
überhaupt—Erlebnis eines Bewußt-habens von irgend etwas—und Evidenz, Intentionalität der Selbstgebung sind wesensmäßig zusammengehörige Begriffe.’’ Hence
the implicit syllogism (cf. XVII 168–169):
P1: Intentionality and evidence are inseparable.
P2: But all consciousness is intentional (consciousness of).
C: Therefore all consciousness is evident.
This notion requires a broad concept of evidence. As a result, one can say that
‘‘Evidenz [ist] eine universale, auf das gesamte Bewußtseinsleben bezogene Weise
der Intentionalität, durch sie hat es eine universale teleologische Struktur …’’ (XVII
168–169). Yet the general definition of evidence does not mean that ‘‘die Struktur
der Evidenz’’ is everywhere the same (XVII 169):
Kategorie der Gegenständlichkeit und Kategorie der Evidenz sind Korrelate.
Zu jeder Grundart von Gegenständlichkeiten … gehört eine Grundart der
‘‘Erfahrung’’, der Evidenz und ebenso des intentional indizierten
Evidenzstiles.
Indeed, to reduce evidence to an ‘‘apodiktische, absolut zweifellose und sozusagen in
sich absolut fertige Einsicht’’ is to fail to understand any scientific achievement (XVII
169). In fact, ‘‘die üblichen Evidenztheorien’’ are ‘‘mißleitet von der Voraussetzung
absoluter Wahrheit’’ (XVII 283). For the traditional theory of evidence views (XVII
283–284):
… Evidenz als absolute Erfassung der Wahrheit … [d]iese absolute Evidenz
wird … gefaßt als ein … psychischer Charakter mancher Urteilserlebnisse, der
es absolut verbürgt, daß der Urteilsglaube nicht bloß Glaube ist, sondern ein
solcher, der die Wahrheit selbst zu wirklicher Gegebenheit bringt …
This ‘magical’ theory is untenable (XVII 284). A neglected aspect of evidence and
truth must be respected: ‘‘… die Relativität der Wahrheit und ihrer Evidenz …’’
(XVII 284). The critical account of evidence continues with a ‘‘Kritik der
Voraussetzung absoluter Wahrheit und der dogmatischen Theorien der Evidenz’’
(XVII 286). The purpose is to show that evidence need not be ‘absolute, adequate,
apodictic’ (XVII 286–287), and the task is to learn how to live with imperfect
evidence (XVII 287):
Erfahrung, Evidenz, gibt Seiendes und gibt es selbst, unvollkommen, wenn sie
unvollkommene Erfahrung ist, vollkommener, wenn sie sich—ihrer Wesensart
gemäß—vervollkommnet, das ist, sich in der Synthesis der Einstimmigkeit
erweitert.
The only way to render ‘‘Evidenz als Leistung’’ (XVII 288) intelligible is by means
of a ‘Relativitätstheorie der Evidenz’ (XVII 288). Accordingly, the end of the work
delivers a ‘‘Vorzeichnung einer transzendentalen Theorie der Evidenz als intentionaler Leistung’’ (XVII 289). To understand ‘‘das Wesen der Evidenz, Evidenz als
Leistung’’ (XVII 289), one must distinguish:
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1.
2.
3.
4.
33
‘‘Die Evidenz der äußeren (sinnlichen) Erfahrung’’ (XVII 289–290): Not even
God can render this evidence absolute, adequate, and apodictic.
‘‘Die Evidenz der ‘inneren’ Erfahrung’’ (XVII 290–291): Not even ‘‘die
einzelne Wahrnehmung’’ is ‘‘eine abgeschlossene Evidenz für Seiendes’’.
‘‘Die Evidenz der immanenten Zeitdaten’’ (XVII 291–295): Since all evidence
is founded on the structure of inner time consciousness, all evidence exhibits
‘‘Gradualitäten in der Vollkommenheit der Selbstgebung’’.
‘‘Evidenz als apriorische Strukturform des Bewußtseins’’ (XVII 295): Since
‘‘… ein Bewußtseinsleben … ohne Evidenz nicht sein kann …’’, and ‘‘…
Evidenzen … überhaupt in weiteren Zusammenhängen mit Nichtevidenzen
stehen …’’, it follows that a life of consciousness cannot exist without
‘‘Abwandlungen der Evidenzen’’ as ‘‘Nichtevidenzen’’.
