Existence+and+Being存在与时间英文版

Existence and Being

Source: Existence and Being from Existentialism from

Dostoyevsky to Sartre edited by Walter Kaufman published in

full.

Descartes, writing to Picot, who translated the Principia Philosophiae

into French, observed: "Thus the whole of philosophy is like a tree: the

roots are metaphysics, the trunk is physics, and the branches that issue

from the trunk are all the other sciences . . ."

Sticking to this image, we ask: In what soil do the roots of the tree

of philosophy have their hold? Out of what ground do the roots-and

through them the whole tree-receive their nourishing juices and

strength? What element, concealed in the ground, enters and lives in

the roots that support and nourish the tree? What is the basis and

element of metaphysics? What is metaphysics, viewed from its ground?

What is metaphysics itself, at bottom?

Metaphysics thinks about beings as beings. Wherever the question

is asked what beings are, beings as such are in sight. Metaphysical

representation owes this sight to tho light of Being. The light itself, i.e.,

that which such thinking experiences as light, does not come within

the range of metaphysical thinking; for- metaphysics always represents

beings only as beings. Within this perspective, metaphysical thinking

does, of course, inquire about the being which is tho source and

originator of this light. But the light itself is considered sufficiently

illuminated as soon as we recognise that we look through it whenever

we look at beings.

In whatever manner beings are interpreted-whether as spirit, after

tho fashion of spiritualism; or as matter and force, after the fashion of

materialism; or as becoming and life, or idea, will, substance, subject,

or energeia; or as the eternal recurrence of the same event - every time,

beings as beings appear in the light of Being. Wherever metaphysics

represents beings. Being has entered into the light. Being has arrived

in a state of unconcealedness. But whether and how Being itself

involves such unconcealedness, whether and how it manifests itself in,

and as, metaphysics, remains obscure. Being in its revelatory essence,

i. e. in its truth, is not recalled. Nevertheless, when metaphysics gives

answers to its question concerning beings as such, metaphysics speaks

out of the unnoticed revealedness of Being. The truth of Being may

thus be called the ground in which metaphysics, as the root of the tree

of philosophy, is kept and from which it is nourished.

Because metaphysics inquires about beings as beings, it remains

concerned with beings and does not devote itself to Being as Being. As

the root of the tree, it sends all nourishment and all strength into the

trunk and its branches. The root branches out in the soil to enable the

tree to grow out of the ground and thus to leave it. The tree of

philosophy grows out of the soil in which metaphysics is rooted. The

ground is the element in which the root of the tree lives, but the growth

of the tree is never able to absorb this soil in such a way that it

disappears in the tree as part of the tree. Instead, the roots, down to the

subtlest tendrils, lose themselves in the soil. The ground is ground for

the roots, and in the ground the roots forget themselves for the sake of

the tree. The roots still belong to the tree even when they abandon

themselves, after a fashion, to the element of the soil. They squander

themselves and their element on the tree. As roots, they do not devote

themselves to the soil-at least not as if it were their life to grow only

into this element and to spread out in it. Presumably, the element

would not be the same element either if the roots did not live in it.

Metaphysics, insofar as it always represents only beings as beings,

does not recall Being itself. Philosophy does not concentrate on its

ground. It always leaves its ground-leaves it by means of metaphysics.

And yet it never escapes its ground.

Insofar as a thinker sets out to experience the ground of metaphysics,

insofar as he attempts to recall the truth of Being itself instead of

merely representing beings as beings, his thinking has in a sense left

metaphysics. From the point of view of metaphysics, such thinking

goes back into tho ground of metaphysics. But what still appears as

ground from this point of view is presumably something else, once it is

experienced in its own terms - something as yet unsaid, according to

which the essence of metaphysics, too, is something else and not

metaphysics.

Such thinking, which recalls the truth of Being, is no longer

satisfied with mere metaphysics, to be sure; but it does not oppose and

think against metaphysics either. To return to our image, it does not

tear up the root of philosophy. It tills the ground and ploughs the soil

for this root. Metaphysics remains the basis of philosophy. The basis

of thinking, however, it does not reach. When we think of the truth of

Being, metaphysics is overcome. We can no longer accept the claim of

metaphysics that it takes care of the fundamental involvement in

"Being" and that it decisively determines all relations to beings as such.

