BOOK

REVIEW

Ernst Tugendhat, Egocentricity and Mysticism: An Anthropological Study.
Translated by Alexei Procyshyn and Mario Wenning. New York, NY: Columbia
University Press, 2016. Pp. xxvii + 163. Cloth $50.00, ISBN 978-0-231169-12-7.

Reviewed by Christian Helmut Wenzel
National Taiwan University
wenzelchristian@yahoo.com




This is a short, but complex and ambitious book. It is argumentative in style and
in many places written in the first person. It appeared first in German in 2003,
and in 2016 in English translation, to which the two translators added a detailed
and informative introduction. The overall aim of the book is to describe and
explain how human beings, as users of propositional language and with the
ability to refer to themselves (to be “I”-sayers), develop into egocentric beings,
who find themselves confronted with the world as a whole, and who turn to
mysticism or religion in order to find some peace of mind (Seelenfriede). A wide
range of themes and arguments are interwoven along on the way from being an
“I”-sayer to becoming a mystic or religious person. To give a quick idea of the
range of themes, I give a rough list: rationality, the good (moral, instrumental,
adverbial, and prudential), deictic expressions, awareness of time, acting for
purposes, altruism, self-esteem, something depending on me (es liegt an mir),
free will, affective responsiveness (affektive Ansprechbarkeit), intellectual
honesty (Redlichkeit), asking how one should live, fear of death, nothingness,
numinosity, religion, Indian mysticism, Buddhism, Daoism, and wonder
(Staunen). An appendix offers methodological considerations about first- and
third-person perspectives. Not only is the scope of topics remarkable, but also
the mix of continental and analytic traditions as well as the inclusion of Western
and Eastern traditions.
The book is not historical. It is argumentative and driven by Tugendhat’s
own concerns from his own first-person perspective. It sometimes reads like a
meditation or even a confession. But Tugendhat also refers to many
philosophers from different times and traditions, which distracts from such a
meditative style. The overall argumentative line of thought develops as follows:
Tugendhat moves from what distinguishes us from non-human animals, namely
our use of language, in particular propositional language and the use of the
pronoun “I,” to human egocentricity, to facing contingency and our limited
capacities, and from there to religion and mysticism. I will give a brief outline of
the chapters and then offer my criticisms.
In chapter 1, Tugendhat draws on Aristotle to show that it is through

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 propositional language that we become aware of ourselves as free and rational
beings and that we objectify the world and become conscious of norms and of
what is good. We objectify ourselves and become “I”-sayers. Through
propositional language we develop egocentricity that goes beyond mere self-
consciousness.
Chapter 2 shows how language allows us to count and to be aware of
time, to deliberate, and to set goals beyond the here and now. This is how we
become egocentric. We think of ourselves as being important (wichtig), while
we also realize that this applies to other human beings as well. But other
animals, Tugendhat argues, can be neither egoistic nor altruistic, because they
cannot deliberate and set goals for themselves.
Chapter 3 draws on Tyler Burge and J. L. Austin to show how as “I”-
sayers we realize that some things depend on us (es liegt an mir), i.e. that we
can do something if we only want to (we have free will), as well as how we refer
to others as “I”-sayers and develop a sense of responsibility.
Chapter 4 develops a theory of adverbial goodness, how we do good or
better and enjoy others’ recognition. Tugendhat refers to Plato, Kant, Bentham,
Murdoch, von Wright, and others to distinguish between prudential,
instrumental, and moral goodness, and he argues that the adverbial goodness
(as in living well) is the most basic one. We are intellectually honest (redlich)
when we strive for truth independently from others’ recognition, and this
makes it possible to step back (Zurücktreten) and “dampen,” or “attenuate,” the
kind of “egocentricity, which unfolds with the objectivating-propositional self-
relation” (p. 67). “The individuals of this species become egocentrists on their
own, but they can only live well when they learn to understand themselves less
egocentrically” (ibid.).
Chapter 5 shows how we reflect about our being and situation as a
whole (Gesamtbefinden), when “putting ourselves into perspective” (p. 75) and
asking each other in everyday language: “how are you?” and “how are you
doing?” Other animals cannot do this. “There can be no distraction for them in
the plurality of different activities and goals and no self-gathering” (p. 76). They
live “in the situation at hand.” But human beings are aware of their finitude and
human beings worry about the future. They are afraid of death in ways that are
possible only through language, by having words like “soon” and “not.” Here we
notice traces of Heidegger, whom Tugendhat read with his mother when he was
fifteen, and whose lectures he attended in Freiburg after the War.
This marks the end of the first part of the book, “Relating to Oneself,”
and leads to the second part, “Stepping Back from Oneself,” which has only two
chapters, chapter 6 about religion and mysticism and chapter 7 about wonder.
At the end of the book there is an appendix about the nature of historical and
unhistorical inquiry.
Chapter 6 is maybe the most central chapter of the book. Tugendhat
contends that “religion and mysticism are forms of collectedness