Hence the explicit syllogism:
P1: There is no consciousness without evidence.
P2: But there are no evidences without non-evidences.
C: Therefore there is no consciousness without non-evidences.
This mature account of evidence recognizes the importance of ‘‘die konstituierende
Horizontintentionalität’’ (XVII 207) not only for the investigation of meaning but
also for the clarification of evidence.
Point: Primacy and ultimacy are given not to absolute, adequate, and apodictic
evidence but to relative, imperfect, and dubitable evidence.
4.6 Cartesian Meditations (1931)
As the phenomenological clarification of evidence continues, the question of
‘‘justification’’ (‘‘Begründung’’) (I 51) prompts another, preliminary definition (I 52):
Evidenz ist in einem allerweitesten Sinne eine Erfahrung von Seiendem und
So-Seiendem, eben ein Es-selbst-geistig-zu-Gesicht-bekommen.
Thus evidence can be ‘‘perfect’’ or ‘‘imperfect’’ (I 52): ‘‘Evidenz … kann
vollkommener und weniger vollkommen sein.’’ Life is content with ‘‘relative
Evidenzen und Wahrheiten’’, but science seeks ‘‘absolute Wahrheiten’’ (I 52–53).
For the systematic reflections, a ‘‘normierendes methodisches Prinzip der Evidenz’’
is established (I 54):
… ein erstes methodisches Prinzip … daß ich … kein Urteil fällen oder in
Geltung lassen darf, das ich nicht aus der Evidenz geschöpft habe, aus
Erfahrungen, in denen mir die betreffenden Sachen und Sachverhalte als sie
selbst gegenwärtig sind.
Here ‘‘Evidenz’’ is understood as ‘‘die wirkliche Selbstgebung der Sachen’’ (I 54).
‘‘Adequacy’’ (‘‘Adäquatheit’’) and ‘‘apodicticity’’ (‘‘Apodiktizität’’) are distinguished
as two ‘‘perfections’’ (‘‘Vollkommenheiten’’) of evidence, whereby ‘‘a higher
dignity’’ (‘‘eine höhere Dignität’’) is attributed to the latter than to the former (I 55–
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56). It is said that ‘‘Adäquation und Apodiktizität einer Evidenz nicht Hand in Hand
gehen müssen’’ (I 62), so that there may be evidence that is apodictic but not adequate.
For example, only ‘‘die lebendige Selbstgegenwart’’ offers both apodictic and
adequate evidence (I 62), whereas the evidence of the ‘‘ich bin’’ is merely apodictic
(I 58–61) and the evidence of the existence of the world is not even that (I 57–58).
The issue of the extent of the apodictic evidence of the ‘‘ich bin’’ (I 61–63) is raised
(I 66–67) but bracketed (I 67–70). The definitive definition of ‘‘Evidenz’’ comprehends both ‘‘self-givenness’’ (‘‘Selbstgegebenheit’’) and its ‘‘derivative variations’’
(‘‘Abwandlungen’’) (I 92–93):
Im weitesten Sinne bezeichnet Evidenz ein allgemeines Urphänomen des
intentionalen Lebens—gegenüber sonstigem Bewußt-haben, das a priori leer,
vormeinend, indirekt, uneigentlich sein kann, die ganz ausgezeichnete
Bewußtseinsweise der Selbsterscheinung, des Sich-selbst-darstellens, des
Sich-selbst-gebens einer Sache, eines Sachverhaltes, einer Allgemeinheit,
eines Wertes usw. im Endmodus des Selbst da, unmittelbar anschaulich,
originaliter gegeben.
