Showing posts with label Husserl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Husserl. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 10, 2026

Nota Trinitaria on Teleo-Spaces: Intelligibility, Normativity, and the Limits of Subjectivity

Methodological Prolegomenon: On Axioms and Ontological Interpretation

This note proceeds axiomatically. That claim requires clarification at the outset.

By axiom I do not mean a syntactic postulate belonging to a purely formal system and awaiting semantic interpretation. Nor do I mean a rule of inference abstracted from its subject matter. The axioms articulated below are already ontologically interpreted constraints. They name what must be the case if intelligibility, normativity, and determination are to be possible at all without collapsing either into brute determinism or into transcendental subjectivism.

The model-theoretic background is decisive here. In classical model theory, axioms belong to the syntax of a theory, while interpretation assigns domains, relations, and functions. That separation is not operative in the present inquiry. The subject matter—divine action, intelligibility, and participation—does not permit a purely formal staging prior to interpretation. To insist on such neutrality would already be to decide the issue in favor of a subject-centered or formalist reduction.

Accordingly, the axioms that follow function as axioms of orientation. They do not generate models by derivation; they delimit what counts as a coherent model at all. Their necessity is not formal but transcendental in the strict sense: they arise from reflection on the conditions under which determination, meaning, and normativity can occur without regress or arbitrariness.

One further clarification is required. The axioms are structurally ordered, not inferentially ordered. Later axioms presuppose earlier ones, but none is derived from another. Each names an irreducible condition that must be respected simultaneously.

Section 1. Axioms Governing Teleo-Spaces


Axiom I (Differentiated Possibility)

There exist real, pre-determinable loci of possibility that are numerically differentiated prior to intelligibility and prior to any determination.

Differentiation must be ontologically real if determination is to be more than brute fact. If this rather than that is ever to occur intelligibly, there must already be a plurality of possibilities such that one outcome can be distinguished from another. This plurality cannot itself be the product of determination without circularity. Difference must already obtain.

The loci named here are not determinate entities, properties, or meanings. They are not universals awaiting instantiation nor semantic contents awaiting interpretation. They are addressable particularity: a real “that” prior to any “what.” This claim blocks two familiar reductions at once. Against Platonist inflation, it refuses to treat possibility as a realm of determinate forms. Against nominalist arbitrariness, it refuses to treat difference as brute haecceity without ground.

Axiom II (Determinability)

Determinability is an ontological condition of determination and is not itself a determinate structure, entity, or higher-order determination.

Determinability must be distinguished both from determinacy and from indeterminacy. If determinability is treated as a determinate structure, it becomes one more item requiring the same kind of explanation as determinate facts, and explanatory regress resumes. If it is treated as mere indeterminacy, intelligibility dissolves into a negative limit incapable of grounding meaning.

Determinability is therefore positive but non-determinate. It is the condition under which determinations can occur meaningfully without being pre-fixed. It halts regress not by stipulation but by category: it is not the kind of thing that can itself be determined in the way determinate facts are.

Axiom III (Teleo-Spaces)

There exist teleo-spaces: intelligible fields of determinability in which determinate actuality can occur meaningfully without closure.

Teleo-spaces name the ontological form of intelligibility. They are not objects, frameworks, or conceptual schemes imposed by subjects. Nor are they merely regulative ideals. They are real structures of room for sense—fields within which what is given can become determinate as meaningful rather than arbitrary.

A teleo-space is determinable without being determinate. It orders possibilities toward articulation and truth without exhausting them in a final inventory of outcomes. To deny teleo-spaces is to force a false alternative: either mechanistic determinism, in which only determinate facts exist, or subjectivist construction, in which determinacy is produced by synthesis. Teleo-spaces articulate a third possibility: intelligibility as ontologically real yet open.

Axiom IV (Normative Weighting)

Within teleo-spaces, possibilities are normatively weighted, and this weighting is real, efficacious, and not dependent upon human subjectivity.

A mere field of determinability does not suffice to explain determination. If all possibilities were equally available, the emergence of determinate actuality would be arbitrary unless grounded either in brute causation or in subjective preference. Weighting names the reality that possibilities press unequally toward actuality; this rather than that is not sheer happenstance.

This weighting must not be construed as coercive. It does not force outcomes or collapse openness. Rather, it orders without closure and draws without determination. Crucially, it is not dependent upon human consciousness. Cosmic, biological, and historical determinations do not wait upon acts of recognition to become real. Human judgment often serves as a site where determinability resolves into determinate decision, but the normative pressures that make such decisions intelligible are not generated by the subject.

Axiom V (Trinitarian Differentiation)

The ontological conditions named in Axioms I–IV require a Trinitarian articulation: differentiated possibility, intelligibility, and normative weighting must be grounded in irreducibly distinct modes of divine action within the unity of God.

If differentiated possibility, intelligibility, and weighting are all real and irreducible, they cannot be collapsed into a single undifferentiated explanatory principle without loss. Nor can they be reassigned to finite subjectivity without reintroducing the transcendental reflex that terminates explanation in the subject.

The Christian doctrine of the Trinity provides the minimal metaphysical grammar required. Creation, as the donation of differentiated possibility, belongs to the Father. Intelligibility, as the constitution of teleo-spaces, belongs to the Son, the Logos. Normative weighting, as ordering without coercion, belongs to the Holy Spirit. Human subjectivity then finds its proper place: not as ground, but as participant; not as origin of intelligibility, but as responder within what is already given, intelligible, and normatively ordered.

Section 2. The Problem of Subjectivity and the Location of Determination

The axioms articulated in the preceding section are not speculative additions to an otherwise settled framework. They arise under pressure from a persistent problem in modern thought: the difficulty of locating determination without collapsing it either into brute causation or into subjectivity.

Modern philosophy has rightly resisted naïve realism. It has learned that intelligibility is not simply read off from the world, that normativity cannot be reduced to causal regularity, and that meaning does not float free of conditions. Yet in resisting naïveté, it has developed a characteristic reflex. When pressed to account for intelligibility, it terminates explanation in the subject. When pressed to account for normativity, it appeals to recognition or ethical demand. When pressed to account for determination, it invokes judgment, decision, or synthesis.