But this "overcoming of metaphysics" does not abolish metaphysics.

As long as man remains the animal rationale he is also the animal

metaphysicum. As long as man understands himself as the rational

animal, metaphysics belongs, as Kant said, to the nature of man. But if

our thinking should succeed in its efforts to go back into the ground of

metaphysics, it might well help to bring about a change in human

nature, accompanied by a transformation of metaphysics.

If, as we unfold the question concerning the truth of Being, we

speak of overcoming metaphysics, this means: recalling Being itself.

Such recalling goes beyond the tradition of forgetting the ground of

the root of philosophy. The thinking attempted in Being and Time

(1927) sets out on the way to prepare an overcoming of metaphysics,

so understood. That, however, which prompts such thinking can only

be that which is to be recalled. That Being itself and how Being itself

concerns our thinking does not depend upon our thinking alone. That

Being itself, and the manner in which Being itself, strikes a man's

thinking, that rouses his thinking and stirs it to rise from Being itself to

respond and correspond to Being as such.

Why, however, should such an overcoming of metaphysics be

necessary? Is the point merely to underpin that discipline of

philosophy which was the root hitherto, or to supplant it with a yet

more basic discipline? Is it a question of changing the philosophic

system of instruction? No. (?r are we trying to go back into the ground

of metaphysics in order to uncover a hitherto overlooked

presupposition of philosophy, and thereby to show that philosophy

does not yet stand on an unshakeable foundation and therefore cannot

yet be the absolute science? No.

It is something else that is at stake with the arrival of tho truth of

Being or its failure to arrive: it is neither the state of philosophy nor

philosophy itself alone, but rather the proximity or remoteness of that

from which philosophy, insofar as it means the representation of

beings as such, receives its nature and its necessity. What is to be

decided u nothing less than this: can Being itself, out of its own unique

truth, bring about its involvement in human nature; or shall

metaphysics, which turns its back to its ground, prevent further that the

involvement of Being in man may generate a radiance out of the very

essence of this involvement itself radiance which might lead man to

belong to Being?

In its answers to the question concerning beings as such,

metaphysics operates with a prior conception of Being. It speaks of

Being necessarily and hence continually. But metaphysics does not

induce Being itself to speak, for metaphysics does not recall Being in

its truth, nor does it recall truth as unconcealedness, nor does it recall

the nature of unconcealedness. To metaphysics the nature of truth

always appears only in the derivative form of the truth of knowledge

and the truth of propositions which formulate our knowledge.

Unconcealedness, however, might be prior to all truth in the sense of

veritas. Alitheia might be the word that offers a hitherto unnoticed hint

concerning the nature of esse which has not yet been recalled. If this

should be so, then the representational thinking of metaphysics could

certainly never reach this nature of truth, however zealously it might

devote itself to historical studies of pre-Socratic philosophy; for what

is at stake here is not some renaissance of pre-Socratic thinking: any

such attempt would be vain and absurd. What is wanted is rather some

regard for the arrival of the hitherto unexpressed nature of

unconcealedness, for it is in this form that Being has announced itself.

Meanwhile the truth of Being has remained concealed from

metaphysics during its long history from Anaximander to Nietzsche.

Who does metaphysics not recall it? Is the failure to recall it merely a

function of some kinds of metaphysical thinking? Or is it an essential

feature of the fate of metaphysics that it own ground eludes it because

in the rise of unconcealedness! its very core, namely concealedness,

stays away in favour of the unconcealed which appears in the form of

beings?

Metaphysics, however, speaks continually and in the most various

ways of Being. Metaphysics gives, and seems to confirm, the

appearance that it asks and answers the question concerning Being. In

fact, metaphysics never answers the question concerning the truth of

Being, for it never asks this question. Metaphysics does not ask this

question because it thinks of Being only by representing beings as

beings. It means all beings as a whole, although it speaks of Being. It

refers to Being and means beings as beings. From its beginning to its

completion, the propositions of metaphysics have been strangely

involved in a persistent confusion of beings and Being. This confusion,

to be sure, must be considered an event and not a mere mistake. It

cannot by any means be charged to a mere negligence of thought or a

carelessness of expression. Owing to this persistent confusion, the

claim that metaphysics poses the question of Being lands us in utter

error.