This definition is consistent with the notion that the evident cannot be reduced to that
which is evident in the immediate present, since there is always that which can
become evident at any time (I 93–94); that there is another respect in which not just
‘‘actual evidence’’ counts, since ‘‘potential evidence’’ in the sense of ‘‘habitual
evidence’’ also contributes to the constitution of objects (I 95–96); and that the ideal
of adequate evidence is unrealizable in regard to the one-sided evidence of external
experience and the objects thereof (I 96–97). With respect to a ‘‘Totalevidenz’’ or
‘‘eine absolut vollkommene Evidenz’’ or an ‘‘adäquate Erfüllung’’ or ‘‘eine absolute
Evidenz’’ (I 98), the aim is no longer to realize the ideal of ‘‘triple-A type’’ evidence,
but rather to reflect on the implications of its unrealizability (I 97–99, esp. 98):
Nicht diese Evidenz wirklich herzustellen … sondern ihre Wesensstruktur
bzw. die Wesensstruktur der ihre ideale unendliche Synthesis systematisch
aufbauenden Unendlichkeitsdimensionen nach allen inneren Strukturen
klarzulegen, ist eine ganz bestimmte und gewaltige Aufgabe ….
Self-givenness and the given self are thus distinct but inseparable (I 98–99). The
real test of the phenomenological method involves the achievement of evidence
with respect to transcendental intersubjectivity (CM V). Can the self have evidence
for or apodictic knowledge of the other (I 133, 136)? Can the self experience the
self-givenness of the other (I 139)? Or does every evidence not posit more than it
presents (I 151)? Is the self-givenness of other selves similar or analogous to that of
other things (I 155)? Has the problem of the other been solved as a problem of
evidence (I 174–177)? In the end, access to alterity and inadequacy of evidence are
inextricably linked (I 129): ‘‘Hier aber fällt uns ein Merkwürdiges auf—eine Kette
von Evidenzen, die doch in der Verkettung als Paradoxien anmuten.’’
Point: There are no necessary connections between absoluteness, adequacy, and
apodicticity here. Also, serious questions arise about the extent of these properties
of evidence even then when they do obtain. Finally, evidence again turns out to be a
function of the evident.
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35
4.7 The Crisis of the European Sciences and Transcendental Phenomenology
(1935–1936)
As far as evidence is concerned, the question about the Lebenswelt, ‘‘ein Reich
ursprünglicher Evidenzen’’ (VI 130), is about the relation between ‘‘der wissenschaftlichen Evidenz’’ (VI 2, 21, 26, 56, 77, 103, 131, 143–144, 159, 203–204, 237)
and ‘‘der lebensweltlichen Evidenz’’ (VI 131–133, 143, 232). ‘‘Evidence’’ is now
defined thus (VI 367 [1936]):
Evidenz besagt gar nichts anderes als Erfassen eines Seienden im Bewußtsein
seines originalen Selbst-da.
The answer is that the absolute, abstract, deductive, and objective evidence of the
world of science is founded on or grounded in the relative, concrete, intuitive, and
subjective evidence of the world of life (VI 133): ‘‘Das Wissen von der objektivwissenschaftlichen [Welt] ‘gründet’ in der Evidenz der Lebenswelt.’’ The
‘‘evidence’’ varies according to the evident (VI 169):
Erfahrung, Evidenz ist nicht eine leere Allgemeinheit, sondern differenziert
sich nach den Arten, Gattungen, regionalen Kategorien von Seiendem und
auch nach allen raumzeitlichen Modalitäten.
‘‘Phenomenological evidence’’ is supposed to be something special (VI 192–193):
‘‘Jede Evidenz ist ein Problemtitel, nur nicht die phänomenologische Evidenz,
nachdem sie sich selbst reflektiv geklärt und als letzte erwiesen hat.’’ The quest for
apodictic evidence may not be over yet, but most references to ‘‘apodiktische
Evidenz’’ are now made from the neutral standpoint of a descriptive detachment (VI
26, 54–56, 61–62, 77–79, 123, 195, 233–234). ‘‘Adequate evidence’’ is harder to find
than genuine evidence (VI 227): ‘‘Aber es zeigt sich bald, daß … echte Evidenz …
nicht billig zu erkaufen ist.’’ The conclusion is a matter of considerable controversy
(VI 508 [Summer 1935?]): ‘‘Philosophie als Wissenschaft, als ernstliche, strenge, ja
apodiktisch strenge Wissenschaft—der Traum ist ausgeträumt.’’
Point: The dominant leitmotif of the phenomenological clarification of
evidence—that evidence varies with the evident—is again in evidence.
