Gabriel Marcel (1889–1973) was a philosopher, drama critic,playwright and musician. He converted to Catholicism in 1929 and hisphilosophy was later described as “ChristianExistentialism” (most famously in Jean-Paul Sartre’s“Existentialism is a Humanism”) a term he initiallyendorsed but later repudiated. In addition to his numerousphilosophical publications, he was the author of some thirty dramaticworks. Marcel gave the Gifford Lectures in Aberdeen in1949–1950, which appeared in print as the two-volumeTheMystery of Being, and the William James Lectures at Harvard in1961–1962, which were collected and published asTheExistential Background of Human Dignity.
Marcel was born in 1889. His mother died when he was only four, andMarcel was raised by his father and aunt, who later married. Heexcelled in school, but did so without enjoying his studies prior tohis encounter with philosophy. He associated with many of theprominent philosophers of his day, in part due to his hosting of thefamous “Friday evenings.” Paul Ricoeur, Emmanuel Levinas,Jean Wahl, Simone de Beauvoir, Nicolas Berdyaev and Jean-Paul Sartrewere among the many noted philosophers who attended these gatheringsat one time or another. These informal meetings were an occasion forengaged thinkers from a variety of perspectives to discuss togethervarious philosophical themes, frequently ones Marcel himself wasworking on that week. After passing hisagrégation in1910, he taught philosophy intermittently in Sens, Paris, andMontpellier; however, his main professional occupations were that ofdrama critic (forEurope nouvelle and later forNouvelleslittéraires) and editor (for theFeuxcroisés series at Plon).
Marcel’s philosophical legacy includes lectures, journal entriesand dramatic works in addition to more orthodox philosophicalexpression in essays and monographs. Of these various genres, Marcelwas perhaps most pleased with his dramatic works. In fact, readingbetween the lines of his autobiographical remarks, one can discernsome puzzlement and no small amount of frustration at the success ofhis philosophical works and the relative obscurity of his dramaticworks. Complicating the diverse expression of his ideas is the factthat Marcel was a consciously unsystematic philosopher, something herealized as early as the publication of hisJournalmétaphysique (1927).[1] Nevertheless, while the diverse expression of his thought and therelated lack of systematicity cause some difficulty for thoseinterested in Marcel’s work, the main themes of his thought arepresent in many of his works. Especially noteworthy are:TheMystery of Being, Creative Fidelity,Homo Viator,Being and Having,Tragic Wisdom and Beyond and theconcise “On the Ontological Mystery.”
Marcel’s philosophical methodology was unique, although it bearssome resemblance to both existentialism and phenomenology broadlyconstrued. He insisted that philosophy begin with concrete experiencerather than abstractions. To this end he makes constant use ofexamples in order to ground the philosophical ideas he isinvestigating. The method itself consists in “working…upfrom life to thought and then down from thought to life again, so that[one] may try to throw more light upon life” (Marcel 1951a, p.41). Thus, this philosophy is a sort of “description bearingupon the structures which reflection elucidates starting fromexperience” (Marcel 1962a, p. 180). In addition, Marcelexpressed a refreshing preference for philosophizing in ordinarylanguage. He maintained that “we should employ current forms ofordinary language which distort our experiences far less than theelaborate expressions in which philosophical language iscrystallized” (Marcel 1965, p. 158).
Marcel was consistentlycritical of Cartesianism, especially the epistemological problems withwhich Cartesianism is mainly concerned (such as the problem ofskepticism). Like many of the existentialists, his critique wasmotivated by a rejection of that account of the nature of the selfwhich was assumed in Descartes’ overall approach to the questionof knowledge, and how the mind comes to know reality. The Cartesianpicture of the self assumes that the self is a discrete entity with aneatly defined “inside” and “outside,” so thatour ideas, which are “inside,” can be fully understoodwithout reference to the world, which is “outside.”“Cartesianism implies a severance … between intellect andlife; its result is a depreciation of the one, and an exaltation ofthe other, both arbitrary” (Marcel, 1949, p. 170). Marcel agreedwith other thinkers in the existentialist tradition, such asHeidegger, that the Cartesian view of the self is notontologically basic for the human subject because it is not apresentation of how the self actually is. Part of Marcel’s taskis to try to reveal phenomenologically the true nature of the subject,which will have implications for many philosophical issues, includingthose relating to the nature of knowledge. However, on the issue ofthe true nature of the subject, Marcel differs from both Heidegger andSartre; indeed, his views are closer to those of Jewish philosopher,Martin Buber, than they are to many of the existentialists.In line with his preference for concrete philosophy that speaks inordinary language, Marcel begins many of his philosophical essays withan observation about life. One of his central observations about lifeand experience, from which he is able to derive many of thephilosophical distinctions that follow, is that we live in a“broken world.” A world in which “ontologicalexigence”—if it is acknowledged at all—issilenced by an unconscious relativism or by a monism that discountsthe personal, “ignores the tragic and denies thetranscendent” (Marcel 1995, p. 15). The characterization of theworld as broken does not necessarily imply that there was a time whenthe world was intact. It would be more correct to emphasize that theworld we live in is essentially broken, broken in essence, in additionto having been further fractured by events in history. The observationis intended to point out that we find ourselveshic et nuncin a world that is broken. This situation is characterized by arefusal (or inability) to reflect, a refusal to imagine and a denialof the transcendent (Marcel 1951a, pp. 36–37). Although manythings contribute to the “brokenness” of the world, thehallmark of its modern manifestation is “the misplacement of theidea of function” (Marcel 1995, p. 11).
“I should like to start,” Marcel says, “with a sortof global and intuitive characterization of the man in whom the senseof the ontological—the sense of being, is lacking, or, to speakmore correctly, the man who has lost awareness of this sense”(Marcel 1995, p. 9). This person, the one who has lost awareness ofthe sense of the ontological, the one whose capacity to wonder hasatrophied to the extent of becoming a vestigial trait, is an exampleof the influence of the misapplication of the idea of function. Marceluses the example of a subway token distributor. This person has a jobthat is mindless, repetitive, and monotonous. The same function canbe, and often is, completed by automated machines. All day this persontakes bills from commuters and returns a token and some change,repeating the same process with the same denominations of currency,over and over. The other people with whom she interacts engage her inonly the most superficial and distant manner. In most cases, they donot speak to her and they do not make eye contact. In fact, the onlydistinction the commuters make between such a person and theautomatic, mechanical token dispenser down the hall is to note which“machine” has the shorter line. The way in which thesecommuters interact with this subway employee is clearly superficialand less than desirable. However, Marcel’s point is moresubtle.