Due to the manner in which it thinks of beings, metaphysics almost

seems to be, without knowing it, the barrier which keeps man from the

original involvement of Being in human nature.

What if the absence of this involvement and the oblivion of this

absence determined the entire modern age? What if the absence of

Being abandoned man more and more exclusively to beings, leaving

him forsaken and far from any involvement of Being in his nature,

while this forsakenness itself remained veiled? What if this were the

case and had been the case for a long time now? What if there were

signs that this oblivion will become still more decisive in the future?

Would there still be occasion for a thoughtful person to give himself

arrogant airs in view of this fateful withdrawal with which Being

presents us? Would there still be occasion, if this should be our

situation, to deceive ourselves with pleasant phantasms and to indulge,

of all things, in an artificially induced elation? If the oblivion of Being

which has been described here should be real, would there not be

occasion enough for a thinker who recalls Being to experience a

genuine horror? What more can his thinking do than to t endure in

dread this fateful withdrawal while first of all facing up to the oblivion

of Being? But how could thought achieve this as long as its fatefully

granted dread seems to it no more than a mood of depression? What

does such dread, which is fated by Being, have to do with psychology

or psychoanalysis?

Suppose that the overcoming of metaphysics involved the

endeavour to commence with a regard for the oblivion of Being the

attempt to learn to develop such a regard, in order to experience this

oblivion and to absorb this experience into the involvement of Being

in man, and to preserve it there: then, in the distress of the oblivion of

Being, the question "What is metaphysics?" might well become the

most necessary necessity for thought.

Thus everything depends on this: that our thinking should become

more thoughtful in its season. This is achieved when our thinking,

instead of implementing a higher degree of exertion, is directed toward

a different point of origin. The thinking which is posited by beings as

such, and therefore representational and illuminating in that way, must

be supplanted by a different kind of thinking which is brought to pass

by Being itself and, therefore, responsive to Being.

All attempts are futile which seek to make representational thinking

which remains metaphysical, and only metaphysical, effective and

useful for immediate action in everyday public life. The more

thoughtful our thinking becomes and the more adequate it is to the

involvement of Being in it, the purer our thinking will stand eo ipso in

the one action appropriate to it: recalling what is meant for it and thus,

in a sense, what is already meant.

But who still recalls what is meant? One makes inventions. To lead

our thinking on the way on which it may find the involvement of the

truth of Being in human nature, to open up a path for our thinking on

which it may recall Being itself in its truth-to do that the thinking

attempted in Being and Time is "on its way." On this way-that is, in the

service of the question concerning the truth of Being - it becomes

necessary to stop and think about human nature; for the experience of

the oblivion of Being, which is not specifically mentioned because it

still had to be demonstrated, involves the crucial conjecture that in

view of the unconcealedness of Being the involvement of Being in

human nature is an essential feature of Being. But how could this

conjecture, which is experienced here, become an explicit question

before every attempt had been made to liberate the determination of

human nature from the concept of subjectivity and from the concept of

the animal rationale? To characterise with a single term both the

involvement of Being in human nature and the essential relation of

man to the openness ("there") of Being as such, the name of "being

there [Dasein]" was chosen for that sphere of being in which man

stands as man. This term was employed, even though in metaphysics it

is used interchangeably with existentia, actuality, reality, and

objectivity, and although this metaphysical usage is further supported

by the common [German] expression "menschliches Dasein." Any

attempt, therefore, to re-think Being and Time is thwarted as long as

one is satisfied with the observation that, in this study, the term "being

there" is used in place of "consciousness." As if this were simply a

matter of using different words! As if it were not the one and only

thing at stake here: namely, to get men to think about the involvement

of Being in human nature and thus, from our point of view, to present

first of all an experience of human nature which may prove sufficient

to direct our inquiry. The term "being there" neither takes the place of

the term "consciousness" nor does the "object" designated as "being

there" take the place of what we think of when we speak of

"consciousness." "Being there" names that which should first of all be

experienced, and subsequently thought of, as a place namely, the

location of the truth of Being.