4.8 Experience and Judgment (1938)
It emerges that the predicative evidence of judgment is founded on and grounded in
the prepredicative evidence of experience (cf. XVII 209–230). The accepted notion
that logical evidence is the measure of all evidence is reviewed and revised (Husserl
[1972], p. 10):
Von vornherein glaubte man zu wissen, was Evidenz ist, an einem Ideal
absoluter, apodiktisch gewisser Erkenntnis glaubte man jede Erkenntnis
messen zu können, und kam nicht auf den Gedanken, daß dieses Ideal der
Erkenntnis und damit auch die Erkenntnisse des Logikers selbst, die doch
diese Apodiktizität für sich in Anspruch nehmen, ihrerseits erst einer
Rechtfertigung und Ursprungsbegründung bedürfen könnten.
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Accordingly, the evidence of material experience is as legitimate a form of
epistemic warrant as the evidence of formal logic is (Husserl [1972], pp. 11–12):
Die Rede von Evidenz, evidenter Gegebenheit, besagt hier also nichts anderes
als Selbstgegebenheit, die Art und Weise wie ein Gegenstand in seiner
Gegebenheit bewußtseinsmäßig als ‘‘selbst da’’, ‘‘leibhaft da’’ gekennzeichnet
sein kann—im Gegensatz zu seiner bloßen Vergegenwärtigung, der leeren,
bloß indizierenden Vorstellung von ihm. Z.B. ein Gegenstand der äußeren
Wahrnehmung ist evident gegeben, als ‘‘er selbst’’, eben in der wirklichen
Wahrnehmung im Gegensatz zur bloßen Vergegenwärtigung von ihm, der
erinnernden, phantasierenden usw. Als evident bezeichnen wir somit jederlei
Bewußtsein, das hinsichtlich seines Gegenstandes als ihn selbst gebendes
charakterisiert ist, ohne Frage danach, ob diese Selbstgebung adäquat ist oder
nicht.
This approach to evidence also relativizes the claim of absolute, adequate, and
apodictic evidence to be the standard for all evidence (Husserl [1972], p. 12):
Damit weichen wir von dem üblichen Gebrauche des Wortes Evidenz ab, das
in der Regel in Fällen verwendet wird, die richtig beschrieben solche
adäquater Gegebenheit, andererseits apodiktischer Einsicht sind. Auch solche
Gegebenheitsweise ist gekennzeichnet als Selbstgebung, nämlich von Idealitäten, allgemeinen Wahrheiten. Aber jede Art von Gegenständen hat ihre Art
der Selbstgebung = Evidenz; und nicht für jede, z.B. nicht für raum-dingliche
Gegenstände äußerer Wahrnehmung ist eine apodiktische Evidenz möglich.
Gleichwohl haben auch sie ihre Art ursprünglicher Selbstgebung und damit
ihre Art der Evidenz.
It is hard to find a more articulate statement of the evidentiary principle that ‘‘every
kind of given has its own kind of givenness’’.
Point: The development of phenomenology from an attraction to the ideal of
absolute, adequate, and apodictic evidence to the acceptance of the reality of
relative, inadequate, and fallible evidence is complete.
The goal of the phenomenological method, as applied to the phenomenon of
evidence, is primarily and ultimately to thematize what is operative in epistemic
experience (XXIV 164): ‘‘Man lebt in der Evidenz, reflektiert aber nicht über
Evidenz.’’ Hence the question to which an answer must be sought (XXIV 154): ‘‘Was
ist das, Evidenz?’’ The ‘‘problem of evidence’’ is defined as a ‘‘Problem der
Gegebenheit’’ from the objective side (XXIV 153–156, esp. 155): ‘‘Offenbar ist
Evidenz nichts anderes als ein Name für den Charakter der Gegebenheit.’’ From the
subjective side, evidence is defined as ‘‘an experience’’ (‘‘ein Erlebnis’’) (XXIV 316),
‘‘an experience of givenness’’ (‘‘der Gegebenheit’’) (XXIV 155), ‘‘an experience of
givenness involving insight’’ (‘‘Einsicht’’) (XXIV 155). Hence evidence is a matter of
degrees, grades, and levels (XXIV 322): ‘‘Aber die Evidenz ist von verschiedener
Vollkommenheit.’’ Which degrees, grades, or levels are achievable appears to be first
and foremost a matter of the kind of object or objectivity involved (XXIV 214–216,
220–230, 309–325, 344–348).