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 [Gesammeltsein] with regard to ‘The How’ of life” (p. 89). He argues that
religion and mysticism are reactions to our egocentricity as “I”-sayers. (This I
think is the basis of this “anthropology.”) Such “collectedness” is only possible
either towards some “reference point” (Bezugspunkt) in this world (von dieser
Welt), such as another person, a project, or oneself, or a “reference point”
beyond this world. He draws on Kierkegaard, Heidegger, Rudolf Otto, Arthur
Danto, and Edward Conze, and discusses Judeo-Christian traditions as well as
Indian meditative practices. We either transform the world (wishfully projecting
God into it, in religion) or we transform ourselves (relativizing or even denying
oneself, in mysticism). Mysticism is problematic and religion has become
impossible for us living today (if we want to be “intellectually honest,” redlich).
“Nowadays, the belief in gods, together with the pragmatic motive underlying it,
can only be seen as wishful thinking” (p. 100). He discusses Vedanta, Samkhya
Yoga, and Buddhism as three forms of world-denying mysticism and how they
were transformed into Chinese and Japanese Zen Buddhism. Daoism is less
objectionable, because in this form of mysticism our will is not negated but
relativized. Daoism is this-worldly. It sees the world pluralistically and views
ourselves from the world (sich von der Welt her sehen, p. 102). The “I”-sayer
thus relativizes himself and his will, much as we find it in Meister Eckhart. What
is lacking in Daoism, though, is love and kindheartedness (Herzensgüte), which
we find in the Boddhisattva ideal, “the only consistent mystical attitude” (p.
123). This chapter draws on phenomena that are culturally and historically far
apart from each other, reflects about them, and establishes far-reaching
connections.
Chapter 7 is relatively short. Tugendhat returns to the beginning of the
book, when the “I”-sayer objectifies himself and the world, and then
problematizes the world as a whole. Wittgenstein in the Tractatus wrote that
we wonder and marvel (staunen) that the world exists at all, and that we
hopelessly run against the limits of our language.
The appendix offers methodological reflections. It is “about things
historical and unhistorical.” On the one hand, today we observe a
“compartmentalization into individual subdisciplines” (p. 136), which is not
satisfying. On the other hand, “the somersaults of ontology and transcendental
philosophy are no longer convincing,” and we should not discuss philosophical
concerns in a way that is overly historical. We should be less concerned with the
views of others (the “third-person perspective”) and more with our own
interests (the “first-person perspective”). We should think more “directly” and
about “substantive questions” (Sachfragen), and less indirectly through others’
opinions (p. 138). According to Tugendhat, there is no point in being for instance
a Thomist or Hegelian today. Philosophical concepts “do not have an immanent
history the way plants do” (p. 139). Regarding method, he compares himself
with Gadamer, but differs in valuing justification over “fusion of horizons”
(Horizontverschmelzung), because truth without giving reasons makes no sense.

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 In his opinion, “the humanistic concept of the one diachronically understood
history of our own culture should be discarded in favor of a universal concept of
cultural science [Kulturwissenschaft]” (p. 141).
This ends my summary and I wish now to offer some criticisms.
Tugendhat argues that religion is not acceptable any more if one wants to be
intellectually honest. Similarly, any mysticism that tries to escape this world is
no solution. Buddhist belief in karma also does not make sense to him. In the
end, he favors this-worldly Mahayana-Buddhist compassion and healthy this-
worldly Daoist realizations of one’s insignificance, limitations, and relativity, as
we find it for instance in Zhuangzi. According to Tugendhat, the time of
metaphysics, ontology, and transcendental philosophy also is over, and
anthropology should take their place. But with so many negative views on
religion, mysticism, and metaphysics, I wonder whether the book might come
across as pessimistic anthropology.
Many of the discussions and arguments are brief, and specialists will
find points to criticize. Indian mysticism and Buddhism are complex and not as
uniform as Tugendhat depicts them. Religious people will not agree with
Tugendhat’s claim that believing in God is naïve projection: “Nowadays, the
belief in gods, together with the pragmatic motive underlying it, can only be
seen as wishful thinking” (p. 100). They will say their beliefs are part of their
lives, real, and this-worldly. Tugendhat says that we cannot understand what is
beyond time and space and that therefore the idea of God does not make
sense:

Nobody believes any longer that gods live on Mount Olympus or that God lives above
the clouds: such belief would contradict everything we know. But even if one were to
claim instead that God exists outside of space and time, we would be unable still to
make the slightest sense of the idea that anything can exist but cannot be found in
space. (p. 101)

I would counter such argument in two ways. First, I would ask whether, for
instance, mathematical objects and justice are in time and space. We make
sense of them and they are arguably not in time and space. Second, I would ask
whether we really understand what time and space are. Quantum physics and
relativity theory give rise to wonder. Hence saying that God does not make
sense because He is not in time and space is not a good argument. Of course,
Tugendhat’s main argument against Christian religion is that it is based on
wishful thinking, a projection of a power that can be bribed through praying. But
I think that just as he himself argues in chapter 2 that altruism should not be
seen just as a form of egoism (I help you because then I feel better), one may
equally well argue that not all instances of praying should be seen just as a form
of functionalizing and bribing God. Another point that religious people might
raise against Tugendhat is that he does not consider negative theology, which is
arguably not as projecting as Tugendhat depicts Christianity to be.

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 Tugendhat says that Daoism is this-worldly and religion is not. He
classifies Christianity as a way of dealing with egocentricity by transforming the
world (projecting God into it), whereas in Buddhism, Vedanta, and Samkhya
Yoga one transforms oneself (eliminating oneself). But it seems to me one
always more or less does both, that is, transforms oneself and transforms the
world. There is no simple either-or.
A further point is that Tugendhat never mentions Stoicism. The Stoics
focused on questions about what constitutes a good life and they wrote much
about this. Questions of control and what is “up to us” (ἐφ’ ἡμῖν) were central
to Epictetus and Seneca and are very similar to what Tugendhat asks when he
writes about “es liegt an mir.” But Tugendhat never mentions the Stoics.
My main worry about the book concerns the overall argument that
builds on human beings as users of propositional language. Tugendhat
repeatedly returns to his view of us as “I”-sayers (“ich”-Sager) and from there he
points out how we human beings take ourselves to be important (wichtig) and
how we feel isolated and long for peace of mind. His account – some kind of
phenomenological description and anthropology – builds on us as being
egocentric “I”-sayers. It is almost a deduction from this given fact. “If we want
to understand what drives mysticism, we have to come to terms with the
specific problems that egocentricity poses to I-sayers,” and the egocentricity
that matters is one that “other animals that cannot say ‘I’ do not possess” (p.
xxvi). Tugendhat repeatedly claims that it is our use of propositional language
that distinguishes us from other animals, and from there he explains the rise of
religion and mysticism. But it seems to me that many of the features he
describes along the way, such as our taking ourselves to be important and our
feeling isolated or puzzled, do not depend on language as much as Tugendhat
believes they do.
Contrary to Tugendhat, I think that many of the feelings and states of
mind have developed through evolution from social and biological structures
that can be found in animals that do not have propositional language and
cannot say “I.” Elephants visit the remains of their ancestors. Chimpanzees try
to rescue other chimpanzees that are drowning. Many animals feel compassion
of some sort, and are also aware of death in some ways. We still do not know
much about non-linguistic animals and their states of minds, simply because we
do not share their lives. But such lack of knowledge should not make us jump to
the conclusion that the worries we human beings have are unknown to animals
because they do not have propositional language. I think we all too easily say
animal behavior is merely driven by instinct whereas we humans can reflect and
have reason. Martians not sharing our lives and looking at us from the outside
might say something similar to what we say about animals. They might say we
are driven by instincts.
Tugendhat has introduced many ideas from analytic philosophy to the
German-speaking world. He wrote Traditional and Analytic Philosophy: Lectures