What the term "being there" means throughout the treatise on Being

and Time is indicated immediately (page 42) by its introductory key

sentence: "The 'essence' of being there lies in its existence." [Das

"Wesen" des Daseins liegt in seiner Existenz.]

To be sure, in the language of metaphysics the word "existence" is a

synonym of "being there": both refer to the reality of anything at all

that is real, from God to a grain of sand. As long, therefore, as the

quoted sentence is understood only superficially, the difficulty is

merely transferred from one word to another, from "being there" to

"existence." In B.&T. the term "existence" is used exclusively for the

being of man. Once "existence" is understood rightly, the "essence" of

being there can be recalled: in its openness, Being itself manifests and

conceals itself, yields itself and withdraws; at the same time, this truth

of Being does not exhaust itself in being there, nor can it by any means

simply be identified with it after the fashion of the metaphysical

proposition: all objectivity is as such also subjectivity.

What does "existence" mean in B.&T.? The word designates a mode

of Being; specifically, the Being of those beings who stand open for

the openness of Being in which they stand, by standing it. This

"standing it," this enduring, is experienced under the name of "care."

The ecstatic essence of being there is approached by way of care, and,

conversely, care is experienced adequately only in its ecstatic essence.

"Standing it, experienced in this manner, is the essence of the ekstasis

which must be grasped by thought. The ecstatic essence of existence is

therefore still understood inadequately as long as one thinks of it as

merely "standing out," while interpreting the "out" as meaning "away

from" the inside of an immanence of consciousness and spirit. For in

this manner, existence would still be understood in terms of

"subjectivity" and "substance"; while, in fact, the "out" ought to be

understood in terms of the openness of Being itself. The stasis of the

ecstatic consists, strange as it may sound-in standing in the "out" and

"there" of unconcealedness in which Being itself is present. What is

meant by "existence" in the context of an inquiry that is prompted by,

and directed toward, the truth of Being, can be most beautifully

designated by the word "instancy [Instandigkeit]." We must think at

the same time, however, of standing in the openness of Being, of

enduring and outstanding this standing-in (care), and of out-braving

the utmost (Being toward death); for it is only together that they

constitute the full essence of existence.

The being that exists is man. Man alone exists. Rocks are, but they

do not exist. Trees are, but they do not exist. Horses are, but they do

not exist. Angels are, but they do not exist. God is, but he does not

exist. The proposition "man alone exists" does not mean by any means

that man alone is * real being while all other beings are unreal and

mere appearances or human ideas. The proposition "man exists" means:

man is that being whose Being is distinguished by the open-standing

standing-in in the unconcealedness of Being, from Being, in Being.

The existential nature of man is the reason why man can represent

beings as such, and why ho can be conscious of them. All

consciousness presupposes ecstatically understood existence as the

essentia of man - essentia meaning that as which man is present

insofar as he is j man. But consciousness does not itself create the

openness of beings, nor is it consciousness that makes it possible for

man to stand open for beings. Whither and whence and in what free

dimension could the intentionality of consciousness move, if instancy

were not the essence of man in the first instance? What else could be

the meaning if anybody has ever seriously thought about this of the

word sein in the [German] words Bewusstsein ["consciousness";

literally: "being conscious"] and Selbstbewusstsein

["self-consciousness"] if it did not designate the existential nature of

that which is in tho mode of existence? To be a self is admittedly one

feature of the nature of that being which exists; but existence does not

consist in being a self, nor can it be defined in such terms. We are

faced with the fact that metaphysical thinking understands man's

selfhood in terms of substance or - and at bottom this amounts to the

same in terms of the subject. It is for this reason that the first way

which leads away from metaphysics to the ecstatic existential nature of

man must lead through the metaphysical conception of human

selfhood (B.&T., §§63 and 64).

The question concerning existence, however, is always subservient

to that question which is nothing less than tho only question of thought.

