The Historical Dimension of the Human Being

Xavier Zubiri

De Realitas I (1972/1973): 11-69

Translated by Manuel Mejido Costoya, Ph.D.[*] [†]

English Text Copyright © 2004 Manuel Mejido Costoya/
{Use unrestricted if credit is given to the source)

In the following pages I reproduce with some minor revisions the notes of a lecture I gave on January 31, 1974 at the Society of Studies and Publications in a course entitled “Three Dimensions of the Human Being: Individual, Social, and Historical.” Most of the revisions are stylistic – they have to do with moving from an oral to a written style. But, in addition, the time constraint I faced at the time made me move with hast through certain parts, and, as a result, I was not able to adequately engage certain ideas which I still consider essential to the question at hand. I thought it would be best to treat these ideas here such as they appeared in my notes.

I. Introduction

In the previous lectures we dealt with two dimensions of the human being – that is of the I: namely, the individual and social dimensions.

In order to avoid misinterpretations I would like to restate – albeit laconically – the problem we are addressing here in these lectures. The course is entitled: “Three Dimensions of the Human Being: Individual, Social, and Historical.” This, however, is not a course on individual, social, and historical realities. Our aim is much more limited: We are concerned here with the individual, the social, and the historical as dimensions of the human being.

Let us briefly summarize what we understand by reality, essence, and dimension.

a) The human being is a substantive reality, that is a closed and total system of psycho-organic constitutional notes. One of these notes is intelligence, that is the apprehension of everything and of oneself as reality. This is, as I see it, the formal essence of intelligence. Intelligence is formally and constitutively sentient: It primordially and radically apprehends the real by sensing the reality of the real. Due to this sentient intelligence the human being tarries with all real things and with him/herself – not only because of what these are in themselves – but the human being tarries with all things because they are real, and inasmuch as they are real: Indeed, the human being lives from reality. The human being is the animal of realities. Consequently, the human being’s character of reality is a determining moment of his/her action: The human being really acts because s/he is his/her “own” reality. And from this “ownness” stems the mode of reality that is his/her own – namely being a person. As a form of reality, the animal of realities is a personal animal. Thus, one thing is clear: As its own, human reality is constituted as its own “vis-à-vis the totality of reality.” And, in this sense, inasmuch as it is reality, human reality is “ab-solute,” detached from all other reality qua reality. But this is so in a relative manner: the human being is relatively absolute.

b) Like all other reality human reality has what we call its being. Being, however, is not reality. Being rather is grounded in reality; and precisely for this reason we say that it is ulterior to reality: Indeed, being is a re-actualization of reality. Let me explain.

Being is first and foremost “actuality.” But actuality here is not the abstract of “act” in the Aristotelian sense, that is it is not an “act of” a potency, nor is it an act in the sense of being “fully” what one is. The abstract of act I call actuity. By contrast, actuality is the abstract, not of act, but of actual. When we say that something has actuality we are not using act as it is used by Aristotle; we are rather alluding to a certain physical presence of the real. Classical philosophy does not make this distinction. But, as I see it, this distinction is essential. I stated this in my first writings. Actuality is a moment of the real, but it is not a moment in the sense of being a physical note of the real. To acquire or lose actuality is not to acquire or lose real notes. Yet, actuality is nevertheless something that is “real” in the thing: it is the thing’s real becoming. The becoming of actuality is not the augmentation or loss of reality, it is not the becoming of actuity; but it is a real becoming. Actuality can at times be a merely extrinsic relation to the actual. Consider, for example, the actuality of a virus. The actuality of a virus is extrinsic to the viral reality, and as such it does not affect the virus but rather us for whom the virus has actuality. But reality can be an intrinsic moment of the real. This is precisely what we mean when we say that a human person “makes him-herself present.” Here actuality is not the actuality that a given person has for me, but it is rather a real moment of the person as such, it is something that concerns the person and not only me. Indeed, it is the person that from him/herself “makes him/herself” present. But let us go beyond the person; for this making him/herself present is not something a person has by virtue of being a person; it is something s/he has by virtue of being real. It would be more accurate to say that actuality is a making actual from itself – it is a being in actuality from itself. Actuality is thus something real. And it is precisely for this reason why I said that to acquire or lose intrinsic reality is not to acquire or lose real notes, bur, nevertheless, it is a real becoming. It is a sui generis, but real becoming: It is the real that makes itself actual and acquires a being actual in itself and from itself. It is evident, moreover, that intrinsic reality can have distinct forms. But we are not going to address this question here. In short we could say that actuality is grounded in actuity, but it is not coextensive with actuity: Indeed, the same reality, that is the same actuity can have very distinct actualitites. We are in need of a metaphysics of “actuality.” Such a metaphysics would be different than a metaphysics of the “act.”

The real is a “respective” actuity; and it is because of this that reality has its proper actuality. This respectivity has different aspects and dimensions. If we consider actuality according to these differences we can say that reality is “respectively actual.” But there is also a fundamental respectivity: The respectivity of the real “qua real.” This, as I see it, is precisely what constitutes the “world” as opposed to the “cosmos,” which is a respectivity of the real, not inasmuch as it is real, but inasmuch as it is this or that reality. According to this respectivity, the real is not only “respectively actual,” but it is actual in terms of the respectivity of reality as such. Indeed, the respectivity of the real is not “respectively actual” but actual simpliciter. Well then, the actuality of the real in the respectivity of the real as such – that is the reality of being in the world – is, as I see it, what constitutes what we call being. Being is that actuality simpliciter which consists in being in the world. And it is precisely for this reason that being is not only actuality but “re-actuality,” that is an actuality of what is already real and respectively actual. Being is constitutively a “re” of actuality. Therefore, what is ultimate and most radical is reality and not being. Indeed, what we call being is always and only a secondary actuality of the real. Reality is not the primary and fundamental mode of being. As re-actuality, being reverts to the substantive reality and completely sustains it in its very substantivity: This actuality is thus substantive being. But substantive being is never primordial. Reality is always primordial. Substantive reality is always ulterior.

