.t ‘
1....
L...

8.2.3....

. .1
.14....IA
.. . _

. .15

 

 

 

if)

llllllllllllIllllllllllllllllllllllll‘lllllllllll

31293 01780 6690

 

LIBRARY
Michigan State
University

 

 

 

This is to certify that the

dissertation entitled

BEYOND BEING AND NOTHINGNESS:
A DESCRIPTION OF AN EXISTENTIAL FREEIXIVI EITHIC

presented by

Betina Bostick Henig

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

_2n.n.___ degree in W

'A/Mw a, UMLLW

Major professor

Date 0G“ - 51 3: qug

MSU is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution 0-12771

BEYOND BEING AND NOTHINGNESS:
A DESCRIPTION OF AN EXISTENTIAL FREEDOM ETHIC

BY

Betina Bostick Henig

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of Philosophy

1999

ABSTRACT

BEYOND BEING AND NOTHINGNESS:
A DESCRIPTION OF AN EXISTENTIAL FREEDOM ETHIC

BY

Betina Bostick Henig

My aim has been to develop a defensible existential
freedom ethic. To do this, I distinguish between being-free
and its modes, develop an existential freedom ethicist's
conception of generosity, argue that the existential freedom
ethicist's method of decision making is situationalist, and
use Sartre's NOtebooks for an Ethics as my beacon for seeing
the relationship between the phenomenological ontology of
Sartre's Being and Nothingness and the theoretical history
of Sartre's Critique of Dialectical Reason, vol. 1.

In the first chapter, I explain why the existential
freedom ethicist can consistently maintain that, even when a
person is oppressed, the only limits to human freedom is
human freedom; why the existential freedom ethicist can
coherently hold that, even though we are being-free, freedom
is the end of all ethical action; why the existential free-
dom ethicist can condemn and adequately account for oppres-
sion, even though she maintains we are always being-free;
and why, even if alienated freedom constitutes something
like a human nature, the existential freedom ethicist can
without embarrassment rightly claim we can do what we ought.

In the second chapter, I show that alienated freedom

constitutes something like a human nature, thus that this

existential freedom ethic's ideal to will oneself and other
people morally free is not vacuous. I show that oppression
is contingent and arises from alienated freedoms, thus how
and that oppression can be overcome. I show that histori-
cally the only limit to human freedom is human freedom, thus
that the existential freedom ethic is coherent. I show that
historically conversion to moral freedom is possible, thus
that the existential freedom ethic is practically effica-
cious. And I show that historically human freedoms are
intertwined, thus why if one wills oneself morally free, one
must will other people morally free, as well as will freedom
as the world's foundation.

In the third chapter, I develop an existential freedom
ethicist's conception of generosity, argue that through
generosity we can transcend oppressive relationships with
other persons and create the world's foundation in terms of
freedom, and argue that generosity is humanly possible.

In the fourth chapter, I show that the situationalist
method is not antinomian, because it does not entail that
anything goes, and I show that it is not legalist, because
it does not entail applying rules to a situation. I then
illustrate the situationalist method by discussing the
issues of assisted suicide, institutionalized punishment,

lying, and environmental destruction.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank Richard Peterson, Albert Cafagna, Steve
Esquith, Winston Wilkinson, and Harry Reed for the fair and
insightful questions they asked me prior to or during my
dissertation defense. I also want to thank Herbert
Garelick, who read earlier drafts of my dissertation, for
his comments and challenging questions. Lastly, I want to
acknowledge the intellectual generosity and support of
Winston Wilkinson who has been part of this project from its
very beginning and without whom this project never would

have come to fruition.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION 1
CHAPTER ONE

ROAD TO AN EXISTENTIAL FREEDOM ETHIC 10
Interpretation and Defense of Human Freedom 10
The Preliminary Description and Defense of the

Existential Freedom Ethic 28

The Nature, Content, and Prima Facie Justification of the
Fundamental Principles of the Existential Freedom Ethic 44

Summary of "Road to an Existential Freedom Ethic" 53
NOTES 55
CHAPTER TWO

FREEDOMS' LEGACY 56
Metaphysics of Our World 56
Theory of the Origin and Perpetuation of Oppression 66
The Evolution and Ethical Significance of the Fused Group 82
Summation: "Freedoms' Legacy" Supports the Existential
Freedom Ethic 88
NOTES 94
CHAPTER THREE

IMPORTANCE OF GENEROSITY 97
Existential Freedom Ethicist's Conception of Generosity 98
Beyond the Hell of "No Exit" 108
Beyond the Hell of "Freedoms' Legacy" 116
Defense of the Existential Freedom Ethic Revisited 135
NOTES 141
CHAPTER FOUR

IMPORTANCE OF SITUATION 146
General Characterization of the Existential Freedom

Ethic's Method of Decision Making 146
The Issue of Institutionalized Punishment 154
The Issue of Lying 160
The Issue of Assisted Suicide 168
The Issue of Environmental Destruction 175
Overview of Situationalism 183
NOTES 186
CONCLUSION 191
NOTES 199
BIBLIOGRAPHY 202

INTRODUCTION

My aim is to develop a defensible existential freedom
ethic that is based on, yet goes beyond, the phenomeno-
logical ontology of Sartre's Being and Nethingness. I go
beyond Being and NOthingness in the sense that I shall
develop the freedom ethic to which Sartre alludes in the
closing pages of that text though never himself completed.
The fundamental tenet of such an ethic is that human freedom
is both the beginning and end of all ethical action. Human
freedom is the beginning of all ethical action, because
human beings are the creators of values. And human freedom
is the beginning of all ethical action, because human free-
dom is a necessary condition for ethics. Consequently, the
ethic I develop presupposes a metaphysics of possibility;
however, I do not treat this as a dogmatic presupposition,
because I present Sartre's, as well as my own, reasons for
believing we are free. Explaining what it means to say
'freedom is the end of ethical action' and demonstrating why
freedom should be taken as the end are my primary aims.

I go beyond Being and Nethingness also in the sense
that I make use of subsequent Sartrean texts, as well as
Beauvoir's The Ethics of Ambiguity, to develop an exis-
tential freedom ethic. The other Sartrean texts from which
I extensively draw are the Critique of Dialectical Reason,
vol. 1 and the posthumously published Notebooks for an

Ethics. I use the thebooks because, even though the ethic

discussed there is cursory, the notes are laced with clues
concerning the relationship between Sartre's phenomenologi—
cal ontology and projected existential freedom ethic. .As a
consequence, I use the NOtebooks as my beacon for seeing how
to develop an existential freedom ethic. And I use the
Critique because I believe a theoretical history is essen—
tial to the development of a plausible and defensible exis-
tential freedom ethic.

And I go beyond Being and Nothingness in the sense that
my development of such an ethic entails more than an inter—
pretation of Sartre's works. I shall develop where Sartre
or Beauvoir has been cursory, silent, unclear, or in error
about what a defensible existential freedom ethic should be
like. For example, I shall develop the concept of genero-
sity, which I take to be the "heart" of such an ethic, but
which Sartre in the Netebooks for an Ethics wrote only some
suggestive notes. I also distinguish between ethically
relevant modes of human freedom, which I believe is essen-
tial to a defensible existential freedom ethic, though
Sartre seems unaware of such distinctions and Beauvoir
suggests but never fully develops them. I shall develop my
own argument for why freedom is the end of all ethical
action by drawing from Sartre's Critique. And I shall
entertain objections to an existential freedom ethic that
are subsequent to Beauvoir's ethics.

At this point I wish to mention why I believe my ef-

forts here are important. First, though there have been

2

important attempts at describing, defending, or critiquing
an existential freedom ethic, e.g., Hazel Barnes' An Exis—
tentialist Ethics, Linda Bell's Sartre's Ethics of Authen—
ticity, David Detmer's Freedom as a value, Thomas C. Ander-
son's The Foundation and Structure of Sartrean Ethics and
Sartre's Two Ethics, George Kerner's Three Philosophical
.MOralists: .Mill, Kant and Sartre, and Francis Jeanson's
Sartre and the Problem of.Mbrality, I believe my description
and defense of such an ethic differs in crucial respects
from that of those mentioned. For examples, although Linda
Bell briefly discusses generosity, neither she nor any other
Sartrean commentator develop it as a technical concept or as
the positive side of an existential freedom ethic; no
Sartrean scholar distinguishes modes of human freedom from
freedom as our very being, though this is, I believe, essen-
tial for creating a defensible existential freedom ethic;
and no Sartrean commentator makes use of Sartre's Critique
to develop an existential freedom ethic, though some have
used it to develop a non-existentialist ethic based upon
needs, e.g., Thomas C. Anderson in Sartre's Two Ethics.
Second, I believe the existential freedom ethic I
develop is a viable alternative to mainstream deontological
and consequentialist normative theories. Unlike deontologi—
cal theories, this freedom ethic's normative principle is
not a categorical imperative. And unlike consequentialist
theories, this freedom ethic's normative principle does

incorporate the means used to achieving the projected end.

Third, I believe that during this time, when essential-
ist views of race, gender, and sexual preference are ubiqui—
tous both in the academy and U.S. culture and when scientif-
ic discoveries of genetic predispositions for particular
human behaviors are given a deterministic interpretation, an
ethical theory of this kind is vital, because it is non-
essentialist, humanist, and opposed to a deterministic
metaphysics.

Because I shall describe, develop, and defend an exis-
tential freedom ethic based on the phenomenological ontology
of Being and Nothingness, the theory of human history in the
Critique of Dialectical Reason, vol. 1, and the ethical
ruminations in the Notebooks, I shall discuss now what I
take to be the relationship between these texts and how I
will be using them.

I've mentioned that I will be using the thebooks as my
beacon for constructing an existential freedom ethic. In
the Notebooks Sartre writes,

Existential ontology is itself historical. There
is an initial event, that of the appearance of the For—
itself through a negation of being. Ethics must be
historical: that is, it must find the universal in
History and must grasp it in History. (1992a, p. 6)

Given Sartre's use here of the ontological language of Being
and Nethingness and of the relevance of history to ethics,
it seems to me Sartre believed his ontology needed to be
supplemented with a theory of human history to develop his

projected existential freedom ethic. Elsewhere in the Nete-

books he implies an understanding of human history is

essential to the construction of an ethics. He says,

. . . even though the possible, and therefore the
universal, is a necessary structure of action, we must
return to the individual drama of the finite series
"Man" when the deepest of ends of existence are at
issue. To the finite and historical source of
possibilities. (1992a, pp. 6-7)

In other words, an understanding of human history is neces-
sary to an existential freedom ethic, because human possi—
bilities are not a priori. Due to these and other passages
in the Notebooks, I believe a project like Sartre's Cri-
tique, rather than necessarily signifying a decision to
forego developing an existential freedom ethic, actually
lays some of the groundwork for, and is consonant with,
Sartre's projected existential freedom ethic. Even in the
Critique, vol. 1, Sartre speaks of "the ethical affirmation
that freedom is the basis of values". (1991, p. 591)

Sartre in Being and NOthingness lays out the funda-
mental categories of human reality, argues we are neces-
sarily free, and argues we are the origin of value. Beyond
this ontological text, Sartre in the Critique theorizes
about the collective and historical actions of human beings
and about the relations created through such actions. In an
introductory section of the Critique Sartre says,

. . . we are dealing with neither human history, nor

sociology, nor ethnography. To parody a title of
Kant's we would claim to be laying the foundations for
"Prolegomena to any future anthropology". (1991, pp. 65-66)
And in the thebooks Sartre says,

As soon as there is a plurality of others, there is a

society. Society is the first concretion that leads
from ontology to anthropology. (1992a, p. 117)

These two passages—-and others--suggest to me that Sartre's
Critique can be viewed as a meta-anthropological supplement
to the ontology of Being and NOthingness.

Passages in Being and Nethingness suggest to me that
Sartre's meta-anthropological work can be seen also as a
"metaphysical" supplement to Being and NOthingness. In the
ontological work Sartre holds that ontology describes the
structures of being; it cannot explain human history.

(1956, p. 620) To do the latter, we must engage in "meta-
physical" inquiry. Sartre says,

We, indeed, apply the term "metaphysical" to the study

of individual processes which have given birth to this
world as a concrete and particular totality. In this sense
metaphysics is to ontology as history is to sociology.

(1956, p. 619)

In other words, ontology like sociology only describes the

 

phenomena under scrutiny, and metaphysics like history
explains how or why the phenomena under study came in to
being. Although Sartre's ontological descriptions precluded
such an explanation, Sartre suggests near the end of Being
and NOthingness the direction metaphysical inquiry should
take. He says,

After having decided the question of the origin of the

for-itself and of the nature of the phenomena of the

world, the metaphysician will be able to attack that of

action. .Action in fact is to be considered simul-

taneously on the plane of the for-itself and on that

of the in-itself, for it involves a project which

has an immanent origin and which determines a modifi-

cation in the being of the transcendent. (1956, p. 625)
In the next chapter, I refer to this action as the worlding
of being—in-itself. For now note that Sartre indicates our

primordial activity of worlding being results in its

6

modification, which is nothing other than a world. I contend
Sartre's Critique, vol. 1 explicates the modifications of
the in—itself brought about by our ancestors and does so in
terms compatible, yet beyond, the ontological categories of
Being and Nothingness, because it theorizes about our
ancestors' worlding activity of being. As a consequence, I
believe Sartre's Critique is a "metaphysical" supplement to
the ontology of Being and NOthingness.
Early on in the Critique, Sartre says,
. . . the epistemological starting point must always be
consciousness as apodictic certainty (of) itself and as
consciousness of such and such an object. But we are
not concerned, at this point, with interrogating con-
sciousness about itself: the object it must give
itself is precisely the life, the objective being, of
the investigator, in the world of Others, in so far as
this being totalizes itself from birth and will
continue to totalize itself until death. (1991, p. 51)
Note that what Sartre says here about the "epistemological
starting point" is in full accord with the claims made in
Being and Nethingness. This suggests that Sartre, in the
Critique, does not reject the existential approach of the
earlier work. And the remainder of the passage supports my
metaphysical supplement thesis. Moreover, Sartre's second-
ary title to the Critique, vol. 1, which is "Theory of
Practical Ensembles", lends support to my metaphysical
supplement thesis. 'Ensemble' refers to a collection of
human beings and their relationships; a "practical" ensemble
refers to the actions of human beings along with the prod-

ucts created by their actions. This suggests that Sartre's

Critique does aim to explain our ancestors' worlding of

being. .And since an existential freedom ethicist would want
to supplement her ontology with a metaphysics to understand
why our world is as it is, e.g., why oppression exists,
Sartre's Critique is a necessary supplement to Sartre's
phenomenological ontology.

This brings me to a fundamental difference between my
project and Thomas C. Anderson's Sartre's Two Ethics.
Though Anderson makes extensive use of the Netebooks to
develop an existential freedom ethic, he holds the Critique
presents an "ontology" opposed to the ontology of Being and
Nethingness and that the "ontology" of Sartre's Critique
supports an ethics distinct from the existential freedom
ethic supported by the phenomenological ontology. As a
prOponent of the radical break thesis, Anderson holds there
are two philosophically incompatible periods of Sartre's
writings, one including Sartre's work prior to his Critique
and the other including the Critique and subsequent texts.
Although Sartrean scholars who hold the radical break thesis
support it in different ways, they all maintain the Critique
connotes a departure from the existentialist outlook of
Being and Nethingness. With my supplement thesis I have
contended otherwise. Even Sartre, when asked in a 1975
interview about the change in his ontology, said, "No it has
not changed. L'Etre et le Néant deals with ontology, not the
Critique de la raison dialectique. (Schilpp 1981, p. 41)

Here I have given a prima facie case that Sartre's

Critique is compatible with Being and NOthingness, is an

essential supplement to Sartre's ontology, and is necessary
to the development of a defensible existential freedom
ethic. I believe the text that follows will substantiate
these somewhat controversial claims. Moreover, in the text
that follows, I hope to demonstrate what an existential
freedom ethic is. By weaving together the ethically rele-
vant threads of the three Sartrean texts mentioned and of
Beauvoir's ethics, I hope to demonstrate that an existen—
tial freedom ethic can be coherent, consistent, adequate,

and practically efficacious——in short, viable.

CHAPTER ONE
ROAD TO AN EXISTENTIAL FREEDOM ETHIC

In this chapter I pave, so to speak, the road to an
existential freedom ethic. I discuss and argue for my
interpretation of Sartre's conception of human freedom; I
discuss and present arguments for believing human beings are
free; I entertain and reply to objections to the feasibility
of an existential freedom ethic; and I describe the nature
and content of the normative principles of this ethic. All
in all, I hope to make a prima facie case for the internal
consistency and coherency, as well as the practical effi-

cacy, of this existential freedom ethic.
Interpretation and Defense of Human Freedom

Because my characterization and defense of an existen-
tial freedom ethic is founded on the ontology Sartre sets
forth in Being and Nothingness, I shall begin there. For
Sartre, ontology is concerned with the question of being,
i.e., what are the fundamental categories of reality, what
characteristics can be ascribed to these categories, and
what are the relations between them. And since Sartre's
philosophical method here is phenomenology, consciousness is
his point of departure. He begins with two questions: What
is the being of the phenomenon? What is the being of con-
sciousness? In reply to the first question, Sartre says,
the being of the phenomenon is in—itself, and with regard to
the second, he says, the being of consciousness is

10

for-itself. But what do these neologisms mean?

To say that the being of the phenomenon is in-itself
means it is what it is. This means it is inert and perfect-
ly coincides with itself. The law of its being is identity.
It also means that being—in—itself is uncreated and is
without reason; yet, it is. And its existence is contin—
gent; yet, it does exist. In other words, being-in-itself‘s
existence is a fact and the fact of its existence is inex—
plicable. In short: it is the given.

To say that the being of consciousness is for—itself
means it is what it is not and is not what it is. This
means the being of consciousness is an activity, not a
state. It means a for-itself reaches out from the present
to the past, which no longer is, and to the future, which is
not yet. And it means a for—itself is necessarily trans-
cending. Through the act of transcending, the for-itself
creates a relation with being-in—itself that is nothing
other than a world. Or metaphorically put: a for-itself
illumines the otherwise colorless being-in-itself and lights
up value, meaning, structure, instrumentality, possibility,
and differentiation. In so doing, a for-itself discovers
and creates a world.

A world, then, is a structured, meaningful, practical,
conceptual, and textured background and foreground made for
and by any for-itself. And because the being of a for—
itself is an activity and because creating a world out of

being-in—itself is a for-itself's most primordial activity,

11

I call this activity 'worlding'.1

A for-itself cannot create a world ex nihilo. This
means that, though the existence of being—in-itself is not
in itself necessary, it is necessary in order for a for—
itself to create a world. Moreover, since the very exis—
tence of the for—itself arises only through its worlding of
being—in—itself, being-in-itself's existence is necessary
relative to the existence of being-for-itself. Consequently,
I shall refer to being—in-itself as 'being'. And since a
world arises only through the for-itself's worlding of
being, the existence of a for—itself, though in itself
contingent, is necessary relative to the existence of a
world. Lastly, since the existence of a for—itself erupts
only if it worlds being, the being of a for-itself is cor—
relative to the being of its world. Therefore, the being of
the for-itself--that is, the being of consciousness--is
necessarily being—in-a-world.

The original contingency of the existence of a for-
itself, together with its necessary relatedness to being, is
what Sartre calls 'facticity'. Among other things, facti-
city also signifies the historical character of the being of
a for—itself.2

In summary, the being of consciousness is being-in-a-
world. Its being is a process and its most primordial
activity is worlding the inert and indifferent in—itself.
And since the being of consciousness is dependent on, yet is

not caused by, being, the existential phenomenologist steers

12

clear of Berkeleyan idealism and of Hobbesian materialism.
She also steers clear of Berkeleyan idealism and Hobbesian
materialism, because the being of the world is not solely
conceptual, nor is it solely material. And since both being
and consciousness are in themselves contingent, this onto-
logy represents a metaphysics of possibility, not a meta-
physics of necessity.

Now, to understand how and why Sartre's phenomeno-
logical ontology demonstrates we are free, I shall interpret
the following passage from Being and NOthingness in rela-
tionship to that ontology.