This question, yet to be unfolded, concerns the truth of Being as the

concealed ground of all metaphysics. For this reason the treatise which

sought to point the way back into the ground of metaphysics did not

bear the title "Existence and Time," nor "Consciousness and Time,"

but Being and Time. Nor can this title be understood as if it were

parallel to the customary juxtapositions of Being and Becoming, Being

and Seeming, Being and Thinking, or Being and Ought. For in all

these cases Being is limited, as if Becoming, Seeming, Thinking, and

Ought did not belong to Being, although it is obvious that they are not

nothing and thus belong to Being. In Being and Time, Being is not

something other than Time: "Time" is called the first name of the truth

of Being, and this truth is the presence of Being and thus Being itself.

But why "Time" and "Being"?

By recalling the beginnings of history when Being unveiled itself in

the thinking of the Greeks, it can be shown that the Greeks from the

very beginning experienced the Being d beings as the presence of the

present. When we translate einai as "being" our translation is

linguistically correct. Yet we merely substitute one set of sounds for

another. As soon as we examine ourselves it becomes obvious that we

neither think einai, as it were, in Greek nor have in mind a

correspondingly clear and univocal concept when we speak of "being."

What, then, are we saying when instead of einai we say "being," and

instead of "being," einai and esse? We are saying nothing. The Greek,

Latin, and German word all remain equally obtuse. As long as we

adhere to the customary usage we merely betray ourselves as the

pacemakers of the greatest thoughtlessness which has ever gained

currency in human thought and which has remained dominant until

this moment. This einai, however, means: to be present [anwesen; this

verb form, in place of the idiomatic "anwesend sein," is Heidegger's

neology]. The true being of this being present [das Wesen dieses

Anwesens] is deeply concealed in the earliest names of Being. But for

us einai and ousia as par - and apousia means this first of all: in being

present there moves, unrecognised and concealed, present time and

duration-in one word, Time. Being as such is thus unconcealed owing

to Time. Thus Time points to unconcealedness, i. e., the truth of Being.

But the Time of which we should think here is not experienced

through the changeful career of beings. Time is evidently of an

altogether different nature which neither has been recalled by way of

the time concept of metaphysics nor ever can be recalled in this way.

Thus Time becomes the first name, which is yet to be heeded, of the

truth of Being, which is yet to be experienced.

A concealed hint of Time speaks not only out of the earliest

metaphysical names of Being but also out of its last name, which is

"the eternal recurrence of the same events." Through the entire epoch

of metaphysics, Time is decisively present in the history of Being,

without being recognised or thought about. To this Time, space is

neither co-ordinated nor merely subordinated.

Suppose one attempts to make a transition from the representation

of beings as such to recalling the truth of Being:. such an attempt,

which starts from this representation, must still represent, in a certain

sense, the truth of Being, too; and any such representation must of

necessity be heterogeneous and ultimately, insofar as it is a

representation, inadequate for that which is to be thought. This relation,

which comes out of metaphysics and tries to enter into the

involvement of the truth of Being in human nature, is called

understanding. But here understanding is viewed, at the same time,

from the point of view of the unconcealedness of Being.

Understanding is a project thrust forth and ecstatic, which means that

it stands in the sphere of the open. The sphere which opens up as we

project, in order that something (Being in this case) may prove itself as

something (in this case, Being as itself in its unconcealedness), is

called the sense. (Cf. B.&T., p. 151) "The sense of Being" and "the

truth of Being" mean the same.

Let us suppose that Time belongs to the truth of Being in a way that

is still concealed: then every project that holds open the truth of Being,

representing a way of understanding Being, must look out into Time as

the horizon of any possible understanding of Being. (Cf. B.&T.,

§§31-34 and 68.)

The preface to Being and Time, on the first page of the treatise, ends

with these sentences: "To furnish a concrete elaboration of the

question concerning the sense of 'Being' is the intention of the

following treatise. The interpretation of Time as the horizon of every

possible attempt to understand Being is its provisional goal."