What can the inner reality of such a person be like? What began astedious work slowly becomes infuriating in its monotony, buteventually passes into a necessity that is accepted with indifference,until even the sense of dissatisfaction with the pure functionalism ofthe task is lost. The unfortunate truth is that such a person may cometo see herself, at first unconsciously, as merely an amalgamation ofthe functions she performs. There is the function of dispensing tokensat work, the function of spouse and parent at home, the function ofvoting as a citizen of a given country, etc. Her life operates on aseries of “time-tables” that indicate when certainfunctions—such as the yearly maintenance trip to the doctor, orthe yearly vacation to rest and recuperate—are to be exercised.In this person the sense of wonder and theexigence for thetranscendent may slowly begin to wither and die. In the most extremecases, a person who has come to identify herself with her functionsceases to even have any intuition that the world is broken.
A corollary of the functionalism of the modern broken world is itshighly technical nature. Marcel characterizes a world such asours—in which everything and everyone becomes viewed in terms offunction, and in which all questions are approached withtechnique—as one that is dominated by its“technics.” This is evident in the dependence ontechnology, the immediate deferral to the technological as the answerto any problem, and the tendency to think of technical reasoning asthe only mode of access to the truth. However, it is clear that thereare some “problems” that cannot be addressed withtechnique, and this is disquieting for persons who have come to relyon technics. While technology undoubtedly has its proper place anduse, the deification of technology leads to despair when we realizethe ultimate inefficacy of technics regarding important existentialquestions. It is precisely this misapplication of the idea of functionand the dependence on technics that leads to the despair that is soprevalent in the broken world. Obviously, we cannot turn back theclock with regard to technological progress, and Marcel acknowledgesthat technology is not necessarily detrimental to the life of thespirit; nevertheless, it often is, because: “does not theinvasion of our life by techniques today tend to substitutesatisfaction at a material level for spiritual joy, dissatisfaction ata material level for spiritual disquiet?” (Marcel 1985, p.57).
“What defines man,” claims Marcel, “are hisexigencies” (Marcel 1973, p. 34). Nevertheless, theseexigencies can be smothered, perhaps even silenced, bydespair. Such is the case in the example of the“functionalized” person. The broken world can smothertranscendentexigencies, leaving only quotidian, functionalneeds intact. Ontologicalexigence, the need fortranscendence, is linked to a certain dissatisfaction—one thatis all the more troubling because one is unable to soothe thisdissatisfaction by one’s own powers. However, without a feelingthat something is amiss, without the feeling of dissatisfaction,ontologicalexigence withers. This is why the functionalperson, the person who no longer even notices that the world isbroken, is described as having lost the awareness of the ontologicaland the need for transcendence. In the face of this potential despair,Marcel claims that:
Being is—or should be—necessary. It is impossible thateverything should be reduced to a play of successive appearances whichare inconsistent with each other… or, in the words ofShakespeare, to “a tale told by an idiot.” I aspire toparticipate in this being, in this reality—and perhaps thisaspiration is already a degree of participation, however rudimentary.(Marcel 1995, p. 15)[3]
Thus, ontologicalexigence is a need and a demand for somelevel of coherence in the cosmos and for some understanding of ourplace and role within this coherence. It is the combination of wonderand the attendant desire, not to understand the entire cosmos, but tounderstand something of one’s own place in it.[4] Note that, for Marcel, ontologicalexigence is not merely a“wish” for being or coherence, but is an “interiorurge” or “appeal.” “Otherwise stated, the[ontological] exigence is not reducible to some psychological state,mood, or attitude a personhas; it is rather a movement ofthe human spirit that is inseparable from being human” (Keen1984, p. 105).
Marcel is very clear that the term “transcendence” has, inhis view, become degraded in modern philosophy. Transcendence cannotmean merely “going beyond” without any furtherspecification. It must retain the tension of the traditionaldistinction between the immanent and the transcendent, one thatemphasizes a vertical rather than a horizontal going beyond, atranscendence toward a height, a trans-ascendence.[5] Although the transcendent is juxtaposed with the immanent, Marcelinsists that “transcendent” cannot mean“transcending experience.” “There must exist apossibility of having an experience of the transcendent as such, andunless that possibility exists the word can have no meaning”(Marcel 1951a, p. 46). The tendency to discount the idea ofexperiencing transcendence is the result of an objective view ofexperience. However, experience is not an object and therefore itcannot be viewed objectively. Speaking metaphorically, the essence ofexperience is not an “absorbing into oneself,” as in thecase of taste, but “a straining oneself towards something, aswhen, for instance, during the night we attempt to get a distinctperception of some far-off noise” (Marcel 1951a, p. 47). Thus,while Marcel insists on the possibility of experiencing thetranscendent, he does not thereby mean that the transcendent iscomprehensible.
There is an order where the subject finds himself in the presence ofsomething entirely beyond his grasp. I would add that if the word“transcendent” has any meaning it is here—itdesignates the absolute, unbridgeable chasm yawning between thesubject and being, insofar as being evades every attempt to pin itdown. (Marcel 1973, p. 193)
Marcel discusses being in a variety of contexts; however, one of themore illustrative points of entry into this issue is the distinctionbetween being and having.[6] In some cases this distinction is one that is obvious and thereforenot particularly illuminating. For example, most people would readilyacknowledge a difference between having a house and being hospitable.However, there are other cases where the distinction between havingsomething and being something is much more significant. For example,when we hope, we do nothave hope. Weare hope.Similarly, we do not have a belief. We are a belief.
Marcel’s hallmark illustration of being and having is one thatactually straddles the distinction between them: “mybody.” My body, insofar as it ismy body, is bothsomething that I have and something that I am, and cannot beadequately accounted for using either of these descriptions alone. Ican look at my body in a disassociated manner and see itinstrumentally. However, in doing so, in distancing myself from it inorder to grasp itqua object,qua something I have,it ceases to be “my” body. I can have “a”body, but not “my” body. As soon as I make the connectionthat the body in question is my body, not a body, it can no longer besomething that I have pure and simple—this body also is me, itis what I am. On the other hand, it cannot be said that I simply am mybody either. I can dispose of my body in certain circumstances bytreating it instrumentally. A person who loses a limb in an accidentis not less of a person and, therefore, there is a sense in which ourbodies are objects that we have.
The ambiguous role played by my body not only points out thedistinction between being and having, but also shows that we relate toother things and persons differently in these two modes. Havingcorresponds to things that are completely external to me. I havethings that I possess, that I can dispose of—and this shouldmake it clear that I cannot “have,” for example, anotherperson. Having implies this possession because “having alwaysimplies an obscure notion of assimilation” (Marcel 1949, p. 83).While the encounter with otherness takes place in terms ofassimilation when speaking of having, the encounter with otherness(e.g., other persons) can also take place on the level of being. Inthis case Marcel maintains that the encounter is not one that ispurely external and, as such, it is played out in terms of presenceand participation rather than assimilation.
Both being and having are legitimate ways to encounter things in theworld; however, the misapplication of these two modes of comportmentcan have disastrous consequences.
The notion that we live in a broken world is used—along with theperson who is characteristic of the broken world, the functionalizedperson—to segue into one of Marcel’s central thematicdistinctions: the distinction between problem and mystery. He statesthat the broken world is one that is “on the one hand, riddledwith problems and, on the other, determined to allow no room formystery” (Marcel 1995, p. 12). The denial of the mysterious issymptomatic of the modern broken world and is tied to its technicalcharacter, which only acknowledges that which technique can address:the problematic. The distinction between problem and mystery is onethat hinges, like much of Marcel’s thought, on the notion ofparticipation.
