Phenomenology is a ten-dollar word for something that you probably already do, at least some of the time. Phenomenon is the Greek word for “appearance”, and so phenomenology is just the study of, or focused ordering of, the appearances. But what, exactly, is an appearance?
The use of this word in its more-or-less post/modern philosophical sense can be traced back to Immanuel Kant, in at least two ways. For one thing, the word “phenomenology” seems to have first appeared in a letter written to Kant. Second, and more importantly, the basic frame of phenomenology was set by Kant himself in his (in)famous Critique of Pure Reason.
In the Critique, Kant introduces a fundamental metaphysical distinction between the appearances (phenomena) and things-themselves (noumena). Kant was pointing out something that is, for most people, pretty obvious, but which we often ignore and which has massive philosophical consequences: the way things appear to us is not the same as the way things actually are, in and of themselves.
This may sound mystical or spooky, but it’s pretty straightforward: most people don’t think that our concept of a table, or our perception of a table, is itself actually a material table. The actual material table is made of wood, takes up space, was built by somebody, can hold our food, etc. My concept or perception of a table does none of these things nor has any of these properties: surely no concepts are themselves made of wood!
Kant took this basic intuition, though, and drew a troubling conclusion: as we think about anything, we continue to draw on our concepts and perceptions. As I think of the table, I think of its woodenness, for example. But now I am thinking not woodenness itself, the actual state of being made of wood, but rather my concept of woodenness. And again, this seems necessary and obvious: my concept of woodenness is not itself made of wood. And this process, by which ideas and perceptions can only be connected to and fulfilled by other concepts and perceptions, never ends. My thinking is contained within the realm of appearances; there is no way for me to think the thing-itself of anything other than my own being (whatever exactly that may be!). My experience of my car is not the same as my car, my experience of my house is not the same as my house, etc. This even extends intimately into our own lives: my experience of my own body is not the same as my body itself. For example, currently my body is composed of trillions of cells, each of which is engaged in a vast and complex set of interactions. But my awareness of my body mediates only a tiny fraction of all this activity. The noumenon of my body is expressed through the phenomenon of my body (or, better put, a set of phenomena of various parts of my body, which I then unify in one concept of “my body”), but that expression is highly incomplete.
What this means is that we, at least in our rational, conscious state of being, only deal with appearances, and not the things-themselves. Now, it’s important to note that not every body got on board with Kant’s position. Most famously, Hegel came out swinging against it. But as I hope to show in future posts, even if you disagree with Kant on this distinction between the phenomena and the noumena, Kant’s insight that we have to understand reality through the mediation of our concepts and perceptions remains valid, however much we might wish it weren’t so. This work, of engaging with the appearances as appearances first, before we assume they offer reality to us immediately, is phenomenology. And I think it’s crucial work if we are going to understand our own processes of thinking and perceiving, and the broader reality we live in.
Kant’s reflection on the way in which our thinking is limited to the appearances not only launched phenomenology (though the actual school of philosophy that goes by that name wouldn’t really get going for another hundred years, under Edmund Husserl), but also what we have taken to call “postmodern” (or “post-modern”) philosophy, best summed up in the (in)famous expression “the map is not the terrain”.
Now, I think perhaps no category of human thought is as misunderstood and denounced as postmodernism. While many of the critiques of postmodern thought have validity, like every other vast collection of ideas offered by a huge swath of different people, there are different expressions of and emphases in postmodern thought. As I will discuss in future posts, there are what I consider to be “good” postmodern approaches to philosophy as well as “bad” ones. I think it would be a shame to discard the former out of frustration with the latter. But, again, more about this later.
Ultimately, I agree with Edmund Husserl (not to mention Shankara, Ramanuja, pseudo-Dionysius, and others!) that focusing on the appearances, the phenomena, the way reality is presented to us, is the only path to understanding our reality and ourselves, and so the work of phenomenology beckons. I will try to justify this position in future posts, as well as discuss why I think an approach to philosophy, spirituality, and, well, life in general that does not do phenomenology will ultimately fall short.
So, if any of this interests you, I invite you to subscribe! I do not plan on offering a paid subscription, certainly not any time soon. Of course, I might in the future, but my goal for this Substack is that my posts will be freely available to all who are interested. I hope to post once a week, generally with longer-form content. I will also aim to comment on Substacks that address related topics, and will generally post these as “notes” as well. Comments on my own posts are, of course, very welcome, so long as we can remain civil and respectful of one another, even in disagreement.
So: welcome to Phenomenology, East & West! I hope you’ll join me in keeping up (with the) appearances.
"Kant took this basic intuition, though, and drew a troubling conclusion: as we think about anything, we continue to draw on our concepts and perceptions. As I think of the table, I think of its woodenness, for example. But now I am thinking not woodenness itself, the actual state of being made of wood, but rather my concept of woodenness. And again, this seems necessary and obvious: my concept of woodenness is not itself made of wood."
I think the problematic assumptions in 'critical philosophy' begin here, and therefore cannot be considered a pure phenomenology. For example, when we squeeze our hand in a fist we feel the actual muscle tension in a specific part of phenomenal space. This is phenomenal feedback on our inner will gestures, our intent to 'clench the fist'. Now we can relax our hand and repeat the squeeze but by only imagining it, or basically by trying to actively remember what we just did. Naturally, this imagined movement feels much more ghostly. It by no means has the same intensity of the burning sensation we get when we squeeze our physical fist for a prolonged time.
But notice how it is still essentially phenomenal feedback on our inner activity, except now the meaning we experienced is lifted from the physical kernel and embedded in our ghostly mental images. These are the only kinds of distinctions we can make phenomenokogically. As soon we start saying the meaning of our imagined clenched fist is not 'made of' the meaning of our physically clenched fist, or they are somehow separated, we have strayed into dogmatic metaphysics. All we can consistently say is that the imagined meaning that feeds back on our inner will activity is more ghostly, more volatile, less stable, etc. than the physical meaning that feeds back. There is no reason to assume we are not interacting with the very same reality of 'clenched fist' in both cases, though, only that reality is being expressed through a different constellation of constraints.