Well then, human reality also has its being; it also receives its actuality from the respectivity simpliciter of the real. But in the case of the human being this actuality has a special characteristic. When the human being acts fully as a person, that is when s/he acts with a sentient intelligence that takes charge of reality in order to be able to act, then, the personal act, I say, has a double aspect: On the one hand, it is an act that is determined by the particular object or situation in which the human being finds him/herself. But, on the other hand, this same act constitutes my way of being in the totality of reality, and it is for this reason that it is a personal act. Because my reality is ab-solute, this second aspect is a way of affirming myself as an absolute reality – as “my own” reality in the totality of the real. Affirmation here is thus not a judgment that announces the absolute character of reality; it is rather the “physical” exercise of this absolute character; it is not a judicative, but an actional, a “physical” affirmation. This aspect can be a special act, but it does not necessarily have to be. Normally, the affirmation of myself as an absolute reality is but a mere aspect of the numerically single and unique act that I happen to be executing: When, for example, I eat an apple for pleasure I am affirming myself as a reality that exists “satisfactorily” in the totality of reality. That is when I eat an apple I affirm myself as absolute. This, then, is no special act. We could say that, as an aspect, this affirmation undergirds every act: it is attitude. This affirmation is, obviously, not a freely chosen attitude, but it is the personal attitude, the proper attitude of every personal act, that is of every act that is executed whenever I take charge of reality in and through an act of sentient intelligence. Every act of taking charge of reality constitutes eo ipso a personal attitude, an attitude through which I affirm myself as absolute. The content of this attitude has its own character. Eating an apple adds something to my reality, but the attitude in and through which I affirm myself as absolute does not. By virtue of this attitude what I have acquired is actuality. The content of this affirmation is thus not act but actuality: It is the actuality of affirming myself in my absolute reality in the totality of reality – it is my being. This being has a precise name: I. The I is not my reality but the re-actuality of my reality as absolute. When I affirm myself as I, there is nothing but what I already was; there is only the affirmation of what I was already. For this reason this affirmation actualizes my proper substantive reality as “my own” – it is my substantive being. Therefore, against all classical idealism we should say that reality is not derived from the position of the I, but rather that the I is the position of my substantive reality in all the personal acts that this substantive reality realizes. Moreover, we should add that my substantive being is not derived from the position of the I. My substantive being does not consist in being I, but, on the contrary, the essence of the I consists in being the substantive being of an absolute reality. My substantive being is I precisely and fundamentally because it is the substantive being of an absolute reality.

Of course, it is evident that this physical affirmation of my substantive reality as absolute can have different forms: From the medial “I myself am eating” an apple, going through because this apple is mine, and up to it is I that is eating the apple: myself, mine, I – these are three forms of affirming oneself as absolute, each one grounded in the anterior one. But in order to simplify matters I will a potiori call I all affirmation of my absolute being. Moreover, this being – this I –, as I have already stated, is not a numerically special act; it is but the absolute aspect of every personal act – the content of a personal attitude. For this reason, what the I constitutes in me is not act, but actuality. But, in order to simplify things, I will speak of the affirmation of the I as an “act of affirmation.” With these clarifications we should a limine avoid all confusion. Indeed, inasmuch as it executes personal acts, the being of the human person is the I.

(c) The human of our reality has a precise character – it is specific. Species is not the correlate of the definition of an essence; it is rather the character according to which each human being – in the very structure of his/her proper reality – formally and actually constitutes a scheme of genetic replication viable in other persons. In other words, the species is a phylum. To belong to a species is always and only to belong to a given phylum – in our case it is to belong to the phylum of the animal of realities. This scheme is a constitutive moment of my substantive reality. That is without such a scheme my proper substantivity could not have reality. My constitutive essence is thus a quidditive essence. These are not formally identical, for there are constitutive essences that are not replicable, and therefore are not quidditive essences. But, when they are identical, each aspect intrinsically belongs to the other. And this is the reason why I am from my very self – albeit only schematically – really turned toward others. This means that by virtue of this turning which constitutes me, the rest are in some way already constituting me. On account of this scheme others are refluxing over my own reality. This refluence is, thus, a modulation of my reality; every human being is modulated by virtue of being turned toward the rest. From here why my person is determined as absolute vis-à-vis the totality of the real, but also turned toward other persons – turned toward other absolutes: My person is co-determined as absolute for other absolutes. Modulation is thus the codetermination of my mode of being absolute. And this codetermination is precisely what I call dimension: That is what measures, in relation to others, my mode of being absolute. Because this dimension of my substantive reality is affirmed in the act of being I, the dimension of my reality is eo ipso a dimension of the I – a dimension of the human being.