Man's relation with being is that he can modify it.

For man to put a particular existent out of circuit is

to put himself out of circuit in relation to that

existent. In this case he is not subject to it; he is
out of reach; it can not act on him, for he has retired
beyond nothingness. Descartes following the Stoics has
given a name to this possibility, . . . it is freedom.

But freedom here is only a name. . . . It is not yet

possible to deal with the problem of freedom in all its

fullness.15 In fact the steps which we have completed
up to now show clearly that freedom is not a faculty of
the human soul to be envisaged and described in isola-
tion. What we have been trying to define is the being
of man in so far as he conditions the appearance of
nothingness, and this being has appeared to us as
freedom. . . . there is no difference between the being

of man and his being—free. (1956, pp. 24-24)

Starting from the end, what have we learned about human
freedom?3 Freedom is our very being, because, in my words,
we transcend being when we world it, and we can transcend
being, because our being is for-itself. Take note, though,
of the specific type of argument Sartre here employs to
demonstrate that our being is being-free. It is a trans—

cendental argument. He begins with actual human behaviors

13

and asks what would be necessary for such behaviors to be
possible. Freedom is the condition for the possibility of
asking a question, for the possibility of expecting a
future, for the possibility of remembering a past, for the
possibility of effecting a phenomenological epoché, etc.
Therefore, since such human behaviors are actual, we are
free. And since our very being is freedom, Sartre calls our
being 'being-free'. Yet, since our existence is for-it—
self, which is necessarily in—a-world, our being is also
being-in-a-world.

Finally, we have learned being—free is necessarily
situated, because "freedom is not a faculty of the human
soul to be envisaged and described in isolation". But why
is this so? It is so because our being-free is being-in-a—
world. Moveover, since our being is being-in-a-world, our
existence is necessarily perspectival. This being so, our
being is necessarily bodily, because having a perspective
requires that one have a body. Even so, it is purely con—
tingent each of us has the body and perspective we do.
Sartre adds,

This point must be will understood. For this necessity

appears between two contingencies; on the one hand,

while it is necessary that I be in the form of being—
there, still it is altogether contingent that I be, for

I am not the foundation of my being; on the other hand,

while it is necessary that I be engaged in this or that

point of View, it is contingent that it should be pre-
cisely in this view to the exclusion of all others.

This twofold contingency which embraces a necessity we

have called the facticity of the for-itself. (1956, p.

308)

Due to the facticity of our being, we cannot exist as a

14

disembodied view from nowhere. But why doesn't facticity
destroy our freedom? Or, in other words, why is being—in—a-
world compatible with being-free?

To answer this question, I shall explain the rela—
tionship between the facticity and transcendence of our
existence. Facticity is internally related to our trans—
cendence. An internal relation is one in which the terms of
the relation cannot exist independently of that very rela—
tion. Now, since in a causal relationship the cause exists
necessarily independently of its effect, internal related-
ness is a sufficient condition for a non-causal relation—
ship. Therefore, if I can prove that facticity and trans-
cendence are internally related, then the relationship is a
non-causal one. And if that is so, then facticity, rather
than undercutting freedom, is actually an essential aspect
of our being-free.

Here's how it works: one's past is related to one's
future as means are to end. When projecting an end, one
illuminates the means. The future, as the projected end,
necessarily illuminates the past, which will constitute the
means to achieving the projected end. And the past, as the
means to an end, only comes into being when we project an
end. Sartre explains further,

the very contingency of freedom and the world which

surrounds this contingency with its own contingency

will appear to freedom only in the light of the end
chosen; that is, not as brute existents but in the
unity of illumination of a single nihilation. . . . We
shall use the term situation for the contingency of
freedom in the plenum of being of the world inasmuch as

this datum, which is there only in order not to

15

constrain freedom, is revealed to this freedom only as

already illuminated by the end which freedom chooses.

(1956, p. 487)

The contingency to which Sartre refers is our facticity.
Facticity, then, is not to be equated with uninterpreted
facts, since transcendence gives rise to facticity. There—
fore, the relationship between transcendence and facticity
is an internal relationship, because the relationship of a
projected end to its means is an internal relation, just as
the relationship of a projected future to the past is inter-
nal.

This internal relation between transcendence and
facticity is one's situation or world, since situation
refers to the product of the particular way in which each of
us worlds being. 'Situation' incorporates the notion that
one's relationship to being is dependent on one's particular
manner of worlding it and that one's particular manner of
worlding being is also dependent on being. In other words,

The given in—itself as resistance or as aid is revealed

only in the light of the projecting freedom. . . .

Therefore it is only in and through the free upsurge of

freedom that the world develops and reveals the resis-

tance which can render the projected end unrealizable.

Man encounters an obstacle only within the field of his

freedom. . . . What is an obstacle for me may not be so

for another. There is no obstacle in an absolute
sense, but the obstacle reveals its coefficient of
adversity across freely invented and freely acquired
techniques. The obstacle reveals this coefficient also
in terms of the value of the end posited by freedom.

(1956, p. 488)

So, how one worlds being will reveal either a hostile or a
hospitable personal situation. And what Sartre calls the

'coefficient of adversity or assistance' arises from the

16

interplay of transcendence and facticity.

While it is true that the transcendence of being—free
refers to our projected end as an autonomous choice, the
facticity of being-free refers to the context illuminated by
that choice. Thus, one's particular facticity is not ran—
dom, since it arises within the scope of a projected end;
nor is one's transcendence a boundless power to get whatever
one wants, since the act of projecting an end necessarily
reveals a structured and meaningful aspect of being.

In summary our very being is freedom, but being-free is
Janus-like. If one looks at it only from the aspect of
transcendence, it appears as a power to do whatever one
likes, and if one looks at it only from the aspect of
facticity, it appears as an ineffectual power. The truth,
however, is: being—free is both transcendence and facti—
city. Being—free entails one's choice of an end is undeter-
mined, yet when an end is projected, the means to that end
are illuminated and are partially constitutive of the
achieved end. And that our being-free is ambiguous also
means that our being is both situated and always beyond its
situation--that is, we both create and discover a world.

Up to his point I have not discussed the relationship
between my being-free and the being-free of other persons,
because that there is more than one person is a contingent
fact, not an ontological necessity. Sartre explains,

There is no doubt that my belonging to an inhabited

world has the value of a fact. It refers to the origi—

nal fact which, as we have seen, can not be deduced
from the ontological structure of the for—itself. And

17

although this fact only makes our facticity more deep-
rooted, it does not evolve from our facticity in so far
as the latter expresses the necessity of the contingen-
cy of the for-itself. (1956, p. 512)

And commenting on the relevance of the existence of other
persons in relationship to one's freedom, Sartre says,

We must recognize that we have just encountered a real
limit to our freedom—-that is, a way of being which is
imposed on us without our freedom being its foundation.
. . . by the fact of the Other's existence, I exist in
a situation which has an outside and which due to this
very fact has a dimension of alienation which I can in
no way remove from the situation any more than I can
act directly upon it. (1956, pp. 524-525)

In other words, since it is through for-itselfs that meaning
arises-—that being is worlded--and since other for-itselfs
have existed before we have, as well as exist contempora-
neously with us, each of us has arisen in an already-made
world, in a world in which meaning is already ascribed to
each of us, and in a personal situation that has an objec-
tive form, i.e., an "outside". As a consequence, each of us
has arisen in a world not of our own making, has character-
istics not of our own choosing, and has a personal situation
seen by other for—itselfs. All of this raises the question
of whether one's being-free is undercut by the being-free of
other for-itselfs. Yet Sartre claims it is not. He says,
This limit to my freedom is, as we see, posited by the
Other's pure and simple existence--that is, by the fact
that my transcendence exists for a transcendence. Thus
we grasp a truth of great importance: we saw earlier,
keeping ourselves within the compass of existence-for-
itself, that only my freedom can limit my freedom; we
see now, when we include the Other's existence in our
considerations, that my freedom on this new level finds
its limits also in the existence of the Other's free-
dom. Thus, on whatever level we place ourselves, the
only limits which a freedom can encounter are found in

freedom. (1956, p. 525)
18

But is Sartre's reasoning here correct?

I've argued that facticity does not destroy one's
being-free, because one's facticity is internally related to
one's transcendence. But another person's transcendence is
not internally related to one's own facticity, since the
objective form of one's own situation, which is created by
another person's transcendence, is external to one's own
transcendence and, thus, is external to one's own facticity,
which arises only with one's own transcendence. So, Sartre
is equivocating on the phrase 'limits to freedom', since
'limits to freedom' on the level of one's being—for-itself
refers to the self-limiting aspect of one's own being-free
and 'limits to freedom' on the level of being-for-others
refers to one's own being—free as limited by another's
being-free. As a result, Sartre has not shown that one's
freedom, which is limited by another person's freedom, is
not thereby undercut; however, what Sartre says in the
passages cited indicates why one's freedom is not undercut.

Another person's choice of a projected end cannot
causally determine one's own choice of a projected end,
because one's own being is being—free, which means one's own
choice of a projected end is necessarily undetermined. In
other words, the transcendence of another person's being-
free cannot, so to speak, butt up against the transcendence
of one's own of being-free. And since it cannot, the trans—
cendence of one's own being-free cannot be undercut. How-

ever, since one's choice of a particular end reveals the

19

means to the achievement of that end and since this reveals
one's objective form and the already-made world, it is true
that, though one's facticity is distinct from the existence
of other persons, the existence of other persons makes one's
own facticity "more deep-rooted". This means that just as
the facticity of one's own being—free gives rise to a coef—
ficient of adversity or assistance, so too does one's being—
for-others, which is the "facticity" of one's being in an
already inhabited and made world, give rise to a human coef-
ficient of adversity or assistance. In addition to this,
the fact of the existence of other for-itselfs creates the
possibility for other for—itselfs to intentionally help or
hinder one's achievement of his or her autonomously chosen
goal. So although the existence of other persons does not
destroy one's own being-free, another person's being-free
does, in the sense described, limit one's own being—free.

As an illustration of how the existence of other per—
sons limits, but does not destroy, one's own being-free
consider the following possibility. Suppose I have chosen
to become a physician, and let's further suppose I was born
in a world in which women, as well as Blacks, are prohibited
from going to medical school. Note first: I have been born
in a world in which going to medical schools is a possibi-
lity, because other persons have brought this possibility
into being. And though my choice of going to medical school
is autonomous, this choice is a possibility because other

persons have created a world where medical schools exist.

20

But, if I am Black or a woman or both, then my choice to go
to medical school is a possibility made impossible in such a
world. Thus, the being-free of other persons limits one's
own being-free by expanding or contracting the horizon of
one's being-in-the-world.

Even so, Sartre's characterization of our being-free
often seems to concern itself only with autonomy of choice
and, thus, seems unrelated to the issue of how other persons
can in fact limit one's own being-free. For example con—
sider the following passage. Sartre says,

. . . it is necessary to point out to "common sense"

that the formula "to be free" does not mean "to obtain

what one has wished" but rather "by oneself to deter-
mine oneself to wish" (in the broad sense of choosing).

In other words, success is not important to freedom.

The discussion which opposes common sense to philoso-

phers stems here from a misunderstanding: the empiri-

cal and pOpular concept of "freedom". . . is equivalent
to "the ability to obtain the ends chosen". The tech-
nical and philosophical concept of freedom. . . means
only autonomy of choice. It is necessary, however, to
note that choice, being identical with acting, suppos-
es commencement of realization in order that the choice
may be distinguished from the dream and the wish. Thus
we shall not say that a prisoner is always free to go
out of prison. . . nor that he is always free to long
for release. . . but that he is always free to try to

escape (or get himself liberated). . . (1956, pp. 483-

484)

From this passage one might infer we cannot even acknowledge
that other persons can in fact limit one's being-free, since
"success is not important to freedom" and since a prisoner
in a world with prisons, or a woman in a sexist world, or a
Black person in a racist world, or a homosexual in a homo—
phobic world, or a laborer in a capitalist world, etc., is

"free". And all of this suggests to critics that Sartre's

21

conception of human freedom is abstract, i.e., freedom is
conceived by Sartre to be unsituated, so his conception
leaves no room for acknowledging, let alone condemning,
oppression.

To answer this objection, I want to make several points
why I believe this objection is without teeth. First, when
Sartre says "success is not important to freedom", I contend
he is only saying lack of success does not prove one's
choices are not autonomous. The inability to achieve one's
end does not, in other words, prove one is not being-free.

Second, "philosophical" freedom exists only if it is
practically oriented, since choosing, for Sartre, is neces-
sarily doing. The choice of an end entails the adoption of
means to that end. A choice, then, is really only a choice
when one takes into account the facticity that will enable
or impede the realization of one's autonomously chosen end.

Third, being-free is meaningful only if failure to
achieve one's autonomously chosen end is possible, since
being—free is not the power to get and do whatever one
likes. Just prior to the passage under discussion, Sartre
says,

There can be a free for-itself only as engaged in a

resisting world. Outside of this engagement the no-

tions of freedom, of determinism, of necessity lose all

meaning. (1956, p. 483)

In other words, what Sartre calls 'philOSOphical' freedom is
necessarily "practical", because 'philosophical' freedom,
i.e., our being as being-free, is necessarily situated.

Fourth, rather than hiding the possibility of

22

oppression, Sartre's "philosophical" characterization of
freedom makes oppression visible and open to moral condemna-
tion. As Sartre says in the Notebooks,
If we pretend that man is not free, the very idea of
Oppression loses all meaning. In the first place, the
oppressor not being free is assimilable to natural
forces whose efficacy against man is borrowed from
freedom itself. Next, the oppressed, not being free,
can only change states. A stone does not oppress, one
does not oppress a stone. (1992a, p. 327)
As a consequence, Sartre's "philosophical" concept of human
freedom is the condition for the possibility of oppression.
And since this account of oppression holds that oppression
arises from being-free, rather than from purely structural
or so-called "natural" sources, an oppressor is open to
ethical condemnation.
In summary, our being-free is necessarily practical.
And since being-free is our very being, no person is more or
less being—free than any other person. Yet, since one's
choice of a particular end will reveal a non-human and human
coefficient of adversity or assistance, the ease with which
one achieves that end is relative to her or his personal
situation--that is, to the particular interplay between
one's facticity and transcendence, one's being-for-others
and autonomously chosen end, and one's being—free and the
being—free of other persons. And although the existence of
other persons does not destroy one's own being-free, the
existence of other persons is what makes oppression possible

and subject to moral condemnation.

This characterization of human freedom as limited has

23

been viewed by some Sartrean commentators as inconsistent
with claims that our freedom is total and absolute. Ander—
son in Sartre's Two Ethics, for example, says,

I believe Sartre's assertions about human freedom being
total, absolute, unlimited and wholly free. . . mean
just what they say, namely, that freedom is not limited
or conditioned a; all by its facticity or situation
because it escapes, transcends, nihilates, denies, and
disengages itself from it. Such statements are, I sub-
mit, simply incompatible with others in which he recog—
nizes some limits to human freedom. (1993, p. 177)

 

And although Detmer in Freedom as a Value does not hold to
Anderson's inconsistency thesis, Detmer's answer to the
apparent contradiction differs from mine. Detmer argues
that Sartre employs two distinct senses of freedom, and that
Sartre's claims about freedom's absoluteness and unlimited-
ness refer solely to what Detmer calls our 'ontological
freedom', whereas Sartre's claims about freedom's limits
refer solely to what Detmer calls our 'practical freedom'.
Yet I have just argued that being-free, which Detmer calls
'ontological' freedom, is not existentially distinguishable
from our practical freedom. Consequently, I shall not argue
the apparent contradiction can be resolved by arguing Sartre
employs two existentially distinct senses of freedom.
Rather, I shall explain why and in what sense our being-free
is unlimited. I shall explain, then, how and why it is
limited. In the process of doing this, I shall show that
the apparent inconsistency arises from the irreducible
ambiguity of our being-free. Whether our being-free is
unlimited or limited depends on which aspect of our being-
free we illuminate.

24

First, our being-free is unlimited in the sense that it
is absolute. It is absolute in the sense that if a for-
itself exists, its being is necessarily being—free. This
means that one's choice of an end is not causally deter-
mined. Thus, our freedom is unlimited in the sense that
one's choice of an end is uncaused. Second, our being-free
is unlimited in the sense that, so long as one exists at
all, one's being—free is indestructible regardless of one's
personal situation. In other words, regardless of the human
and non—human coefficient of adversity or assistance re—
vealed through one's choice of an end, the choice of that
end is uncaused. Note however: neither sense of unlimited
precludes the possibility of limits to being-free and nei—
ther sense implies our being-free is omnipotent. The unlim—
ited aspect of our being-free need not be inconsistent with
its limited aspect. Moreover, there is a third sense of
unlimited that implies a limit. Sartre says,

We have established that the for-itself is free. But

this does not mean that it is its own foundation. If

to be free meant to be its own foundation it would be
necessary that freedom should decide the existence of
its being. . . . it would be necessary that freedom

should decide its being-free; that is not only that it

should be a choice of an end, but that it should be a

choice of itself as freedom. This would suppose there—

fore that the possibility of being-free and the possi-
bility of not-being-free exist equally before the free
choice of either of them--i.e., before the free choice
of freedom. . . . In fact we are a freedom which choos-
es, but we do not choose to be free. We are condemned
to freedom, as we said earlier, thrown into freedom or,

as Heidegger says, "abandoned". (1956, pp. 484-485)

When Sartre says, "we are condemned to be free", he implic-

itly implies our being-free is both unlimited and limited.

25

Our being—free is unlimited, because it is absolute in the
senses previously discussed; but our being—free is limited,
because we did not choose our being. If one is a for-it-
self, then one's being is necessarily being-free. And
although we do have a say in the way in which we play out
our being-free, our freedom is not unlimited in the sense
Anderson contends. Our being-free is not a god-like omnipo-
tence.

Not only is our being-free not unlimited in the sense
Anderson would have us believe, it is in fact necessarily
limited in the sense he would have us not believe. Consider
the following passage from Being and NOthingness:

A freedom which would produce its own existence would

lose its very meaning as freedom. Actually freedom is

not a simple undetermined power. If it were, it would
be nothingness or in-itself; and it is only by an
aberrant synthesis of the in—itself and nothingness
that one is able to conceive of freedom as a bare power
pre-existing its choices. It determines itself by its
very upsurge as a "doing". But as we have seen, to do
supposes the nihilation of a given. One does something
with or to something. Thus, freedom is a lack of being
in relation to a given being; it is not the upsurge of

a full being. (1956, p. 485)

Here Sartre flatly denies our being-free entails the lack of
limits and denies it entails the power to create ex nihilo.
Just as one's choice of an end reveals the means to that
end, so likewise does one's adoption of the means to that
projected end reveal the achieved end. And since the choice
of an end is only really a choice when one illumines means,
the means act as a constraint on the end to the extent that
the choice of the end acts as a constraint on the means.

Another reason our being—free is necessarily limited

26

follows from Sartre's analysis of choice. Sartre explains,

. freedom can exist only as restricted, since

freedom is choice. Every choice as we shall see,

supposes elimination and selection, every choice is a

choice of finitude. (1956, p. 485)

So, although our being-free guarantees the choice of an end
is uncaused, the choice of an end necessarily entails limi—
tation. Our being-free is necessarily self-limiting. Each
time we choose an end we do so to the exclusion of other
possible ends.

In summary, the senses in which our being-free is
unlimited in no way contradict the senses in which it is
limited. In fact, Sartre's characterization of our being-
free as "absolute" and "total", and as necessarily con—
strained follow from the ambiguity inherent to being—free.
We world being-in-itself, yet ontologically require the
existence of being-in-itself; we create facticity, yet we
passively receive facticity's coefficient of adversity or
assistance. We autonomously choose an end, yet passively
receive the human coefficient of adversity or of assistance.
Being-free entails the non-determination of choice, yet
choice entails limitation. Thus, Sartre's characterization
of our being-free reveals the non-equivalence of
unlimitation and non-determination. This is a radical
departure from the more "parochial" understanding of human
freedom as the power to do or to get whatever one wants,
whenever one wants. But this "parochial" freedom is nothing
other than a god—like freedom; whereas, being-free is a mere
mortal's freedom.