This reflex is not accidental. Once intelligibility is detached from ontology, it must be relocated somewhere. And the most readily available candidate is subjectivity. What cannot be explained as brute fact is explained as constituted. What cannot be grounded in nature is grounded in agency. The result is a progressive inflation of the subject, which comes to bear explanatory burdens it cannot sustain.

The difficulty is not that subjectivity plays no role in determination. It plainly does. Human judgment, decision, and action often serve as the sites at which determinable possibilities collapse into determinate actuality. But to move from this observation to the claim that subjectivity grounds determination is a category mistake. It confuses where determination occurs with what makes it possible.

The axioms stated above mark the refusal of this confusion. They insist that the conditions of determination must be ontological rather than epistemic, real rather than projected, and prior to subjectivity rather than constituted by it. Differentiated possibility, determinability, intelligibility, and normative weighting must already be in place if subjectivity is to function as more than arbitrary choice or mechanical response.

This insistence carries a cost. It requires rejecting the comforting thought that the subject is the final court of appeal. It also requires resisting the equally comforting move of evacuating ontology in favor of ethics. Yet the alternative is worse. If intelligibility is not real prior to recognition, then truth collapses into coherence. If normativity is not real prior to decision, then obligation collapses into preference. If determination is not real prior to judgment, then agency collapses into self-assertion.

What is needed, therefore, is an account in which subjectivity is neither denied nor exalted. Subjectivity must be located within a reality already structured by intelligibility and normativity. It must be responsive rather than constitutive, participatory rather than foundational.

This is precisely what the axioms governing teleo-spaces make possible. By distinguishing differentiated possibility from intelligibility, intelligibility from determination, and weighting from coercion, they allow subjectivity to be real without being ultimate. The subject does not create meaning, but it can acknowledge it. The subject does not generate normativity, but it can answer to it. The subject does not originate determination, but it can enact it.

At this point the inquiry necessarily becomes theological. For the structure just described cannot be sustained by metaphysics alone. The distinction between donation, intelligibility, and weighting requires not merely conceptual differentiation but ontological distinction within unity. It requires a grammar capable of naming real difference without division and real unity without collapse.

That grammar is given in the Christian confession of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Before turning to modern philosophy’s attempts to relocate intelligibility and normativity within subjectivity, we must therefore ask whether the Christian doctrine of the Word and the Spirit already provides the resources needed to resist that relocation.

It is to Luther’s account of the Word as divine act and the Spirit as efficacious presence that we now turn.

Section 3. Luther: Word, Spirit, and the Extra Nos of Intelligibility

The Trinitarian structure implicit in the axioms governing teleo-spaces is not an abstract metaphysical overlay imposed upon Christian theology. It is already operative—though not formally articulated—in Luther’s account of the Word and the Holy Spirit. Indeed, one can read Luther as struggling, with remarkable consistency, to prevent precisely the collapse of intelligibility and normativity into subjectivity that later becomes programmatic in modern philosophy.

At the heart of Luther’s theology lies the insistence that the Word of God is extra nos. This claim is often treated as a soteriological or pastoral assertion: the gospel must come from outside the self if it is to console the anxious conscience. But the force of extra nos is not merely psychological. It is ontological. The Word does not derive its meaning, authority, or efficacy from the subject who hears it. It addresses the subject because it already bears meaning and authority in itself.

This point bears directly on the first two axioms. Luther presupposes a reality that is differentiated prior to human understanding. God’s Word is not a projection of faith, nor a crystallization of religious experience. It confronts the hearer as something given, something that can be resisted, misunderstood, or rejected. This presupposes a plurality of possibilities—belief and unbelief, trust and refusal—that are not generated by the act of hearing itself. Differentiated possibility is real before faith, not produced by it.

Yet Luther is equally clear that the Word is not a bare datum. It is not an inert object awaiting interpretation. The Word does what it says. This is the logic of verbum efficax: proclamation is not mere description but divine action. Here Luther implicitly affirms the ontological reality of intelligibility. The Word does not become meaningful because the subject synthesizes it into a conceptual scheme. It is meaningful because God speaks. Intelligibility is given, not achieved.

This is where the Logos dimension becomes decisive. Luther does not speculate about the Logos in metaphysical terms, but his theology presupposes that what is spoken by God is already articulated in such a way that it can be heard, trusted, and confessed. The Word is not an inarticulate force. It is intelligible address. In the language developed earlier, the Word constitutes a teleo-space: a field of determinability in which faith, unbelief, obedience, and resistance become possible as meaningful determinations rather than as brute reactions.

The role of the Holy Spirit sharpens the picture further. Luther’s doctrine of the Spirit is explicitly anti-subjectivist. The Spirit does not function as an inner interpreter who supplements an otherwise incomplete Word. Nor does the Spirit merely ratify what the subject already understands. Rather, the Spirit is the divine agent who makes the Word effective—who brings about faith where and when it pleases God.

This efficacy must be carefully understood. The Spirit does not coerce belief. Luther is emphatic on this point. Faith cannot be forced; it is not mechanically produced. Yet neither is faith a voluntary construction. The Spirit works through the Word by pressing upon the hearer, by creating a situation in which trust becomes possible and refusal becomes culpable. This language of pressure, drawing, and address corresponds closely to what has been described above as normative weighting.

The Spirit’s work, for Luther, is therefore neither deterministic nor subjectivist. The Spirit does not bypass human agency, but neither does he depend upon it. Faith occurs in the subject, but it is not grounded in the subject. The Spirit weights the teleo-space opened by the Word such that trust in the promise is no longer arbitrary. One is addressed, summoned, and claimed. Yet the response remains genuinely human.

This structure allows Luther to hold together what modern accounts often tear apart. On the one hand, faith is a real determination—it is something that happens, something that can be named, confessed, and lived. On the other hand, faith is not a self-grounding act. It is the outcome of divine action operating within an intelligible and normatively ordered space that precedes the subject’s response.