Phylum has three characteristics: It is before anything, pluralizing. The species is not the sum of equal individuals, but, on the contrary, it is a primordially prior unity that pluralizes in and through individuals. Second, the species is filially continuative. That is by virtue of the species individuals coexist. And finally, the species is prospective, it is a genetic prospectivity.

Thus, by virtue of specific multiplicity, the scheme refluxes over every human being, bestowing him/her with a dimension of individual diversity. By virtue of his/her genetic continuity, every engendered offspring has the refluence of the species which constitutes social coexistence. As dimensions of the I, individual diversity determines that dimensions according to which the “I” is an “I” in relation to a “you,” in relation to a “him/her or they,” etc. The I has that dimension of being “I” which we call “being-each-one”: the “each-one-ness” of the I. As one of its dimensions coexistence determines the being of the I; social coexistence determines the I as “communal.” We addressed these two dimensions in the two previous lectures.

But the human being has a third dimension: The phylum – the species – is genetically prospective. And it is thus not only in the sense that every human being is able to have descendents (this is something completely trivial), but in the sense that not the individual, but his/her phylum is formally prospective: Each human being is prospective because s/he belongs to a phylum that – qua phylum – is constitutively prospective. This radical and genetically constitutive refluence is what we call history. We could not speak of history if the human being did not have a biological genesis. By virtue of their prospective, biological genesis not only are human beings diverse and not only do they coexist, but this diversity and coexistence have a historical character. As a moment of my reality, history thus determines a third dimension of the act through which reality determines itself as absolute – a third dimension of the I. This is precisely the topic of these reflections. Once again: We are not engaging history in all its realty, but rather history as a dimension of the reality and being of the human being.

II. The Problem of History

In order to address the problem of history it is necessary that we sketch – at least in general terms – what history is from the point of view of the prospectivity of the species. Let us proceed successively.

1. As a moment of the prospectivity of the species history evidently has a temporal character. This is what is normally meant when it is said that history is “movement.” But, although in a certain sense this claim is true, it is, nevertheless, totally insufficient. What we need to know more specifically is what type of movement constitutes history; for not all movement is history.

At the very least, what can be said about the movement that constitutes history is that its moments do not simply “succeed” one another. History, in other words, is not a movement of pure succession. Each moment of history is formally “supported” by an anterior moment; and each moment supports a posterior one. To the extent that it is supported by its anterior, every moment of history “proceeds-from” another moment. And, to the extent that it supports its posterior, every moment of history proceeds-toward another moment. Proceeds-from and proceeds-toward, these are the two constitutive moments of a process. Thus the movement that constitutes history is a procedural movement. Indeed, history is formally and constitutively a procedural movement. But a second question arises: What kind of process is history?

2. Given what we stated in the introduction the answer to this question should be evident: History is a process in and through which human characteristics are transmitted from progenitors to the engendered offspring. The process in question is thus constituted by genetic transmission. Indeed, history is a process of genetic transmission.

Such a process undoubtedly exists, for without it there would be no history. And it is necessary to undergird this point: History does not emerge from certain transcendental structures of the spirit. History exists due to – it emerges from – and it pours into a biogenetic structure. Yet history is not formally a process of genetic transmission. This is so for a crucial reason: What is genetically transmitted? When an animal from a given species engenders an offspring, it transmits to this offspring certain organic characteristics, and through these characteristics, it transmits a certain type of life. A reptile, for example, is engendered by a reptile (We leave aside the question of the evolution of reptiles into birds). And this offspring has – by virtue of these characteristics – a certain type of life: A rodent does not live like an amphibian, and the like. However, although these different types of life are very important from the point of view of a systematic zoology, they are – from the point of view of the individuals that live them out – characteristics that are given once and for all together with the animal organism. This is why, by virtue of genetic transmission, each animal lives a constitutively classified life. Thus, for instance, the life of a rodent and the life of an amphibian are certainly not the same; and yet every rodent and every amphibian lives a life that is univocally determined by its organic characteristics. Indeed, precisely because it is genetically transmitted, the life of every animal begins with and from its own organism: That is, as an individual life, the life of every animal begins at zero.

Well, why then is this process of genetic transmission not history? This process is not history because it lacks a moment of reality. By this I do not mean to suggest that the offspring of an animal is not real – this would be absurd. The process we just elucidated lacks a moment of reality in another and very precise sense. And it is that the human animal is not only constituted by psycho-organic notes. The human being is the animal of realities; and due to this, genetic transmission does not suffice for installing the newly born human in life. The human being possesses a sentient intelligence with which s/he confronts all things and him/herself as reality. This sentient intelligence, however, is genetically transmitted. What happens is that sentient intelligence alone does not suffice for installing the newly born in his/her human life. With his/her sentient intelligence the human being is not able to respond to what the situation demands of him/her without taking charge of reality in an optative manner. The human being must opt in every instance for a free action (I leave aside the problem of liberty: Even though liberty did not exist the human being would still be able to in a certain sense opt). But, what exactly do we mean here by option? In every option something is always opted for. But this something – to put it in vulgar terms – is not only that thing for which I opt, but by opting for something, I have also opted for a certain form of being in reality – I have also opted for a figure of my reality. The human being exists among things and with things; but the human being is in reality. The human being lives from reality. To opt is to determine my figure of reality in and through the things for which I opt. If I am thirsty and I opt to drink a glass of water I not only opt for drinking a glass of water, but, in and through this opting, I also opt for, for example, being in reality in a physically satisfied fashion, as opposed to being in reality in another form, like for example, in an abstinent form, etc. The personal human life consists precisely in this: In possessing oneself in and through a form of being in reality – in and through a form of being in the totality of reality. Every personal act – even the most modest one – is a form of affirming oneself as being in the totality of reality: that is it is a way of affirming oneself and of being absolute. The human being, thus, has a life that is built upon opting; and therefore, together with his/her psycho-organic characteristics, the human being has a life open to distinct forms of being in reality. Hence, it is evident that these forms of being in reality are not transmitted genetically in and through psycho-organic characteristics. Rather, due to their very nature these forms of being in reality are not genetically transmissible. This is why to install him/herself in human life the human being cannot begin at zero. The human being’s genetically transmitted psycho-organic characteristics do not suffice. His/Her progenitors (or others) must give him/her a mode of humanly being in reality. The human being begins his/her life by being supported by something other than his/her own psycho-organic substantivity. S/He begins his/her life with the form of being in reality which s/he has been given. This is what radically and formally constitutes history: History is not simply the transmission of life, it is not simply heredity. History rather is the transmission of a life that can only be lived in and through distinct forms of being in reality.