A problem is something which I meet, which I find completely beforeme, but which I can therefore lay siege to and reduce. But a mysteryis something in which I am myself involved, and it can therefore onlybe thought of as a sphere where the distinction between what is in meand what is before me loses its meaning and initial validity. (Marcel1949, p. 117)
A problem is a question in which I am not involved, in which theidentity of the person asking the question is not an issue. In therealm of the problematic, it makes no difference who is asking thequestion because all of the relevant information is“before” the questioner. As such, a problem is somethingthat bars my way, placing an obstacle in front of me that must beovercome. In turn, the overcoming of a problem inevitably involvessome technique, a technique that could be, and often is, employed byany other person confronting the same problem. Thus the identity ofthe questioner can be changed without altering the problem itself.This is why the modern broken world only sees the problematic: the‘problematic’ is that which can be addressed and solvedwith a technique, e.g., changing a flat tire on an automobile ordownloading security software to fix a virus on one’scomputer.
When I am dealing with a problem, I am trying to discover a solutionthat can become common property, that consequently can, at least intheory, be rediscovered by anybody at all. But…this idea of avalidity for “anybody at all” or of a thinking in generalhas less and less application the more deeply one penetrates into theinner courts of philosophy… (Marcel 1951a, p. 213)
Marcel often describes a mystery as a “problem that encroacheson its own data” (Marcel 1995, p. 19). Such a“problem” is, in fact, meta-problematic; it is a questionin which the identity of the questioner becomes an issueitself—where, in fact, the questioner is involved in thequestion he or she is asking. On the level of the mysterious, theidentity of the questioner is tied to the question and, therefore, thequestioner is not interchangeable. To change the questioner would beto alter the question. It makes every difference who is asking thequestion when confronting a mystery. Here, on the level of themysterious, the distinctions “in-me” and“before-me” break down. Marcel insists that mysteries canbe found in the question of Being (e.g., my ontologicalexigence), the union of the body and soul, the“problem” of evil and—perhaps the archetypalexamples of mystery—freedom and love. For example, I cannotquestion Being as if my being is not at issue in the questioning. Thequestion of being and the question of who I am (my being) cannot beaddressed separately. These two questions are somehow incoherent ifapproached as problems; however, taken together, their mysteriouscharacter is revealed and they cancel themselves outquaproblems.
Another example is the “problem of evil” (Marcel, 1995,pp. 19-20). Marcel distinguishes between what philosophers refer to asthe existential problem of evil (how a particular individual respondsto an experience of evil in his or her own life), and thephilosophical problem of evil (how a philosopher might think about the“problem” of evil—how evil is to be reconciled withthe existence of an all-good and all-powerful God, for instance). Henotes that the existential problem cannot be fully discussed at thephilosophical level precisely because the experience of the questioneris left out. He notes that, “Evil which is only stated orobserved is no longer evil which is suffered: in fact, it ceases to beevil. In reality, I can only grasp it as evil in the measure in whichittouches me—that is to say, in the measure in which Iaminvolved…being ‘involved’ is thefundamental fact” (Marcel, 1995, p. 19). In addition, thephilosopher seeks solutions to the problem of evil that can bepresented to everyone in a logically objective manner, so almost bydefinition these solutions cannot fully address the existentialquestion. Marcel also proposes that sometimes philosophers can fallinto the error of thinking that the philosophical problem should bethe main way to approach the experience of evil, and as a result canfail to appreciate the necessity of helping people deal with theexistential problem. In general, this failure is something we canobserve in many different areas of primary reflection, includingacademic disciplines, which sometimes lose touch with the experiencesthat gave rise to the problems the disciplines are supposed to beaddressing.
Unlike problems, mysteries are not solved with techniques andtherefore cannot be answered the same way by differentpersons—one technique, one solution, will not apply in thedifferent cases presented by different persons. Indeed, it isquestionable if mysteries are open to “solutions” at all.Nevertheless, it would be incorrect to call the mysterious a gap inour knowledge in the same way that a problem is. “The mysteriousis not the unknowable, the unknowable is only the limiting case of theproblematic” (Marcel 1949, p. 118).
Although a mystery may be insoluble, it is not senseless; and whileits inexpressibility makes it difficult to fully describe incommunicable knowledge, it can still be spoken of in a suggestive way(Marcel 1964, xxv). Marcel notes in a journal entry dated December18th, 1932 that:
The metaproblematic is a participation on which my reality as asubject is built… and reflection will show that such aparticipation, if it is genuine, cannot be asolution. If itwere it would cease to be a participation in a transcendent reality,and would become, instead, an interpolationinto transcendentreality, and would be degraded in the process… (Marcel 1949, p.114)
Referring back to the idea of a broken world, the technical and theproblematic are questions that are addressed with only“part” of a person. The full person is not engaged in thetechnical because a person’s self, her identity, is not atissue. “At the root of having [and problems, and technics] therelies a certain specialization of specification of the self, and thisis connected with [a] partial alienation of the self…”(Marcel 1949, p. 172). Problems are addressed impersonally, in adetached manner, while mysteries demand participation, involvement.Although some problems can be reflected on in such a way that theybecome mysterious, all mysteries can be reflected on in such a waythat the mystery is degraded and becomes merely problematic.
The distinction between two kinds of questions—problem andmystery—brings to light two different kinds of thinking orreflection. The problematic is addressed with thinking that isdetached and technical, while the mysterious is encountered inreflection that is involved, participatory and decidedlynon-technical. Marcel calls these two kinds of thinking“primary” and “secondary” reflection. Primaryreflection examines its object by abstraction, by analyticallybreaking it down into its constituent parts. It is concerned withdefinitions, essences and technical solutions to problems. Incontrast, secondary reflection is synthetic; it unifies rather thandivides. “Roughly, we can say that where primary reflectiontends to dissolve the unity of experience which is first put beforeit, the function of secondary reflection is essentially recuperative;it reconquers that unity” (Marcel 1951a, p. 83).
In the most general sense, reflection is nothing other than attentionbrought to bear on something. However, different objects requiredifferent kinds of reflection. In keeping with their respectiveapplication to problem and mystery, primary reflection is directed atthat which is outside of me or “before me,” whilesecondary reflection is directed at that which is not merely beforeme—that is, either that which is in me, which I am, or thoseareas where the distinctions “in me” and “beforeme” tend to break down. The parallels between having and being,problem and mystery, and primary and secondary reflection are clear,each pair helping to illuminate the others.
Thus, secondary reflection is one important aspect of our access tothe self. It is the properly philosophical mode of reflection because,in Marcel’s view, philosophy must return to concrete situationsif it is to merit the name “philosophy.” These difficultreflections are “properly philosophical” insofar as theylead to a more truthful, more intimate communication with both myselfand with any other person whom these reflections include (Marcel1951a, pp. 79–80). Secondary reflection, which recoups the unityof experience, points the way toward a fuller understanding of theparticipation alluded to in examples of the mysterious.