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 on the Philosophy of Language (1982, originally in German in 1973), and he
wrote Self-Consciousness and Self-Determination (1986, German 1979). But it
seems to me the movement from “I”-sayers discussed in terms of analytic
philosophy of language, to egocentricity, and then to mysticism is too much of a
stretch. I think many problems of isolation and egocentricity arise also from
psychological, social, and cultural features and character traits that are more
basic and independent of language. Hence the discussions in terms of analytic
philosophy are often not necessary or even inappropriate. Animals living in
groups develop individual characters. Some fight for position, some are
dominant and in their own ways take themselves to be important, some feel
isolated, some feel lost, some wait for others, some are confused. Egocentricity
can be part of their lives without the ability to say “I” or “it depends on me.” I
do not claim that animals are mystics or religious. (But maybe they are. Who
knows?) My point is that we are not only rational animals, but also rational
animals and many characteristics Tugendhat depicts derive from our animal
nature.
Tugendhat says that we wonder (staunen) about the existence of the
world as a whole, and for him this is a stepping stone to mysticism. But I think
we can also wonder about the existence of little things such as a flower at the
wayside or a bird flying by. Again, it might be more a question of psychology and
character than the ability of saying “I” that plays a role in who becomes religious
or a mystic. Being an “I”-sayer might in certain respects be necessary, but not in
all, and I doubt it is the driving factor.
I think a tension between the individual being and its social and physical
environment arises not only with language but also with perception. Seeing is
always seeing something as something, and this applies already to animal
perception. Using proto-type theories of concepts, we may say animals have
concepts. Animals react suitably to what they perceive and this suitability goes
beyond the here and now, because it draws on past experiences, not only past
experiences from their own lives but also genetically from their ancestors.
Tugendhat draws on Burge regarding “I”-saying, but I suggest we enlarge the
picture by drawing also on Burge’s anti-individualism and externalism regarding
perception. An person reacts both as a particular individual as well as in general
species-specific ways. Thinking of Tugendhat’s concerns, I would go even further
by saying that, with consciousness, this can lead to tension, confusion, and
puzzlement, with and without propositional language. Hence, I am skeptical
about the way Tugendhat relies on us as users of propositional language.
Another idea I think Tugendhat should have taken from Burge and
Putnam and which is contrary to his claim of egocentricity, is the following. We
are “I”-sayers, but we are certainly not constantly walking around saying “I.” We
also think and speak using concepts like “water,” “stomach,” “grapefruit,”
“publisher,” “art,” “continental,” “analytic,” and “necessary,” and in doing so we
rely on other people and language users, for instance specialists, and we rely on

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 the world that will reveal what exactly we mean by “water” and “stomach,” for
instance. Hence using language does not make us as isolated and egocentric as
Tugendhat believes it does. To the contrary, language makes us into highly
interdependent beings. We do not only say “I,” but also “you” and “he” and
“we,” etc. Trying to spell out who we think we are connects us in subtle ways
with other language users. I do not know whether such externalism is some kind
of metaphysics, but I think it is true and overlooked by Tugendhat.
The subtitle of the book is: “An Anthropological Study,” but no
anthropological works or positions are discussed. Tugendhat, it seems, offers a
new kind of philosophical anthropology based on language, but no linguistic
studies are mentioned. In the appendix, Tugendhat somewhat explains his
method. He writes his book from what he calls a “first-person perspective” and
in an argumentative style. He contrasts this with what he calls “third-person
perspective.” But his use of these expressions is idiosyncratic. Usually we
identify the first-person perspective with subjectivity, and the third-person
perspective with objectivity. But here things are different, almost the opposite.
For Tugendhat, third-person accounts are just opinions from past history that he
takes as mere opinions without trying to go into the reasons these accounts and
opinions have to offer. He recommends using such accounts as quarries. I think
this makes them look as if they were merely subjective, whereas Tugendhat’s
own first-person accounts do offer reasons, which makes them look more like
they are objective. All this creates a mix of subjectivity (driven by Tugendhat’s
interests) and objectivity (generated by the arguments) that still draws on, and
also judges, historical positions. It is this idiosyncratic mix that I think affects the
book as a whole.
Tugendhat draws on history, in particular Aristotle, Heidegger, and
analytic philosophy. But since he is interested in egocentricity, I wonder why he
does not also draw on German idealism, given its emphasis on the subject
(which is an “I”-sayer). This would have greatly enriched – and maybe
challenged – his arguments. Kant writes his first Critique with a universal subject
in mind. It is a single subject, but nevertheless a universal one. In the second
Critique, he develops a moral theory that I would not consider to be egocentric,
and thus I doubt that “I”-saying must develop into egocentricity. I do not see
why one should dismiss such undertakings from German idealism as outdated
metaphysics. It seems to me Tugendhat’s choices of what to draw on and what
to disregard are based on his own personal first-person perspective.
Tugendhat’s book reads partly like a confession and partly like a piece of
analytic philosophy mixed with historical overviews. This can be confusing and
distorting. But it also makes the book thought-provoking and engaging,
especially given its wide scope. Thus, in spite of my many criticisms, I wish to say
that in contrast to the many narrowly technical books that are written today for
specialists, this small book by Tugendhat is refreshingly challenging and worth
discussing.

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