27

The Preliminary Description and Defense of the Existential
Freedom Ethic

That our being is being—free signifies value comes into
being through us. And it signifies we are always being-free
regardless of our situation. But having said this, it seems
I have removed the possibility of creating a freedom ethic,
since a freedom ethic is an ethics in which freedom is both
the beginning and end of all ethical action. Freedom is the
beginning of all ethical action, since our being-free is the
origin of value; but if being-free is a given, then it seems
to make no sense to choose freedom as an end.

To overcome the apparent vacuity of the freedom ethic,
I take my lead from Beauvoir who, in The Ethics of Ambi—
guity, responds to this objection. She says,

This objection would mean something only if freedom

were a thing or a quality naturally attached to a

thing. Then, in effect, one would either have it or

not have it. . . . To will oneself free is to effect

the transition from nature to morality by establishing

a genuine freedom on the original upsurge of our exis—

tence. (1948, pp. 24-25)
Although Beauvoir believes she has answered the objection by
pointing out that freedom is not a property or a thing and
by distinguishing between a "genuine" freedom, and the
"original upsurge" of our being as freedom, one might ask
why these points meet the objection. Why does it matter
that freedom is not a property? And why isn't the distinc-
tion between "genuine" and "original" freedom in name only?

First, our being-free is neither a property, nor an

essence, nor a faculty of the human being, because it is an

28

activity. Unlike a property or essence, an activity is not
something one has; it is doing. So, when Beauvoir refers to
a transition from "nature to morality", she is implicitly
suggesting possible modes of our being-free, as well as
explicitly pointing out that willing oneself free entails
the adoption of one mode of being-free over another mode of
being-free. Yet Beauvoir fails to clearly distinguish, in
this passage, being-free from its modes. Even so, I inter-
pret "the original upsurge of our existence" to refer to our
being-free. In addition, I shall refer to two possible
modes of how we live our being-free as 'alienated freedom'
and 'moral freedom'.4 With these distinctions on hand, I
shall explain why this freedom ethic is not, at this stage
in its development, self-aborting—-that is, why willing
freedom as the end of all ethical action is not vacuous.
In the thebooks, Sartre suggests that:
We need to invert the terms of the Kantian problem and
say that there is never heteronomy when one is on the
plane of psychological determinism. If this deter—
minism were to exist, there would be neither heteronomy
nor autonomy but only the necessary unity of intercon—
nected processes. Heteronomy can only affect a freedom
and can only do so through another freedom. (1992a, p.
255)
In other words, since people's choices of an end are never
causally determined by external factors, heteronomy of the
will is a choice, too. And since one's choice of an end is
always autonomous, because one is always being-free, Sartre
uses 'autonomy' and 'heteronomy' in senses different from
that of Kant. I interpret 'autonomy' to mean choosing

moral freedom as one's mode of being—free; I interpret

29

'heteronomy' to mean choosing alienated freedom as one's
mode of being—free.

Moral freedom, which wills itself free, acts in accord
with being-free, and, in so doing, moral freedom worlds
being in terms of opportunities and wills freedom as the
world's foundation. The morally free person, by acting in
accord with her being-free, assumes and wills her primordial
activity of worlding being, which is nothing other than
creating a world founded on freedom. By contrast, alienated
freedom, which attempts to flee its being-free, acts in
disaccord with being-free, and, in so doing, alienated
freedom worlds being in terms at odds with being-free. The
alienatedly free person, by acting in disaccord with being-
free, evades or hides his primordial activity of worlding
being and wills unfreedom as the world's foundation. The
alienatedly free person creates or maintains a world based
on impossible possibles. In any case, since being—free is
the ground for the possibility of both alienated, and moral,
freedom, one can and does choose how one's being-free shall
be played out. Thus, this freedom ethic is not vacuous,
for, though one's being is being-free, to will freedom as
the end of all ethical action is to will oneself morally
free and to will freedom as the world's foundation.

With this preliminary description of two different
modes of being-free before us, I shall now argue that the
main thrust of Being and Nothingness is a description of

being-free in the mode of alienated freedom. Alienated

30

freedom is nothing other than bad faith and the spirit of
seriousness. (The spirit of seriousness involves maintain—
ing that values are objective facts. Bad faith involves a
lie to oneself and makes the spirit of seriousness possi-
ble.) What bad faith does is to emphasize only one aspect
of our ambiguous being-free, or to treat one aspect as if it
were the other aspect. Sartre says,
These two aspects of human reality are and ought to be
capable of valid coordination. But bad faith does not
want either to coordinate them or to surmount them in a
synthesis. Bad faith seeks to affirm their identity
while preserving their differences. It must affirm
facticity as being transcendence and transcendence as
being facticity, in such a way that at the instant when
the person apprehends the one, he can find himself
abruptly faced with the other. (1956, p. 56)
So, bad faith just is alienated freedom, because the person
acting in bad faith acts in disaccord with his or her being—
free. And due to the fact that the ambiguity of our being-
free also stems from the facticity of our being-for-others,
there are, as Sartre explains, more avenues of bad faith.
. . . although this metastable concept of "transcen—
dence—facticity" is one of the most basic instruments
of bad faith, it is not the only one of its kind. We
can equally well use another kind of duplicity derived
from human reality which we will express roughly by
saying that its being-for-itself implies complementari-
ly a being-for-others. Upon any one of my conducts it
is always possible to converge two looks, mine and that
of the Other. (1956, p. 57)
In other words, people in bad faith might choose to
objectify their being—free. For example, one might choose
to identify solely with the facticity of her or his being—
for-others; or one might try to evade her or his being—for-

others and live in the fantasy world of a solipsist. In

31

either case, the person attempts to hide or mask the ambigu-
ity of her being—free. She thereby acts in disaccord with
her being-free, and thus, her mode of being-free just is
alienated freedom.

Acting in the mode of alienated freedom not only bears
on one's relationship to oneself, it also bears on one's
concrete relations to other for—itselfs. Sartre describes
such relations in Being and Nothingness and No Exit. For
example, Estelle, whose choice is to be her being—for—
others, gets lost in the loop of trying to be, for Garcin,
other than what she is and, then, tries to make Garcin be,
for her, other than what he is. Thus, alienated freedom is
not to be equated with the fact of the existence of other
persons, nor is it to be equated with the fact of one's
being-for-others. Alienated freedom is one's active attempt
to flee one's being-free. .Although one way to attempt to
hide one's being-free is to identify solely with the facti-
city of one's being—for-others, alienated freedom does not
arise because of the facticity of one's being-for-others.
Alienated freedom is the decision to live one's being-free
in the presence of other persons as not one's own. Alienat-
ed freedom is, also, the decision to see other persons as
what they are not—-that is, to see other persons as things.
And as a consequence of these decisions, human relations
will be conflictual. So, when Sartre asserts in Being and
Nothingness that our fundamental relations with other per-

sons is necessarily conflictual, I believe this is true only

32

if people enact their freedom alienatedly.

In addition to describing, in Being and Nothingness,
one's relations to other persons when one's mode of being-
free is alienated, Sartre also describes the relations one
has with the world. In the section on "Doing and Having",
Sartre concludes that our relations to the world can be
reduced to either the will to be or the will to have. When
one's relationship to the world is based on the will to be
or the will to have, rather than the will to do, one takes
the world as absolute and essential, not one's own being-
free. When the world, which is really the product of the
for-itself's worlding of being, is viewed as if it were
essential and absolute, one is acting in disaccord with her
being-free, because the world is viewed as an immutable
given instead of an ongoing creation. .Alienated freedom
inverts the relationship between ends and means. The alien-
atedly free person takes herself as a mere means while tak-
ing the given world as causally determining her ends. For
this reason, the world produced and sustained by alienated
freedom is what Sartre rightly calls a 'fake world'. Such a
world is fake, because it is founded on the untruths that
the given world is absolute and essential and one's being-
free is inessential and relative to circumstances.

My interpretation of Being and NOthingness as primarily
describing being-free in the mode of alienated freedom is
supported by passages in the thebooks, which was written

after the publication of Being and Nethingness. In the

33

Notebooks Sartre says,

By alienation, we mean a certain type of relations that

man has with himself, with others and the world, where

he posits the ontological priority of the Other. The

Other is not some specific person but a category or, if

you will, a dimension, an element. . . . In a concep—

tion of the world based exclusively on the Other, the
subject derives all his projects and every thing about
his existence from what he is not and from what does

not exist as he does. (1992a, p. 382)

In other words, alienation signifies living one's life as if
one is not a for-itself, as if one is an in—itself, or a
for—others, or a pure transcendence; as if one does not have
autonomy of choice, as if one's choices are determined by
the given world; as if meaning does not come from oneself,
as if meaning is given; as if subjectivity is not the origin
of value, as if objectivity is the origin of value; as if
one's freedom is not limited, as if one's freedom is omnipo—
tent; as if one does not world being, as if the world is an
immutable given. And all of these untruths arise from no-
thing other than alienated freedom, which corresponds to
Sartre's Being and Nethingness descriptions of bad faith and
the spirit of seriousness.

Also in the thebooks, Sartre says, "In alienated
action one acts in order to be or one acts in order to
have". (1992a, p. 512) And in Being and Nethingness,
Sartre contended that our fundamental relation with the
world is either to be or to have. Consequently, I believe I
am justified in viewing Sartre's Being and NOthingness

descriptions of our relations with the world as descriptions

of relations arising from alienated freedom. And perhaps

34

most importantly, Sartre also says in the Notebooks,

The very fact that Being and NOthingness is an ontology

before conversion takes for granted that a conversion

is necessary and that as a consequence, there is a

natural attitude. (1992a, p. 6)

I interpret this to mean that Being and Nothingness primari-
ly describes being—free in the mode of alienated freedom and
that this mode of being—free is something like a "natural
attitude". Conversion, then, is the adoption of moral
freedom in place of alienated freedom. And this interpreta-
tion is supported by the following passage in the thebooks.

The meaning of conversion: rejection of alienation. . .

To give a foundation to one's being by creating some-

thing outside oneself. The absolute goal: to give

human freedom as the foundation of the world's being.

But this goal is not given, it is willed. (1992a, p.

470)

So, conversion is what I have suggested; it is the transi-
tion from alienated freedom to moral freedom, since it is
alienated freedom that wills unfreedom, and moral freedom
that wills freedom, as the world's foundation.

Now, although Sartre, in Being and Nothingness, does
not explicitly develop the possibility of converting to
moral freedom, he does suggest, in several places, that
conversion is possible. In a note he says,

If it is indifferent whether one is in good faith or in

bad faith, because bad faith reapprehends good faith

and slides to the very origin of the project of good
faith, that does not mean that we can not radically
escape bad faith. But this supposes a self-recovery of
being which was previously corrupted. This self-recov-
ery we shall call authenticity, the description of
which has no place here. (1956, p. 70, f9)

And with regard to our "hellish" relations with others,

Sartre says,

35

These considerations do not exclude the possibility of
an ethics of deliverance and salvation. But this can
be achieved only after a radical conversion, which we
can not discuss here. (1956, p. 412, fl4)
And finally, in the section concerning our relations with
the world where Sartre argues that all activities can be
reduced to either having or being, he says of the project of
doing,

This particular type of project, which has freedom for

its foundation and its goal, deserves a special study.

It is radically different from all others in that it

aims at a radically different type of being. . . . But

such a study can not be made here; it belongs rather to
an Ethics and it supposes that there has been a pre-

liminary definition of the nature and the role of puri-
fying reflection (our descriptions have hitherto aimed

only at accessory reflection.) (1956, p. 581)

Note, on my interpretation, moral freedom corresponds to
what Sartre calls 'authenticity' and, thus, conversion to
moral freedom will require a "purifying" reflection. But
why is this so?

First, reflection of any kind involves throwing into
relief one's situation and is an action because reflection
is intentional. Second, unlike the non—reflective act, the
reflective act questions what one is doing. However, in
questioning what one is doing, one can engage in two radi—
cally different types of reflection. One can merely reflect
on the means to alienated freedom's end; or one can call
that end into question. In the former case, one is engag-
ing in accessory reflection; in the latter case, one is
engaging in non-accessory reflection. Third, one earmark of
non-accessory reflection is the experience of anguish,

because when anguished one has an explicit awareness of her

36

or his freedom. And since having an explicit awareness of
one's freedom is a necessary condition for the possibility
of acting in accord with one's being-free, only non—acces-
sory reflection illuminates the door to moral freedom.

But, since the anguished person's mode of reflection is
non—accessory, we must ask whether anguished reflection is
correlative to being—free in the mode of moral freedom.
There are reasons to think yes and to think no.

In Being and Nothingness Sartre says,

Anguish is opposed to the mind of the serious man who

apprehends values in terms of the world and who resides

in the reassuring materialistic substantiation of

(values. (1956, p. 39)

Sartre's comment seems to imply that anguished reflection,
which is necessarily non-accessory, is correlative to moral
freedom, since, if one is to act in accord with one's being-
free, one must recognize oneself as the foundation of values
and as a being whose being is freedom. But moral freedom
involves more than the explicit recognition of one's being
as being—free; it also entails that one will oneself free.
And since the anguished person does not necessarily do this,
non-accessory, anguished reflection cannot be correlative to
being-free in the mode of moral freedom.

Even so, anguished reflection is not in bad faith and,
thus, is not correlative to alienated freedom. And if one's
mode of being-free must be either alienated, or moral, free-
dom, then my account of modes of being-free cannot adequate-
ly account for non-accessory, anguished reflection. And if

it cannot account for non-accessory, anguished reflection,

37

which I have shown is a necessary condition for the possi-
bility of conversion to moral freedom, then this ethic, even
though it is not vacuous, will be incoherent unless there is
another ethically relevant mode of being-free.

Given the correctness of Sartre's phenomenological
description of anguished reflection, there is, then, an
ethically relevant mode of being-free correlative to an-
guished reflection that is neither alienatedly free nor
morally free. The person who is anguished has suspended her
alienatedly free ways, but has not willed herself morally
free. Metaphorically put: Her mode of being—free is at the
crossroads of alienated, and moral, freedom. Her mode of
being-free is neither alienated, nor moral, freedom, rather
it is anguished freedom" Anguished freedom is, then, corre-
lative to non-accessory reflection and can either fall back
into alienated freedom or give rise to moral freedom.

But now there seems to be a new problem for this ethic.
If alienated freedom's mode of reflection is accessory and
anguished freedom's mode is non-accessory, what is moral
freedom's mode of reflection? It is non—accessory, but non-
accessory reflection appears to be correlative to anguished
freedom. In other words, moral freedom cannot be correla—
tive to non—accessory reflection simpliciter; for then moral
freedom would be identical to anguished freedom, but that
cannot be. The reflection correlative to moral freedom must
be, however, a modification of anguished freedom's non-

accessory reflection, since anguished freedom is a necessary

38

condition for moral freedom. And this is what Sartre right-
ly suggests in the thebooks. He says,

Pure, authentic reflection is a willing of what I will.

It is the refusal to define myself by what I am (Ego)

but instead by what I will. . . (1992a, p. 479)

Unlike anguished, non—accessory reflection, which recognizes
and reflects one's being as being-free, authentic, non-
accessory reflection goes one step farther, since it wills
to act in accord with what anguished reflection has expli—
citly unveiled. Therefore, authentic, non-accessory reflec-
tion is correlative to moral freedom; yet, anguished, non-
accessory reflection is a necessary, but not a sufficient,
condition for authentic, non-accessory reflection.

I have explained what conversion is and what it, to
some extent, involves, and have shown that it is a theore—
tically coherent notion, but I have not as yet proven it to
be possible. And if conversion is not possible, then this
ethic is self-abortive. And since there are at least two
reasons for believing conversion is not possible, the end of
this ethic, while theoretically coherent, is in practice
unachievable.

One reason conversion might not be possible is Sartre's
position in Being and NOthingness that "man is a useless
passion" and his position that bad faith, which is alienated
freedom, constitutes something like a nature. These claims
seem to imply our mode of being-free is necessarily alien-
ated. And if we necessarily must play out our being-free

alienatedly, then the end of this ethic is unachievable.

39

Another reason for believing conversion is not possible
is what Wilkinson calls 'the existentialist paradox of
conversion'. The paradox arises because anxiety, which
reveals one's being as being—free, is supposed to arise from
a person in bad faith, but a person in bad faith is avoiding
anxiety; furthermore, since anxiety unveils one's being as
being—free, it seems as though one must already be acting in
accord with being-free if anxiety is to arise. In other
words, it seems as though authenticity is a necessary condi-
tion for the eruption of anxiety, but the eruption of anxi-
ety arises from a person in bad faith—-that is, a person who
is not authentic. In short, alienated freedom must already
be moral freedom, but this is paradoxical.

To respond to these objections to the possibility of
conversion, 1 shall appeal to Sartre's phenomenological
ontology to show that conversion is possible. First, even
when one lives one's being-free alienatedly, one must be
aware implicitly of one's being as being—free, because
implicit awareness of one's being as being-free is a neces-
sary condition for the very possibility of bad faith, i.e.,
for the very possibility of alienated freedom. Second, even
the alienatedly free person is necessarily being-free, since
alienated freedom is a mode of being-free. Given these two
necessary conditions for the possibility of alienated free-
dom, I shall show that these very conditions are also indi-
vidually necessary and jointly sufficient conditions for the

possibility of conversion to moral freedom.

40

Being-free is a necessary condition for the possibility
of conversion to moral freedom, because, if one's being were
not being-free, one could not act in accord with what one
was not. In addition, implicit awareness of one's being as
being-free is a necessary condition for the possibility of
conversion to moral freedom, because, if one were not aware
implicitly of one's being as being-free, one could not will
oneself to act in accord with what one did not know one was.
Finally, these two conditions are jointly sufficient for the
possibility of conversion to moral freedom, because all that
is required for the possibility-—not the probability-~of
conversion is that conversion be ontologically possible.

Conversion is ontologically possible if it is not
ontologically impossible. Conversion would be ontologi-
cally impossible only if one's being were not being—free or
one were not aware, at least, implicitly, of one's being as
being—free, because adopting a mode of an activity is impos—
sible only if the activity proper is an impossibility or
projecting a mode of that activity is an impossibility.
Therefore, adopting a mode of an activity is possible if the
activity is both possible and can be seen as possible. It
follows, then, that conversion to moral freedom is possible,
since, even when we are in the mode of alienated freedom,
our being is being—free and we are aware implicitly of our
being as being-free.

However, while showing that conversion to moral freedom

is ontologically possible demonstrates that the end of this

41

ethic is theoretically achievable, it does not demonstrate
that the end of this ethic is practically achievable. In
other words, I have shown only the ontological possibility
of conversion and not its concrete possibility. And if
conversion to moral freedom is not concretely possible, then
this ethic is unrealistic.

To show that conversion to moral freedom is concretely
possible, I shall show what makes conversion to moral free-
dom probable. Conversion to moral freedom is likely if
there is a situation common to alienatedly free persons that
would make conversion to moral freedom likely or if there is
something inherent to alienated freedom that would make
conversion to moral freedom likely.

To begin, failure is a common theme of the situation of
each alienatedly free person. And in the Netebooks, right-
ly noting the relevance of failure to the likelihood of
conversion to moral freedom, Sartre says,

conversion may arise from the perpetual failure of

every one of the For-itself's attempts to be. Every

attempt of the For-itself to be In-itself is by defini-
tion doomed to fail. . . . Even though this failure may
be indefinitely covered over, made up for, by itself it
tends to reveal the world as a world of failure, and it
can push the For-itself to ask itself the pre-judicial
question of the meaning of its acts and the reason for
its failure. The problem gets posed as follows: Why
is the human world inevitably a world of failure, what
is there in the essence of human effort such that it
seems doomed in principle to failure? This question is

a solicitation for us to place ourselves on the plane

of reflection and to envisage human action reflectively

in terms of its maxims, its means, and its goals.

(1992a, p. 472)

Consequently, failure might make conversion to moral freedom

likely, since failure might motivate questioning, which

42

itself entails reflection. And if one reflects, then one is
more likely to convert from alienated freedom to anguished
freedom, which in turn makes conversion to moral freedom
more likely.