Marcelargues that secondary reflection helps us to recover the experiencesof the mysterious in human life. Secondary reflection is bestunderstood as an act of critical reflection on primary reflection, andas a process of recovery of the “mysteries of being.” Itbegins as the act of critical reflection (a “second”reflection) on ordinary conceptual thinking (primary reflection). This“second” or critical reflection enables the philosopher todiscover that the categories of primary reflection are not adequate toprovide a true account of the nature of the self, or of theself’s most profound experiences. Here secondary reflectioninvolves ordinary reflection, but unlike ordinary reflection, it is acritical reflection directed at the nature of thought itself. The actof secondary reflection then culminates in a discovery or in anassurance of the realm of mystery, and motivates human actionsappropriate to this realm. This discovery is a kind of intuitive graspor experiential insight into various experiences that are nonconceptual, and that conceptual knowledge can never fully express(Sweetman, 2008, pp. 55-60). Marcel therefore develops the view thathuman beings are fundamentally beings-in-situations first, and thenthinking or reflective beings second. Yet, in developing a critique ofthe obsession with primary reflection (with the world of“having”), he is not advocating any kind of relativism, oreven suggesting that conceptual knowledge is not important; his aim isto illustrate where it fits into the analysis of the human subject,and to point out that it is important not to overstate its range orits value. In presenting these themes, Marcel wishes to do justice to,and to maintain the priority of, human subjectivity and individualitywhile at the same time avoiding the relativism and skepticism that hastended to accompany such notions. In this way, many of his admirersbelieve that he avoids the relativistic and skeptical excesses thathave plagued recent European thought since Heidegger and Sartre.Although secondary reflection is able to recoup the unity ofexperience that primary reflection dissects, it is possible thatsecondary reflection can be frustrated. One example of the frustrationof secondary reflection and the mysterious is the functional person;however, this is really just one example of a more general phenomenon:the person who has given in to the “spirit ofabstraction.” When we engage in primary reflection withoutproceeding to the synthesizing, recollecting act of secondaryreflection, we fall victim to what Marcel calls the spirit ofabstraction. “As soon as we accord to any category, isolatedfrom all other categories, an arbitrary primacy, we are victims of thespirit of abstraction” (Marcel 1962b, pp. 155–156).[7]
Abstraction, which is in essence the kind of thinking thatcharacterizes primary reflection, is not always bad per se. However,neither is it, always an “essentially intellectual”operation (Marcel 1962b, p. 156). That is, contrary to what thesuccesses of science and technology might tell us, we may succumb tothe spirit of abstraction out of passional reasons rather thanintellectual expediency. Abstraction—which is always abstractionfrom an embodied, concrete existence—can overcome our concreteexistence and we may come to view abstracted elements of existence asif they were independent. As Marcel describes it: “it can happenthat the mind, yielding to a sort of fascination, ceases to be awareof these prior conditions that justify abstraction and deceives itselfabout the nature of what is, in itself, nothing more than amethod” (Marcel 1962b, p. 156). The significance of thisphenomenon for Marcel would be difficult to overstate—indeed, inMan Against Mass Society, Marcel argues that the spirit ofabstraction is inherently disingenuous and violent, and a significantfactor in the making of war—and there is a sense in which hiswhole philosophical project is an “obstinate and untiring battleagainst the spirit of abstraction” (Marcel 1962b, p. 1).[8]
Marcel emphasizes two general ways of comporting ourselves towardsothers that can be used as barometers for intersubjectiverelationships:disponibilité andindisponibilité. These words—generallytranslated as either “availability” and“unavailability” or, less frequently, as“disposability” and“non-disposability”—bear meanings for Marcel that donot fully come across in English. Therefore, in addition to the senseof availability and unavailability, Marcel suggests the addition ofthe concepts of “handiness” and “unhandiness”to his English readers in an attempt to clarify his meaning. Handinessand unhandiness refer to the availability of one’s“resources”—material, emotional, intellectual andspiritual. Thus, the termdisponibilité refers to themeasure in which I am available to someone, the state of having myresources at hand to offer; and this availability or unavailability ofresources is a general state or disposition. While it may appear thatthere is the possibility of a selfish allocation of one’sresources, the truth is that when resources are not available, theirinaccessibility affects both the other and the self. Marcel commentsfrequently on the interconnected nature of the treatment of others andthe state of the self.
Indisponibilité can manifest itself in any number ofways; however, “unavailability is invariably rooted in somemeasure of alienation” (Marcel 1995, p. 40). Pride is aninstructive example of indisponibilité, although thesame state of non-disposability would also exist in a person who hascome to view herself in functional terms, or one who is blinded by apurely technical worldview. Pride is not an exaggerated opinion ofoneself arising from self-love, which Marcel insists is really onlyvanity; rather, pride consists in believing that one isself-sufficient (Marcel 1995, p. 32). It consists in drawingone’s strength solely from oneself. “The proud man is cutoff from a certain kind of communion with his fellow men, which pride,acting as a principle of destruction tends to break down. Indeed, thisdestructiveness can beequally well directed against theself; pride is in no way incompatible with self-hate…”(Marcel 1995, p. 32).
For the person who isindisponible, other people are reducedto “examples” or “cases” of genus “otherperson” rather than being encounteredqua other asunique individuals. Instead of encountering the other person as a‘Thou’, the other is encountered as a ‘He’ or‘She’, or even as an ‘It’.
If I treat a ‘Thou’as a ‘He’, I reduce theother to being only nature; an animated object which works in someways and not in others. If, on the contrary, I treat the other as‘Thou’, I treat him and apprehend himquafreedom. I apprehend himqua freedom because heisalso freedom and not only nature. (Marcel 1949, pp. 106–107)
When I treat the other person as a He or She, it is because he or sheis kept at arm’s length but within my grasp, outside of thecircle that I form with myself in mycogito but inside thecircle of “my world.”
The other, in so far as he is other, only exists for me in so far as Iam open to him, in so far as he is a Thou. But I am only open to himin so far as I cease to form a circle with myself, inside which Isomehow place the other, or rather his idea; for inside this circle,the other becomes the idea of the other, and the idea of the other isno longer the otherqua other, but the otherquarelated to me… (Marcel 1949, p. 107)
When I treat the other person as a ‘Her’, I treat her, notas a presence, but as absent. However, when I treat the other as a‘He’ or ‘She’ rather than a‘Thou’, I become incapable of seeing myself as a‘Thou’. In deprecating the other I deprecate myself.
