Andrew Haas

ABSTRACT What is the relation between philosophy and rhetoric? Aristotle argues: Rhetoric is the study of “the modes of persuasion.” But persuasion about what? Rhetoric persuades us “whether something has been or has not been, will be or will not be, is or is not.” Rhetoric persuades us about being—and that is what philosophy studies. So, both philosophy and rhetoric concern themselves with being. But what is being? It is that which is implied by everything that is, so that it can be or not be. Each in its own way, Greek rhetoric and Greek philosophy are always saying and thinking: being is implied. And this is how philosophy and rhetoric are implicated in one another—which is why it may be time not merely to say and think that “philosophy is rhetorical” and that “rhetoric is philosophical,” but rather just: philosophy rhetoric and rhetoric philosophy.

Our concept of politics – especially democracy – presupposes a principle of friendship, but our principle of friendship comes out of an understanding of the friend. However, from the Greeks to Derrida, such relations have been dominated by a philosophy of presence and/or absence, limiting our very idea of politics and friendship. A radical break with this tradition is only possible through an other way of speaking to, thinking about, acting toward, and being a friend, and the politics thereof. The Aristotelian saying, “O friends, [there is] no friend,” provides a clue – for “being” is not there, not present in the Greek, nor absent therefrom, but just implied. Then the being of the friend, and of politics (and of being), is an implication. So, if we hope to be friends, and to be political, we must think and act and speak by implication: O friends no friend, and O democrats no democracy.

Tense is the clue to the discovery of the meaning of time. Speaking hints at thinking, and language suggests a way to conceive of philosophical concepts. Here, the universality of temporality is that out of which the grammar of tense and the concept of time first come. Temporality, however, is not simply present in tense or time. On the contrary, temporality’s way of being—like being’s—is implication: tense is implied by how the verbality of verbs can be spoken; time, by how temporal beings come to presence—just as being is implied in Greek, and many other languages. But then, the habits of modern Western language and philosophy must be radically reformed in order to learn how to imply again, and to think and speak about time and being as implications.

What is first philosophy today? In Unity and Aspect, the questioning begins with a new (old) approach to metaphysics: being is implied; it is implied in everything that is; it is an implication. BUt then, the history of philosophy must be rethought completely - for being implies unity, and time, and the other of time, namely, aspect. THe effect on the self and on self-understanding is radical: we can no longer be thought as human beings; rather, reaching back to the ancient Greek name for us (phos), Haas seeks to rearticulate us as illuminating, as illuminating ourselves and others, and as implicated in our illuminations. UNity and Aspect then provokes us to problematize words and deeds, thoughts and things - and this means reconsidering our assumptions about history and survival, meaning and universality, sensibility and intimacy, knowledge and intentionality, action and improvisation, language and truth. ANd if Haas suspends the privilege enjoyed by our traditional philosophical concepts, this has implications for fields as diverse as ontology and phenomenology, ethics and aesthetics, education and linguistics, law and politics.

Being can no longer be thought, for Plato, in accordance with Parmenides’ either/or; rather, it is both/and, both present in and absent from things, which is how they can come-to-presence and go-out-into-absence. But as the Parmenides demonstrates, Greek grammar hints at a fundamental ontological truth: the expression, “one one,” ἓν ἕν, shows that being can be implied, neither present nor absent—for being is an implication. But then participating must be rethought in terms of implying: being is implied in everything that is and is one, which is how it is present in beings and absent therefrom. But this understanding of participation—as Aristotle insists—is contradictory. Luckily, there is another way: implication qua belonging—being no longer participates-in, but belongs-to things, which is how it is one with them, distinct but inseparable. But this too, betrays implication, fails to grasp being’s way of being, and the meaning of being qua implied, and so cannot illuminate how being and beings are and are one—for as the suspension of presence and/or absence, implying is irreducible to participating or belonging. Rather, if being is implied, it is because implication is suspension, which is why it is so suspenseful.

ABSTRACT Almost all philosophers recognize the fundamental importance of the Phenomenology of Spirit. But Hegel's way of thinking and speaking—which he names, “speculative”—needs explaining. The example of “the speculative sentence” is helpful—for here, speculating means implying, that is, neither bringing meaning to presence nor keeping it in absence; but rather, speaking and thinking by implication. If the history of philosophy, however, overlooks what is implied, then it cannot grasp what is, and what is thought and said in the speculative sentence. Luckily, there is another way: implying that which can neither be said nor left unsaid, neither thought nor unthought. Reinterpreting Hegel's speculative sentence, therefore, for implication, for what is implied—and neither present nor absent—Haas demonstrates how to think and speak speculatively about thinking and speaking, substance and subject, being and becoming, whether in philosophy or not, even if we implicate ourselves thereby.

It is perhaps time to revivify our other name in Greek: phos. For although the Greeks named us anthrôpos, they also called us phos. And the Greeks used the word phos because we are like light. Indeed, our way of being light-like is illuminating, which illuminates being and the truth of being, so that it can be thought and said, imagined, and sensed—especially insofar as we are this illumination. Thus, it is time to reclaim phos as our name and so rethink what it means to illuminate, whether we light up everything that is, as well as ourselves, or not.

The stranger is strange, the xenos is xenikos. What is strange, however, is captured neither by the fear of the presence of an original corruption, a non-Greek at the presumed origin of Greek philosophy, which would threaten its privilege; nor by the presence of an êthos in general that allows for hospitality towards the xenos, understood as both guest and host. Rather, that which is most strange about the xenos and its êthos is that which never simply presents itself – and that is what Heraclitus “implies” in saying: êthos anthrôpô daimôn. Thus, the origin of the origin of the hatred of the xenos is the strangeness of implication, which has implications for how we think about the stranger, and how we act towards the implied strangeness of the stranger.