All in all, it is the likelihood of engaging in reflec-
tion about one's situation that makes conversion to moral
freedom likely. And there are many common situations, other
than those in which failure is recognized, that make such
reflection likely. For example, Wilkinson brought to my
attention that meaningless work or the endless planning
engaged in by "serious" folks makes engaging in reflection
about one's situation likely. Wilkinson says,

Camus suggests anxiety can arise also with a weariness

from repetitive labor; mechanical routine can lead one

finally to ask "Why?" and the question expresses "wear—
iness tinged with amazement". But then for a moment
the grip of bad faith is broken.

Again, one could argue that in order to succeed in
many actions, serious people must plan carefully; but
the ability to plan carefully is all one needs to envi—
sion one's responsibility for one's own future, so one
is thrown by seriousness itself into a crack in bad
faith. (Note on draft H97D, Nov. 25, 1997)

Since the situations involving repetition are common to the
proletariat, and seriousness is common to the bourgeois and
capitalist, conversion to moral freedom is not only ontolog-
ically possible, it is also concretely possible.

In summary, even if alienated freedom constitutes some-
thing like a "nature", alienated freedom does not preclude
conversion to moral freedom, because alienated freedom is a

mode of being-free and because the alienatedly free person

is aware implicitly of her or his being as being—free.

43

Moreover, the failures, or the repetitive acts, or the
seriousness of alienated freedom, sets the stage for the
likelihood of conversion to moral freedom. To paraphrase
Sartre: Ethics is born from the atmosphere of failure.
The Nature, Content, and Prima Facie Justification of the
Fundamental Principles of the Existential Freedom Ethic

I've argued that this existential freedom ethic is not
vacuous, because, though one's being is being—free, there
are different modes of being-free. As a consequence of
there being different modes of being—free, the fundamental
tenet of this ethic, which is that freedom is the end of all
ethical action, means that one must will oneself morally
free and will freedom as the world's foundation. Moreover,
the former entails the latter and vice versa, because, in
this freedom ethic, a person's being is both being-free and
being-in—a-world. In other words, the way in which one
worlds being depends on the mode of one's being—free, and
the mode of one's being—free depends on the way in which one
worlds being. In short, the mode of one's being—free is
correlative to one's manner of worlding being.

Now the end of this freedom ethic is, as Sartre cor-
rectly says, not given, but must be willed. (1992a, p. 6)
This means that the end of this ethic cannot be deduced from
some fact about the world or persons; rather, the end is an
ideal. On the other hand, ideals, or values, are not free-
floating or arbitrary, since they arise from the interplay
of transcendence and facticity. An ideal concerns what is

44

observed to be lacking in the world; it represents what
ought to be, but is not. So, one projects an ideal relative
to a given situation. Now since ideals are possible only if
one's being is being—free, if one projects an ideal, one
must act, for the sake of pragmatic coherency, in accord
with her or his being-free. Therefore, projecting an ideal,
any ideal, entails that one will oneself morally free, since
only moral freedom acts in accord with being-free. And
since the projection of any ideal entails that one will
oneself morally free, the fundamental ideal of this ethic is
that one will oneself morally free. And since willing
oneself morally free entails that one will freedom as the
world's foundation, the other fundamental ideal of this
ethic is that one will freedom as the world's foundation.
Now, with regard to the formal characteristics of this
ethic, firstly, it is goal—based. Secondly, because it is
goal-based, its two fundamental ideals are not based on a
categorical imperative. Thirdly, these fundamental ideals
should not even be thought of as based on a categorical
imperative, because action based on a categorical imperative
necessarily arises from freedom acting in disaccord with
itself. Sartre explains,
The unconditioned will becomes abstract and each per-
son, to the extent that he negates his concrete situa-
tion, in order to obey, constitutes himself as imper-
sonal. This alienated freedom.[my emphasis] that makes
itself impersonal in itself, negating everything about
itself in order to realize an abstract and uncondi-
tioned will that is revealed to it by others who are
impersonal bearers, is duty, that absolute obligation
each one of us can demand from the Others. (1992a, p.

267)
45

In other words, the person trying to act from an uncondi-
tioned will acts in disaccord with her or his being-free,
because being-free cannot be unsituated. And since a cate-
gorical imperative requires one to act in such a way as to
try to realize an unconditioned will, a categorical impera-
tive is a law of being-free in the mode of alienated free—
dom. And since moral freedom is the mode of being-free that
acts in accord with being-free, as well as wills freedom as
the world's foundation, the morally free person will not act
on a categorical imperative. Fourthly, since this ethic is
goal-based, its fundamental ideals can be likened to hypo-
thetical imperatives. Therefore, whatever general types of
actions or requirements will bring about these ideals are
also ideals. In other words, as Kant rightly held, whoever
wills the end must also will the means.

My intention now is to set forth several other ideals
of this ethic that follow from the two fundamental ideals.
And since in this freedom ethic ends and means are neces-
sarily internally related, the means to its ideals must be
consonant with them.

First, if one wills freedom as the world's foundation,
then one must world being in terms of opportunities, not in
terms of demands and not in terms of impossible possibles.
And since willing freedom as the world's foundation dove-
tails with willing oneself free, if one wills oneself free,
then one must create a world in which one's own possible is

a possible for others. Sartre explains,

46

If we were in a world of freedom, each act of each
person would indicate a possible direction of my trans—
cendence. . . . I would choose my own possibles on the
basis of the concrete and finite set of possibles of my
historical society. In a society of oppression, the
original situation is analogous. The concrete set of
possibles determines my freedom's field. Except at the

same time this field is blocked by prohibitions. . . .

It (my freedom) is negatively determined by possibles

that outline a concrete geography of freedom and that

are, at the same time, not its possibles. (1992a, p.

329)

In other words, a world founded on freedom is a world in
which each person's possible is also a possible for every
other person. Consequently, if one will's freedom as the
world's foundation or wills oneself morally free, one must
also will that one's own possible be a possible for every
other person.

Second, if one wills freedom as the world's foundation
or wills oneself morally free, then one must also will the
moral freedom of other persons. This is so because the
world is an on going creation and product not only of one's
own being-free, but also of other persons' being-free. Now
since only the morally free person creates a world where her
possible can be another person's possible, if my ideal end
is that freedom become the world's foundation, then I must
will the moral freedom of other people too.

Third, as a consequence of this ideal, one must also
will that oneself, as well as other persons, be neither
oppressor nor oppressed, since oppression occurs when one
person's possible is another person's impossible possible.5
For example, before voting rights in the United States were

extended to women and black men, the right to vote was an

47

impossible possible for women and black men. And that the
right to vote was an impossible possible for women and black
men demonstrates other people had (in one way or another)
effectively barred women and black men from attaining what
was a possible for white men. It also demonstrates that
freedom was not the foundation of the world-—not the foun-
dation of the country of the "free and the brave", since
some people's possible was other people's impossible possi-
ble.

Fourth, since willing freedom as the world's foundation
requires that one will oneself and other people morally
free, one will also will that oneself and other persons be
both transcendence and facticity. It follows then that if
freedom as the world's foundation is one's ideal end, then
one will assume and make use of his or her facticity. And
since one's facticity includes one's being-for-others and
the fact of other persons, one's being-for-others and other
persons will figure in as means to the ideal end. And since
means and end are internally related, other people figure in
as ends as well. For these reasons, another ideal of this
ethic is that one treat other people as means to the same
extent that one treats them as ends and one treat other
people as ends to the same extent one treats them as means.

From these ethical ideals it follows that an existen-
tial freedom ethic, though it has been charged with quiet-
ism, in fact condemns it. This charge seems to originate,

in part, from Sartre's claim in Being and NOthingness that

48

there is no ethical difference between the leader of nations
and the solitary drunk. (1956, p. 627) However, on my
interpretation of this passage, the passage is not about
morally free persons; rather, it concerns the alienatedly
free person. In the passage in question, the leader of
nations and the solitary drunk are morally equivalent,
because neither embraces moral freedom. Both the leader and
the drunk have chosen to act in disaccord with their being-
free, because both take as their ideal of being the in—
itself—for—itself. Moreover, anyone who wills freedom as
the world's foundation must engage in concrete acts to bring
about this end, but quietism entails just the opposite.
Another consequence of the ideals of this freedom ethic
is that it is not solipsistic. I understand solipsistic,
here, to mean justifying or allowing action undertaken by an
individual without concern for other people or for its
impact on other people. Given this meaning, this ethic is
clearly not solipsistic, since the means to achieving its
ideals, which are its secondary ideals, require the morally
free person to be concerned with the impact of her or his
action on others. And because this freedom ethic is not
solipsistic, Beauvoir in the Ethics of Ambiguity rightly
condemns the actions of the "adventurer". (1948, p. 63)
This brings me to the "authentic" torturer objection.
This objection contends that as long as a person who engages
in torture takes full responsibility for his or her actions,

then she or he cannot be judged unethical by an existential

49

freedom ethic. Detmer explains,
A torturer who candidly says, "I have freely chosen to
kidnap and torture you, and I take full responsibility
for my choice," is apparently above criticism according
to Sartre's theory. . . . The difficulty with Sartre's
theory, then, is it fails to find any basis for distin-
guishing between the authentic torturer's pro-torture
choices and our anti-torture choices. (1988, p. 165)
Contrary to Detmer's contention, this existential freedom
ethic does provide a basis for condemning the "authentic"
torturer. The "authentic" torturer uses torture to get what
he or she wants by reducing another person to her or his
facticity. In so doing, the torturer, whether "authentic"
or not, treats the his or her victim as a mere means. But
as I have shown, if one wills freedom as the world's founda-
tion, then one must treat other persons as ends to the same
extent that one treats them as means. This the "authentic"
torturer does not do. Therefore, the "authentic" torturer
is by no means authentic if by 'authentic' we mean a person
whose end is that freedom become the world's foundation. In
short, the phrase 'authentic torturer' is an oxymoron.
Although I believe this ethic requires one to will the
moral freedom of all people, Anderson in Sartre's Two Ethics
contends that an existential freedom ethic can at most re-
quire one to will the moral freedom of those with whom one
is directly involved. Anderson's view is based on an argu-
ment Sartre gives in Existentialism is a HUmanism, which
Anderson refers to as the 'interdependency argument':
In willing freedom, we discover that it depends entire—
ly upon the freedom of others and the freedom of others
depends on our own. Obviously, freedom as the defini-

tion of man does not depend upon others, but as soon as

50

there is engagement I am obliged to will the freedom of
others at the same time as mine. (1973, pp. 51-52)

According to Anderson's interpretation of this argument, the
interdependence of freedoms is sociopolitical and psycholo-
gical, not ontological, and, as Anderson argues, neither
one's sociopolitical dependence nor one's psychological de-
pendence extends to all people. Anderson reasons as fol-
lows:

if my sociopolitical dependency on others is small (and
I suspect there is little that many human beings can do
to enhance or restrict my freedom), my obligation to
will their freedom is also minimal. Thus, while
Sartre's appeal to interdependency does establish an
obligation for me to promote others' freedoms as ends,
it appears that this obligation does not extend nearly
as far as he wants it to, namely, to the most wretched
of the earth and to the promotion of a worldwide class—
less society and city of ends. (1993, p. 77)

 

Therefore, concludes Anderson, Sartre's argument does not
prove what Sartre, or any other existential freedom ethi-
cist, needs it to prove.

For the sake of argument, let us assume, with Anderson,
that one's psychological and sociopolitical dependence on
other people is small. Even granting this, I believe Ander-
son's interpretation of the interdependency argument is mis-
guided. Anderson's error lies in his conception of one's
relationship to other people and to the world. For Anderson
the world and other people are inessential to one's freedom
unless one has established explicit relations with another.
Yet, I have argued that people are necessarily interdepen-
dent, since each person's being-free is also being-in—the-

world. This means each person is both worlding and worldly,

51

both for—itself and for-others. As a consequence, if one
wills freedom as the world's foundation, then, as I have
argued, one must also will the freedom of all people.
Granted it is practically impossible to fight for every
cause, so one must choose. Nevertheless, moral freedoms
create a world in terms of opportunities, and, in so doing,
they at the very least indirectly promote the freedom of all
people. For these reasons, though Sartre's argument may not
have made it clear why one is required to will the freedom
of all people, I believe I have clarified why we are; there-
fore, Anderson's objection is empty.

At this point, I want to stress that the ideal of this
ethic is not an aggregate freedom. Moral freedoms world
being into a highly differentiated mosaic, because the
actions of morally free individuals can and should manifest
themselves in different ways. The latter follows from
acting in accord with being—free, which is necessarily
limited and situated. The morally free person assumes and
wills the conditionality of her or his particular project.
As a consequence, what moral freedoms ought to do specifi—
cally to bring about freedom as the world's foundation will
depend, and ought to depend, on their own facticities and
personal situations.

Having said this, we can see that the particular con—
tent of the end sought in this ethic is conditional, con-
crete, and relative to individual choice. Even so, this

ethic does condemn torture, oppression, quietism,

52

indifference, and solipsism, because, even at this rela-
tively formal level, this ethic is based on an ontology in
which means and ends are intertwined. This means that for
this existential freedom ethic the end only justifies means
consonant with the its end and the means used to achieve its

end are often intermediate ends.

Summary of "Road to an Existential Freedom Ethic"

I have given my interpretation of Sartre's conception
of human freedom, have presented Sartre's arguments for
human freedom and have buttressed his arguments with my own.
On my interpretation of Sartre's conception of human free-
dom, freedom is our very being. Even so, human freedom is
both limited and unlimited, because it is irreducibly ambig-
uous. It is irreducibly ambiguous because being-free is
both transcendence and facticity.

I have also entertained objections to the coherency,
consistency, and practical efficacy of an ethic founded on
Sartre's phenomenological ontology. I have met the vacuity
objection by explicitly revealing and characterizing two
distinct modes of being-free. I have answered the paradox
of conversion objection and related objections to the theo-
retical and practical coherency of an existential freedom
ethic. In addition, I have refuted several of the perennial
objections to the coherency and adequacy of an existential
freedom ethic, e.g., I have shown that this ethic is not

solipsistic and does condemn oppression.

53

Finally, I[ have given time formal characteristics and
fundamental ideals of this ethic. Now, although I have
described and argued for the fundamental ideals of this ethic,
the descriptions here are incomplete and the arguments are
prima facie. In the next chapter, I shall buttress the
arguments, and in the third chapter, I shall more fully
describe the morally free person, her ways of worlding being

and her ways of interacting with other persons.

54

NOTES

1. In the thebooks Sartre refers to "man's worlding pro-
ject" while discussing our relationship to Being. (1992a,
p. 503) Sartre, however, does not develop the verb 'to
world' as a technical concept.

2. Sartre says, "This contingency of the for-itself, this
weight surpassed and preserved in the very surpassing--this
is Facticity". (1956, p. 118)

3. Sartre's footnote 15 refers the reader to part four,
chapter one, in which Sartre describes human freedom in more
detail and explicitly argues that human freedom is necessar-
ily limited. After discussing this passage, I shall turn to
part four of Being and Nethingness, which has been neglected
or decontextualized by many Sartrean scholars.

4. Although I here discuss only two possible modes of
being-free, I don't mean to imply that these are the only
possible modes of being-free. And since I have mentioned
the possibility of other modes, I want to say I discuss
another ethically relevant mode later.

5. Neither utilitarianism nor Kantianism in theory condemns
oppression. Granted the Kantian must not treat another in
his/her person as a mere means, but the Kantian is not re—
quired to act against oppression, because the Kantian has
only an imperfect duty to help others. For example, I
imagine many German Kantians during Hitler's reign acted in
compliance with Nazi demands, since the Kantian has a per-
fect duty to tell the truth but only an imperfect duty to
help others. So the Kantian might very well act in complic-
ity with the oppressor. As far as the utilitarian is con—
cerned, oppression, in theory, is not ruled out as unethi—
cal, because means to the utilitarian end are morally neu-
tral. If the maximization of aggregate happiness is
achieved by oppressing some people, then oppression is
permissible. For example, I imagine slave-owners used this
reasoning to rationalize the institution of slavery.

6. Neither the utilitarian nor the Kantian have our under-
standing of the means—end relationship, because neither
views our being as being-in—the-world. The utilitarian does
not see our being as being-in-the-world, because, for the
utilitarian, the self does not create itself while it cre-
ates the world and the world is not created when one makes
the self, rather the self and the world are distinct, aggre-
gate consequences of mechanical causation. And the Kantian
does not see our being as being—in-the-world, because the
"true" self is a transcendental ego.

55

CHAPTER TWO
FREEDOMS' LEGACY

In the previous chapter, I argued conversion to moral
freedom is possible even if alienated freedom constitutes
something like our nature; I argued oppression arises from
alienated freedom; I argued only freedom limits freedom; and
I argued we ought to will freedom as the world's foundation,
as well as will ourselves and other persons morally free.
Although I believe my characterization of being—free at the
ontological level gives prima facie evidence for the truth
of these conclusions, my primary task in this chapter is to
bolster the arguments for these conclusions by moving to a
"metaphysics" of our world. I also hope my discussion of
freedoms' legacy, which is nothing other than the world
created by our predecessors, will motivate conversion to
moral freedom, for Sartre's metaphysics of our world
demonstrates what happens when being-free is played out

alienatedly.

Metaphysics of Our World

In the Introduction, I argued Sartre's ontology de—
scribes the fundamental categories of Being, whereas his
metaphysics explains why we have the world we do. And since
the world is the product of the way in which for-itselfs
world being—in-itself and since we have arisen in an al-
ready-made world, I believe a Sartrean metaphysics explains
the way in which our predecessors created the already-made

56

world into which we arise as being—free.

In the Critique of Dialectical Reason, vol. 1, Sartre
reveals that the fundamental modification in being brought
about by our predecessors' worlding of being is practico-
inert being. Practico-inert being was not "there in the
beginning" and, therefore, is not of an ontological order.
On the other hand, it is with us now and is the most funda-
mental modification of being brought about by the worlding
activity of our predecessors; therefore, practico-inert
being is of a metaphysical order, and it is of an anthropo-
logical order, because it is a human creation.

Practico-inert being is the product of the particular
way in which our predecessors have worlded being. It encom-
passes all practical, material constructions, e.g., bridges,
dams, buildings, machines, computers, clothing, and streets.
And because practical constructions constitute our predeces-
sors' most fundamental manner of worlding being, Sartre
calls this modification of being 'practico'. He calls it
'inert', because this modification of being is the product,
not the activity itself, of our predecessors' worlding of
being. In addition, it is inert, because this human product
weighs down the descendants of this already worlded aspect
of being.

Sartre also characterizes this weighty product of human
praxis as ossified praxis, because it constitutes the "re-
mains" of human action. For example, the Mackinac Bridge is

ossified praxis, because it is the result of the practical

57

worlding activity of for-itselfs; whereas, the Mackinac
Bridge in the making is praxis itself. While the bridge was
being made, the bridge was itself a human end; but once the
bridge was completed it became a human remains and means.
Big Mac was not "there in the beginning", but it exists now
and is a means by which we can drive or walk across the
Straits of Mackinac. This shows why practico-inert being is
ossified praxis, because it is a consequence of intentional,
goal—directed action.

Continuing with the Big Mac example, the bridge is not
only the tangible remains of human action, it also is
"haunted" with meaning and significance, because it points
beyond itself to a particular use, to those who built it,
and to those who planned it.1 Therefore, the bridge, or any
ossified praxis, has a human meaning and significance inde-
pendent of any personal meaning that I or any other person
might attribute to it. As a consequence ossified praxis is
also socialized matter.

Although Sartre alludes to ossified praxis when, in
Being and NOthingness, he discusses instrumental-complexes,
his characterization of practico-inert being in the Critique
of Dialectical Reason goes beyond his Being and NOthingness
descriptions of instrumental-complexes.2 We learn from his
Critique that human action on practico-inert being gives
rise to the further modifications of being: counter—finali—
ties, exigencies, and interests.

Let's begin with a look at what a counter—finality is.