Therefore, if history is not just any procedural movement, if history is not a mere genetic transmission – if history is also optative – then, we again and more urgently ask: The historical process consists in what?

3. Let us return to the idea I have just elucidated: The forms of being in reality are optative. Therefore, when the human being – the animal of realities – engenders another animal of realities, s/he does not just transmit his/her offspring a life, that is, s/he does not only transmit the offspring psycho-organic characteristics, but, in addition – inexorably and velis nolis – s/he installs his/her offspring in a certain mode of being in reality. The human being is not only transmitted psycho-organic characteristics, but s/he is also given – s/he is also handed-over – a mode of being in reality. Installation into human life is thus not only transmission, it is also handing-over. Handing-over is called paradosis, traditio, tradition. The historical process is concretely tradition, not in the sense of being traditional, but precisely because it is handing-over. Life is transmitted genetically, but the forms of being in reality are handed-over in and through tradition. And precisely because of this – precisely because it is tradition – human life does not begin at zero. Human life always begins grounded in a mode of being in reality which has been handed-over. As I have stated in the past, the human being is an open essence, and in casu the human being is open to the handing-over of forms of being in reality – the human being is open to tradition. Well then, this is formally the historical process: namely, the tradition of forms of being in reality. The prospective character of the species is history precisely because it affects an open essence which produces as descendents an animal of realities not only by genetic transmission, but – together with this transmission – by an inexorable traditio of forms of being in reality. Undoubtedly, without a genesis there would be no history: I vigorously stated this at the outset of the lecture. But genesis is not history: it is the intrinsic vector of history. Reciprocally, the forms of being in reality could not be handed-over if this handing-over was not inscribed in a transmission. For this reason history is neither pure transmission nor pure tradition: History is a traditive transmission.

I have insisted on this subject matter – it is a dialectical movement toward the concept of history. To some this subject matter might appear trivial. But it was necessary for me to develop this concept in order to confront two common misconceptions which have often falsified the character of history.

a) The concept of a natural history. Natural history does not exist – it is a round square. To the extent that it is natural it is not history, and to the extent that it is history it is not natural. Without getting into the philosophical problem of nature – the problem of physis – we could say that the system of psycho-organic characteristics that constitute the human substantive reality is “natural.” And yet the human being’s forms of being in reality are not natural. That is history is not, nor can it be “natural.” To the extent that the human being is “natural” s/he is not historical, and to the extent that s/he is “historical” s/he is not natural. The human being is both things: The forms of being in reality are steered by genetic transmission, but they are not formally genetic transmission. The reason why the genesis of the animal of realities is a genetic transmission is not the same as the reason for why this genesis is history. Natural history does not exist. The Ancients referred to history as a kind of “narrative”; that is they understood history to be a mode of knowing. This is something else: We understand history to be a trait of reality itself. And this is not a trivial claim. For by protecting an expression that does not have much importance one obfuscates concepts that refer to reality itself. This is untenable: Stricto sensu, there does not exist a natural history.

b) But it is equally fallacious what one reads often ad nauseam: History is the prolongation of evolution. This is a contested idea; yet some – like Teilhard de Chardin – adopt it without discussion. The species, we are told, have emerged by evolution; and the human species too has emerged through evolution. This evolution is certainly not closed. But until there emerges an ulterior phase of evolution, the human being has a history: History is just another phase of evolution. The historical process would thus be the prolongation of the process of evolution. But this is, as I see it, absolutely chimerical. The formal structure of evolution is diametrically opposed to the formal structure of history. Evolution proceeds by way of mutation – whatever may be the origin and nature of this phenomenon. But the forms of being in reality proceed by way of invention – for one has to opt. The historical process is not the prolongation of the evolutionary process. Evolution is generated by genetic mutation; history is generated by optative invention. These are two different processes.