This work shows that being must originally be understood as implication. We begin with what Heidegger calls Hegelrsquo;s lsquo;new concept of beingrsquo; in the emPhenomenology of Spirit/em: time as history is the essence of being. This concept however, is not univocalmdash;for supersession means destroying-preserving. Hegel shows himself to be the thinker of truth as essentially ambiguous; and the emPhenomenology/em is onto-heno-chrono-phenomenology, the history of the being and unity, time and aspect, of the conceptrsquo;s ambiguity. For Heidegger however, conceptual ambiguity confirms that Hegelrsquo;s history of being is stuck in a vulgar interpretation of time; and the emPhenomenology/em can explain neither the origin of this time, nor the necessity of negation for the historical determination of beingmdash;for Hegel cannot think the ground of the concept of being, that is, the grounding of the ground. If Heidegger argues however, that the emPhenomenology/em is pre-determined by its ancient point of departure, we must go back to the Greeks, back to Aristotlersquo;s original insight : being and unity emimply/em one anothermdash;for they are essentially implications. Thus the question of the meaning of being becomes the question of the meaning of implication.

This important new book offers the first full-length interpretation of the thought of Martin Heidegger with respect to irony. In a radical reading of Heidegger's major works (from Being and Time through the ‘Rector's Address' and the ‘Letter on Humanism' to ‘The Origin of the Work of Art' and the Spiegel interview), Andrew Haas does not claim that Heidegger is simply being ironic. Rather he argues that Heidegger's writings make such an interpretation possible - perhaps even necessary. Heidegger_begins_ Being and Time with a quote from Plato, a thinker famous for his insistence upon Socratic irony. The Irony of Heidegger takes seriously the apparently curious decision to introduce the threat of irony even as philosophy begins in earnest to raise the question of the meaning of being. Through a detailed and thorough reading of Heidegger's major texts and the fundamental questions they raise, Haas reveals that one of the most important philosophers of the 20th century can be read with as much irony as earnestness. The Irony of Heidegger attempts to show that the essence of this irony lies in uncertainty, and that the entire project of onto-heno-chrono-phenomenology, therefore needs to be called into question. >

What is a problem? What is problematic about any problem whatsoever, philosophical or otherwise? As the origin of assertion and apodeiction, the problematic suspends the categories of necessity and contingency, possibility and impossibility. And it is this suspension that is the essence of the problem, which is why it is so suspenseful. But then, how is the problem problematic? Only if what is suspended neither comes to presence, nor simply goes out into absence, that is, if the suspension continues, which continues the problem. But what is problematic about suspension? As a consideration of language shows, the problem of suspension is the problem of implication. If being, for example, is merely implied, neither present nor absent, then it is the suspension of both, at least insofar as it is problematic. And this not only says something about language; rather, it has ontological implications as well — it speaks of being, and the being of anything whatsoever. For if being is implied, if that is the problem of being, it is because being is an implication. Then the being of things like problems is implied as well; or being is in things by implication. But what does it mean for being to be neither presence nor absence, but an implication? It means that being is implied in a way that is problematic — before it is necessary, or even possible. For being’s way of being is characterized by suspension — which has implications for thinking and speaking about being, and about things like problems, even about anything whatsoever. And this has implications for what being implies, namely, unity and time and aspect.

Each thinker, according to Heidegger, essentially thinks one thought. Plato thinks the idea. Descartes thinks the cogito . Spinoza thinks substance. Nietzsche thinks the will to power. If a thinker does not think a thought, then he or she is not a thinker. He or she may be a scholar or a professor, a producer or a consumer, a fan or a fake, but he or she would not be a thinker. Thus, if Heidegger is a thinker, he essentially thinks one thought. What is Heidegger’s one thought? It is neither life nor death, neither me nor you. It is neither technology nor art. It is neither spirit nor language. Heidegger’s one thought is being—or more precisely, the question of the meaning of being. And what is being? Neither presence nor absence--but rather, an ambiguous uncertainty.

Cet article cherche à interroger Heidegger en tant que traducteur. Nous montrons d’abord que le refus de traduire hypokeimenon par subiectum rend possible une onto-héno-chrono-phénoménologie de la choséité de la chose comme constance. Ensuite, nous démontrons que la tentative visant à penser la transformation de l’ alētheia ne peut éviter la traduction et toutes ses violences. Enfin, nous faisons retour aux Grecs en vue de penser la traduction comme metalēpsis , de réinterpréter la traduction platonicienne des Idées comme choses, de repenser le noūs aristotélicien comme auto-traducteur, et de suggérer que l’origine de la pensée réside peut-être aussi dans la traduction

What is the origin of language? For Levinas, from Aristotle to von Humboldt, the tradition of Western metaphysics has understood language as a representation of reality, going beyond or transcending experience. In this way, language is a metaphor that substitutes for experience—and all language is originally metaphorical. Experience however, is essentially inexpressible—for it not only transcends language, but it does so because experience is always experience of the other, of that which remains infinitely other. And language reminds us of its failure (a failure which Derrida sees, ironically, as a success) to express this other by maintaining a trace of the inexpressible in every expression—and metaphor is failure of expression par excellence. But what is the origin of this original failure? In fact, it can be found in the way in which language makes metaphors (which is the way in which it makes itself, transcends itself, substitutes for itself, becomes other than itself). For as Aristotle reminds us: metaphor-making (indeed, all language, every word and deed) is poiēsis—and the origin of poiēsis is improvisation. If we have, however, discovered the origin of language in improvisation—but what is that?