What is crucial for present purposes is that Luther never allows the conditions of intelligibility or normativity to migrate into subjectivity. The Word remains extra nos. The Spirit remains Lord. The subject remains hearer and responder. In this way, Luther preserves precisely the asymmetry named in the axioms: donation without intelligibility (creation), intelligibility without closure (Word), and weighting without coercion (Spirit).

This does not mean that Luther offers a worked-out metaphysical account of teleo-spaces. He does not. But it does mean that his theology is disciplined by a grammar that modern subject-centered accounts often abandon. For Luther, the world is already structured by divine address before it is structured by human understanding. Normativity presses upon us before we choose. Determination occurs in us, but not from us.

With this in view, we are now in a position to see modern philosophy for what it is: not a neutral clarification of conditions, but a series of increasingly radical attempts to relocate the conditions Luther keeps extra nos. The next step, therefore, is to examine how this relocation unfolds—beginning with Immanuel Kant, for whom the conditions of intelligibility are explicitly transferred to transcendental subjectivity.

Section 4. Kant: The Transcendental Relocation of Intelligibility

With Kant the modern problematic comes fully into view. What Luther held extra nos—the intelligibility and normativity of the Word—Kant relocates, with great philosophical sophistication, into the structures of subjectivity itself. This relocation is not accidental, nor is it merely an expression of Enlightenment hubris. It is the result of a principled attempt to secure intelligibility without reverting to dogmatic metaphysics.

Kant’s fundamental question is not theological but epistemological: how are synthetic a priori judgments possible? How can judgments be both universally binding and informative without appealing to metaphysical insight into things as they are in themselves? Kant’s answer is well known. The conditions of possible experience—space, time, and the categories—are not derived from objects but supplied by the subject. Intelligibility is secured not by participation in an ontological order but by the transcendental activity of synthesis.

This move has genuine force. Kant rightly sees that intelligibility cannot be read off from empirical givenness alone. He also rightly resists the idea that reason can simply intuit metaphysical structures. In this sense, Kant preserves a critical insight that earlier metaphysics often lacked: intelligibility is conditioned. It is not immediate access to reality as such.

Yet in securing intelligibility, Kant makes a decisive shift. The conditions under which anything can appear as an object of experience are no longer ontological but transcendental-subjective. The categories do not articulate being; they articulate experience. Teleology, too, is displaced. Where earlier thought could treat purposiveness as a feature of reality, Kant restricts teleology to the reflective judgment of the subject. Purpose becomes a way we must think nature, not a way nature is.

From the perspective of the axioms governing teleo-spaces, this marks a fundamental relocation. Differentiated possibility is no longer grounded in reality as such, but in the manifold as structured by intuition. Determinability is no longer an ontological condition, but a function of conceptual synthesis. Teleo-spaces, if they can still be named at all, are no longer real fields of intelligibility but regulative frameworks imposed by the subject in order to make sense of appearances.

The consequences of this relocation are far-reaching. Once intelligibility is secured by the subject, normativity must follow suit. Obligation becomes a function of rational autonomy rather than of ontological weight. The moral law binds because reason legislates it to itself, not because reality presses upon the agent with normative force. Kant’s moral philosophy is therefore the ethical analogue of his epistemology: normativity is preserved, but only at the cost of detaching it from being.

This detachment is precisely what the axioms resist. Normative weighting, as described earlier, must be real prior to recognition if determination is to be non-arbitrary. Kant’s framework can explain why we must judge as we do, but it struggles to explain why this rather than that occurs in reality except by appeal to phenomenal causation or noumenal freedom—neither of which can bear the explanatory load Kant assigns them.

What is lost in Kant’s relocation is not merely metaphysical realism but the possibility of a coherent account of participation. If intelligibility and normativity are functions of subjectivity, then the subject cannot meaningfully be said to respond to reality. It can only organize or legislate. The asymmetry preserved by Luther—Word addressing, Spirit pressing, subject responding—collapses into symmetry. The subject becomes both the source and the measure of intelligibility.

This is not a flaw Kant overlooks; it is a cost he knowingly accepts. Yet once that cost is paid, theology faces a dilemma. Either it must translate divine action into the language of moral postulates and regulative ideas, or it must retreat into the unknowable noumenal realm. In either case, the extra nos structure that Luther insists upon is dissolved.

The subsequent trajectory of modern thought can be read as a series of attempts to mitigate this loss. Edmund Husserl will attempt to recover givenness by radicalizing intuition, while Emmanuel Levinas will displace intelligibility into ethical alterity. Both moves are intelligible responses to Kant’s relocation. Neither, however, reverses it.

It is to Husserl’s attempt to ground intelligibility in intuition rather than in synthesis that we now turn.

Section 4. Husserl: Intuition, Constitution, and the Relocation of Intelligibility

The transition from Luther to modern philosophy is not abrupt. It is mediated. And it is mediated above all by the attempt to preserve givenness after the collapse of classical metaphysics. If Kant secures intelligibility by relocating its conditions into transcendental synthesis, then Edmund Husserl represents the most serious effort to recover what Kant appeared to have lost: the sense that meaning is not merely imposed, but given.

For this reason, Husserl stands between Luther and Levinas in a decisive way. Like Luther, he resists the reduction of meaning to construction. Like Levinas, he senses that intelligibility exceeds conceptual closure. Yet unlike Luther, and unlike the Trinitarian grammar developed here, Husserl ultimately secures this excess by relocating it within transcendental subjectivity itself.

Husserl’s Principle of Principles—that whatever is given in originary intuition is to be accepted just as it is given—marks a genuine advance over Kant. Intuition is no longer treated as a passive receptacle structured by forms of sensibility, but as the site of fulfillment in which meaning presents itself. Meaning is not inferred, nor merely regulated; it is seen. In this respect, Husserl is right to insist that intelligibility is not an achievement of inference but a mode of givenness.

Yet the price of this insistence becomes clear as phenomenology unfolds. Givenness is not allowed to be ontological in the robust sense. What is given is given to consciousness, and objectivity is secured through constitution. The world is not denied, but its intelligibility is indexed to intentional life. Objects are what they are as correlates of noetic–noematic structures. Horizonality, profile, and fulfillment function as conditions of appearance, but they do so within the space of transcendental subjectivity.