58

First, a finality is a human end set by one's own being-free
and brought about through praxis. Second, a finality be-
comes counter when it turns back on itself. In other words,
a counter-finality takes place when one's action destroys
the very goal that one was attempting to attain by that
action. Third, there are three conditions necessary for the
possibility of a counter-finality. Sartre says,

The first thing that is necessary for a counter-final-

ity to exist is that it should be adumbrated by a kind

of disposition of matter. . . . Second, human praxis
has to become a fatality and to be absorbed by inertia,
taking on both the strictness of physical causation and
the obstinate precision of human labour. . . . Last,
and most important, the activity must be carried on
elsewhere . . . . These actions, which are legion and,
as actions, both identical and irreducible, are united

by the matter they unify. (1991, pp. 162-163)

I shall now illustrate how these three conditions give rise
to a counter—finality.

Consider the use farmers made of DDT to kill insects in
order to increase the yield of their crops. The finality,
in this case, is increased crop yield. But the actual
result is a counter-finality: crop yields were decreased,
because resistant insects came into being as a result of DDT

3 The first condition was fulfilled: insects have a

use.
fast rate of reproduction and a concomitant genetic respon-
siveness to changes in the environment; therefore, there was
a foreshadowing of insect strains resistant to DDT. The
second condition was fulfilled because DDT use was treated
as a necessity of efficient farm practices. And the third
condition was fulfilled because DDT use was carried on at

many times and places--that is, DDT use was repeated on the

59

same farm and occurred on more than one farm.

Although one might be tempted to think a counter—final—
ity is to be identified with the coefficient of adversity--
since both concern impediments to achieving one's finality-—
I believe this view is incorrect, because a counter-finality
is the result of human actions and a coefficient of adversi-
ty arises with the commencement of human action. Consider
now the pesticide example. Although the use of DDT resulted
in a counter-finality, there was no experienced resistance
commencing with the application of DDT. This suggests that
the coefficient of adversity approached zero. (In fact, it
may be because the coefficient of adversity approached zero
that DDT use became legion.) And since this demonstrates
that an action can result in a counter-finality even when
the coefficient of adversity approaches zero, this fact
suggests that a counter-finality is—-in addition to being
conceptually distinct from the coefficient of adversity--
practically distinct from the coefficient of adversity.
Therefore, a counter—finality is distinct from the coeffi-
cient of adversity.4

Another modification of being is an exigency. Like a
counter—finality, an exigency arises from practico—inert
being; however, unlike a counter—finality, which is a result
of human praxis that undercuts the aims of one's very prax-
is, an exigency is a result of human praxis that prescribes
future action. An exigency is a "command" arising from the

practico-inert. A "command" arises from the practico-inert

60

when the practico-inert appears unchangeable and intransi—
gent. And when this occurs, peOple must yield to the
practico-inert demand. For examples, the woman must change
herself to work on the machine, rather than changing the
machine, since the machine requires that she work at a
particular speed and not one of her choosing, and the com—
puterization of university data demands departments put a
cap on the number of times a course can be taken. In fact,
pesticide use in the United States is currently an exigency
of agri-business. In addition, the demand for the creation
of new pesticides to stay ahead of those resilient, repro-
ductively prolific insects is another type of exigency.

This brings me to another modification of being of
metaphysical import: interest. Explaining this modifica-
tion of being, Sartre says,

As soon as an objective ensemble is posited in a given

society as the definition of an individual in his

personal particularity and when as such it requires
this individual to act on the entire practical and
social field, and to preserve it (as an organism pre-
serves itself) and develop it at the expense of the
rest (as an organism feeds itself by drawing on its
exterior milieu), the individual possesses an interest.

(1991, p. 199)

For example, the head of Dow chemical and the scientists
employed by Dow have an interest in maintaining pesticide
use, since they are objectively defined by the agri-business
complex and, as a consequence, have an interest in encourag-
ing pesticide use, even at the expense of those who apply

it, even at the expense of poisoning the environment.

An interest is actually a species of exigency, since it

61

too is a command arising from practico—inert being. But one
is motivated to obey an exigency, proper, because the
practico-inert appears intransigent; whereas, the motivation
to obey an interest is that an interest feeds one's ego.
One's ego is what Sartre holds it to be, i.e., it is one's
objective being; therefore, an interest is "objective". (As
a result, this existential freedom ethic's conception of an
interest runs counter to those ethical theories that main-
tain an interest is subjective.)

The upshot, however, of whether a person obeys an
interest or an exigency is the same: in either case, the
person maintains the status quo and claims to have no choice
in the matter. Yet, "it is by and through men that these
exigencies arise, and they would disappear if men did",
because it is our being—free that creates and sustains exi-
gencies and interests. (1991, p. 191) So people who claim
they have no choice but to maintain the status quo have in
fact made the choice to do just that. And notice that such
a choice, though autonomous since our being is being-free,
is the choice of alienated freedom, since the person's deci—
sion is based on the view that values are given. Sartre
suggests as much in his Critique when he says,

. . . the very praxis of individuals or groups is

altered in so far as it ceases to be the free organiza-

tion of the practical field and becomes the re-organi-
zation of one sector of inert materiality in accordance
with the exigencies of another sector of materiality.

(1991, p. 191)

When people choose their ends by giving in to the practico-

inert demands of exigency or interest, their praxis is

62

altered, because their ends are Other-determined and thereby
are based on the choice of alienated freedom. But since it
is their being-free, albeit in the mode of alienated free-
dom, that is responsible for the existence and efficacy of
exigencies and interests, the only limit to freedom here is
freedom itself.
By taking an exigency, whether or not it is an inter-
est, as the reason for an action, one makes being-free a
handmaid to practico-inert being. Whether one is a worker,
a boss, a citizen, etc., if one's actions play the practico-
inert game of exigency and interest, one has chosen to play
the game of the serious. If you doubt me, consider Sartre's
characterization of seriousness. He says,
Man pursues being blindly by hiding from himself the
free project which is this pursuit. He makes himself
such that he is waited for by all the tasks placed
along his way. Objects are mute demands, and he is
nothing in himself but the passive obedience to these
demands. (1956, p. 626)
This is exactly what the person who solely acts from an
exigency or an interest does. Practice—inert being is her
haunted house and she does everything to keep the spirits
alive. Her actions betray passivity and the inertness of
practico-inert being reveals an activity. Rather than
viewing practico—inert being as what it is, namely, a non-
conscious product of our being-free, the person mesmerized
by the spirit of seriousness views the practico-inert as
what it is not: an intentional region of being that was
"there in the beginning" and exists independently of human

thought and action. (Note: Sartre's elucidation of

63

practico-inert being reinforces his contention in Being and
Nothingness that our world is infused by the "serious".)

From my discussion of human action handed over to
practico-inert being, we can begin to get a picture of the
type of sociality created when one's actions are in alle-
giance to the practico-inert. Relations between persons
when founded on the practico—inert will be non—reciprocal
and anonymous. For example, workers will be related to one
another via the exigencies of the work place and their
common experience of the machine's demands unite them in
their objective being. The bond that unites such workers
treats each worker alike; all must obey regardless of physi-
cal, cultural, and attitudinal differences.

Because the social bonds arising from an allegiance to
practice-inert being are based on anonymity and lack of
reciprocity, Sartre refers to this type of sociality as a
series, which is suggestive of the mathematical conception
of a set. A set is a series of numbers externally related
and defined by a rule. Similarly, the social ensemble based
upon practico—inert bonds is a series in this mathematical
sense. (I use the word 'ensemble', rather than 'group',
because a group is a type of social ensemble distinct from a
series and 'ensemble' is neutral with regard to how a col-
lection of peOple are related.)

So, when playing exclusively to practico—inert being,
practitioners are related externally, and a set of such

practitioners is defined by a practico—inert rule, e.g., a

64

common interest or exigency. And since the rule which binds
the practico-inert players is external to each player, the
bonds are based on alterity. And since alterity signifies
Otherness, we can see that the serial ensemble is based on
alienated freedom.

When sociality is based on an interest or exigency, it
is practico—inert being that is essential, not the individu-
al. The interest must be upheld and the exigency must be
heeded regardless of the impact they have on people. And
this is just what happens in a serial ensemble. So though a
serial ensemble, like practico-inert being, was not "there
in the beginning", it is-—at this point in human history--a
very real way in which the human ensemble is united.5

In summary, I have shown practico-inert being is con-
tingent, because it is a human product. And I have argued
the existence of exigencies and interests reveal alienated
freedom as their source. And since we have invested exigen-
cies and interests with the power to control our lives, we
are responsible for the power they exert. Moreover, with
alienated freedom as a founding mode of our relationship to
one another and with this mode of being-free perpetuated
through the ages, practico—inert being has evolved into a
tangled web of exigencies and interests. As a consequence,
our being-free is everywhere enchained, yet present. And
since being-free, albeit in the mode of alienated freedom,
is the source of these chains, even in the haunted hell of

the practico-inert, freedom is the only limit to freedom.

65

Theory of the Origin and Perpetuation of Oppression

In this section I shall theorize about the origin and
perpetuation of oppression by drawing from the ontology and
ethics set forth in the previous chapter and from the meta-
physics of our world set forth in the previous section of
this chapter. I shall argue here that the evolution of
practico—inert being along with its correlative serial
ensembles supports the fundamental implications of this
existentialist ontology and freedom ethic that oppression is
contingent, is produced by alienated freedoms and is possi-
ble only if one's being is being-free.

To begin, for this freedom ethic,

There is a climate of oppression when my free subjec-

tivity gives itself out as inessential, my freedom as

an epiphenomenon, my initiative as subordinated and
secondary, when my activity is directed by the Other

and takes the Other as its end. (1992a, p. 366)

We find that the "climate" of oppression is indeed present
when social relations are mediated by practico-inert being.
Serial ensembles fulfilling its demands have, as I have
argued, made the choice of alienated freedom. By obeying
exigencies, without questioning, or by allowing one's ac-
tions to be determined by one's interests, people have
(perhaps, unwittingly) set the stage for oppression. What
this means is that alienated freedom creates the climate of
oppression and makes it possible. And since alienated free—
dom, which is contingent, is a necessary condition for the
possibility of oppression, oppression, too, is contingent.

But when does alienation give way to oppression? It

66

does when fate appears in human affairs. In the thebooks,

Sartre correctly says,
There is fate when man is free in a fake world; that
is, when he enjoys a limited freedom within another's
project. He is free to choose among several ways. But
they are already arranged in such a way that, whatever
my choice, they will realize the project. What is un-
foreseeable is the choice of means, the way. . . . But
whatever decision gets taken, it is the result that is
blocked.

So in oppression man is fate for man. (1992a, p.

338)
First, in the previous chapter I explained that the world is
fake when it is not explicitly founded on our being-free.
The world is not an immutable given, but when interests and
exigencies are allowed to rule, the world is taken as if it
were an immutable given. When this happens, our being—free
is taken as inessential and the world's foundation is un-
freedom. Second, once we live in a fake world fate, which
is a predetermined future at odds with a person's projected
and chosen future, can appear. Fate can appear in a fake
world, because interests upheld and sustained by a parti-
cular serial ensemble can represent, for another serial
ensemble, a fate. And the interests upheld and sustained by
a particular serial ensemble represents that serial ensem—
ble's destiny, which is a predetermined future that is one
with a person's projected and chosen future.6

Let's consider, now, Sartre's example in his Critique
of how the interest of factory employers creates a fate for
factory workers. Sartre says,

the employers, by introducing new machines within the

framework of capitalism and appropriating them as their

interest, constitute the destiny [fate] of the workers

67

as the interest of the Other, controlling them in the
form of counter-interest [fate]. (1991, p. 210)

The point here is that the machine, contrary to the conten-
tions of some Marxists, is not the interest of workers;
rather the machine is the interest and destiny of the em—
ployers, but the workers' "counter—interest" and fate. This
is so because employers define themselves in their personal
being by the machine and the machine represents the employ-
ers' power to control their own future; whereas the machine
defines workers in their anonymity and it represents the
workers' impotence to control their future. The machine,
then, is the worker's "counter—interest", because it imper-
sonally defines the worker; and the machine is the worker's
fate, because it determines in advance what the worker's
task is, as well as the manner in which the task will be
done. Moreover, it is the worker's fate and counter-inter-
est, because it is the employer's interest and destiny. My
point is that the machine in its pure materiality is not a
fate and is not a counter-interest for the worker. Rather
it is the machine in its practico-inert being, as an inter-
est of the employer, that creates a fate and counter-inter—
est for the worker. So, we have before us an example of how
an interest upheld by some creates a fate for others and,
therefore, how alienated freedoms give rise to oppression.
However, with this example of how alienated freedoms give
rise to oppression, I do not want to give the impression
that only workers qua workers are oppressed.

Consider for example agri—business practitioners'

68

 

interest in continuing to make or to use pesticides-—that
is, even at the expense of the health and well—being of
others. At the same time that their interest in promoting
and using pesticides rules, those of us who do not share
their interest--but are nonetheless exposed to the health
dangers of pesticides--have a fate. We have a fate, because
regardless of what we do--e.g., protest pesticide use, buy
only organically grown produce--pesticides are in our water,
air, and soil. We, who do not share the agri-businesses'
interest, have a fate.

Similarly, consider the delivery of health care in the
United States. At this time in our history, not all citi-
zens have access to health care and in many cases this is
because the cost is prohibitive. The Clinton Administra-
tion's talk of making health care universally available in
this country has insurance companies, hospitals, physicians,
etc. banging on the doors of the White House. Why? Insur-
ance companies, hospitals, physicians, etc. have an interest
in keeping things as they are. And, as long as their inter-
ests are upheld, those without medical access have a fate.
Although this may be a little talked about instance of
oppression (in fact, some people may think it a dubious
example of oppression), with the coming into being of inter-
ests, fate comes into existence. And note: fate comes into
existence by the actions of people, not the actions of gods
and not the causal processes of nature.

Having shown that oppression is contingent and that it

69

exists due to the world's web of ruling interests, I shall
turn to discussing five ontological conditions that Sartre
suggests in the Notebooks are necessary for the possibility
of oppression. I shall discuss these conditions in light of
what I have thus far established with regard to the possi—
bility and actuality of oppression, and I shall reject and
modify those I believe either are not implied by the meta-
physics of our world or are not implied by the existential-
ist ontology and freedom ethic set forth in the previous
chapter.
The ontological conditions Sartre suggests are neces-
sary for the possibility of oppression are
lst, oppression comes from freedom. The oppressor and
the oppressed must be free. 2nd, oppression comes from
the multiplicity of freedoms. Each freedom has to be
an outside of every other freedom. . . . 3rd, oppres-
sion can come to one freedom only through another free-
dom. . . . 4th, oppression implies that neither the
slave nor the tyrant fundamentally recognizes their own
freedom. . . . 5th, there is complicity of the oppres-
sor and oppressed. (1992a, p. 325)
To begin, I am interpreting ’freedom' here to refer to our
being-free. On this interpretation conditions one through
three follow directly from the ontology established in the
previous chapter. (Moreover in the previous chapter, I
explained why conditions one and three are necessary for the
possibility of oppression.) But I do not believe the last
two conditions, as stated, are implied by that ontology.
While the first three conditions are of an ontological

nature in that they suggest what must be true for the onto-

logical possibility of oppression, the fourth condition

70

explicitly suggests only an implication, not an ontological
condition, of oppression, and the fifth condition makes
sense only if it is interpreted as an empirical hypothesis.
Consequently, I will treat the last two conditions as hypo-
theses to be tested and refined in light of the evidence
supplied by the metaphysics of our world; whereas, I plan to
show that the first three conditions are corroborated by
that evidence.

With regard to the first ontological condition for
oppression, even within the fake world one is being-free
whether one is oppressor or oppressed. One's being is
being-free if one is capable of transcending what is given.
The oppressor transcends the given when he or she projects a
destiny for himself or herself; therefore, the oppressor's
being is being-free. And the oppressed person's being is
being-free, because "praxis remains a transcendence of
material being towards a future reorganization of the
field". (1991, p. 235) This means, for example, that a
maid's being is being-free, because she transcends the filth
and chaos of a room when she cleans and organizes such a
room. Moreover, the oppressor must implicitly believe that
the oppresseds' being is being-free, since the oppressed
person is not a machine and can transcend the given toward
what is not yet, e.g., the oppressor wants his cotton picked
and his slaves transcend the field of cotton toward a future
when the cotton is picked. In other words, the being of the

Oppressed person must be being-free, because it is the very

71

 

means by which oppressors achieve their projected end. So,
the first ontological condition of oppression is supported
by the metaphysics of our world.

The second ontological condition that "each freedom
must be an outside for every other freedom" is fulfilled at
the ontological level of our being-for-others, since the
facticity of our being—for-others is an objective form of
each person's situation. However, my aim here is to show how
this ontological condition has been played out historically
and, in particular, how it has been played out in the
practico-inert realm. The practico-inert realm is, as I
have shown, correlative with serial ensembles in which
sociality is founded on the Other, because members of a
serial ensemble are held together by exigencies, interests,
a destiny, or a fate. In all these cases, the outside of
being—free reigns. Therefore, serial sociality correlative
to practico—inert being corroborates the presence of the
second ontological condition of oppression.

With regard to the third condition that only freedom
can limit freedom, I have already demonstrated that this
condition is supported by the metaphysics of our world. To
reiterate, the practico-inert does not in itself oppress,
since it is product of our worlding of being. Granted
exigencies, interests, and counter-interests limit our
being-free, but they do so only by having been produced and
sustained by being-free, albeit in the mode of alienated

freedom. So it is not nature or structural characteristics

72

 

of our world that in and of themselves limit freedom, rather
it is freedom itself. And in the case of oppression, I have
shown that it is being-free in the mode of alienated freedom
that limits freedom.

This leads to the so-called fourth condition of oppres—
sion, which I contend is not necessarily implied by the
existential ontology. Whether or not this condition is
implied by that ontology depends on how we interpret the
logic and meaning of the condition. Consequently, before
discussing whether this condition is supported by the meta-
physics of our world, I shall give my interpretation of the
meaning and logic of this implication of oppression.

First, given my discussion of being-free and its modes, I
interpret 'the lack of recognizing one's being as being—

free' to mean 'failing to live one's being-free morally',
i.e., 'living one's being-free alienatedly'. But now the
problem is whether Sartre is claiming:

1. It is true that oppressors do not live their being
free morally and oppressed people do not live their being-
free morally. In other words, both oppressors and oppressed
people live their being free alienatedly.

OR

2. It is false that both oppressors and oppressed
people live their being-free morally. In other words,
either oppressors or oppressed people live their being-free
alienatedly.

If Sartre is claiming that the existence of oppression
implies the first alternative, then the condition does not

follow from the existential ontology and freedom ethic

established in the previous chapter.7 .All that follows from

73

the existential ontology and freedom ethic is that at least
one of the persons, either the oppressor or the oppressed,
lives his or her being-free alienatedly, because, while
alienated freedom is a necessary condition for the possibi-
lity of oppression, oppression is a dyadic relationship, so
at least one person in such a relationship needs to have
made the choice of alienated freedom. For example, as I
argued in the previous chapter, the torturer, who is an
oppressor, lives his being-free alienatedly, but it does not
follow that the person being tortured, who is being oppres-
sed, lives her being-free alienatedly. The torturer or
oppressor treats another person as a mere means and, there-
fore, fails to live his being-free morally; but it is pos-
sible to be treated as a mere means without even tacitly
agreeing to such treatment--that is, without living one's
being-free alienatedly. .After all, the very fact that some-
one resorts to torture or severe physical punishment to get
another to say or do something makes sense only if the tor-
turer's, or oppressor's, victim has not agreed to be a mere
means. Thus, it is not true that the existence of oppression
implies oppressed people play out their being-free alien-
atedly, but it does imply oppressors do not fundamentally
recognize their own being—free--that is, it implies oppres-
sors play out their being-free alienatedly. Consequently,
the existence of oppression does imply the second statement,
not the first. As a result, I will now consider whether the

second is supported by the metaphysics of our world.

74

 

It seems clear from my discussion of how fate arises
that oppressors play out their being-free alienatedly,
because oppressors hold they have no choice but to maintain
their interests, which we know is not true. And it seems
clear that many oppressed people do play out their being-
free alienatedly, because many oppressed people give in to
exigencies and the demands of their oppressors. All in all
then, the hypothesis--that if oppression exists, then either
oppressors or oppressed people do not fundamentally recog-
nize their being as being-free--is supported by the meta-
physics of our world. Moreover, the metaphysics of our
world supports a derivative hypothesis: If oppression
exists, then oppressors do not fundamentally recognize their
being as being-free. And isn't this what we have always
really suspected?