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37
The result of the phenomenological clarification of the phenomenon of evidence,
then, is this: What evidence is, depends on what is evident.22
5 Application: What Kind of Evidence Does the Phenomenological
Method Yield?
The result has a big implication for the question of whether phenomenology in
general or the phenomenological method in particular can yield ‘‘infallible’’ results.
The reason is that the most important form of fallibility would appear to be neither
agent-fallibility nor method-fallibility but rather evidence-fallibility, which is
ineradicably rooted in object-indeterminacy. After all, the principle of intentionality
not only says that consciousness is consciousness of, but also shows that
consciousness is consciousness of something. This something is not lost but gained
by means of the phenomenological reduction, since it constitutes a substantial part
of what is methodically bracketed in by means of this step. The content of this
something, of which consciousness is consciousness, comprehends all the noematic
(objective) contents of consciousness. To what extent, then, can phenomenologists
make ‘‘infallible’’ judgments about these intentional contents of consciousness?
Does the phenomenological method ‘‘guarantee’’ any infallibility in this area? In
fact, if the development of Husserl’s thinking about evidence is any guide, then in
the end object-determinacy is an ideal surely to be pursued but hardly to be realized
and evidence-fallibility is a reality certainly to be avoided but scarcely to be
eliminated. Thus the achievable quality and quantity of object-determinacy is at
least as much a direct function of the object or objectivity itself as it is of anything
else, for example, of the agent or of the method.
Blending ancient and modern tropes, the expression ‘‘evidence’’, as it is
employed in the phenomenological clarifications of knowledge provided by Husserl,
must be counted among what Aristotle refers to as pollachos legomena—‘‘things
that are said in many senses’’.23 For one of the things that a careful review of
Husserl’s application of the phenomenological method to the phenomenon of
evidence shows is that there is a gradual evolution in his thought from a strong but
abstract preference for absolute, adequate, and apodictic evidence to a healthy and
concrete appreciation for relative, imperfect, and dubitable evidence. There is an old
saying in philosophy that some philosophers are born as Platonists and die as
Aristotelians, but none are born as Aristotelians and die as Platonists. The case of
Husserl’s thinking on evidence is further confirmation of this hypothesis. His early
thinking on the topic is, of course, strongly oriented on the ideal of adequation. The
longer he thinks about it, however, the more he sees himself compelled to give the
reality of relativity its due.
22
Another way to contextualize Husserl’s texts on evidence would be to use the texts of other
philosophers on this topic. See Heffernan (2000). Readers are referred to the second, corrected version,
not to the first one, which was printed replete with errors added by the agent-fallible publisher.
23
Metaphysics V (Delta).
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Anticipating Husserl, Aristotle also articulates the principle of contextual
precision very well: ‘‘Our discussion will be adequate if we make things
perspicuous enough to accord with the subject matter; for we would not seek the
same degree of exactness in all sorts of arguments alike …. Each of our claims,
then, ought to be accepted in the same way …. For the educated person seeks
exactness in each area to the extent that the nature of the subject allows ….’’24
Analogously, phenomenological clarification shows that it is not the method under
application but the matter under investigation that primarily and ultimately
determines the character of the evidence that is achievable with respect to it.
Husserl has good grounds for being wary of modern projects such as Descartes’
dream of encompassing all human learning by means of methodical rules or
Spinoza’s nightmare of an ethica more geometrico demonstrata.
From a phenomenological standpoint, what evidence is, depends on what is
evident. The manner of givenness is contingent upon the matter of the given. In
terms of the discussion of the relationship between phenomenology and fallibility,
then, it is not enough to neutralize agent-fallibility and method-fallibility. For there
is another important source of fallibility involved, namely, object-indeterminacy.