But evolution can undoubtedly play a role in history, it can undoubtedly be a factor in history – of this there is no doubt. The passage from the Hominid to the Arcanthropus, from the Arcanthropus to the Paleanthropus, and, finally, from the Paleanthropus to the Neanderthal is an evolutionary process. This process has generated not only varieties of humanity, but it has generated genuinely new types of humanity. But what has constituted history per se throughout this evolution is not the filial process described, but the distinct forms of being in reality – forms that have been very different within each evolutionary stage; and, moreover, forms that have been distinct because the type of human being in question have been distinct. This difference regarding the types of humanity is an essential factor, yet only “one” factor that intervenes in history; this factor is not what constitutes history itself. At times history can be the carrier of an evolutionary factor. If, say a group of human beings opt to live isolated, removed from other human beings, this, as an option, is a historical event, but one whose result can be evolutionary – at least in the broad sense: In other words, this isolation can produce varieties. But none of this suggests that the formal mechanism of evolution is distinct from the formal mechanism of history. Evolution – I repeat – is genetic mutation; history is optative invention. The possible influence of evolution in history or the possible influence of history in evolution are important phenomena of a single structure: traditive transmission, both in the individual as well as in the species.

Now that we have reached this point, the question regarding the constitution of history can be more thoroughly posed. Two questions thus emerge: First: How is tradition constitutive of history? Second and more directly germane to the problem at hand: In what sense, and to what extent does this character of being traditum reflux over reality and over the being of the human being?

These are two critical questions.

III. What is history as Traditive Transmission?

In order to address this question with some precision let us examine three points:

1) What are the structural moments of this tradition?

2) What is the subject of this tradition?

3) And, above all, what constitutes the formal character of this tradition?

1. The structural moments of tradition. We repeat: Without tradition there is no history. But by this we do not mean to suggest that history consists in being traditional in the usual sense of the nomenclature, namely, traditional as conforming with this or that tradition. This would be absurd. This kind of traditionality is but one mode among other equally possible modes of coming to terms with tradition as such. The tradition we are referring to here consists in “handing-over” a form of being in reality. But this is not to suggest that the one who receives tradition cannot break with what was handed-over to him/her. It only suggests that nothing – not even this rupture – is possible without first having received what one decides to break with. For this reason, instead of traditionality, it would be more appropriate to employ another word such as “traditionity.” This having been clarified, I will employ, if need be, the nomenclature traditionality in the sense of traditionity.

Having stated this we say that tradition has a specific structure.

A) Tradition is, first and foremost, a process in and through which the nascent animal of realities is installed in a way of being in reality. Thus, before anything, tradition has a constitutive moment. This is its radical moment. The nascent human being is not just genetically transmitted certain determined notes; s/he is also installed in a form of being in reality. Even if the newly born child is abandoned, this abandonment is a mode of being in reality.

B) But tradition has another moment: For what is handed-over to the new offspring is done so by his/her progenitors (again, in the most broad and vague sense of the nomenclature). This way of being in reality – inasmuch as it proceeds from progenitors – is formally a continuation of what the progenitors wanted to hand-over to the offspring. Indeed, tradition has a continuative moment. And, evidently, inasmuch as it is continuative, tradition is grounded in its constitutive moment.

This continuative moment is crucial; and in fact it can be quite severe: For in and through the continuative moment the fate of tradition will be played out. I am not just referring to human life’s inexorable necessity for change. I am referring to something much more radical: What is handed-over is done so from and by the progenitors themselves; and yet it is received by the offspring according to his/her own reality. And, because in its totality this reality is different from the progenitors’ reality, the continuative character of tradition becomes problematic: What is the continuity of tradition? It is to be sure not mere mechanical reiteration if you will. For even when one “repeats” this mere fact of repeating endows what is received with a new character, namely the character of being repetition. Continuity is the result of a positive act from the part of the recipient regarding what is handed-over: namely the act of receiving and reliving from his/her own self what is received. And because this act is realized by a living being that is not totally but only schematically identical to his/her progenitors, one can never be completely sure that one is repeating what has been received. At times one could be under the impression that s/he is repeating when in fact s/he is innovating. Moreover, it is often necessary to change something accidental in what has been received precisely in order to be able to maintain its continuity. It is a difficult problem indeed to determine what in tradition is essential and what is accidental. The continuity of tradition is not a problem of numerical identity, but a problem of the sameness “in life.” Tradition often takes on different forms not because it is the same, but in order to continue being the same.

C) And yet there is still a third moment: Grounded in tradition – grounded in what has been received – and supported by it, the human being lives opting for forms of reality. This is not something that is particular to tradition; it is a part of all vital human acts. The ability to opt is the formal character of the constitution of human life, at least in the stages where the living being has to take charge of reality. Among other things, the offspring takes charge of what s/he receives; and supported by what s/he receives the offspring has to continue opting: Indeed, tradition has a progradient moment. Not only is the living human being installed in a form of being in reality which has been turned-over to him/her; not only does s/he receive this way of being in reality in and through a more or less problematic continuity; but, in addition – grounded in what has been received and with its support – the new living human being exerts on the mode of being in reality that has been turned over to him/her operations that are similar to those realized by his/her progenitors; and by so doing s/he completely changes the possible content of what will be the tradition for his/her descendents. This progression is already present in the moment of continuity; for the moment of reliving what has been received is already inchoately a progression. Life is in fact not only tradible, it is essentially tradenda. And this is so for a simple but decisive reason – It is so for genetic reasons. Every living being is the filial schema of the rest. The phylum itself constitutively has a prospective character. Steered by this filial genesis, the forms of being in reality are turned-over. And precisely for this reason tradition and the history that is grounded in it are progradient. The progress can be either positive or negative; this is another question.

Constitutive, continuative, and progradient, these three moments are but aspects of a single reality: the reality of tradition. The intrinsic unity of these three moments constitutes the essence of tradition.

What is the subject of this tradition?