If I treat the other person as purely external to me, as a‘Her’, a generic Ms.X, I encounter her “infragments” as it were. I encounter various aspects of the otherperson, elements that might be used to fill out a questionnaire orform (name, occupation, age, etc.). I am not present to the otherperson and I am closed off and indifferent to the presence she offersme. However, in encountering the other person in this manner—notas another person but as a case or example of certain functions, rolesor characteristics—I myself cease to be a person, but take onthe role, speaking metaphorically, of the pen that would record thesedisparate elements onto the form. Any other person could encounter theother in this impersonal manner. If this is the case, I myself havebecome interchangeable, replaceable. I have ceased to encounter her inthe absolutely unique communion of our two persons. This functionalview of the other and, consequently, of the self, is a direct resultof the “spirit of abstraction.” When the other isencountered as a generic case, I who encounter am myself a genericcase in the encounter. But the situation can be otherwise.
In contrast, “the characteristic of the soul which is presentand at the disposal of others is that it cannot think in terms ofcases; in its eyes there areno cases at all”(Marcel 1995, p. 41). The person who isdisponible, who isavailable or disposable to others, has an entirely differentexperience of her place in the world: she acknowledges herinterdependence with other people. Relationships ofdisponibilité are characterized by presence andcommunication between personsqua other,quafreedom—a communication and communion between persons whotranscend their separation without merging into a unity, that is,while remaining separate to some degree. “It should be obviousat once that a being of this sort is not an autonomous whole, is notin [the] expressive English phrase, self-contained; on the contrarysuch a being is open and exposed, as unlike as can be to a compactimpenetrable mass” (Marcel 1951a, p. 145). To bedisponible to the other is to be present to and for her, toput one’s resources at her disposal, and to be open andpermeable to her.
It will perhaps be made clearer if I say the person who is at mydisposal is the one who is capable of being with me with the whole ofhimself when I am in need; while the one who is not at my disposalseems merely to offer me a temporary loan raised on his resources. Forthe one I am a presence; for the other I am an object. (Marcel 1995,p. 40).[9]
Thus, while I encounter objects in a manner that is technical andobjectifying, the encounter with the other person offers another,unique possibility: I can have a relationship “with”another person.
When I put the table beside the chair I do not make any difference tothe table or the chair, and I can take one or the other away withoutmaking any difference; but my relationship with you makes a differenceto both of us, and so does any interruption of the relationship make adifference. (Marcel 1951a, p. 181)
The word “with,” taken with its full metaphysicalimplication, corresponds neither to a relationship of separation andexteriority, nor to a relationship of unity and inherence. Rather,“with” expresses the essence of genuinecoesse,i.e. of pluralism, of separation with communion (Marcel 1995, p. 39).Asindisponibilité is illustrated with the example ofpride,disponibilitéis best illustrated in therelations of love, hope and fidelity.
Marcel—contra Kant—does not shy away from declaring thatthe participation in a relationship “with” someone has asignificant affective element. It is not knowledge of the other thatinitially binds us to another person—though we may indeed growto know something of the other—but “fraternity,” thesense that the other is beset by joys and sorrows common to the human family.[10] It is that which allows us, upon seeing the misfortune of another, tosay, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” To go tosomeone’s side or to assist another out of a sense of“duty” is precisely not to be present to her.[11] The person who is disponible does not demure from sayingthat she truly does desire the best for the other person and that shetruly desires to share something of herself with the other (Marcel1964, p. 154). In fact, becausedisponibilité is onlya philosophical way of describing what we mean by love and trust,disponibilité is inconceivable without this affectiveelement.
Yet, it is not enough for one person to bedisponible inorder for the full communion ofdisponibilité tooccur. It is entirely possible for one person to come to an encounterin a completely open and available manner, only to be rebuffed by thetotal unavailability of the other person. Ideally, a relationship ofavailability must include an element of reciprocity. However, the factthat reciprocity is necessary in an intersubjective relationship doesnot mean that reciprocity may be demanded of such a relationship.Disponibilité does not insist on its rights or makeany claim on the other whatsoever. It is analogous to the situation of“a being awaiting a gift or favor from another being but only onthe grounds of his liberality, and that he is the first to protestthat the favor he is asking is a grace [que cette grâcedemandée est une grâce], that is to say the exactopposite of an obligation” (Marcel 1962a, p. 55). Nevertheless,the fact thatdisponibilité does not demandreciprocity and that some kind of relationship is indeed possiblewithout such reciprocity does not alter the fact that such reciprocitymust be present if the relationship is to fully flower. “Onemight therefore say that there is a hierarchy of choices, or ratherinvocations, ranging from the call upon another which is like ringinga bell for a servant to quite the other sort of call which is reallylike a kind of prayer” (Marcel 1951a, p. 179).
Marcel characterizes disponibilité as charity bound upwith presence, as the gift of oneself. And therefore, at the extremelimit,disponibilité would consist in a totalspiritual availability that would be pure charity, unconditional loveand disposability. However, a problem arises here insofar as Marcelhas insisted on an affective element indisponibilité.How is such a gift of self possible for temporal beings, persons forwhom the vicissitudes of time may alter feelings or opinion of theother?
Marcel draws a sharp distinction between opinion and belief. Opinionalways concerns that which we do not know, that with which we are notfamiliar. It exists in a position between impression and affirmation.It is often the case that opinions have a “false” basis,which is most clear in case of stereotypes and prejudices(“everybody knows that…”). Furthermore, opinionsare invariably “external” to the things to which theyrefer. I have an opinion about something only when I disengage myselffrom it and hold it at “arm’s length.” Nevertheless,we hold or maintain these opinions in front of others, and given theelusive foundations on which these opinions are based, it is easy tosee how an opinion slides slowly from an impression we have to a claimthat we make. This transition invariably takes place as part of anabsence of reflection on the given subject and the entrenchment of theopinion due to repetition. Our opinions are often“unshakable” precisely because of the lack of reflectionassociated with them.
While opinions are unreflective and external, convictions—whichare more akin to belief than opinion—are the result of extensivereflection and invariably concern things to which one feels closelytied. Like opinions that have entrenched themselves to the point ofbecoming actual claims, convictions are felt to be definitive, beyondmodification. However, when I claim that nothing can change myconviction, I must either affirm that I have already anticipated allpossible future scenarios and no possible event can change myconviction, or affirm that whatever events do occur—anticipatedor unanticipated—they will not shake my conviction. The firstpossibility is impossible. The second possibility is based on adecision, a decision to remain constant whatever may come. However,upon reflection such a decision seems as over-confidant as the claimto have anticipated the future. By what right can I affirm that myinner conviction will not change in any circumstance? To do so is toimply that, in the future, I will cease to reflect on my conviction.It seems that all I am able to say is that my conviction is such that,at the present moment, I cannot imagine an alteration in it.