All philosophy has fallen into the oblivion of Being which has, at

the same time, become and remained the fateful demand on thought in

B.&T.; and philosophy could hardly have given a clearer

demonstration of the power of this oblivion of Being than it has

furnished us by the somnambulistic assurance with which it has passed

by the real and only question of B.&T. What is at stake here is,

therefore, not a series of misunderstandings of a book but our

abandonment by Being.

Metaphysics states what beings are as beings. It offers a logos

(statement) about the outa (beings). The later title "ontology"

characterises its nature, provided, of course, that we understand it in

accordance with its true significance and not through its narrow

scholastic meaning. Metaphysics moves in the sphere of the on i on: it

deals with beings as beings. In this manner, metaphysics always

represents beings as such in their totality; it deals with the beingness of

beings (the ousia of the on). But metaphysics represents the beingness

of beings [die Seiendheit des Seienden] in a twofold manner: in the

first place, the totality of beings as such with an eye to their most

universal traits (ou katholou koinon;) but at the same time also the

totality of beings as such in the sense of the highest and therefore

divine being (on katholon, akrotaton, theiou). In the metaphysics of

Aristotle, the unconcealedness of beings as such has specifically

developed in this twofold manner.

Because metaphysics represents beings as beings, it is, two-in-one,

the truth of beings in their universality and in the highest being.

According to its nature, it is at the same time ontology in the narrower

sense and theology. This ontotheological nature of philosophy proper

(proti psilosopsia) is, no doubt, due to the way in which the on opens

up in it, namely as 8v. Thus the theological character of ontology is

not merely due to the fact that Greek metaphysics was later taken up

and transformed by the ecclesiastic theology of Christianity. Rather it

is due to the manner in which beings as beings have from the very

beginning disconcealed themselves. It was this unconcealedness of

beings that provided the possibility for Christian theology to take

possession of Greek philosophy- whether for better or for worse may

be decided by the theologians, on the basis of their experience of what

is Christian; only they should keep in mind what is written in the First

Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians: "ouhi emoranen o theos

tin sopsian tou kosmou; Has not God let the wisdom of this world

become foolishness?" (I Cor. 1:20) The sposia tou kosmou [wisdom of

this world], however, is that which, according to 1: 22, theEllines

zitousin, the Greeks seek. Aristotle even calls the proti psilosopsia

(philosophy proper) quite specifically zitoumeni - what is sought. Will

Christian theology make up its mind one day to take seriously the

word of the apostle and thus also the conception of philosophy as

foolishness?

As the truth of beings as such, metaphysics has a twofold character.

The reason for this two-foldness, however, let alone its origin, remains

unknown to metaphysics; and this is no accident, nor due to mere

neglect. Metaphysics has this twofold character because it is what it is:

the representation of beings as beings. Metaphysics has no choice.

Being metaphysics, it is by its very nature excluded from the

experience of Being; for it always represents beings (on) only with an

eye to what of Being has already manifested itself as beings (i on). But

metaphysics never pays attention to what has concealed itself in this

very on insofar as it became unconcealed.

Thus the time came when it became necessary to make a fresh

attempt to grasp by thought what precisely is said when we speak of

on or use the word "being" [seiend]. Accordingly, the question

concerning the on was reintroduced into human thinking. (Cf. B.&T.,

Preface.) But this reintroduction is no mere repetition of the

Platonic-Aristotelian question; instead it asks about that which

conceals itself in the on.

Metaphysics is founded upon that which conceals itself here as long

as metaphysics studies the on i on. The attempt to inquire back into

what conceals itself here seeks, from the point of view of metaphysics,

the fundament of ontology. Therefore this attempt is called, in Being

and Time (page l3) "fundamental ontology" [Fundamentalontologie].

Yet this title, like any title, is soon seen to be inappropriate. From the

point of view of metaphysics, to be sure, it says something that is

correct; but precisely for that reason it is misleading, for what matters

is success in the transition from metaphysics to recalling the truth of

Being. As long as this thinking calls itself "fundamental ontology" it

blocks and obscures its own way with this title. For what the title

"fundamental ontology" suggests is, of course, that the attempt to

recall the truth of Being-and not, like all ontology, the truth of

beings-is itself (seeing that it is called "fundamental ontology") still a

kind of ontology. In fact, the attempt to recall the truth of Being sets

out on the way back into the ground of metaphysics, and with its first

step it immediately leaves the realm of all ontology. On the other hand,

every philosophy which revolves around an indirect or direct

conception of "transcendence" remains of necessity essentially an

ontology, whether it achieves a new foundation of ontology or whether

it assures us that it repudiates ontology as a conceptual freezing of

experience.