This is where Husserl’s brilliance coincides with his limitation. He sees, with exceptional clarity, that determinacy presupposes determinability. No object is ever given exhaustively; every determination stands within a horizon of further possible determination. In this sense, Husserl comes very close to the logic of teleo-spaces. He understands that intelligibility requires openness, excess, and non-closure.

What he does not do—and what phenomenology as such cannot do—is allow this openness to be ontological prior to subjectivity. Horizonality is secured by consciousness itself. The determinable is ultimately grounded in intentional life. The collapse from determinability into determination, when it occurs, occurs through acts of fulfillment, recognition, or synthesis. Weighting, salience, and relevance are all functions of intentional structures.

From the standpoint of the axioms governing teleo-spaces, this constitutes a decisive relocation. Intelligibility is no longer something the world bears prior to being encountered. It is something that emerges through encounter. The subject does not merely participate in intelligibility; it underwrites it.

The Trinitarian account advanced here breaks with this move at its root. Teleo-spaces are not constituted by transcendental subjectivity. They are not dependent upon intuition, however originary. They are ontological conditions grounded in the Logos. Intelligibility precedes its disclosure. Meaning is real before it is seen. Determinability is not secured by horizon-consciousness, but by the Son as the one in whom what is given is already articulated as intelligible.

Likewise, the Spirit’s activity cannot be assimilated to intentional weighting. Normative pressure does not arise from structures of attention or fulfillment. It is not a function of salience within consciousness. It is the Spirit’s work of ordering and drawing within reality itself—prior to recognition, though never coercive of response. Weighting happens whether or not it is thematized. It presses before it is judged.

In this way, the Trinitarian grammar preserves what Husserl rightly sought without inheriting the subjectivist termination his project requires. Yes, intelligibility involves openness and excess. Yes, determination always occurs against a background of further possibility. But no, these conditions do not belong to consciousness as such. They belong to reality as created, articulated, and ordered by God.

Husserl therefore represents not a rejection of Kant, but a refinement of Kant’s relocation of intelligibility. What Kant secured through synthesis, Husserl secures through intuition. In both cases, the subject remains the final site of intelligibility. What is gained is phenomenological richness. What is lost is the extra nos structure that Luther insists upon and that the Trinitarian account of teleo-spaces restores.

The next step in the modern trajectory is not further refinement but displacement. If intelligibility cannot finally be grounded in ontology without dogmatism, and cannot be grounded in subjectivity without inflation, then it must be displaced elsewhere. It is this displacement—into ethical alterity rather than ontological order—that defines the move made by Emmanuel LevinasIt is to that move that we now turn.

Section 5. Levinas: Ethical Alterity and the Displacement of Ontology

If Husserl represents the most refined attempt to secure intelligibility within transcendental subjectivity, Emmanuel Levinas represents a decisive refusal of that entire project. Where Husserl still seeks a foundation for meaning—however fragile—in intuition and constitution, Levinas abandons the search for ontological grounding altogether. Intelligibility, for Levinas, does not arise from being, structure, or givenness. It erupts as ethical interruption.

Levinas’s starting point is a judgment about violence. Ontology, he argues, inevitably totalizes. To understand is to subsume, to place within a horizon, to render intelligible in terms of what already is. Even phenomenology, for all its sensitivity to excess, ultimately domesticates alterity by placing it within structures of appearance. Against this, Levinas proposes a radical alternative: meaning does not originate in intelligibility at all, but in responsibility. The Other addresses me before I can understand, before I can thematize, before I can judge. Ethics is first philosophy.

There is real power in this move. Levinas names something that neither Kant nor Husserl can adequately explain: the experience of obligation that does not arise from autonomy or intuition, but from being claimed. Responsibility precedes choice. The self finds itself accused before it understands itself. In this respect, Levinas preserves what modern philosophy has steadily lost—the asymmetry between address and response.

Yet the way Levinas secures this asymmetry comes at a steep cost. In order to prevent ontology from totalizing, he evacuates it. Being becomes neutral, anonymous, or even oppressive. Intelligibility is no longer something the world bears; it is something that must be resisted. Meaning migrates entirely into the ethical relation, which now bears the full weight of normativity without ontological support.

From the standpoint of the axioms governing teleo-spaces, this move constitutes not a correction but a displacement. Normative weighting is affirmed, but it is no longer grounded in reality as such. It becomes an event without structure, an obligation without intelligibility. The Other commands, but the command does not arise within a teleo-space; it ruptures all spaces. Weight presses without order. Responsibility binds without articulation.

This displacement solves one problem only by creating another. By severing normativity from intelligibility, Levinas renders ethical demand ultimately unintelligible. One is obligated, but cannot say why—not even in principle. The refusal of ontology becomes the refusal of explanation. What begins as a protest against violence ends as a prohibition against sense.

Here the contrast with Luther and the Trinitarian account could not be sharper. Luther does not deny asymmetry; he insists upon it. But the asymmetry of Word and Spirit is not anti-ontological. It is extra nos without being unintelligible. The Word addresses, but it also means. The Spirit presses, but does so within an intelligible order. Obligation arises not from sheer alterity, but from promise.

In the language developed earlier, Levinas affirms weighting while denying teleo-spaces. He insists that obligation presses upon the self, but he refuses to say that reality itself is normatively ordered. Weight is real, but order is suspect. As a result, the collapse from determinability into determination becomes ethically urgent but ontologically groundless.

The Trinitarian grammar advanced here allows one to preserve what Levinas rightly sees without paying this price. Yes, normativity precedes choice. Yes, the self is addressed before it constitutes meaning. But no, this address need not be unintelligible. Normative pressure can be real because reality itself is ordered—because the Logos articulates teleo-spaces and the Spirit weights them without coercion.

Levinas thus marks the final stage in the modern trajectory traced here. Kant relocates intelligibility into synthesis. Husserl relocates it into intuition. Levinas abandons intelligibility in favor of ethical rupture. Each move is intelligible as a response to the failure of the previous one. None, however, restores the extra nos structure that Luther insists upon and that the Trinitarian account of teleo-spaces finally secures.