Belief is akin to conviction; it is, however, distinguished by itsobject. Marcel insists in many places that proper use of the term“belief” applies not to things “that” webelieve, but to things “in which” we believe. Belief isnot “belief that…” but is “beliefin…” Beliefthat might be better characterizedas a conviction rather than a belief; however, to believeinsomething is to extend credit to it, to place something at thedisposal of that in which we believe. The notion of credit placed atthe disposal of the other is another way of speaking aboutdisponibilité. “I am in no way separable fromthat which I place at the disposal of thisX…Actually, the credit I extend is, in a way, myself. I lend myself toX. We should note at once that this is an essentiallymysterious act” (Marcel 1951a, p. 134). This is whatdistinguishes conviction from belief. Conviction refers to theX, takes a position with regard toX, but does notbind itself toX. While Ihave an opinion, Iam a belief—for belief changes the way I am in theworld, changes my being. We can now see how belief refers to theother, and how it is connected todisponibilité:belief always applies to “personal or supra-personalreality” (Marcel 1951a, p. 135). It always involves a thou towhom I extend credit—a credit that puts myself at the disposalof the thou—and thus arises the problem of fidelity.[12]
The discussion of “creative fidelity” is an excellentplace to find a unification, or at least a conjunction, of the variousthemes and ideas in Marcel’s non-systematic thought. Ontologicalexigence, being, mystery, second reflection, anddisponibilité all inform the discussion of creativefidelity, which in turn attempts to illustrate how we can experiencethese mysterious realities in more or less concrete terms.
The “problem” posed by fidelity is that of constancy.However, fidelity—a belief in someone—requires presence inaddition to constancy over time, and presence implies an affectiveelement. Mere constancy over time is not enough because “afulfillment of on obligationcontre-coeur is devoid of loveand cannot be identified with fidelity” (Marcel 1964, xxii).Thus, the question is posed as follows. How are we able to remaindisponible over time? How can we provide a guarantee of our“belief in” someone? Perhaps the best way to address thiscomplex idea is to address its constituent parts: the problem posed byfidelity and the answer given by creativity.
The extension of credit to another is a commitment, an act whereby Icommit myself and place myself at the disposal of the other. Inextending credit to the other I am also placing my trust in her,implicitly hoping that she proves worthy of the credit I extend toher. However, we sometimes misjudge others in thinking too highly ofthem and at other times misjudge by underestimation. Recalling thatthere is an affective element of spontaneity involved indisponibilité, how can I assure that I will remainfaithful to my present belief in the other? Like the question ofconviction over time, my present fidelity to another can be questionedin terms of its durability. Though I presently feel inclined to creditthe other, to put myself at her disposal, how can I assure that thisfeeling will not change tomorrow, next month, or next year?Furthermore, because I have given myself to this other person, placedmyself at her disposal, when she falls short of my hopes forher—hopes implicit in my extension of credit to her—I amwounded.
However, the “failure” of the other to conform to my hopesis not necessarily the fault of the other. My disappointment or injuryis frequently the result of my having assigned some definite,determinate quality to the other person or defined her in terms ofcharacteristics that, it turns out, she does not possess. However, bywhat right do I assign this characteristic to her, and by what rightdo I judge her to be wanting? Such a judgment drasticallyoversteps—or perhaps falls short of—the bounds ofdisponibilité. In doing so, it demonstrates clearlythat I, from the outset, was engaged in a relationship to myideaof the other—which has proved to be wrong—rather thanwith theother herself. That is to say that this encounterwas not with the other, but with myself. If I am injured by thefailure of the other to conform to an idea that I had of her, this isnot indicative of a defect in the other; it is the result of myinappropriate attempt to determine her by insisting that she conformto my idea. When I begin to doubt my commitment to another person, thevulnerability of my “belief inX” to these doubtsis directly proportional to the residue of opinion still in it (Marcel1964, p. 136).
Nevertheless, practically speaking, there are innumerable times whenmy hopes for the other are not in fact met, when my extension ofcredit to the other—which is nothing less then the disposabilityof myself—results only in a demand for “more” by theother. Such situations invariably tempt me to reevaluate the credit Ihave put at the disposal of the other and to reassert the question ofdurability concerning the affective element of my availability to theother. Thus, again, the mystery of fidelity is also the question ofcommitment, of commitment over time
“How can I test the initial assurance that is somehow the groundof my fidelity? …this appears to lead to a vicious circle. Inprinciple, to commit myself I must know myself, but the fact is Ireally only know myself when I have committed myself” (Marcel1964, p. 163). However, what appears to be a vicious circle from anexternal point of view is experienced from within, by the person whoisdisponible, as a growth and an ascending. Reflectionqua primary reflection attempts to make the experience ofcommitment understandable in general terms that would be applicable toanyone, but this can only subvert and destroy the reality ofcommitment, which is essentially personal and therefore, accessibleonly to secondary reflection.
Returning to the question of durability over time, Marcel insiststhat, if there is a possible “assurance” of fidelity, itis because “disposability and creativity are relatedideas” (Marcel 1964, p. 53). To be disposable is to believe inthe other, to place myself at her disposal and to maintain theopenness ofdisponibilité. “Creativefidelity” consists in actively maintaining ourselves in a stateof openness and permeability, inwilling ourselves to remainopen to the other and open to the influx of the presence of theother.
The fact is that when I commit myself, I grant in principle that thecommitment will not again be put into question. And it is clear thatthis active volition not to question something again, intervenes as anessential element in the determination of what in fact will be thecase…it bids me to invent a certainmodusvivendi…it is a rudimentary form of creative fidelity.(Marcel 1964, p. 162)
The truest fidelity is creative, that is, a fidelity thatcreates the self in order to meet the demands of fidelity.Such fidelity interprets the vicissitudes of “beliefin…” as a temptation to infidelity and sees them in termsof a test of the self rather than in terms of a betrayal by theother—if fidelity fails, it is my failure rather than thefailure of the other.
However, this merely puts off the question of durability over time.Where does one find the strength to continue to create oneself andmeet the demands of fidelity? The fact is that, on the hither side ofthe ontological affirmation—and the attendant appeal ofHope—fidelity is always open to doubt. I can always call intoquestion the reality of the bond that links me to another person,always begin to doubt the presence of the person to whom I amfaithful, substituting for her presence an idea of my own making. Onthe other hand, the more disposed I am toward the ontologicalaffirmation, to the affirmation of Being, the more I am inclined tosee the failure of fidelity as my failure, resulting from myinsufficiency rather than that of the other.
Hence the ground of fidelity that necessarily seems precarious to usas soon as we commit ourselves to another who is unknown, seems on theother hand unshakable when it is based not, to be sure, on a distinctapprehension of God as someone other, but on a certain appealdelivered for the depths of my own insufficiencyad summamaltitudinem… This appeal presupposes a radical humility inthe subject. (Marcel 1964, p. 167)
Thus, creative fidelity invariably touches upon hope. The only way inwhich an unbounded commitment on the part of the subject isconceivable is if it draws strength from something more than itself,from an appeal to something greater, something transcendent—andthis appeal is hope. Can hope provide us with a foundation that allowshumans—who are radically contingent, frequently fickle, andgenerally weak—to make a commitment that is unconditional?Marcel acknowledges, “Perhaps it should further be said that infact fidelity can never be unconditional, except where it is Faith,but we must add, however, that it aspires to unconditionality”(Marcel 1962a, p. 133).