From a different perspective, one may also refer to the phenomenon of evidencefallibility. The phenomenological method must thematize it, but it cannot eliminate
it. To understand Husserl’s shocking but not surprising remark in Formal and
Transcendental Logic about the difference between real and apparent apodictic
evidence (XVII 164:32–33) is to appreciate why he does not claim that even a
proper application of the most rigorous method guarantees epistemic ‘‘infallibility’’—it’s the evanescence of evidence! Husserl also does not say that evidence
‘‘guarantees’’ truth. Such a statement is foreign to his way of thinking about
evidence and truth as well as inconsistent with his withering criticism of the
Cartesian ‘‘theological theory of evidence’’ (VII 79, 86, 341) as the prime example
of the notion that any evidence can exercise this guarantor function (II 49, XXX
322–323, XVII 283, 286).25 In fact, Husserl has a deep aversion to the use of verbs
such as ‘‘vergewissern’’ or ‘‘versichern’’—not to mention ‘‘garantieren’’—in
connection with talk about evidence. The phenomenology of evidence has no
tolerance for the notion that evidence assures ‘‘infallibility’’ to any epistemic agent
employing any epistemological method.
Thus the phenomenological method does not guarantee ‘‘infallibility’’. It would
be odd, indeed, if it were otherwise than it is. The last century alone has
provided numerous cases of the intractable limitations of human cognition, for
example, Heisenberg’s ‘‘Uncertainty or Indeterminacy Principle’’ (Unschärfeprinzip
[1925/1927]),26 Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems,27 Gettier’s Problem,28 Quine’s
24
Nicomachean Ethics, tr. Terence Irwin (Indianapolis/Cambridge, MA 1999), 1094b12–27.
25
See Heffernan (1997).
26
Heisenberg (1930).
27
Gödel (1931).
28
Gettier (1963).
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39
Indeterminacy of Translation,29 and Davidson’s Indeterminacy of Interpretation30—
just to name a few. In this regard, phenomenological philosophy is fully in step with
the Zeitgeist.31 Nor is it difficult to give examples of ineradicable objectindeterminacy and thus of possible evidence-fallibility with respect to the objective
correlates (noemata) that constitute themselves as the contents of consciousness and
that are thematized as such by means of the phenomenological reduction. The
infinite universe comes to mind. Understanding human history is an ‘‘infinite task’’.
The field of one’s own consciousness is incomprehensible in a way in which even
the inhabited earth is not—one can google a map of the latter but not of the former
on the internet. There are other egos, including not only the irreducible alterities
themselves but also the objects that constitute themselves in their alterior
consciousnesses. One might also examine whether belief in the God who is
supposed to be a person but not to have a body is warranted—does anybody not
have a body?32 For a literary example, one may consider the undecidable in what is
arguably the most famous novel of the twentieth century: Who is the real stranger in
Camus’ The Stranger—Meursault or the nameless, faceless foreign other (Arab)
whom he unnecessarily kills on the beach—and did the author himself know?33
How about the evidence involved in the aesthetic perception of works of art?34 How
about the entire realm of legal evidence and of what is given by means of it?35 There
are many limits even to the impressive horizonality of human consciousness here,
and most of them are set by the indeterminacy and incomprehensibility of objects.
Evidence-fallibility is real and ineradicable.
Understood as the performance of the transcendental reduction, the eidetic
reduction, and perhaps the psychological reduction as well, the phenomenological
method is so general that it cannot possibly yield, without further ado, the kind of
results that those who expect ‘‘triple-A type’’ epistemic value of it demand. That is
not a weakness but a strength. The whole point of the method is that it be general,
otherwise it would not have the universal applicability that is one of its
characteristic features. The phenomenological method is about giving rich
descriptions of and making fine distinctions with respect to consciousness and its
contents. There is nothing algorithmic or mechanical or even regular (Latin: regula)
about the phenomenological method. As far as the replicability of results is
concerned, it is rather the variability of results—within a certain range determined
by rigorous discourse among researchers serious about definite descriptions—that is
a virtue of the phenomenological method.
The subject matter of the phenomenological method is primarily human
consciousness and its contents. It is not for the phenomenological method to
29
Quine (1960).
30
Davidson (1984).
31
Prigogine and Stengers (1997).
32
Dawkins (2006).
33
Shattuck (1996), pp. 137–163.
34
Gadamer (1960), Part One, Section One, Chapter Three: ‘‘Recovery of the Question about the Truth of
Art’’.
35
Plato, Theaetetus 172b–177c (this is not a ‘‘digression’’).