What is required is neither a return to pre-critical ontology nor an abandonment of normativity into pure ethics. What is required is an ontology capable of bearing obligation without violence—an intelligible order that presses without coercing. That is precisely what the Trinitarian differentiation of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit makes possible.

Transitus: Trinitarian Order, Intelligibility, and the Refusal of Subjectivism

What has emerged across these sections is not a new Trinitarian doctrine but a clarification of order—an ordering that has been repeatedly obscured whenever intelligibility is made dependent upon subjectivity. The pressure driving this clarification was simple: teleo-spaces do real work, yet they cannot be reduced either to formal structures or to acts of consciousness. If intelligibility is real, it must be grounded prior to the subject without being indifferent to the subject. The Trinitarian grammar articulated here makes that claim precise.

The axioms stated at the outset already carried an ontological interpretation. They were not syntactic placeholders awaiting semantic enrichment, nor regulative ideals awaiting phenomenological fulfillment. They named real distinctions in the way intelligibility is given, articulated, and ordered. The Father’s donation of differentiated possibility establishes that intelligibility is not a projection. The Son’s articulation of teleo-spaces establishes that intelligibility is not brute. The Spirit’s weighting establishes that intelligibility is not coercive, mechanical, or exhausted by formal determination.

This Trinitarian ordering allows us to say something that modern philosophy has found difficult to say without contradiction: weighting precedes subjectivity, but determination often involves it. The Spirit’s activity does not arise from human consciousness, nor does it wait upon it. Normative orientation, salience, and pressure toward articulation occur within the created order as such. Yet the collapse of the determinable into the determinate—especially in ethical, practical, and interpretive domains—often requires finite agents who bear responsibility for judgment. This is not a failure of ontology but its proper economy.

Seen in this light, the contrast with Kant, Husserl, and Levinas becomes instructive rather than merely critical. Kant rightly saw that intelligibility cannot be read directly off the world, but by locating its conditions in the subject, he rendered teleology regulative rather than real. Husserl sought to recover givenness without metaphysics, but by absolutizing intuition he relocated donation within transcendental subjectivity. Levinas, finally, refused totalization altogether, preserving ethical interruption at the cost of intelligibility itself. Each, in different ways, preserved an insight while mislocating its ground.

The Trinitarian account advanced here refuses that mislocation. Intelligibility is neither imposed by the subject nor shattered by alterity. It is given—given as articulated possibility ordered toward fulfillment without closure. The Spirit does not generate meaning, secure reference, or complete determination. The Spirit authorizes, orients, and presses—drawing finite agents into participation without absorbing intelligibility into consciousness.

The payoff is methodological as well as theological. Theology need not choose between realism and humility, ontology and ethics, structure and freedom. When teleo-spaces are grounded in the Logos and ordered by the Spirit, intelligibility can be affirmed without domination, and responsibility can be borne without constructivism. Theology speaks here neither as metaphysical system-builder nor as phenomenological witness, but as disciplined confession—attending carefully to the order in which God gives, articulates, and draws creation into truth.

What follows from this is not closure but orientation. The axioms remain axioms not because they are arbitrary, but because they name what must be the case if intelligibility, freedom, and truth are all to be preserved. Further formalization is possible, and further dogmatic elaboration will be required. But the path is now marked: intelligibility is Trinitarian in its ground, teleological in its articulation, and pneumatic in its ordering. This is all prior to subjectivity yet without bypassing it.


Sunday, February 04, 2024

Preamble to a Phenomenology of Congregational Life

Oftentimes we don't know what we have lost until we don't have it. 

The phenomenological movement attempted to uncover the fundamental meaning of the entities, properties, and relations in which we find ourselves, in which we dwell. The idea is simple enough. We are always already within a world of meaning prior to any explicit philosophical reflection upon this world. The man at work in his workshop knows how to get around in the shop; he knows what things he needs in order to make the things he wants to make. He "knows" these things pre-reflectively. He probably has not stopped to do an explicit ontological inventory of items in his shop and the properties each has that allow them to be related to each other.  Rather he just walks his shop and gets what he needs when he needs them. 

Edmund Husserl (1859-1938), Martin Heidegger (1889-1976), Jean-Paul Sartre (1985-1980),  Merleau-Ponty (1908-1961) and a host of other thinkers were interested in getting to the immediate meaning of things, to their sense prior to explicit investigation. Husserl, in particular, was interested in what Frege (1848 - 1925) called Sinn, the mode of presentation of objects in the world, the that by virtue of which objects could be picked out in the world and referred to. Frege famously said that names had both sense and reference. Names refer when the sense of the name picks out an existing object.  Just because a name does not refer does not mean it has no meaning. After all, the name could have referred were there to be an object that satisfied the Sinn of the name. 

Frege's famous example was the Morning Star and Evening Star. Astronomers for centuries were able to identify the Morning Star as Morning Star and the Evening Star as Evening Star without knowing that the Morning Star is the Evening Star. The modes of presentation of Morning Star and Evening star differ, but there is identity in that to which they refer: Venus.  Accordingly, the name Morning Star refers to Venus as it presents itself as the Morning Star while the name Evening Star  refers to Venus as it presents itself as Evening Star.  Within a more comprehensive theory we identify the Morning Star and Evening Star.  So what is this world of sense by and through which we believe we have made reference to the world? 

Wilfrid Sellars (1912-1989) spoke in terms of the manifest and scientific images of the world.  He espoused a scientific naturalism that nonetheless sought to save the appearances.  In Philosophy and the Scientific Image of Man, Sellars characterizes the manifest image of the world as "the framework in terms of which man came to be aware of himself as man-in-the-world," it is the framework in and through which we ordinarily observe and explain our world.  (See Willem deVries, "Wilfrid Sellars," in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.). Persons and the things meaningful to persons is what has center stage in the manifest image of the world.  

The scientific image of the world is deeper; it is that which we hold ultimately is the case despite how things appear. Sellars famously adjusted Protagoras' statement to "science is the measure of all things, of what is that it is, and of what is not that it is not" ("Empiricism and the Philosophy of Mind).  The scientific image states what is the case, while the manifest image states what appears to be the case. Importantly, the manifest image is not merely an error.  It is a description of the place in which humans find themselves phenomenally prior to theory and experiment and the reality of how things stand in themselves.  