Hope is the final guarantor of fidelity; it is that which allows menot to despair, that which gives me the strength to continue to createmyself in availability to the other. But this might appear to benothing more than optimism—frequently misplaced, as events toooften reveal—that things will turn out for the best. Marcelinsists that this is not the case. Following now familiardistinctions, he makes a differentiation between the realm of fear anddesire on one hand and the realm of despair and hope on the other.
Fear and desire are anticipatory and focused respectively on theobject of fear or desire. To desire is “to desire thatX” and to fear is “to fear thatX.” Optimism exists in the domain of fear and desirebecause it imagines and anticipates a favorable outcome. However, theessence of hope is not “to hope thatX”, butmerely “to hope…” The person who hopes does notaccept the current situation as final; however, neither does sheimagine or anticipate the circumstance that would deliver her from herplight, rather she merely hopes for deliverance. The more hopetranscends any anticipation of the form that deliverance would take,the less it is open to the objection that, in many cases, thehoped-for deliverance does not take place. If I desire that my diseasebe cured by a given surgical procedure, it is very possible that mydesire might be thwarted. However, if I simply maintain myself inhope, no specific event (or absence of event) need shake me from thishope.
This does not mean, however, that hope is inert or passive. Hope isnot stoicism. Stoicism is merely the resignation of a solitaryconsciousness. Hope is neither resigned, nor solitary. “Hopeconsists in asserting that there is at the heart of being, beyond alldata, beyond all inventories and all calculations, a mysteriousprinciple which is in connivance with me” (Marcel 1995, p. 28).While hope is patient and expectant, it remains active; and as such itmight be characterized as an “active patience.” Theassertion contained in hope reveals a kinship with willing rather thandesiring. “Inert hope” would be an oxymoron.
No doubt the solitary consciousness can achieve resignation[stoicism], but it may well be here that this word actually meansnothing but spiritual fatigue. For hope, which is just the opposite ofresignation, something more is required. There can be no hope thatdoes not constitute itself through a we and for a we. I would betempted to say that all hope is at the bottom choral. (Marcel 1973, p.143)
Finally, it should be no surprise that “speaking metaphysically,the only genuine hope is hope in what does not depend on ourselves,hope springing from humility and not from pride” (Marcel 1995,p. 32). And here is found yet another aspect of the withering thattakes place as a result ofindisponibilité in generaland pride in particular. The same arrogance that keeps the proudperson from communion with her fellows keeps her from hope.
This example points to the dialectical engagement of despair andhope—where there is hope there is always the possibility ofdespair, and only where there is the possibility of despair can werespond with hope. Despair, says Marcel, is equivalent to saying thatthere is nothing in the whole of reality to which I can extend credit,nothing worthwhile. “Despair is possible in any form, at anymoment and to any degree, and this betrayal may seem to be counseled,if not forced upon us, by the very structure of the world we livein” (Marcel 1995, p. 26). Hope is the affirmation that is theresponse to this denial. Where despair denies that anything in realityis worthy of credit, hope affirms that reality will ultimately proveworthy of an infinite credit, the complete engagement and disposal ofmyself.
Throughout the course of his work, Marcel arrived at an essentiallytheistic, specifically Christian, worldview, leading many to describehim as a Christian or theistic existentialist (especially inopposition to Sartre). Indeed, some thinkers regard Marcel’sphilosophical writings on religious belief as his most profoundcontribution to philosophy: “From the beginning of hisphilosophical career, Marcel’s main interest has been theinterpretation of religious experience, that is, of the relationbetween man and ultimate reality” (Cain, 1979, p. 87).Marcel’s early reflections, especially inBeing andHaving, laid the seeds for his conversion to Catholicism at theage of 40, though he believed that his philosophical ideas, andcentral Christian themes, though complementary, were in factindependent of each other: “It is quite possible that theexistence of the fundamental Christian data may be necessaryinfact to enable the mind to conceive some of the notions which Ihave attempted to analyze; but these notions cannot be said to dependon the data of Christianity, andthey do not presuppose it .. . I have experienced [the development of these ideas] more thantwenty years before I had the remotest thought of becoming aCatholic” (Marcel, 1995, pp. 44-45). Marcel became a Catholicwhen the French novelist, François Mauriac (1885--1979),recognized various themes in his writing concerning commitment,forgiveness, moral character and the religious justification of themoral order. Mauriac wrote to Marcel and explicitly asked him whetherhe ought not to join the Catholic Church, a call to which, after aperiod of reflection, Marcel assented. It is noteworthy that hisconversion did not significantly change his philosophy, although itdid lead to an increased focus on how various experiences, especiallymoral experiences, may point to the presence of the transcendent inhuman life.
Marcel, as one would expect, does not engage in philosophy of religionin the traditional sense. He is often critical of various attempts to“prove” the existence of God in the history of philosophy,such as those to be found in Thomism. He regards such attempts asbelonging to the realm of primary reflection, and as such, they leaveout the personal experience of God, which is necessarily lost in themove to abstraction. Marcel notes that committed religious believersare not greatly interested in arguments for God’s existence, andmay even look upon these arguments with suspicion; atheists are alsousually not persuaded by such arguments (Marcel, 1951b, p. 196;Marcel, 1964, p. 179). Another reason for the lack of efficacy offormal arguments is that many in the contemporary world are not opento the religious worldview. Marcel introduces a distinction between“anti-theists” and “atheists” to make thispoint. Whereas an atheist is somebody who does not believe in God, ananti-theist is somebody who does not want to believe in God. It ispossible, Marcel observes, to close oneself off from the experience ofthe religious in human life, not for rational reasons, but for reasonsof self-interest, or from a desire to avoid religious morality, or toavoid submission to an outside authority. This view is prevalent, hebelieves, not just in modern life, but also in modern philosophy:“The history of modern philosophy seems to supply abundantillustration of the progressive replacement of atheism by…ananti-theism, whose mainspring is to will that Godshouldnot be” (Marcel 1951b, p. 176). The prevalence of thisattitude makes it even more difficult to pursue a purely rationalapproach to God’s existence.
However, Marcel develops another approach to the question of God, andmany themes in his work are concerned in one way or another with thistopic. He belongs to the line of thinkers, which includes SorenKierkegaard and Martin Buber in philosophy, and Karl Barth and PaulTillich in theology, who draw attention to the non-theoreticaldimension of religious belief, and moral experience. His approach isphenomenological in character, involving a description of varioushuman experiences and the attempt to reveal their underlying meaningand justification. Marcel’s position is that there is a set ofprofound human experiences (some of which we have described earlier)that reveal the presence of God (the ‘Absolute Thou’) inhuman life. These experiences are present in the lives of most humanbeings, even though a particular individual might not necessarilyconnect them with a religious worldview, or come to an affirmation ofGod based on them. The experiences mentioned above of fidelity, hope,presence and intersubjectivity, which all involve profound commitmentsthat cannot be captured and analyzed in objective terms, but that arenonetheless real and can at least be partly described conceptually (inphilosophy, but especially in literature, drama and art [Marcel,1963]), are best explained if they are understood as being pledged toan absolute, transcendent reality. As noted, the experience offidelity is one of his favorite examples. Fidelity involves a certainway of being with another person. The other person is not seen as aperson with a certain set of desirable characteristics, or asidentified with a function, or even as a rational, autonomous subject;rather he or she is experienced as a “thou,” a person withwhom I identify and am one with on the path of life (Anderson, 1982,p. 31). Fidelity is an experience that the other will not fail me, andthat I will not fail them, and so, as we have seen, it is deeper thanconstancy (in many relationships, fidelity is reduced to constancy).Marcel suggests that such experiences have religious significance,because the individual often appeals to an ultimate strength whichfrom within enables him to make the pledge which he knows he could notmake from himself alone (Pax, 1972, p. 60).