2. The subject of tradition. One would think that individuals are the immediate subjects of tradition. This, as I see it, is problematic. The immediate subject of tradition is the species – the phylum as such. The phylum drives tradition. Tradition affects individuals, but only because individuals belong to a phylum: Tradition affects individuals in and through refluence. Tradition – paradosis – like refluence, has two aspects that, although different, are essentially connected. These two aspects are the two ways through which tradition affects human beings. Both are traditio in the sense I have just explained; but they are two distinct modes of traditio.

A) One mode is the mode by which tradition affects each individual inasmuch as it realizes in each individual’s very mode of being in reality the operations I explained above. In this sense, tradition is a moment of the life of each human being – a moment of his/her biography. To live is to possess oneself as absolute in the totality of reality. Now then, human life has a proper characteristic to the extent that it is the life of an animal substantivity: indeed, human life is decurrent. Animality is the ground of “decurrence.” The human of this decurrence rests in the fact that it is precisely the form by which the human being possesses him/herself as absolute. And this decurrence – inasmuch as it is a mode of possessing oneself as absolute – is the essence of biography. As I have for many years repeatedly stated, every human being is always him/herself never being the same self. The way in which one is always him/herself without ever being the same self is the essence of biography.

Clearly then decurrence is biography only to the extent that it is a trait of something that is already personal life – only to the extent that it is a characteristic of the possession of oneself in the totality of reality. Biographical decurrence does not formally constitute human life; but rather it is life – which is already personal – that “biographically” constitutes its decurrence. Personal life is the intrinsic and formal presupposition of all possible biography. So that if we take in and for itself the unified decurrence of the acts of a personal life, we do not have biographical life, but only what for many years I have been calling the “argument of life.” We will soon see what constitutes being an argument. What is typically called biography is only the argument of a personal life – the argument of the mode of possessing oneself as absolute. Only personal life qua personal should be called biography.

Because each human being’s mode of being absolute is codetermined by the rest – and this precisely and formally to the extent that each human being is a filial reality – what occurs is that to the mode of possessing oneself constitutively also belongs the capacity to filially possess oneself. That is the human being’s biography has an indispensable moment of traditio. Evidently biography is not only tradition; but tradition is an essential moment of biography. From this point of view, tradition is the filial absorbed in the personal, the filial absorbed in the human person qua person.

B) Tradition affects individuals in yet another way. What is in question now is no longer personal biography but something else.

In order to thoroughly understand the mode in question let us begin by considering tradition to the extent that it affects the individual – and specifically to the extent that s/he coexists with the rest – that is to the extent that the individual lives in society. Here tradition does not constitute the individual’s biography; rather it constitutes what is “typically” called history – the tradition of society. In order to delineate with greater precision what history is let us take as our point of departure the concept of history we have just elucidated. This concept will guide us toward a more precise formulation. For to say that history is the traditive transmission of the social brings forth a question that is decisive for the problem at hand. In fact, in the previous lesson I insisted that society – as distinct from personal communion – is something essentially impersonal, always keeping in mind, evidently, that the impersonal is a mode of being a person. If, thus, history is social tradition, then this suggests that in one way or another society is essentially impersonal. But is this possible? This is the question we need to investigate.

At first glance, this is unacceptable; and, I myself for some time have thought thus. Can one deny the fact that, for example, Michelangelo was a personality that was completely determined in history? Or that Alexander was? This, of course, cannot be denied. But this is not the point. Let us reflect a bit on this question. The names of Michelangelo and Alexander are ambiguous, for the persons they designate have two aspects. If we do no distinguish these two aspects we run the risk of committing a serious error. Indeed, who for history is Alexander? He is undoubtedly the son of Philip, the man that did this and that: He conquered Asia, married Roxane, and the like. All this is certainly Alexander; but only in the sense that he was “the one that”…was this or that did this. The same should be said about Michelangelo. One can thus say that the person that did this is a completely determined person, such that he could not have been another person. And this is true. And yet not for this reason were Michelangelo and Alexander fully and formally persons. The uniqueness of a living human being is not identical with his/her personal character. Alexander was unique in Greek history, just as Michelangelo was unique for art history. The Alexander of history is “the one that” was the son of Philip, conquered Asia, fell in love and married Roxane, and the like. The Michelangelo of art history was “the one that” painted the Sistine Chapel, sculptured David, constructed the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica, and the like. This is an undeniable truth: both are “the one that.” Well then, this which evidently designates a person is also what confers him/her with his/her given character – with his/her impersonal mode: “The one that” never tells us “who s/he was.” But let us not confuse here the what with the who. The one “who he was” refers to the persons of Alexander and Michelangelo as well as to their personal lives. But this was buried with them; it does not belong to history. The uniqueness of a human being is not synonymous with his/her personal character.

We could say that Alexander and Michelangelo were not only the “s/he who,” but that their very actions – the actions by which and with which they did what they did – in some way belong to history. This is true, and it is what takes us to the onus of the question: namely to find out specifically in what way actions themselves can belong to history. Or stated thematically: Human actions belong to history, but they do so only impersonally. What does this mean? This is the question. Let me explain.