While Sellars held that what ultimately exists is that to which oue best scientific theories appeal in explanation and prediction, he understood that we do not and cannot live our lives merely within the conceptual categories of scientific naturalism. While neither Husserl nor Heidegger in anyway denigrate the activity of scientific theory-formation and confirmation, they really were interested in the world as it appears to and for consciousness.  (Heidegger despised the term consciousness for many reasons, but I will use it nonetheless in this context.). Husserl was so interested in what immediately appears to and for consciousness that he advocated a suspension of thinking in terms of our natural attitude of what there really is, and bid us to hold in abeyance questions of what there ultimately is apart from us and concentrate on that which is present to consciousness. His phenomenological reduction advocates that we again encounter the things themselves that give themselves to consciousness, before pressing on to the question of whether those things are real, whether they somehow track with that which ultimately is.  

Husserl believe that returning to die Sache Selbst of immediacy allow us to ground science even the more deeply. Heidegger wanted to examine the objects of our intentional acts within the meaningful context in which they dealt in order to get clarity about the nature of the world we immediately inhabit.  

While both he and Husserl were interested in the Umwelt in which we find ourselves, Husserl could never find a way ultimately out of his own transcendental image of things.  For Husserl, the transcendental ego exists as that which reaches out through its intentional "ego rays" to objects in meaningfully encounters.  Heidegger, however, had no time for such metaphysics.  What is given to consciousness is being-in-the-world.  Instead of an isolated ego related to its world of intentional objects, there is already the unitary phenomenon of hat which is phenomenologically prior to an ego and that which the ego intends. Husserl's transcendental ego becomes Heidegger's Dasein, the unitary being-in-the-world phenomenon that is clearly present in ways that a transcendental ego cannot be. 

Heidegger's emphasis was on the immediacy of that which shows itself as itself in the Lichtung (lighting up) of Dasein itself. Dasein is the "there-being" that in its being is always interested in being.  While Husserl's project was epistemological, Heidegger's became ontological. What are all those things that are, that in relating themselves to us, make us the kind of beings that have worlds?  

We are always already in a world and what it is to be me is to have a world of a definite contour. The manifest image of things, according to Heidegger, has been passed over in the history of philosophy.  It has not been deeply explored because our attention has always been drawn away from the immediacy of our life in the world to the question of what lies "present-at-hand" to us beyond that image.  We have been traditionally interested in the world of the Vorhandsein, the world of beings that are. But in concentrating on this, we have lost what is before our eyes. We have lost the very meaningful context in which we already live in all of our inquiry.  

Sellars understand that we cannot do without the manifest image of things, but he believes what ultimately is cannot be given by what phenomenally stands close by. We need to move to the deeper structural explanation of that surface the manifest image reveals.  Heidegger, however, wants us to follow Husserl and attend deeply and passionately to that which displays itself to us in all we think and do. Heidegger's interest in the immediacy of the world and the universal structures of immediacy that ground that world gives him quite a different orientation from Sellars. They latter was interested in science, but the former in religion. 

Heidegger's work at Marburg was filled with religious interest. Accordingly, Husserl had designated Heidegger to be his student that could apply the phenomenological method to religious experience and religion as such. What is the world of religion, and what are the deeper structures of religious experience and meaning as such that make possible any religious world?  Heidegger is accordingly interested in the facticity of religious life, the meaningful structures within which religious people operate and find themselves. Heidegger famously tried to understand the experience of the early Christian as being-to-the-parousia, an idea he later adjusted to Sein zum Tode, being-unto-death.  

All of this is is preamble for the topic to which I allude in the title: A phenomenology of congregational living. What is it to live congregationally?  In our penchant to treat congregational life using the tools of the social sciences we may shortchange what it is to be congregationally. Clearly, we could seek to understand congregational growth and decline by appealing to general sociological principles indexed for our particular historical-cultural standpoint. This can be extremely enlightening, of course.  But in the effort to explain and predict congregational processes, we may lose what shows itself as itself.  Were we to attend to the be-ing of congregational life we might find in the manifest image the world itself in which religions lives and moves, the world in which we finally find meaning, a salvific meaning allowing us to live unto the future.  What I am suggesting here, inter alia, that it is in the manifest image of things that we find meaning, purpose and ultimately hope.  

While the body dies and scientific naturalism finds no basis upon which survival of death is possible -- or maybe even conceivable -- within the manifest image, God is close at hand. Christ saves us and brings us into his house of many rooms. Our fundamental experience of being-in-the-world is not one where meaning is absent and must be constructed.  Our fundamental experience is filled with meaning for we are beings who in our be-ing find the question of be-ing at issue for us. As Heidegger says, the ontic superiority of Dasein is found in its ontological constitution.  As Augustine said, "our heart is not at rest until it finds its rest in you, O Lord." A thick description of the facticity of Christian being-in-the-world reveals what that life is like, and holds open the possibility that that life which is ontologically possible can be my life or your life. 

As the embers of western Christianity begin to smolder, it is important for us to know what it was for men and women to have lived this extraordinary life.  For many of us, the living of Christian life is always a living of that life within the Christian congregation.  We can perhaps remember what it was and how it was decades ago, and we can compare that living to living today.  Where was the axes of meaning then and now? What has changed? How was it that we could once recoil at the thought of touching the sky while now such touching is simply business as usual?   

In the next post I will try my hand at examining the facticity of congregational living. Perhaps we will be granted ontological insight into the preciousness of being-as-communion in Lutheran congregational life. 

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

The Paradox of Transcendental Reflection

I first read the Critique of Pure Reason seriously over four decades ago. Like many novices reading Kant, I was impressed by the epistemological distinction between the a priori and a posteriori and the semantic distinction between synthetic and analytic judgments. Kant’s question intrigued me: By what right do we claim truth in synthetic a priori judgments? What justifies the assertion that deep reflection allows for an advancement of knowledge about the ultimate features of reality?