Marcel holds that unconditional commitments such as these are bestexplained if understood as being pledged to an absolute transcendence.Indeed, given that life is full of temptations and challenges, therecognition of an absolute Thou also helps the individual tokeep his or her commitments. Of hope he observes: “Theonly possible source from which this absolute hope springs must oncemore be stressed. It appears as a response of the creature to theinfinite Being to whom it is conscious of owing everything that it hasand upon whom it cannot impose any condition whatsoever”(Marcel, 1962a, p. 47). “Unconditionality,” as he has alsonoted, “is the true sign of God’s presence” (Marcel,1950-51, p. 40). In general, his position is that the affirmation ofGod can only be attained by an individual at the level of abeing-in-a-situation, or secondary reflection. At the level of primaryreflection, the existence of God cannot be demonstrated, because theindividual must be personally involved in the various experiences thatcan lead to an affirmation, but such genuine involvement is precludedat the level of abstraction. Yet, this does not mean that philosophyof religion in the traditional sense is not important; indeedMarcel’s reflections just mentioned must be regarded as part ofan attempt to show, however indirectly, that belief in God isreasonable, but, as with all areas of primary reflection, we shouldrecognize the limitations of a purely rational approach to religiousbelief.
Four decades after his death, Marcel’s philosophy continues togenerate a steady stream of creative scholarship that, if modest involume, nevertheless attests to his continued relevance for thecontemporary philosophical landscape. Marcel’s influence oncontemporary philosophy is apparent, for example, in the work of PaulRicoeur, his most famous student. Through Ricoeur, Marcel hasinfluenced contemporary philosophy in and around the hermeneutictradition. The pattern of “detour and return” thatcharacterizes Ricoeur and some of his students closely resemblesMarcel’s dialectic of primary and secondary reflection.[13] Likewise, Marcel’s understanding of otherness—illustratedby his image of “constellations,” conglomerations ofmeaningfully connected but non-totalizable beings—is an explicitchallenge to philosophers of absolute otherness including EmmanuelLevinas, Jacques Derrida, and John D. Caputo, and a valuable resourcefor philosophers with a chiastic understanding of otherness, includingRicoeur and Richard Kearney. In addition, Marcel’s philosophyoffers rich possibilities for dialogue with contemporary ontologiesstruggling to address the problem of “being” withoutsuccumbing to ethical “violence” or“ontotheological” conceptions of God. As such, hisphilosophy should be of interest to scholars interested in the work ofMartin Heidegger, Jean-Luc Marion, Merold Westphal and othersphilosophizing at the intersection of philosophy and theology.Finally, his insistence that philosophy should illuminate our livedexperience and his insistence on concrete examples have much in commonwith thinkers who view philosophy as a “way of life,”including Pierre Hadot and Michel Foucault. The resources ofMarcel’s philosophy have only begun to be tapped, and one mayhope that the recent republication of what are arguably Marcel’stwo most important works,The Mystery of Being (by St.Augustine’s Press) andCreative Fidelity (by FordhamUniversity Press), will help to fuel a renaissance in scholarshipconcerning this remarkable thinker.
Marcel’s thought continues to endure and a steady stream ofstudies regularly appear in different disciplines that draw attentionto the relevance of Marcel’s central ideas for our concerns intwentieth first century philosophy, theology and culture. These worksinclude Sweetman (2008), an analysis of Marcel’s view of theperson and its implications for issues in epistemology and philosophyof religion; and Hernandez (2011), a detailed study of Marcel’sreligious philosophy from the point of view of his reflections onethics. Traenor’s work (2007) places Marcel into dialogue (anddebate) with Levinas on the question of the other, while at the sametime arguing that their views on the other are incompatible; Tunstall(2013) discusses and develops Marcel’s ideas aboutdehumanization with regard to the topic of racism; Tattum (2013)places Marcel in dialogue with thinkers such as Bergson, Levinas,Ricoeur and Derrida on the concept of time, while Pierre Colin (2009)returns to Marcel’s views of the experience of hope.
Marcel remains one of the most influential thinkers of the twentiethcentury, and his major themes continue to be relevant for the plightof humanity in the twentieth first century. Many find Marcel’sthought attractive because he emphasizes a number of significant ideasthat have been influential in twentieth century thinking in bothphilosophy and theology: the attempt to preserve the dignity andintegrity of the human person by emphasizing the inadequacy of thematerialistic life and the unavoidable human need for transcendence;the inability of philosophy to capture the profundity and depth of keyhuman experiences, and so the need to find a deeper kind ofreflection; the emphasis on the human experience of intersubjectivity,which Marcel believes is at the root of human fulfillment; and aseeking after the transcendent dimension of human experience, adimension that he believes cannot be denied without loss, and thatoften gives meaning to many of our most profound experiences. Marcelis also regarded as important by a range of thinkers in differentdisciplines because he presents an alternative vision to challenge themoral relativism and spiritual nihilism of his French rival, Jean PaulSartre, and other representative existentialist philosophers (Marcel,1995, pp. 47-90). For this important reason, his work continues tospeak to many of our concerns today in ethics, politics, andreligion.
Marcel was a very prolific writer, whose work ranges over philosophy,drama, criticism, and musical compositions. The following bibliographymerely scratches the surface of his extensive oeuvre. More completebibliographies can be found in: (1) Francois H. and Claire Lapointe(eds.),Gabriel Marcel and His Critics: An InternationalBibliography (1928–1976), New York and London: GarlandPublishing, 1977; (2) Paul Arthur Schilpp and Lewis Edwin Hahn (eds.),The Philosophy of Gabriel Marcel (Library of LivingPhilosophers Volume 17), La Salle, IL: Open Court, 1984; and (3) K.R.Hanley (ed.),Gabriel Marcel’s Perspectives on the BrokenWorld, Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 1998. Thewebsites of theGabriel Marcel Society, and of the newjournal, Marcel Studies, are also valuable resources (seethe Other Internet Resources section below).
How to cite this entry. Preview the PDF version of this entry at theFriends of the SEP Society. Look up topics and thinkers related to this entry at the Internet Philosophy Ontology Project (InPhO). Enhanced bibliography for this entryatPhilPapers, with links to its database.
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