This brings us to the fifth so-called condition for
oppression. If the justification for this "condition" is
that the existential ontology and freedom ethic presented in
the previous chapter entails all oppressed people are com—
plicit with their oppressors, then my discussion of the
previous condition shows this is not an implication of that
ontology and ethic. Moreover, my discussion of the meta-
physical support for the fourth condition also shows that
not all oppressed people are complicit with their oppres—
sors, yet oppression exists; so this hypothesis, as it is
currently stated, is not required by the existential onto-

logy and is not supported by the metaphysics of our world.

75

Let's consider, however, this revised hypothesis: The
vast majority of oppressed people are complicit with their
oppressors, and they, thereby, perpetuate oppression. Is
this revised hypothesis plausible, given the metaphysics of
our world? Yes, it seems to be, because people help the
oppressor to oppress when they give in to the demands of the
practico-inert and many people do just that. Without a
majority of oppressed carrying out the demands of the op-
pressor or of exigencies, the demands would be ineffectual.
For example, if workers refused to apply pesticides, pesti—
cide use would be no more. Or if consumers refused to buy
pesticide "produced" produce, then pesticide use would
become history. The oppression of women perpetuates itself
through the complicit actions of women. A woman reinforces
the oppression of women when she does as "the Man" would
have her do. For example, when women work slavishly for
minimum wage at a high class motel, they help to perpetuate
the oppression of not only themselves, but of other women as
well. Such women might complain, but complaining does not
amount to refusal. Yes, women who work as maids have their
reasons: "I can't do anything else." "Minimum wage is what
my work is worth." "That's all anyone pays." "Money is
money." What the reasons really amount to in most cases
though are excuses made from the voice of the choice of
heteronomy. In such cases, complicity is actual due to
alienated freedom's stranglehold on being-free. So it does

seem that insofar as oppressed peeple refuse to refuse the

76

demands of the oppressor or of exigencies, they either help
to create or to maintain oppression. Therefore, the revised
hypothesis is supported by the metaphysics of our world.

On the other hand, one might point out that the way
Africans were enslaved and the way Native Americans were
oppressed shows the existence of oppression does not neces-
sarily involve the complicity of those who are oppressed.
The objector rightly says, "It's not as though Africans
agreed to come on the slave ships to the United States, and
it's not as though they agreed to their bondage. And it's
not as though Native Americans, in general, agreed to go to
reservations. The oppression of Africans and of Native
Americans in this country became a reality through the
oppressor's weapons of torture, murder, imprisonment, and
genocide. Africans fought back against their oppressors, as
did Native Americans, but both groups are oppressed. So it
is false that complicity of would-be oppressed persons with
their would-be oppressors is necessary for the existence of
oppression."

My response to this point is that the objector has
misunderstood the revised hypothesis. The revised hypo-
thesis only concerns the perpetuation of oppression. The
hypothesis holds that oppression is perpetuated only if a
majority of oppressed people are complicit with their op-
pressors. And this seems to be true, for without a majority
of complicit servants, the oppressor cannot effectively

uphold his interests. Thus, oppressors' continued existence

77

 

relies on the complicity of those who are their handmaid.

Although complicity appears to be the reality of the
practico-inert process of oppression, is pointing this out a
case of "blaming the victim"? Such is not my intention; my
aim is to understand how and why oppression arises, though
our being is being-free, to understand how and why oppres-
sion perpetuates itself, though our being is being—free, and
to understand how oppression can be overcome. I've argued
the metaphysics of our world supports the hypothesis that
the existence of oppression implies that some people agree,
in some sense, to being oppressed. What is murky, however,
is the extent to which any oppressed person who has been
brutalized can be said to be complicit. When "complicity"
of oppressed persons comes about only because they have been
physically or mentally tortured, it is double-speak to call
such persons "complicit". On the other hand, by seeing that
oppression's perpetuation requires complicity of oppressed
people, oppressed people can catch a glimpse of how to
dethrone the oppressor: Revolt.

But at this point, someone might say, "Your theory of
oppression is inconsistent. How can you maintain that free—
dom exists when the oppressed have a fate? How can you
coordinate the claims that freedom exists and, yet, both the
oppressor and the oppressed experience necessity? After
all, we all know that freedom and necessity are contradic-
tory. Kant, recognizing the incompatibility between freedom

and necessity, yet believing that humans are free but part

78

of the causal series, distinguished between the intelligible
world and the empirical world and between the phenomenal
self and the noumenal self. But you are claiming that
freedom and necessity exist together. Granted Kant's way of
trying to preserve human freedom is rather strained, if not
downright ridiculous, but at least the old German had res-
pect for logic."

My response to this objection relies on the distinction
Sartre makes between analytical necessity and dialectical
necessity. In his Critique, Sartre says, "dialectical
necessity is by definition different from the necessity of
analytical reason". (1991, p. 40) Necessity which arises
in human affairs is dialectical. I shall now explain why
and how this distinction between types of necessities allows
for the co-existence of freedom and necessity and thereby
rebuts the objection.

Necessity, in the dialectical sense, is a product or
consequence of subjectivity-—that is, of our being-free;
whereas necessity, in the analytical sense, is objectivity—-
that is, a given. Dialectical necessity arises from possi—
bility and possibilities arise with human subjectivity.
Dialectical necessity first arises in human affairs as an
experience of impossibility, or of the negation of pos—
sibility. Thus, dialectical necessity is not first a lin-
guistic, a propositional, a physical, or a logical necessi-
ty. Dialectical necessity is phenomenological, experien-

tial, and historical.

79

The oppressed individual's experience of necessity is
the experience of the impossibility of achieving her parti-
cular goals, or is the experience of the impossibility of
doing things other than how she has, in fact, done them.
Sartre describes this situation in the following passage
from the NOtebooks.

The man who does not know how to read for example, who

sees others reading and cannot learn to do so himself

(a black slave in Louisiana), is struck at the very

heart of his freedom because it is a question here of

an impossible possible. Directly impossible to him-~he

is intended by this possible which for him becomes a

lack because it defines at the same time a form of

human and historical freedom in general and, nega-
tively, his own freedom in chains. His impossible is

someone else's possible. (1992a, pp. 329-330)

The experience of impossibility, then, arises from the
conjuncture of one's own being—free, which in this case
takes reading as a possibility, and the oppressor's being—
free, which in this case has barred this possibility from
those in slavery. Impossibility, then, arises from the
interplay of freedoms correlative to practico-inert being.
And it is precisely from the experience of a fate or an exi—
gency that impossibility, i.e., dialectical necessity, is
experienced. Granted the slave-owner will most likely argue
it is impossible for the black slave to read, because it is
not the black person's "nature". But here the slave-owner
appeals to an analytical necessity in the form of a natural
necessity, which is not a result of the contingent and his-
torical setting. For the slave—owner, the slave's essence
precedes the slave's existence, but for us existence pre-

cedes essence and only alienated freedom presents a

80

dialectical necessity as if it were an analytical necessity.
I do not deny that analytical necessity exists in the form
of a concept, since the slave—owner makes use of this con-
cept to rationalize his oppressive ways. But the truth of
the matter is that necessities arising in human affairs are
dialectical and, therefore, are contingent.

Dialectical necessities are contingent not only because
they are the product of human freedom, but also because,
unlike analytical necessities, it is possible to rise
against them. This possibility is, in fact, an historical
actuality and one which Sartre describes in his Critique.
The oppressed break out of serial ensembles and form groups
to overcome the dialectical necessities arising from the
practico-inert processes of oppression; yet when doing so
they bring into existence another form of a dialectical
necessity. Sartre says,

This new structure of the investigation presents itself

as the inversion of the practico—inert field: that is

to say the nerve of practical unity is freedom, appear-
ing as the necessity of necessity--in other words, as

its inexorable inversion. (1991, p. 341)

This is Sartre's initial description of the fused group.
Members within a fused group, unlike members of a serial
ensemble, work together for a common aim. And the specific
aim of a fused group is the destruction of the oppressive
processes that had given rise to dialectical necessities
experienced as impossible possibles. These individuals

experience the necessity of overcoming the necessities they

are subject to at the level of the practico-inert. Fate

81

:must be transcended. Impossible possibles must be turned
into possible possibles. Thus, Sartre's doubling of neces-
sity refers to necessity, first, as the experience of fate,
or of impossible possibles, and, second, to necessity as the
experience of the impossibility of allowing fate to continue
to rule one's future. In both cases, though, the experience
of necessity is that of a dialectical necessity and there-
fore, in both cases, is contingent. However, the experience
of necessity in the latter case seems to imply a conversion
to moral freedom, since freedom is willed.

In summary, I have argued that necessities in human
affairs are produced by human freedom and, therefore, are
dialectical necessities. If this is true, then there is no
logical incompatibility between the co-existence of freedom
and necessity. However, that some human beings (oppressors)
have produced necessities in the form of impossible possi-
bles, which others (oppressed people) experience as fate,
indicates that the producers of impossible possibles are
playing out their being-free alienatedly. On the other
hand, that some human beings revolt against their fate indi-
cates their being-free has always been present, and it indi-
cates conversion from alienated freedom to moral freedom is

not only possible, but also actual——even if brief.

The Evolution and Ethical Significance of the Fused Group

The sociality arising from the tangled web of practico—

inert processes is a serial ensemble of alienated freedoms

82

who perpetuate the status quo. The sociality of group
action, by contrast, arises when individuals come together
to challenge the practico—inert processes of oppression.
The initial appearance of group praxis is the fused group.
Individuals within the fused group are no longer related
serially--that is, through anonymity and alterity; rather
they are related to one another through a group praxis that
aims to transcend the impotence and fate correlative to the
ensemble from which they have come.

The sociality created within the fused group is not
based on simple reciprocity or on the look of a transcendent
Other; rather, relations between members are based on each
member viewing herself or himself as being both inside and
outside the group.8 This means that each fused group member
takes the group as her facticity and as her transcendence.
Each member is inside the group insofar as the group is the
member's means, and each member is outside the group insofar
as the member projects beyond the givenness of the group.

As a result, the unity of the group is not static or a given
substantial unity; rather the unity is action. This means
that the unity of the fused group exists only insofar as the
members of the group engage in a common praxis, which is
action in which individuals share the same formal goal and
work together to achieve that goal. All in all then, the
members within the fused group treat one another as an end
to the same extent that they treat one another as a means.

As a consequence, members within a fused group realize a

83

unity compatible with being-free acting in accord with
itself. And since their shared formal end is to overcome
some form of oppression, they seem to be willing freedom as
the world's foundation. In short, a fused group seems to be
founded on moral freedom.

Historically, however, fused groups either have dis-
solved back into serial ensembles or have transformed into
what Sartre calls 'pledged groups'. In the former case,
individuals will be subject to or complicit with the same or
different oppressive processes. In the latter case, the
individuals take as their end the continuance of the group.
In this case, the original goal and praxis of the fused
group becomes secondary to the new goal and praxis of main-
taining the group's existence. This group is now called a
'pledged group', because group members must give a vow to
keep the group "alive" come what may.

But why must a pledge be given? Sartre suggests, "The
origin of the pledge, in effect, is fear (both of the third
party and of myself)". (1991, p. 430) But why would group
members fear themselves? Apparently due to lack of trust.
But why wouldn't they trust themselves? Perhaps because,
once they "cool down", they direct their sights toward the
group itself and its members. In so doing, the members of
the fused group explicitly realize that the group's exis-
tence is tenuous, because it exists only through a shared
praxis, which is dependent on each member's being-free and,

as a consequence, any member might, at best, leave the fused

84

group and, at worst, intentionally undermine its goal. So,
through this change in focus, members of the fused group
realize the group's existence is not a given. And due to
the unwillingness to trust one another or to take a risk,
the members of the group require one another to make a
pledge. The pledge expresses the members' willingness to
accept the group's continuance unconditionally.

In the serial ensembles correlative to practico-inert
being, we saw how being-free in the mode of alienated free-
dom gave in to demands arising from the practico-inert. Now
we see members of a fused group explicitly creating a de-
mand, which is the pledge. So, in contrast to the demands
arising from practico-inert being, this demand is explicitly
agreed to and created by those who will be subject to it.
Even so, this demand is not compatible with being—free in
the mode of moral freedom, because it is a demand--that is,
it commands unconditionally. In other words, it is a cate-
gorical imperative, which, as I argued in the previous
chapter, arises from alienated freedom. .As a consequence,
fused group members, who originally came together in the
name of revolt, have, by requiring that members take a
pledge, explicitly chosen alienated freedom as their mode of
being-free. In other words, moral freedoms might consti-
tute a fused group, but alienated freedoms constitute a
pledged group.9 In any case, we have not as yet seen op-
pression arise within group action-—that is the next step:

the institution.

85

 

A pledged group transforms into an institution when the
individual members of the group become inessential, by being
replaceable, and the group in and of itself is taken as
essential. Sartre says,

The institutional moment, in the group, corresponds to

what might be called the systematic self-domestication

of man by man. The aim is, in effect, to create men
who (as common individuals) will define themselves, in
their own eyes and amongst themselves, by their funda-
mental relations (mediated reciprocity) with institu-
tions. More than half of this task is carried out by
circular seriality: everyone systematically acting on
himself and on everyone else through all, resulting in
the creation of the strict correlate of the man-insti-
tution, that is to say the institutionalized man.

(1991, p. 606)

So, although we have moved beyond the inertia of practico-
inert being where individuals were mediated by "haunted"
matter, we have, with the formation of the institution,
individuals mediated by "hallowed", "haunted" halls.

The relationship between the state and its citizenry is
a good example of how an institution constitutes a return to
the alterity and anonymity of serial ensembles. Each citi-
zen is related to every other citizen via the state through
the Other. For example, when we go to sports events the
national anthem is played and we are all expected to put our
hands on our hearts. This expectation and demand does not
arise from the flag, but from people who have chosen to play
out their being-free alienatedly. (Have you ever pointedly
not put your hand on your heart and not stood during one of
these "events'? I have and the looks I received from other
people are quite revealing.) Thus, at the institutional

level we meet again with exigencies, but they now come

86

directly from us, not from the Thing. The pledging allegi-
ance to the flag, by putting our hands on our hearts, re-
veals being-free in the mode of alienated freedom, for the
pledge represents an unconditional demand. We pledge our
allegiance to our country "right or wrong".

Dialectical necessity first emerged from the practico-
inert as fate; it then emerged from the fused group as the
necessity of transcending one's fate; it then surfaced from
the pledged group as the necessity of maintaining the group;
now, in the group as institution, we find necessity arising
with the Janus face of fate coupled with the necessity of
maintaining the institutions. Referring to the institu-
tional moment, Sartre says,

In this moment freedom is completely hidden or else

appears as the inessential and ephemeral slave of

necessity. Necessity, on the other hand, is absolute
in the sense that its free, practical form (necessity
produced by freedom) merges with its form as serial

alienation. (1991, pp. 605-606)

In other words, with the creation of the institution, group
action has created what it had set out to transcend, because
it has created a fate for its members. And Sartre says,

Freedom at the moment of the Apocalypse and its dis-

appearance in the institutional moment when the Other

reigns. An institution is what you wanted become a

will turned back on itself and imposing itself upon

you. The institution is your destiny [and fate].

(1992a, p. 469)

Although this and the previous passage seem to suggest that
our being-free disappears with the formation of the institu-

tion, I believe this is a misinterpretation. I interpret

'freedom at the moment of the Apocalypse' to refer to the

87

 

historical moments when moral freedom erupts, e.g., the
formation of a fused group, and I interpret 'its disappear—
ance' to refer to the reversion of moral freedom to alienat-
ed freedom; however, in either case being-free is present.

In summary, group action arises in revolt against
oppression; however, historically groups often dissolve back
into a series or, before doing so, evolve into a group from
which oppression arises anew. In any case, we see here, at
the level of group action, that alienation precedes oppres-
sion and makes it possible. We see that even at the level
of group praxis the only limit to freedom is freedom itself.
And, perhaps most importantly, we see that the historical
reality of revolt demonstrates conversion to moral freedom
is possible——even if, it is short—lived.
Summation: "Freedoms' Legacy" Supports the Existential
Freedom Ethic

Alienated freedoms have worlded being in terms at odds
with our being-free. Their creation, the world, is one in
which unfreedom reigns. Exigency and interest predetermine
one's choices when one has made the choice of alienated
freedom. This already-made world in which we have been born
is enlivened by haunted matter and hallowed, haunted halls.
Although group action arose to overcome oppression, we have
seen that it often is ultimately unsuccessful.

I have argued that the failures of group action and the
failures of individual action are a result of playing out

our being-free alienatedly. This shows that our "essence"

88

is alienated freedom. 'Essence', however, does not mean
some a priori nature; rather it means the historical and
contingent way in which being-free has, for the most part,
been played out in human history. As Sartre says in Being
and Nothingness, "Essence is what has been". (1956, p. 35)
And he also says there,

The essence of an existent is no longer a property sunk

in the cavity of this existent; it is the manifest law

which presides over the succession of its appearances,

it is the principle of the series. (1956, p. xlvi)

In other words, if human beings have an essence, it will
reveal itself through an "historical" study like that put
forth in Sartre's Critique. The essence will be the prin—
ciple garnered from the variety of ways in which the object
under study (in our case, the object is human praxis) re-
veals itself. Alienated freedom fits this requirement,
since I have shown through Sartre's metaphysics of our world
that human beings have for the most part made the choice of
worlding being alienatedly.

However, does this undercut the possibility of con-
version from alienated freedom to moral freedom and, there-
fore, make this existential freedom ethic nothing more than
a mere fancy? No, I believe the contrary. First, even if
we have discovered a human "essence", our being as being—
free has nonetheless always been present. And the fact of
revolt is evidence of this.

Second, the failures enumerated here concerning his-
torical praxis might act as a motivation for conversion.
Sartre's metaphysics of our world demonstrates that by

89

living our being-free in the mode of alienated freedom, we
end up in chains. By revealing this is so not only through
an ontological understanding of human beings, but also
through a metaphysical understanding of human beings, I have
given corroborating evidence that alienated freedoms are the
source of oppression. Such knowledge might motivate revolt.
Third, by showing that alienated freedoms are the
source of our chains, I am calling upon each of us to make
use of our being-free on the reflective plane, because con-
version to moral freedom remains more remote if we do not
question our historical situation. Sartre rightly says,
In so far as man is immersed in the historical situa-
tion, he does not even succeed in conceiving of the
failures and lacks in a political organization or de-
termined economy; this is not, as is stupidly said,
because he "is accustomed to it," but because he appre-
hends it in its plentitude of being and because he can—
not even imagine that he can exist in it otherwise.
(1956, p. 434)
However:
Whatever I [we] do, in effect, my [our] historical pre-
sence calls into question the "course of the world" and
a refusal to call it into question is still a calling
into question and an invented answer. (1992a, p. 489)
And recognition of these truths might lead to anguished,
non-accessory reflection, which in turn might lead to au-
thentic, non-accessory reflection.
In any case, I believe my discussion of Sartre's meta-
physics of our world buttresses the arguments I made, in the
previous chapter, concerning the two fundamental ideals of

this existential freedom ethic. In the previous chapter, I

argued that

90

(a) We should will freedom as the world's foundation.

(b) We should will ourselves and others morally free.

Firstly, the metaphysics of our world demonstrates that
freedom is not the world's foundation and, therefore, if it
is to be the world's foundation, it must be willed. Simi-
larly, the metaphysics of our world demonstrates that peo—
ple, for the most part, live out their being-free alienated-
ly and, therefore, moral freedom is not given and it too
must be willed.

Secondly, we have seen that freedom-—that is, moral
freedom and freedom as the world's foundation--is lacking in
the world. As a consequence, they are candidates for
ideals, since ideals are what are lacking relative to what
is given. And since moral freedom is the mode of being-free
acting in accord with itself, it is the mode of being-free
that wills freedom as the world's foundation. Consequently,
if one wills freedom as the world's foundation, one should
will oneself morally free.