Kant claimed that a true analytical judgment is one where the meaning of the predicate is included in the meaning of the subject, while a true synthetic judgment is one wherein the meaning of the predicate is not so included. A synthetic judgment is thus “ampliative,” that is, to say that “all bachelors are happy” is to make an assertion that cannot be known to be true simply by thinking deeply about what the word ‘batchelor’ means.

As is well-known, Kant criticized traditional metaphysics by showing that its claim to extend knowledge “beyond the realm of possible experience” was chimerical. In the absence of intuition – that which is “given” through sensation – concepts simply relate to other concepts analytically or semantically. Since no intuitions “fall under” the concept ‘God’, we cannot know that ‘God loves human beings’, unless, of course, we are able to claim this to be merely an analytical truth, that is, that the concept of ‘God’ includes as part of its very meaning ‘loving human beings’. Putative metaphysical judgments that turn out to be analytical in this way are, for Kant, “regulative judgments.” While incapable of miming the ontological contour of the supersensible world, they are useful in ordering our supersensible concepts, and thus our thinking about the supersensible world. Kant thought his analytic/synthetic distinction exhaustive. Either judgments are analytic or synthetic; tertium non datur.

In reading the metaphysical and transcendental deductions of the Critique, I was struck by the oddity of what Kant was writing and what I was doing in reading. Kant was offering arguments about how it is that knowledge consists in the application of concepts to intuitions such that there is a “synthesis of the manifold of sensation.” I thought that what he wrote was plausible and was even able to grant that what he said was likely true. But with this an uncomfortable argument seems to emerge.

Let us regard as true the Kantian statement, ‘an object is that by concept of which the manifold of sensation is united’. If this statement is true, it must be true either analytically or synthetically. But clearly it is not an analytic truth for no amount of simple reflection upon ‘object’ allows one to conclude by meaning alone the concept ‘that by concept of which the manifold of sensation is united’. Therefore, it must be true synthetically.

But now the discomfort becomes acute because it is unclear what sensible intuitions must be united to make true the judgment ‘an object is that by concept of which the manifold of sensation is united’. Synthetic judgments for Kant are true a posteriori except for arithmetic and geometry which make direct appeal to the pure forms of sensibility. But neither sensibility nor its pure forms are synthesized in judging true the proposition, ‘an object is that by concept of which the manifold of sensation is united’. Accordingly, the sentence seems to be left without justification, and with it a great many of the statements Kant employs in his discussion of the transcendental unity of apperception.

Clearly, I had stumbled upon the paradox of transcendental reflection. Kant asks his readers in the Critique of Pure Reason, “What are the necessary conditions for the possibility of experience as such?” After claiming that all propositions are either analytic or synthetic and that synthetic a priori metaphysical judgments are problematic in extending knowledge beyond the realm of possible experience, he writes hundreds of pages in which he is seemingly using synthetic a priori judgments justifying these claims. Kant’s transcendental reflection apparently did not have to follow the same justificatory practices with respect to knowledge and truth that our reflections on the nature of things must follow. When reflecting upon the conditions of our knowledge of the nature of things, we no longer need to play by the same rules as we do when reflecting simply upon the nature of things.

Transcendental reflection, our thinking about how we think things, is exempt from the rules it prescribes to our thinking of things. Kant had perhaps “done away with knowledge of God to make room for faith,” but in doing so he created a cottage industry for philosophers. They who could not with justification lay out the truth conditions of ‘God created the universe’ -- there are no intuitions united either under the concept ‘God’ or the concept ‘created the universe -- could now claim truly this statement: ‘The judgment that ‘God created the universe’ cannot be regarded as true because there are no sensations falling under ‘God’ and ‘creating of the universe’. While clearly this proposition is a priori, we need no longer worry if it is synthetic or analytic. It is a statement within the field of transcendental reflection after all, and while such reflection sets the rules for meaning and truth for other provinces, like the Politburo of the old Soviet Union, it is wholly exempt from the rules that it prescribes for others.

The problem of transcendental reflection is a problem of grounds: What legitimates claims of transcendental truth? Why can we not ask with sense whether the statement ‘truths divide exhaustively between the analytic and synthetic’ is itself an analytic or synthetic statement? After noticing that true judgments are both “clear and distinct,” Descartes argued that clarity and distinctness form the very criteria of truth. Analogously, we might argue that reflections that philosophers regard as true that do not meet the truth criteria of what they prescribe are transcendental. Accordingly, the claim that we can say truly that there are conditions that do not apply to what is said truly actually constitutes the very criteria of the transcendental.

The problem of the transcendental standpoint and the truths discerned in occupying it has often been overlooked or ignored. The verificationist criterion of meaning asserted that only those propositions are meaningful that are comprised of tautologies or can be checked up upon in experience. But clearly, the statement that ‘only those propositions are meaningful that are comprised of tautologies or can be checked up upon in experience’ is neither a tautology nor can it be checked up upon in experience. Faced with the inability to say with truth the material conclusion of their argument, some retreated to regarding the statement as neither true nor false, but merely a proposal. Of course, this begs the questions of why one would be motivated to adopt the proposal in the first place.

The twentieth century, though often increasingly wary of transcendental reflection, has nonetheless had difficulty avoiding it. After laying out the conditions making possible propositions of sense, Wittgenstein in the Tractatus points out that none of the propositions he has written can be regarded as either true or false. They are like a ladder one climbs that can be thrown away upon reaching the summit. Such propositions might be elucidations, but they themselves have no truth conditions. Wittgenstein famously says that while saying what cannot be said, he nonetheless hopes in this saying that something might be shown. While one cannot state the conditions for the meaningfulness of propositions meaningfully, one can nonetheless show in one’s saying how to use propositions meaningfully. Wittgenstein notes sadly that the most important things of life cannot be said.

Wittgenstein knew that Russell’s paradox had spelled doom to Frege’s logicist program. That program depended upon the unrestricted use of the axiom of comprehension within set theory, the notion that any set of conditions clearly demarcate and distinguish sets from one another. Set theorists make extensive use of sets that have sets as their own members. Given the axiom of comprehension, this condition should uniquely determine sets, that is, for all sets, either they have sets as members of themselves or they don’t have sets as members of themselves: tertium non datur.