Coming from the ancient custom of representing beings as such, the

very thinking that attempted to recall the truth of Being became

entangled in these customary conceptions. Under these circumstances

it would seem that both for a preliminary orientation and in order to

prepare the transition from representational thinking to a new kind of

thinking recalls [das andenkende Denken], that nothing could be more

necessary than the question: What is metaphysics?

The unfolding of this question in the following Picture culminates in

another question. This is called the basic question of metaphysics:

Why is there any being at all and not rather Nothing? Meanwhile

[since this lecture was first published in 1929], to be sure, people have

talked back and forth a great deal about dread and the Nothing, both of

which are spoken of in this lecture. But one has never yet deigned to

ask oneself why a lecture which moves from thinking of the truth of

Being to the Nothing, and then tries from there to think into the nature

of metaphysics, should claim that this question is the basic question of

metaphysics. How can an attentive reader help feeling on the tip of his

tongue an objection which is far more weighty than all protests against

dread and the Nothing? The final question provokes the objection that

an inquiry which attempts to recall Being by way of the Nothing

returns in the end to a question concerning beings. On top of that, the

question even proceeds in the customary manner of metaphysics by

beginning with a causal "Why?" To this extent, then, the attempt to

recall Being is repudiated in favour of representational knowledge of

beings on the basis of beings. And to make matters still worse, the

final question is obviously the question which the metaphysician

Leibniz posed in his Principes de la nature et de la grace: "Pourquoi

il y a plutot quelque chose que rien?"

Does the lecture, then fall short of its intention? After all, this would

be quite possible in view of the difficulty of effecting a transition from

metaphysics to another kind of thinking. Does the lecture end up by

asking Leibniz' metaphysical question about the supreme cause of all

things that have being? Why, then, is Leibniz' name not mentioned, as

decency would seem to require?

Or is the question asked in an altogether different sense? If it does

not concern itself with beings and inquire about their first cause among

all beings, then the question must begin from that which is not a being.

And this is precisely what the question names, and it capitalises the

word: the Nothing. This is the sole topic of the lecture. The demand

seems obvious that the end of the lecture should be thought through,

for once, in its own perspective which determines the whole lecture.

What has been called the basic question of metaphysics would then

have to be understood and asked in terms of fundamental ontology as

the question that comes out of the ground of metaphysics and as the

question about this ground.

But if we grant this lecture that in the end it thinks in tho direction

of its own distinctive concern, how are we to under- n stand this

question?

The question is: Why is there any being at all and not rather Nothing?

Suppose that we do not remain within metaphysics to ask

metaphysically in the customary manner; suppose we recall the truth

of Being out of the nature and the truth of metaphysics; then this might

be asked as well: How did it come about that beings take precedence

everywhere and lay claim to every "is" while that which is not a being

is understood as Nothing, though it is Being itself, and remains

forgotten? How did it come about that with Being It really is nothing

and that the Nothing really is not? Is it perhaps from this that the as yet

unshaken presumption has entered into all metaphysics that "Being"

may simply be taken for granted and that Nothing is therefore made

more easily than beings? That is indeed the situation regarding Being

and Nothing. If it were different, then Leibniz could wt have said in

the same place by way of an explanation: "Car le rien est plus simple

et plus facile que quelque chose". For the nothing is simpler and easier

than any thing]."

What is more enigmatic: that beings are, or that Being is? Or does

even this reflection fail to bring us close to that enigma which has

occurred with the Being of beings?

Whatever the answer may be, the time should have ripened

meanwhile for thinking through the lecture "What is Metaphysics?"

which has been subjected to so many attacks, from its end, for

once-from its end and not from an imaginary end.