Thirdly, we also have seen that willing oneself morally
free is possible, because some people have revolted against
oppression. And we have seen that willing oneself morally
free requires that one will others morally free, because
Oppression arises from the alienated freedom of oppressors
and oppressed. In other words, the metaphysics of our world
demonstrates that freedoms are intertwined. So, if freedom
is to become the world's foundation, we must will one anoth-

er morally free.

91

Lastly, we have seen that when freedom is not willed as
the world's foundation we end up living in a fake world.

And what better reason can one give for why we should will
freedom as the world's foundation than that doing so dove-
tails with truth?

In conclusion, I believe my discussion of freedoms'
legacy gives external support for the coherency and prac-
tical efficacy of this existential freedom ethic, because
it buttresses my arguments in the previous chapter that

1. .Alienated freedom constitutes something like a
human essence.

2. Conversion to moral freedom is possible.

3. Oppression arises from alienated freedom.

4. Oppression is contingent.

5. The only limit to freedom is freedom itself.

6 We should will freedom as the world's foundation.

7. We should will ourselves and others morally free.
In addition, because the theory of oppression developed in
this chapter explains the origin and perpetuation of oppres-
sion in terms compatible with both the ontology and ethic
set forth in the previous chapter, while taking into account
the evidence provided by the metaphysics of our world, the
existential freedom ethic can adequately account for oppres—
sion, as well as condemn its existence. Furthermore, be-
cause I have explained why fate, or necessity, in human
affairs is compatible with human freedom, I have shown why
this existential freedom ethic can with consistency maintain
that we are free, i.e., that our being is being—free, even

92

if we are oppressed.

All in all, I believe my discussion of freedoms' legacy
gives prima facie evidence that we can do what we ought.
And, as a consequence, we have prima facie evidence that

this ethic is more than a mere fancy of a Pollyannish mind.

93

NOTES

1. During a conversation with Wilkinson, he brought to my
attention that Sartre uses 'haunted' in a technical sense in
Being and Nothingness. Human artifacts are haunted because
they point beyond themselves; they are more than dead mat-
ter. In this sense, human artifacts are "spirited" matter.

2. For example, when discussing the facticity of our being-
for-others, Sartre, in Being and Nethingness, says,

To live in a world haunted by my fellowmen is not only
to be able to encounter the Other at every turn of the
road; it is also to find myself engaged in a world in
which instrumental—complexes can have a meaning which
my free project has not first given to them. (1956, p.
509)

And since these instrumental—complexes are ossified praxis
and socialized matter, they are practico-inert being.

3. The other possible counter-finality in this context is
the inadvertent killing of wildlife. In a succeeding chap—
ter I shall discuss the environmental ethics implied by this
existential freedom ethic, and there I shall discuss the
ethical significance of counter-finalities with regard to
the poisoning of our environment and the killing of wild-
life.

4. These differences between a counter-finality and the
coefficient of adversity do not, however, imply an
incompatibility between Sartre's ontological and metaphys-
ical works, because there is nothing in Sartre's ontological
discussion of the coefficient of adversity that either
precludes or necessitates the metaphysical category of a
counter-finality. Moreover, that his ontology neither
precludes nor necessitates the metaphysical category of a
counter—finality strengthens my supplement thesis.

5. .Although Sartre's elucidation in his Critique of a
serial ensemble does not justify claims he makes in his
ontological work concerning one's relations to other people,
his explanation of sociality founded on practico-inert being
goes beyond--yet is not precluded by--his descriptions of
ensembles in Being and Nothingness. While describing the
ontological category of being-for-others, Sartre describes
two distinct ways in which three or more people can be
related. Ensembles of people who Sartre calls 'Us-Object'
are related through the look of a third; those who Sartre
calls a 'We-Subject' are related to one another through a
shared looking. Note that both of these ensembles arise

94

from the look and neither ensemble is united by or through a
supra-subject. So although Sartre's ontological understand-
ing of ensembles is based on the look, his metaphysical
understanding of a serial ensemble is based on practico-
inert being. His metaphysical understanding of ensembles is,
then, distinct from, and goes beyond, his ontological under-
standing of ensembles. Even so, the Us-Object and the We-
Subject neither precludes, nor necessitates, that there be
serial ensembles, because members within a serial ensemble,
like members of a We—Subject or an Us-Object, are not united
via a supra-consciousness and Sartre says, in Being and
Nethingness, "These few remarks do not claim to exhaust the
question of the 'We'." (1956, p. 428) All in all then,
Sartre's elucidation of a serial ensemble strengthens my
supplement thesis. In addition, his metaphysics of group
ensembles, which I discuss later, also goes beyond, yet is
not precluded by his ontological description of ensembles;
so, it too supports my supplement thesis.

6. In the following pages, I do not use fate and destiny
interchangeably, because I want to distinguish between the
forecast for oppressed people's future and the forecast for
the oppressors' future. Oppressed people's future is fated,
because it has been rigged by the oppressor to be what the
oppressor wants it to be; whereas, oppressors' future is
destined, because they have rigged their future to justify
their present action. For example, when our forefathers
appealed to "manifest destiny' to justify their oppression
of Native Americans, they forecast a fate for Native Ameri-
cans that was correlative to their so-called destiny.

7. Wilkinson brought to my attention that the English
translation of this condition accurately represents the
French. (See Cahiers pour une.MOrale, Paris: Gallimard,
1983, p. 338.) Consequently, it seems Sartre does intend
the first alternative. In any case, I shall argue that the
second alternative, not the first, follows from the existen-
tial ontology and freedom ethic.

8. The unity of the fused group is not based on the look of
a transcendent Other and it is not based on a shared look-
ing, because it is based on a shared praxis. Therefore, the
fused group is not a We-Subject and it is not an Us-object.
(See note 5 for an explanation of the We-Subject and the Us-
subject.) Even so, the type of unity found in the fused
group is compatible with, but not precluded by, Sartre's
ontological descriptions of the "We", because the unity of
the fused group is not based on a supra—consciousness. The
same is also true for the pledged group and the institution.

9. It is possible that a particular fused group might not
be founded on moral freedom, since a fused group might
revolt in the name of an analytical necessity. As Sartre
says in the NOtebooks:

95

So, determinism becomes a weapon of oppression. In
"Materialism and Revolution," I showed how the op-
pressed in turn will make determinism a weapon to
pursue their claims. (1992a, p. 339)

In this case, the fused group is not really willing freedom
as the world's foundation, and its members are not really
willing themselves morally free, because they present their
actions as arising from an analytical necessity and not a
dialectical necessity. Moreover, if a fused group trans-
forms into a pledged group, then we have a reason to suspect
that that fused group was not founded on moral freedoms. In
any case, I discuss in more detail in the next chapter, than
I did in the previous chapter, what it means to will freedom
as the world's foundation and what it means to will oneself
morally free. There I argue that morally free action ema-
nates from generosity and an explicit willingness to take
risks. For now suffice it to say: The fused group is not
necessarily founded on generosity and the pledged group
definitely is not.

96

CHAPTER THREE
IMPORTANCE OF GENEROSITY

In the first chapter, I argued that one of the ideals
of an existential freedom ethic is that we will ourselves
and other people morally free. I also argued this means we
must positively will them morally free. In the second chap-
tar, I showed what kind of world we have when this is not
done. And, in both of these chapters, I argued it is pos-
sable for us to do what we ought. Even so, in Being and
NOthingness Sartre, after his description of concrete real—
tins with other people, concludes that our relations with
them are fundamentally conflictual. And according to Sartre
relations between people toss between two fundamental atti-
tides: one in which I treat the other person as a pure tran—
scendence while allowing that person to treat me as a pure
facticity, and the other in which I treat the other person
as a pure facticity and require that person to treat me as a
pure transcendence. Now if our only possible concrete real-
tins with others will be based on conflict, or the sado-
masochistic circularity depicted in Sartre's play "No Exit",
then it seems we will be incapable of doing what we ought.1

My primary task, then, is to show here how we can do
what we ought. I shall explain why and how it is possible
for us positively to will the freedom of other people, as
well as explain, more fully than I did in previous chapters,
what it means to will oneself and other people morally free.
To do this, I shall draw from Sartre's NOtebooks where he

97

introduces, but fails to develop, an existential freedom
ethicist's notion of generosity. I shall argue that genero-
sity, in the existential freedom ethicist's sense, is the
existential structure of moral freedom. And I shall show it
is through generosity that we can transcend the hell of "No
Exit" and the hell of practico-inert being. In short: I

show there is an exit.

Existential Freedom Ethicist's Conception of Generosity

In the Notebooks, Sartre says Being and NOthingness
concerns an ontology before conversion (1992a, p. 6), and he
says,

Sadism and masochism are the revelation of the Other.

They only make sense--as, by the way, does the struggle

of consciousnesses-- before conversion. (1992a, p.20)
And even in Being and Nothingness he lets on, as I argued in
the Introduction, that the phenomenological ontology devel-
oped there is incomplete and not the last word on possible
relations with others. But Sartre also holds in Being and
thhingness that the "ideal" of being haunting human activ—
ity is—-for the most part-—to be, e.g., an in—itself-for-
itself, and that when this is our "ideal" of being, our
activities are reducible to being or to having.

Consider now what type of concrete human relations will
obtain when they are founded on the "ideal" to be. Such
relations will be conflictual if not sado—masochistic,

because one will try either to possess the other person or

to be possessed by the other person, or one will try to be

98

either for the other person pure facticity or pure trans-
cendence while concomitantly trying to make that person be
for oneself either pure transcendence or pure facticity.
However, being-free--as you recall—-signifies that our being
is activity, that we are not what we are and are what we are
not, that we are limited beings, and that we are both facti-
city and transcendence.

At the end of Being and Nothingness, Sartre says,

A freedom which wills itself freedom is in fact a being

which-is-not—what-it-is and which—is-what-it—is-not,

and which chooses as the ideal of being, being-what-it-

is—not and not-being-what-it-is.

This freedom chooses then not to recover itself
but to flee itself, not to coincide with itself but to
be always at a distance from itself. What are we to
understand by this being which wills to hold itself in
awe, to be at a distance from itself? Is it a question
of bad faith or another fundamental attitude? (1956,
pp. 627—628)

In reply to the first question, it is my interpretation that
Sartre is describing the mode of being—free acting in accord
with itself. Hence, my reply to the second question is that
Sartre is describing the fundamental attitude of authentic
living, i.e., the attitude of the morally free person. As
you recall, the morally free person acts in accord with her
being-free, and in order to act in accord with her being-
free, her ideal of being must be being-for-itself, i.e.,
being-free. And since being-free signifies that one's being
is an activity and since an activity entails doing, not
being, one's ideal of being, when acting in accord with

being—free, must be doing for its own sake. As a conse-

quence, the morally free person's ideal of being will be a

99

dovetailing of doing and giving, not a dovetailing of being
and having.

Generosity, in the freedom ethicist's sense, entails
transcendence of what is, and it entails the non-coinci-
dence of being. By acting generously, a person wills not to
coincide with her ego, with her reputation, or with her
creations and wills that other people not coincide with
their egos, reputations, or creations. In addition, genero—
sity entails giving for the sake of one's own and other
people's freedom, not for the sake of a practico-inert
benefit, e.g., an interest. Generosity, in short, spells
death for the ego and life for our being—free. As such,
generosity is a dovetailing of doing and giving, and it just
is being-free in the mode of moral freedom. (Perhaps for
these reasons, Sartre, in the Notebooks refers to the con-
sciousness "of generosity as the original structure of
authentic existence". (1992a, pp. 493-494)

Because generosity, in the freedom ethicist's sense,
leads to the dovetailing of giving and doing, such giving is
nothing other than the act of gift-giving. Explaining an
this sense of gift-giving, Sartre says,

Ontologically, the gift is gratuitous, not motivated,

and disinterested. . . . A trinity is constituted

through the gift: the giver, the thing given, the man
to whom it is given. To give the thing is to make a new
relation spring up. It is to create, to invent. The
gift is invention. It is to give the universe, there-
fore to affirm the inessentiality of the universe and
the essentiality of relations between consciousnesses
or, to put it another way, to affirm man as essential.

(1992a, p. 368)

So gift-giving for an existential freedom ethicist is a

100

trinity, which includes the one to whom the gift is offered.
We, therefore, have need of others in order to give a gift.
Moreover, gift-giving requires that the other be a person
and not a thing; we need the one to whom we give a gift to
be a being whose being is being-free. And because the gift
is gratuitous, one acting in the mode of moral freedom no
longer aims to possess another person or to just be some
thing for another person, rather one gives to another person
or one is for another person what one will do, not what one
has or is. For the above reasons, the ethically relevant
sense of 'giving', which is the sense capturing an existen—
tial freedom ethicist's meaning of generosity, is that in
which a gift is given, that in which the gift-giving is
gratuitous, and that in which the gift is offered to a
subject, not an object.

Using an ordinary language approach to help clarify the
existential freedom ethicist's sense of 'giving' and thus to
help clarify the existential freedom ethicist's sense of
'generosity', Wilkinson says,

Here the concept is that of giving. Now there are

various ways it gets used:
gave my house a coat of paint.
gave my son a coat of many colors.
gave the beggar my loose change.
gave the mugger my wallet.
gave the customer the wallet he just paid
for.

. I gave a large donation to Oxfam to feed the
starving children.

6a. I gave food to the starving children through

Oxfam.
Now, not all of these involve giving in what I shall
call the relevant sense (the sense relevant, that is,

to Sartre's concern). The ones that do are, I think, 2,
3, 6, & 6a. In these cases, the giving involves a gift

HHHHH

101

and that, I think, is your ordinary language clue to
the relevant sense of giving. So your first claim is
that you can only give to a person—-that's true, using
the relevant sense of giving. 80 in that sense #1
doesn't work: You can't make a gift, in its literal,
non—humorous sense, of a coat of paint to the house,
which also can't receive it in a relevant sense.
Personhood, or, if you & S are right, original freedom
[being-free] is required. (Letter on Chapter Six, June
28, 1994, p. 2b)

Note that Wilkinson also disqualifies #4 and #5 as instances
of giving in the ethically relevant sense--that is, in the
existential freedom ethicist's sense. He does so, because
the ethically relevant sense of giving requires that the
giving of a gift be gratuitous. Now in instances #4 and #5,
the giving is not gratuitous, since in both cases the giving
is not unprovoked. And although Wilkinson suggests instan—
ces #2, #3, #6, and #6a are instances of giving in the rele—
vant sense, his suggestion is only provisional, because in
these instances it is entirely possible that the giving is
not gratuitous. Wilkinson says,

. . now it's interesting to note that one can fake a
purely generous giving; one could make what we'll call
a 'fake gift', the item imparted in bad faith giving.
So (case 2b) I gave my son a coat of many colors, so he
would love me and recognize what a good papa am I. So
(case 6b) I gave Oxfam money, so they would know, and
others I told would know, what a generous fellow am I.
So (case 3b), knowing the beggar is really the king in
disguise, I gave the beggar my loose change in order to
be richly rewarded later. Or I sent a X-mas gift to
someone and expect to be sent one in return. In all
these cases, we have a kind of interest which corrupts
the gift. One gives in sort of the relevant sense;
there's nothing absurd in saying in 3b "I made a gift
to the beggar". And yet it's not all Sartre is after.
So here, too, some kind of distinction has to be made,
and it involves perhaps defining interests, so as to
indicate what sort of motivations prevent giving in its
fullest sense. (Letter on Chapter Six, June 28, 1994,
p, 3b)

102

In reply to Wilkinson's suggestion, I first reiterate
that gift-giving in the existential freedom ethicist's sense
must be gratuitous, because only then does the giver affirm
the essentiality of being-free and the inessentiality of the
world. But what does this mean? Sartre correctly says,

So the gift is freedom and liberation. It is not

on the side of the world or our image in the world

but on the side of our nonthetic consciousness (of)

ourselves. It is a break, a refusal to believe, a

refusal of being caught up in the world, a refusal

of narcissism and of fascination for the world, an

affirmation of negativity and of my creative power.

. . . It is, in every age and situation, an affirmation

of interhuman relations (whether it be a present or

some service rendered). If we consider the pure
universe of desire wherein man is the inessential

and the thing is what is essential, the gift appears

in its initial intention as the reversal of this

structure and, consequently, a kind of deliverance.

(1992a, p. 369)

The gift is "on the side of our nonthetic consciousness (of)
ourselves", because not either one's own ego nor the other
person's ego and not either one's own possessions nor the
other person's possessions mediate between the gift-giver
and gift-receiver.2 Rather, the mediation occurs through
the gift. And because it occurs through the gift, the giver
and the receiver transcend the world of the "serious".

Let us now return to the issue of whether cases 2, 3,
6, and 6a are instances of giving in the existential freedom
ethicist's sense. The issue, then, is whether such instan-
ces of giving transcend the world of the "serious". Does
giving in these instances transcend one's practico-inert

interests? Does giving in these instances transcend one's

reputation and one's self-image? In other words: Is one

103

giving for the sake of giving, or is one giving for the sake
of some egoistic gain? If the motivation is the former,
then the giving captures the existential freedom ethicist's'
meaning of generosity; however, if the motivation is solely
the latter, then the giving is not an instance of what we
mean by generosity. As a consequence, cases 2, 3, 6 and 6a
are instances of the existential freedom ethicist's sense of
giving only if the gift-giver's giving does not aim at being
or having.

Since gift-giving in the existential freedom ethicist's
sense is gratuitous, gift-giving affirms the importance of
being-free and the insignificance of the practice-inert, of
one's ego, and of one's reputation. But we might wonder why
gift-giving engenders more than just the essentiality of the
giver. In other words: Why does generosity, in an existen-
tial freedom ethicist's sense, affirm the importance of the
being-free of the receiver? Moreover: Why isn't gift-giv-
ing merely a form of disguised sadism or masochism? After
all when the sadist gives, his gift is an attempt to ensnare
or belittle another person. For example, a sadist might
give another person a gift that would be impossible for the
receiver to buy for herself, as the slave-owner might give
away his table scraps to his slaves. In either case, the
sadist intends to show his being-free is essential and the
other person's being-free is inconsequential. When the
masochist gives, his gift represents an attempt to give his

life, so to speak, to another person. For example, it might

104

be thought that presidential bodyguards affirm the essen—
tiality of the president, for whom they will die, and in so
doing, affirm their own inessentiality.

First, in response to the above misgivings, since gift—
giving, for us, requires that the receiver of the gift be
being-free, the gift-giver must acknowledge the being-free
of the receiver. The upshot is that the gift—giver must——in
order to give a true gift--not use the gift to reduce either
oneself or the receiver to facticity. As a consequence,
giving, in the existential freedom ethicist's sense, cannot
be a form of disguised sadism. Granted people can and do
give gifts in order to control, but such gift-giving is not
a giving that dovetails with doing. Such "gift-giving" is a
doing that aims at dovetailing of being and having and
thereby is not giving in our sense.

When one gives in order to be or to get, one's gift is
a false gift. A false gift affirms the essentiality of the
world and the inessentiality of the one to whom the "gift"
is given; whereas, the true gift is a triadic, internal re-
lation between giver, receiver, and the world whereby free-
dom becomes the world's foundation.

In the case of a true gift, the world does not dis-
appear, rather it is put in its place. And not only does
the true gift presuppose that the gift-giver acknowledge the
being-free of the one to whom the gift is given, it also
presupposes that the receiver acknowledge the being-free of

the giver. As a consequence, generosity, in the existential

105

freedom ethicist's sense, cannot be a form of disguised
masochism. Sartre says,

The gift presupposes a reciprocity of recognition. But

this reciprocity is not a reciprocity of gifts. Since

through my gift I treat the other as freedom, it is
fitting that, in return, the other recognize me recog-
nizing him, so this recognition will occur within the
dimension of truth. This recognition takes place in and
through the mere acceptance of the gift. But this
acceptance, if it is free and proud as it ought to be,
implies quite simply that I ought to recognize that the

gift was not provoked by some interest, that it is a

pure freedom that created the world for me, thereby

setting up an interhuman relation. (1992a, p. 369)
Thus, a true gift is accepted by the receiver and presup-
poses the acknowledgment of the being-free of both parties.
A true gift implies the moral freedom of each person, be-
cause the gift is given for the sake of one's own and anoth—
er person's freedom and is treated as such.