Impersonal – let us keep in mind the previous lesson – is a personal mode of being and acting, but “reduced” to the being and acting of the person. As we have seen, these are two completely different points of view. On the one hand, action is a moment of the personal life, that is action is a moment of the self-possession of “my” physical reality in the totality of reality. For this reason it is a personal action. But, on the other hand, I can also consider action leaving aside the fact that it is a moment of my personal life. In this case it is no longer a personal action, but only an action of the person; that is, it is an action that arises in the person, but not as a moment of his/her life. This is the reduction of “being-personal” to “being-of-the-person.” Through this reduction action is impersonal; it continues to be “of-the-person,” but not in a personal form: Action is now the formal essence of impersonality. Impersonality, I repeat, does not consist in a suppression of being a person; it is rather a modality of this trait. It is because of this that animals, as I said, are not impersonal – they are apersonal.

This reduction can be realized in different ways; and consequently there can be different types of impersonality. One way is reduction by way of alterity – here one considers another person not qua person, but qua other. Indeed, s/he is a person, but s/he is “other.” According to this type of reduction it is impersonality that constitutes society in this strict sense as opposed to a personal community. But there exists another type of reduction: It consists in understanding action according strictly to what is accomplished by it, that is as something that occurs within the person. Now one considers only what is operated by the action. Then action leaves aside its personal character, not by way of alterity, but because it is considered only as a “proper quality” of the person, independently of what the action is as a personal moment of life. From the point of view of the action – as a personal moment of life – action is something which is personally executed. Action is an opus operans – this is action as an operation. Here the operated as a moment of the operation itself belongs to the given action. But I can also consider what is operated only as a proper quality of the person, that is I can consider what is operated independently of the very action, and thus independently of being a moment of the personal life. Under these conditions, the action is an opus operatum. Reduced to an opus operatum the action belongs only “to the individual” – it is impersonal. It is not action qua “his/her own,” but qua quality “of belonging to the person.” Action is thus now a mode of impersonalization. Here the reduction is not carried out by way of alterity, as in the case of society, but by way of the operatum as such. This operatum does not only refer to the external and public character of the actions such as, for example, the conquest of Asia or to the paintings of the Sistine Chapel, but also to the actions which we could also call “internal,” like for example, the love for Roxane. These actions – both as external or internal – considered as something “made, operated,” constitute an opus operatum. When they are considered as moments of the personal life which they themselves realize then they are an opus operans. The way of the operatum, then, generates a different type of impersonality than the way of alterity. By both ways action stops being personal and becomes reduced to belonging to the person. This difference between the personal and of the person is a modal difference. As I see it, it is an essential difference. And this difference can take on the form of mere alterity or the form of operatum.

Well then, the opus operatum, what is operated alone belongs to history; but not the opus operans, not the operation itself. The fact of being in love with Roxane belongs to history, but not love or lovability itself, which, by virtue of being a personal action is opus operans. Being in love with Roxane is an opus operatum. It is the impersonality of history.

This type of impersonality is not specific to history alone. It belongs to that which typically – though unduly – is called biography. As I have already suggested, what is usually referred to as biography is in fact the argument of life. Well, then, “argument” is precisely the elapse of the “personal” life reduced to being the elapse “of the person.” Strictly speaking, this is not biography, for biography is essentially personal in the sense of being a moment in the proper life of a person. What is typically called biography is essentially impersonal, no matter how closely one examines it. Biography – even when it is exhaustively understood in all its infinite details – could have been lived by someone else. Only when it is understood as the “reduction” of something that was previously a personal life, does biography acquire the character of something formal and non-transferable. And this is thus because the person is him/herself formal and non-transferable.

From here why what is typically called biography is – strictly speaking – biographical history. What typically are referred to as history and biography are in fact two types of history: namely the history I would call social and biographical history. This is the entire realm of the impersonal by way of the operatum. This reduction to the impersonal by way of the operatum is not formally identical to the reduction by way of alterity. These are two different modes of reducing the personal to being only of the person. By way of alterity, its result is society. By way of the operatum, its result is history, both as social and as biographical. These two modes – the mode of alterity and the mode of the operatum – are not incompatible. On the contrary: To the “others” – to society – one can hand-over all actions, but only as opera operata, that is as actions belonging to the person. History – both as social and as biographical – is essentially impersonal. Personal communion and personal biography are, by contrast, essentially personal. Reciprocally, the social and the historical can constitute – and always do so – a “moment” of the personal life, for the subject of history is the phylum as such; and the phylum intrinsically affects every individual constitutively, constituting both his/her social coexistence as well as his/her historical prospection (whether social or biographical)

This brief sketch of the subject of tradition – that is of the subject of history – has provided us with important concepts which can be summarized in following three points:

a) History is not only the social. I have already pointed this out: I began by establishing an equivalence between history and the social; but this was only a point of departure that intended to take us toward a more comprehensive concept: namely that history encompasses both social history and biographical history – and this is essential.

b) When history is understood in this way it can be distinguished from personal biography. This is not a distinction in terms of subjects, but a distinction in terms of the modes in which tradition affects persons. The subject in question is always the person, or the persons by virtue of belonging to a phylum; but the difference exists in the mode in which the traditive phylum affects them. There exists a way of affecting them that is “personal” – this is personal biography. There exists another way of affecting them that is “impersonal” (as the reduction of the personal to belonging to the person) – this is history both as social and as biographical. The essential difference is not among subjects, but rather it is a modal difference for every subject. This is a second essential concept.

c) It now becomes clear that the concept of history is double. Before anything there is a modal concept of history. This is what I just explained: namely history as a mode of impersonally affecting the person. Modally, history in this way opposes itself to personal biography. Personal biography is another modal concept. But these two modes – impersonal and personal – are the distinct modes by which tradition affects the subject. From here that they are situated within the same trajectory – a trajectory which, in a certain sense, is prior to the modal difference: namely, within the trajectory of tradition understood as a dimension of the very subject inasmuch as this subject is filially determined by tradition. We will soon develop with greater precision in what consists this dimensionality. It is the dimensional concept of history. It constitutes the entire realm of traditive prospectivity in all its modes and forms, both impersonal as well as personal. Modally, personal biography opposes itself to history, both social as well as biographical. Yet, dimensionally, personal biography is as much history as it is social and biographical history. Reciprocally, personal biography and history are the two modes of the dimensional unity of tradition, that is the two modes of the dimensional essence of history.