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prescribe to the contents of consciousness the quality or quantity of the evidence
that they must yield. It is also not for the phenomenological method to eliminate the
chief source of its philosophemes: object-indeterminacy. The phenomenological
method ultimately yields the kind of relatively fallible evidence that the subject
matter to which it is applied is capable of yielding, none better and none worse.
6 Conclusion: How is the Phenomenological Method Like a Road Map?
A method—the expression derives from the Greek preposition meta (‘‘by means
of’’) and the Greek substantive hodos (‘‘way’’)—is a way from where one is to
where one wants to be, especially from a known location to an unknown destination.
Wittgenstein provides an eminently philosophical application of the phenomenon:
‘‘A philosophical problem has the form: ‘I don’t know my way about’ (Ein
philosophisches Problem hat die Form: ‘Ich kenne mich nicht aus’).’’36 According
to Socrates, for example, one can get to Larissa without knowing the way there—if
one has a true opinion on it.37 Anxious about the prospect of getting lost in a crazy
maze of city streets or in a deep dark forest, Descartes comes up with a method that
he adopts for himself and offers to others.38 Heidegger employs a phenomenological method of investigation that he calls ‘‘the [emphasis added] phenomenological
method of investigation’’,39 and, in doing so, eventually takes philosophy on paths
less traveled: ‘‘wood paths’’40 leading to commonly neglected phenomena, along
which one can only hope for the right ‘‘signposts’’41 to find the way back. Thus have
some philosophers anticipated the metaphorical aspect of method as a way of
proceeding or as a procedure.
In Against the Academicians (386), Augustine attacks the mitigated skepticism of
the Third Academy of Carneades of Cyrene (214–129/128 B.C.E.), whose dominant
thought is the ‘‘plausible’’ (Greek: to pithanon) or the ‘‘probable’’ (Latin:
probabile), which is what, he claims, the wise human being should follow in the
absence of any knowable truth. Toward the end, Augustine tells the tale of the two
travelers, inadvertently but elegantly illustrating the phenomena of agent-fallibility
and method-fallibility, as well as of object-indeterminacy and evidence-fallibility42:
For, while I was pondering for a long time during my retirement here in the
country [at Cassiciacum in 386] how this ‘‘plausible’’ or ‘‘what is like the
true’’ could defend our actions from error, at first the position seemed to me to
be well-protected and well-fortified, as it used to seem to me back then when I
was marketing these notions; but later, when I had examined the whole
36
Philosophical Investigations, § 123.
37
Plato, Meno 97a–c. But see also Politeia 506c.
38
Discourse on the Method, 1.5, 2.1, 3.3.
39
Sein und Zeit, § 7: ‘‘Die phänomenologische Methode der Untersuchung’’.
40
Heidegger, Holzwege (1950).
41
Heidegger, Wegmarken (1967).
42
c. Acad. 3.15.34 (my translation).
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41
situation more carefully, I then seemed to me to have seen an avenue of access
through which error would rush in upon those who felt safe. I think that he is
in error, namely, not only who is following the false path, but also who is not
following the true one.
Let us suppose, for example, that there are two travelers who are heading to
the same place, and that the one of them has resolved not to believe anyone as
well as that the other is excessively credulous. They have come to a fork in the
road. Here the credulous traveler says to a shepherd or to some rustic who is
there: ‘‘Hello, my good man! Tell me, please, which is the right road to that
place.’’ He receives this response: ‘‘If you go this way, then you will not be in
error.’’ And this traveler says to his companion: ‘‘What he says is true—let us
go this way.’’ The extremely cautious man laughs and very facetiously
ridicules the other for having assented so quickly, and, while the other departs,
this one stands fixed at the fork in the road. And look: Just as the cautious
traveler begins to seem foolish for stopping, someone elegant and urbane
appears on horseback and begins to approach from the other branch of the
road. The traveler is relieved, and then, after having greeted the man as he is
approaching, he indicates his intention to him, he asks him the way, and,
preferring him to the shepherd, he even mentions, in order to make him more
benevolently disposed to himself, the reason for his remaining there. By
chance, however, this man was a trickster—one of those who are now
commonly called ‘‘samardoci’’. The mischievous human being held to his
usual practice, and this time he did so gratuitously. He said: ‘‘Go this way! For
I have just come from there.’’ He deceived and he departed. But when would
this cautious traveler ever be deceived? In fact, he said: ‘‘I do not give
approval to that information as true, but—because it is like the true, and
because to be idling here is neither appropriate nor advantageous—I should go
this way.’’ Meanwhile, the credulous traveler, who was in error by assenting—
judging so quickly that the words of the shepherd were true—was already
relaxing in the place to which they were heading, whereas the cautious
traveler, who was ‘‘not in error if only he followed the plausible’’, is still
wandering around in some—I do not know which—woods, and he has not yet
found anyone who knows the place to which he had proposed to go!