Russell then asked us to consider those everyday sets that don’t have sets as members of themselves, e.g., the set of elephants has as its members elephants, not sets of elephants. He directs us to consider the collection or set of all of sets that are not members of themselves. Now since we can ask with sense whether a set is a member of itself or not a member of itself, and tertium non datur, we can ask with sense whether the set of sets that are not members of themselves is itself a member of itself or is itself not a member of itself. A little reflection shows that if the set of all sets is a member of itself, that is, is a member of the set of all sets that is not a member of itself, then it itself must not be a member of itself. Conversely, if the set of all sets that are not a member of themselves is not a member of itself, then it must be a member of itself. That this paradox was not allowed in logic shows that somehow logic was not going to be regarded as a case of transcendental reflection, for it itself must obey its own rules!

That logic must obey its own rules is assumed in the celebrated Incompleteness proof of Gödel. He showed that paradox arises on the assertion that all known mathematical truths (tautologies) can be derived from a finite set of axioms. By ingeniously semantically encoding information into the syntax of arithmetic, it can be proven that there will always be a provable true proposition G from some axiom set that states that it itself cannot be proven on the basis of that axiom set. Adding a new axiom will not solve this problem because a statement can be proved stating that it cannot be proved on the basis of the new axiom set. While logicians carefully distinguish their metalanguage from the object languages about which the metalanguage speaks, they do not countenance theorems in the metalanguage contradicting those of their object languages.

Paradox dooms logic, but not transcendental reflection! How else can we explain the rise of phenomenology with all its fanfare and hopes? Reading the texts of Husserl, Heidegger and others brings us again into the orbit of the transcendentality that Kant had birthed, and Fichte, Shelling, Hegel and others so effectively exploited.

The phenomenological tradition of such reflection differs from the Neo-Kantian tradition in that while the latter is engaged with the principles by which knowledge is legitimately had, the former utilizes evidence Husserl realized that truth is itself not something that can be accounted for on naturalistic assumptions, and thus argued that so-called natural truths must rest upon non-natural grounds. Accordingly, the very grounds of the truth of metaphysical truths must be non-metaphysically investigated. One must go zu den Sachen selbst and bracket questions of metaphysics and the natural world in order to apprehend those grounds upon which the natural world and metaphysics rests. These grounds, thought Husserl, were to be found in the direct apperception of that which is immediately given to consciousness.

But phenomenological reflection proved to be no easy task, and reflection on “the things themselves” was soon seen to involve reflecting upon many other things, some of which were not so unambiguously evidence. In fact, the criterion by which to evaluate the nature and strength of evidence was not clearly something one could simply “see” evidentially. Marshaling evidence and relating that evidence to philosophical problems seems to involve principled transcendental reflection. Husserl knew this, and by the publication of Ideas in 1913 adopted the position of transcendental idealism that he once wished to bracket. Transcendental reflection demonstrated the necessity of a transcendental ego related noetically to the Sinn-world of noematic content. This transcendental ego could not be examined phenomenologically without presupposing that very ego under investigation. The problem was that transcendental reflection seemed to require a transcendental ego that was, by definition, not amenable to phenomenological investigation.

It is at this stage that Heidegger enters our story, penning Sein und Zeit and striving mightily therein to avoid the paradoxes to which Husserl’s hidden transcendental ego fell prey. By re- thinking what a transcendental ego really is, Heidegger was able to avert the problem of how the transcendental ego can direct itself upon its world. For Heidegger, the occult ego of Husserl became Being-in-the-world, Dasein. The ego is already embedded in its world and it is this embeddedness. With this step Heidegger would try to do something nobody had yet succeeded in accomplishing. Heidegger wanted phenomenologically not only to access those beings in the world that constitutes the basic experience and structure of Dasein, but he wanted to examine the conditions for the intelligibility of phenomenologically accessible beings in the world; he wanted to coax out of hiding those worldly conditions making possible beings in the world. His interest was in the be-ing (“to-beness”) resident within the horizon of the world itself. He claimed that his investigation was ontological, that it had to do with be-ing, that is, it concerned not primarily beings, but those conditions of intelligibility that made possible the intelligibility of beings as such. 

But Heidegger’s work in Sein und Zeit was beset by transcendental paradox as well. His pointing out of different ways of being seems at times to leave out the very possibility of a way of being doing the pointing. Take, for instance, his distinction between Vorhandensein (present-at-hand be-ing) and Zuhandensein (ready-to-hand be-ing). This distinction is fundamental for Heidegger. Objects appear to us either as “present-at-hand” or “ready-to-hand”, either as objects having properties or as equipment to be used in our everyday pragmatic concerns. But what is the being of the one who distinguishes be-ing-present-at-hand from be-ing-ready-to-hand? Is the distinction between the objective and pragmatic an objective or pragmatic distinction? If neither, then should Heidegger not have distinguished some other category beyond the objective and pragmatic?

Heidegger’s detailed analysis of the be-ing of Dasein in Sein und Zeit seems to push towards theoretical comprehension, a present-at-hand description of those fundamental structures that are not in themselves present-at-hand. But this is exactly what transcendental reflection does: It attempts a theoretical description of a province of being that cannot be theoretically described.  Transcendental phenomenology perhaps has made the most valiant attempt to grant explicit truth conditions for statements of the transcendental. Clearly, Husserl was attempting in his formal ontology to escape the paradox of transcendental reflection.  But as mentioned before, the hope that there could be a stable province of being impassible to its own investigation was quickly extinguished by Heidegger's insight that knowing being is itself an activity of being, that at the foundation of being, there is be-ing, and that there is be-ing all the way down, as it were.  

The paradox of transcendental reflection are encountered by a being, who in its be-ing, has be-ing at issue for it. Such reflection and paradox can sometimes be brought to the surface by the Geisteswissenschaften, who realize profoundly that the Naturwissenschaften proceed so successfully because they exclude what to the human spirit is central: We are not who we are and can never not be who we are.  Difference rules the first set of disciplines and identity the second. 

So what is deeper in human experience, the geistliche paradoci of transcendental reflection, or the tidy coherency of  natural science?