Up to our analysis of the subject of tradition I had used the nomenclature history only in the dimensional sense. I will, in what follows, continue to use it strictly in this sense alone: The historical as dimension, that is, as the entire realm of traditive prospectivity. We now need to inquire about the formal essence of this prospectivity. This is the third point of the problem at hand.

3. The formal essence of history. Let us now move toward the formal concept of dimensional history by working through some theses: This will be a dialectical movement toward the conceptualization of history.

A) A first thesis which has been and is presupposed by many – though never formally mentioned – consists in the following: History refers to that series of vicissitudes that affect both individuals as well as societies. I am using “vicissitude” here not in the etymological sense but in its usual use: a vicissitude is something that “happens” to someone. Well then, our first thesis states that history is essentially a vicissitude. The human being, we think, is a reality that must face certain vicissitudes. These vicissitudes are his/her history. And given this, the human being aims to narrate history – to narrate the vicissitudes that take place.

But this thesis is not only imprecise, it is false. One does not only “narrate” history, one also “understands” history, and this precisely because history is not a mere vicissitude. Evidently, the human being experiences all kinds of vicissitudes which, although they in reality happened, they could have nevertheless not have happened. But although not every vicissitudes necessarily had to have happened, it is nevertheless inexorably necessary that the human being experiences vicissitudes. Why? Because of the human being’s very constitution. And this is why history is not a vicissitude, but a constitutive moment of human reality – a reality that is formally and constitutively handed-over and handing-over. Even without getting into the problem that not all that happens in history is strictly speaking a vicissitude, the point here is that the human being is not a substantive reality to which is added vicissitudes; rather the human being can be considered a substantive reality only if it already includes historicity, and this because it is not a substantive reality without being a prospective scheme, that is, without being in itself traditive transmission.

B) From here emerges a second thesis: History is not a series of vicissitudes, but rather it is necessarily grounded in something received in traditive continuity. Now, this continuity manifests itself in different ways – as monuments, as documents, through different types of works, and the like. That is, history is human reality inasmuch as it is continuously witnessed. Giving the nomenclature a broad sense that captures all that is expressed in continuative tradition, we say that history is testimony: Something is history – something is tradition – by virtue of having been witnessed.

But this thesis cannot be sustained. In the first place, it is not universally true – How can it be? The majority of the things that are part of human history are not witnessed in the form of a testimony. Indeed, something can be a traditional reality and not be witnessed in testimonies that express it. One thing is tradition; another thing is the knowledge of its content. The testimony is the ratio cognoscendi, but not the ratio essendi of tradition.

And in fact, second, even in cases where the testimony exists, this testimony does not constitute the tradition by virtue of being its expression, but by virtue of what through that expression takes place, namely, because in and with the expression the testimony hands-over something. This handing-over – and not the witnessing of what is handed-over – is what constitutes tradition. Tradition is not testimony; it is the handing-over of reality.

C) This is the third thesis. But is it the case? What is handed-over when one hands-over reality? We have distinguished, on the one hand, the modes of being in reality, and, on the other hand, the concrete psycho-organic characteristics that every animal of reality has. This means that human acts have two aspects: On the one hand, human acts are executed by natural faculties; and, on the other hand, these acts differ from one individual to another, not because of what they have as executed acts (for all human beings execute the same acts), but by virtue of the meaning, by virtue of the sense that the acts possess in the different circumstances of each individual life. That for which in opting one opts is for the meaning of what one is going to do. Then it seems that what is handed-over in tradition is the meaning of acts: History is the transmission of meaning.

But this appears untenable. For history is not the realm of meaning. This is not to suggest that in the transmission of tradition one does not transmit the meaning of acts; evidently meaning is one of the moments that is handed-over. But the handing-over of meaning is not what is primordial or radical to tradition. It is also true, as we have just seen, that vicissitudes and testimonies are part of history; but these are not what is most radical to history. Well, in like fashion, it is also true that in tradition one transmits meaning; but this is not what radically constitutes tradition. For what we call “meaning” has two aspects: On the one hand, there is the meaning that something has, the meaning that something contains. But, on the other hand, this “meaning” would not be of concern to us here were it not the meaning of human actions, which do not only have a “given” meaning, but by their very nature “must have” some meaning to be what they are – namely, human actions. Therefore, meaning is not the given meaning that something has, but the meaning that something must have – having meaning. From here why the meaning in question is not the meaning of something, but the very reality of having meaning. And this problem has not been addressed. For what is of concern to us here is not the meaning that is transmitted, but the transmission of that reality – human reality – that by its very nature necessarily has to have meaning. It is false to think that what distinguishes the “optative” from the “natural” is the moment of “meaning.” No. Opting does not depend on a given meaning, but on a mode of being in reality.