Really, I should tell you that, while I was pondering these things, I could not
restrain my laughter in the face of the fact that, according to the words of the
Academicians, it somehow—I do not know how—happens that he who holds
to the true road, even by chance, would be in error, whereas he who has been
led by ‘‘plausibility’’ through mountains without roads, and who has not found
the region for which he was looking, would not seem to be in error. Indeed, so
that I may justly condemn consent without consideration, I should say that it is
more tenable to hold that both travelers are in error than that the latter is not in
error.
As a result of this, I now became more wary against the words of the
Academicians, and I began to reflect on the actions and characters of human
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beings. But then so many charges and such capital charges against the
Academicians came to mind that I was not laughing at them any longer; rather,
I was partly angered and partly saddened that human beings most learned and
most discerning had fallen for such criminal and shameful views.
To draw the analogy to Hopp’s forms of fallibility: How the gullible traveler
handles the situation is a common expression of agent-fallibility, and how the
skeptical traveler does it is an extreme exhibition of method-fallibility. The
application is, of course, overdetermined, since the ignorant traveler gets
undeservedly lucky and the arrogant traveler gets deservedly tricked. The point
remains, however, that Augustine does not consider the complexity or indeterminacy or incomprehensibility of the landscape itself. Yet he does hint at it by
thematizing evidence-fallibility.
The phenomenological method is, metaphorically speaking, not merely the way
by means of which one can reach distant phenomena at remote locations. Rather, it
is a road map in the sense that it aims to show its users how to get from some points
to others in a landscape in which many if not most of these users have never traveled
and in which many if not most of the roads that they must travel have not yet been
built. This road map is thus a special one, in that it does not first and foremost lay
out to its users a preexistent landscape. Rather, it aims mainly and mostly to scout
out regions that have yet to be discovered. Thus it does not so much reflect what is
as project what might be.
Yet a road map is not a set of directions regarding how to get from one point to
another. Nor does a road map contain a list of instructions to follow on how to do
this. Most maps do not say anything; they show how to get from one point to
another. And they do this only for those who can read a map and only for those who
can read the relevant map. In terms of its resolution, a road map can range from very
general to very detailed. In these respects, the phenomenological method is, of
course, no different from any other road map. What it maps, however, is sui
generis.43
The phenomenological method is analogous to the kind of map that one needs to
find the location in ancient Athens at which Socrates drank the hemlock. The most
likely—but not the apodictically, infallibly certain—place where Socrates died is
the city-state prison (desmoterion) of the Classical period.44 Its location, which is
removed from and not to be confused with the tourist trap on the Philopappos Hill
known as the ‘‘Prison of Socrates’’, is designated bilingually, in Greek and in
English, by a simple stone marker at the far southwest corner of the ancient agora.45
Acknowledgements This paper represents the revised version of my comments on Hopp’s paper, both
of which were presented at the 38th Annual Meeting of the International Husserl Circle, Marquette
43
At the exchange in Milwaukee, Elizabeth Behnke suggested that the phenomenological method is like
a compass, an instrument for orientation. This thought is worth considering, so long as the idea is not that
the method is anything mechanical, like a global positioning system.
44
Plato, Crito 43a ff., Phaedo 57a ff.
45
The location is not even given on the extraordinarily detailed Historical Map of Athens published by
the Hellenic Ministry of Culture Archaeological Receipts Fund (Athens 2004).
123
Husserl Stud (2009) 25:15–43
43
University, June 27, 2008. I thank Walter Hopp, Steven Crowell, Sebastian Luft, Pol Vandevelde, and all
the other colleagues, too numerous to name, who contributed to the discussion.
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