Generosity then, in the existential freedom ethicist's
sense, gives rise to intersubjective moral freedoms, because
both parties recognize and rely on the being-free of one
another. And such mutual recognition of each other as
being-free arises within the "dimension of truth", because
truth, for us, is the unveiling of what is. And since to
unveil something implies that something is hidden, genero-
sity is nothing other than unveiling the being-free of
oneself and another person, as well as the unveiling of
freedom as the world's foundation. Therefore, the inter-
subjective relation created by the true gift and by its
acceptance cannot be sado-masochistic, because sado-maso-
<fllistic relationships attempt to cover over our being-free.

Wilkinson questions, however, why generosity must

106

11$qu .‘

entail the mutual recognition of giver and receiver.

Both S in the quotation & you in your explication let
on that the recipient must recognize the freedom of the
other and that the gift is not provoked by an interest.
I think #6a belies that claim, as does every case in
which one gives something to someone who has no idea
where the item given comes from or even perhaps that it
was a gift; here's a case: Noseworthy, knowing Milbert
is very needy but feels so bad about it that he'd be
extremely embarrassed to take charity, leaves $50 on
the sidewalk just before, as N knows, Milbert comes
along, so that Milbert just thinks it's a lucky find.
Noseworthy never says anything to anybody. That's
generosity. Again, in S's sense of giving of oneself,
one might carefully arrange something to help another——
say, quietly tidy up a dirty hallway or scatter salt on
a slippery spot in the park--who will never recognize
that someone has done such a thing or even that it has
been done. (Have you ever picked up a bit of trash in a
forest & disposed of it later? How would next week's
hiker even know it had been done?) So I'm not sure
about the mutuality of recognition as a requirement,
though it seems right in many paradigm cases (#2, 3,
6). (Letter on Chapter Six, June 28, 1994, pp. 3a-3b)

I agree with Wilkinson that all of the above cases appear to
be instances of generosity, since the giving of the gift is
gratuitous. However, these cases cannot give rise to inter-
subjective moral freedom if the receiver of the gift does
not know s/he is receiving a gift. As a consequence, such
anonymous giving does not unveil freedom as the foundation
of the world if the receiver of the gift does not know she
or he has received a gift. Milbert, for example, believes
luck is the source of the 50 bucks. Believing in luck, when
in fact a generous act by someone is the source of the
money, Milbert may very well believe fate is and ought to be
the ground of the world. As a consequence, N's "genero-
Sity", though perhaps well intended, backfires. Similarly

fol? the instances of scattering salt on icy walkways, of

107

tidying up a dirty hallway, and of picking up trash in the
forest. While such acts of anonymous giving might affirm,
for the giver, the essentiality of oneself and the other
person, as well as the inessentiality of the world; such
acts cannot affirm, for the receiver, the essentiality of
herself and the anonymous giver, and they cannot affirm the
inessentiality of the world. For these reasons, anonymous
"generosity", does not give rise to intersubjective moral
freedom. But since generosity, in the existential freedom
ethicist's sense, does give rise to intersubjective moral
freedom, anonymous "generosity" falls short of the existen—
tial freedom ethicist's sense. My point is not that one
should never give anonymously; rather my point is that the
existential freedom ethicist's sense of generosity is dis-
tinct from, though related to, the ordinary language sense,
since generosity, for an existential freedom ethic, entails
the mutual recognition of the being-free of both giver and

receiver.3

Beyond the Hell of "No Exit"

Now even though generosity, or gift-giving, is the way
in which intersubjective moral freedom can be achieved, it
is possible for one's gift to be turned into a counter—gift
by the receiver. A.counter-gift is a gift that for one
reason or another boomerangs. For example, a gift boomer-
angs when it is reduced by the receiver to form of exchange

of "gifts".4 The gift becomes a counter—gift, because the

108

receiver fails to acknowledge the gift as gratuitous. In
this case, the relations that come into being do not tran-
scend the sado-masochistic relations of "No Exit" or the
impersonal relations arising from the demands of practico-
inert being, because Tip, the receiver, refuses to acknow-
ledge the being—free of Tap, the one who originally gave.

As a consequence, Tap is reduced to her facticity and her
gift is turned into a counter-gift by Tip. And the gift
that Tip gives is a false gift, since it is not given gra—
tuitously. Here we meet a process similar to the hell aris-
ing from our complicity with practico-inert being. A gift
is turned into a counter-gift (a counter-finality) by anoth—
er who takes the gift as an occasion for promoting a false-
gift (an interest) and thereby Tip's false gift is Tap's
anti-gift (counter-interest). Clearly, generosity is lack—
ing on the part of the receiver. And since it is always
possible for one's gift to be turned into a counter-gift,
generosity is always a risk. However, if we are to trans-
cend the hell of "No Exit" and of practico-inert being, the
risk must be taken.

Hell, then, is not other people. Rather, hell is the
lack of generosity. Without other people, generosity is
impossible, since it requires another whose being is being-
free. And without generosity, moral freedom for myself and
other people is impossible, since generosity is the exis-
tential structure of moral freedom. All in all then, a

person's reason for willing the moral freedom of other

109

person's is not-~as Kerner contends--that that person needs
to be challenged; rather it is so that one's own and other
person's being-free can thrive.

To transcend the hell of the conflictual relations
depicted in "No Exit", we also need to consider how we
understand other people. For example: Is our understand-
ing of other people based solely on the look? The look, for
Sartre, signifies the medusa's stare, because it turns
another person into a transcendence transcended. By merely
looking at another person, we are trying to size the person
up. We are trying to categorize the person in terms of his
or her outward appearance. We are trying to reduce another
person to a thing. Consequently, we do not recognize the
other person's being as being-free, and we do not foster
that person's moral freedom. Instead, we lay the foundation
for the other person to choose alienated freedom as her mode
of being-free, because we have laid the brick for her to
respond in kind--to look at us. This leads into the dialec-
tic of sadism and masochism. I look; she looks back; I look
back; etc. And we are thereby in the hell of "No Exit". So
we must ask: Is there a way of understanding other people
beyond the look? The answer is: Yes.

A way of understanding other people that is beyond the
look will be based on understanding them in terms of their
goals. By understanding other people in terms of their
goals, we are recognizing them as for-itselfs, because only

for-itselfs act for reasons and have goals. The

110

for-itself's being is being-free, which signifies one is a

finality and an activity, not a causality and a being. It

follows then that when we understand other people in terms

of what they do and not in terms of what they look like, we
recognize that their being is being-free.

Although such understanding goes beyond the look,
merely understanding other people in terms of their goals is
not sufficient for transcending the hell of conflictual
relationships. As Wilkinson rightly points out,

We might contemplate George Washington and reflect on

his aim to defeat the British at Yorktown; but still

see G.W. simply as an historical phenomenon, i.e., an
in-itself. Worse yet, the con artist will often prey
upon persons precisely by way of pretending to help
that person achieve that person's goals, and that is to
say, will treat the person as having goals but nonethe-
less as an instrument of the con artist's own work.

(Notes on Chapter Five, March 16, 1996)

Wilkinson's point with these examples is that merely under-
standing other people in terms of their goals may in fact be
used to undermine their goals. If this is the case, then
the result is really no different from that of the look. As
a consequence, if we are to transcend the hell of conflic-
tual and manipulative relationships, we must do more than
merely understand other people in terms of their goals.

I shall argue that the type of understanding required
for transcending such hellish relationships is what Sartre
means by comprehension.5 Explaining the meaning of compre-
hension, Sartre says,

. . . it is not contemplative, it is not a system of

means organized toward some end. It is sympathetic. It
is this sympathy we need to describe. (1992a, p. 276)

111

Comprehension, unlike the look and unlike merely understand—
ing other people in terms of their goals, is sympathetic.
When we comprehend other people we imagine ourselves as
thrown into experiencing what they are experiencing as they
attempt to bring about their ends. For example, I am work—
ing at a Budget Rent-a-Car desk in an airport, and I see a
person trying to carry three pieces of luggage to the air-
line counter in time to make her flight. I am not sizing
the person up, not saying to myself, e.g., "Must be a rich
bitch from some Sun Valley condo-complex, just get a look at
that bleached—blonde hair, I bet she has to get her nails
done four times a day, she must spend the other part of her
day at Tanfaster," etc. Nor am I merely understanding the
loaded-down passenger in terms of her goals; rather, I
"feel" the weight of her luggage; I lean forward as if I too
were trying to reach the airline counter in time for the
flight. So when I comprehend this loaded-down passenger, my
understanding is sympathetic. And in this sympathetic
understanding of another person, I am engaging both my
facticity and transcendence, as well as understanding the
other person in terms of her facticity and transcendence.
Such understanding transcends the circle of sado-masochism,
because it is not the case that either person is reduced to
facticity or elevated to a pure transcendence. And it is
not the case that the person comprehending the other person
is plotting ways to undermine that person's goal. Even so,

comprehension alone is not always sufficient for willing

112

another person and oneself morally free.

Comprehension is a necessary condition for willing
other people morally free, since in order to will other
people morally free we must understand them as a being who
is being-free. When we comprehend other people we do not
reduce them to a transcendence transcended, i.e., to a,
facticity. However, by merely comprehending other people as
being-free, we are not necessarily willing ourselves and
other people morally free; because, to will ourselves and
other people morally free, we must, as I argued in the first
chapter, treat other people as ends to the same extent that
we treat them as a means, and we must simultaneously treat
ourselves as an end to the same extent that we are a means.
But, now, what would this entail? To answer this question,
let's consider the example under consideration.

I comprehend the loaded—down passenger as having dif—
ficulty. But the issue is: What do I do with my sympa-
thetic understanding? Sartre suggests there are three anti-
tides we can take with regard to other people who are having
difficulty achieving their ends, but only one of these three
attitudes culminates in willing ourselves and other people
morally free. (1992a, p. 278-279) With regard to the exam—
ple under consideration, the possible attitudes are:

1. I can turn my back on the other person, e.g., I go

back to the computer to determine the number of Budget

Rent-a-Car reservations I have for the next week.

2. I take up the other's end and do it myself, e.g., I

113

run from behind my Budget Rent-a-Car desk, grab the

luggage from the passenger and take the luggage to the

airline counter myself.

3. I want the other person to be successful in achiev—

ing her goal, so I help.
Only the third attitude amounts to willing myself and the
loaded-down passenger morally free, because comprehension is
coupled with helping another person achieve her ends and
such comprehension treats the loaded-down passenger as an
end to same extent that she is a means and treats oneself as
an end to the same extent that one is a means.6 In this
case, I will that the woman loaded-down with her luggage
make it to the airline counter in time for her plane, so I
go over to her and ask her if she would like some help. I
am not stealing her end from her, because I do not take over
her end as my end. When I steal her end from her, as is the
attitude expressed in option two, I am treating her as a
mere means to what is now my end. In that case, I reduce
her, in Sartre's jargon, to a transcendence transcended by
my transcendence. By contrast, when I ask her if she needs
help, I leave her end intact, and I treat her as a means to
her end. In addition, I treat myself as both an end and a
means. My end is not her end; my end is to help her achieve
her end. I too am a means to my end of helping her, since I
offer bodily assistance, and she too is my means to carry—
ing out my end, since my end is to help her achieve her end.

Each of us is a transcendence traversed-~not transcended--by

114

the other person's transcendence.

Note that in the first optional attitude suggested, my
comprehension culminates in indifference toward the other
person. Here my comprehension, which was sympathetic, be-
comes as icy as the look; so comprehension here is lost. I
return to my tasks at hand and let the loaded-down, airline
passenger go about her own business come what may. In fact,
I might feign indifference, because I do not want her to
succeed. In any case, I have not willed freedom as the
world's foundation, because I have not helped to turn what
may very well be an impossible possible for another person
into a possible possible. I leave the achievement of her
end up to fate, not to freedom. This reveals that I do not
will freedom as the world's foundation.

All in all then, comprehension is a necessary condition
for willing other people morally free, but not a sufficient
condition. It is the former condition, because without com—
prehension one does not acknowledge the other person's
being-free and, hence, does not understand that person in
terms of her or his situation. Comprehension, though, is
not sufficient for willing oneself and another person moral-
1y free, because one can take different attitudes toward
one's comprehension of what another person is doing; howev—
er, comprehension of another person in conjunction with
helping that person is sufficient for the realization of
willing oneself and another morally free. Metaphorically

put: Comprehension opens the door to non-sado-masochistic

115

relations, and, by helping another person achieve her or his
end, such people walk hand-in-hand through the exit to an
authentic intersubjective relationship.7

In conclusion, when we comprehend other people, rather
than merely look at them, we refuse to see their being—free
as a threat to our being-free. This refusal to see the
other person as a threat is a risk, since the other person
might try to ensnare us. Moreover, when our comprehension
culminates in the gratuitous helping of another person, such
assistance, when accepted, is a true gift. We help for the
sake of helping, not to prove ourselves helpful, not to get
money in return, not to get an autograph, etc. In other
words, by choosing to comprehend another person and to help
that person when help is needed, we make a gift of ourselves
to another person. Therefore, comprehension that culminates
in helping is a giving that dovetails with doing. And the
attitude illuminating this activity is nothing other than

the existential freedom ethicist's conception of generosity.

Beyond the Hell of "Freedoms' Legacy"

In "Freedoms' Legacy", I demonstrated that the world
into which we have been born is a product of the way in
which our ancestors have worlded being, that the hell of
practico-inert being is the product of alienated freedoms,
that alienated freedoms are the source of oppression, and
that alienated freedoms perpetuate oppression and the hell

of practico-inert being. Thus, since the world is the

116

Product of the way in which people world being, oppression
and the hell of practico-inert being are contingent. In
it follows that both oppression and the hell of

addition,
And one of the ideals

giractico-inert being can be overcome.
cxf this existential freedom ethic is that freedom become the

So we ask, "How can we create freedom

rvc>rld's foundation.
It is through generosity.

51:3 the world's foundation?"

“ITIjgrough a generous, as opposed to a "serious", worlding of

as I shall show, (1) give our creations as

take responsibility for our creations,

(4) undercut op-

be ing, we will,

gi its to others, (2)

( :3.) not act for the sake of an interest,
I:>zreession within our world and (5) transcend economic rela-

t:lj_<3ns with other people by gift-giving.
When we world being generously, we do not attempt to

c:<:>:irucide with or to appropriate our creation. And since

this is so, our generous acts of creating a world may be

.E>J:T<:>:Longed through giving it to other people, e.g., by making
And when

C>lillt?' possibilities possibilities for other people.
c>141~3=T ideal of being is a dovetailing of doing and giving, we
110*:

only give our creations as gifts to other people, we
aTl‘ =53'CD explicitly recognize that they are creations.

In other

authenticity will unveil to us that we are condemned to
create and that at the same time we have to be this
creation to which we are condemned. (1992a, p.515)

The person, then, whose mode of being—free is moral

f3
:tr‘sieedom recognizes and wills herself and the world as on-

gQl‘ng creations with which she never perfectly coincides,

117

but for which she assumes responsibility. Therefore, con-
version to moral freedom implies that one will not only
create generously, but also responsibly.

Since the morally free person does assume responsi-
bility for what she creates, she will try to prevent her
gifts from being turned into a counter—gifts. A counter-

finality is, as you recall, a finality that has boomeranged
and undercuts one's intention. In the case of a gift that
becomes a counter-gift, the giver's generous intention is
undercut. For example, suppose I have created a chemical to
increase crop yield.8 Suppose further that I give this
chemical as gift to farmers. Suppose further that as time
passes it turns out that this chemical actually decreases
CrOp yields over time, as well as poisons the environment.
At this point, my gift becomes a counter-gift. But since I
t<‘=11<e responsibility for my creations, I will try to con-
vince other people to stop using the chemical I createdf’
Perhaps I will also decide to create another chemical that
wi l J not have these deleterious effects. Note, however, my
re ason for creating another chemical without deleterious
efi fects is not based upon either an exigency or an interest.
AS you recall, exigencies and interests are motivations for
act ion of alienated freedom. For example, I don't create a
new and improved chemical in order to keep my job, in order
he make money, in order to prove myself to others as a good

ghfi’; rather I create another chemical, because I want to

he lp farmers safely increase crop yields.

118

In contrast to the morally free person, the person
whose mode of being is alienated freedom refuses to give his

creations as gifts to other people. Such a person sells

vduat he makes, patents his ideas, charges for his services,

eatcu Not only does he refuse to give his creations as gifts
t:c> others, he also often fails to recognize that he has
created anything. As Sartre correctly says,

The illusion of possessive consciousness (which would
change one into King Midas) is that it would like to
assimilate Being without changing it, whereas it trans—
forms everything it touches. A property owner, there-
fore, has an internal contradiction within himself: he
creates in order to possess, but to possess is to pos-
sess what is, so he denies his creation in affirming

his possessing. (1992a, p. 514)

I act in order to be—-I do this act in order to be
courageous. Not, by the way in order to create myself
as courageous but rather to make manifest that I am so.

(1992a, p. 512)

17lilea first passage demonstrates that when one's ideal of
k>SE>£i_Iig is to have, one does not recognize that one has creat-
€3<:i.,, for example, the world of property relations. The
53‘53'<:=<3nd passage demonstrates that when one's ideal of being
i:s; 1:0 be, one does not recognize that one creates oneself.
itItL‘ (either case, alienated freedom maintains that one creates
I1<:>‘1t23kiing, e.g., property relations are a given, one is by
REEL15:1‘L1re courageous or cowardly. And if one fails to acknow-
Leq'ge that one creates oneself and the world, then one will
r1<:>7t1 take responsibility for what one has, in fact, created.
What I have said so far with regard to alienated free-

QQI‘Q ‘s worlding of being and of moral freedom's worlding of

119

being has a direct bearing on the perpetuation of counter-
interests. Within the realm of practice-inert being, coun-
ter—finalities have become interests for some and counter-
interests for others. Although counter-finalities (or
counter-gifts as I have just shown) do not necessarily arise
from alienated freedom, their perpetuation through being
taking up as interests is due to alienated freedom. On the
supposition our worlding of being is based on moral freedom,
we may unwittingly create counter—finalities or counter—
gi its due to our ignorance of the particular dispositions of
the matter that we are working over. For example, given our
relative ignorance of ecology prior to World War II, people
unwittingly created and used such new products as plastics
and pesticides. Although these human creations were intend-
ed to improve the quality of life, they have in some cases
proven to be counter-gifts. The above statement is rather
generous given that for some folks the creation of plastics
and pesticides was very likely motivated by profit and not
by generosity. However the point I want to make is a gener-
ous creation could give rise to counter—finalities, because
of one's ignorance of the possible consequences of one's
chation. Such ignorance could have been possible with
12% gard to plastics and pesticides.
On the other hand, it is also possible that some chem-
i S t 8 did foresee the counter-finality possibilities of plas-
ties and pesticides. After all, the "good"-making features

0
if both are suggestive of "bad"-making features. Both were

120

made to be durable and thus to be non—biodegradable. As
Such, both would accumulate within our world if production
and use were to continue through space and time--"and if
ways of preventing accumulation other than biodegradation
were not found and used".10 With regard to pesticides,
which historically were not only intentionally durable, but
also were intentionally toxic, the deleterious effects of
pesticide use, it would seem, could have been foreseen. And
i if this is so, then their production, it would seem, stems
from alienated freedom, because only the motivations to
have--e.g., to make profits-~or to be--e.g., to be the man
from Dow——would have created a harmful "gift". However,
playing devil's advocate, Wilkinson suggests one might
reason "the benefits would outweigh the harms" and if this
were so then the motivation would not necessarily be the
result of alienated freedom. But he also says, "By the way,
I“gait/be the utilitarian argument was used in bad faith?"
Ye S , an utilitarian argument can be used in such a way,
Si rice the person making the decision must decide upon what
wi :L 1 constitute benefits and what will constitute harms, as
WQ 1 :1 as decide upon the quantitative value of the benefits
and the harms. Because the utilitarian must make such deci—
Si Qms, she or he can make them so as to serve her or his in-
te rest. And to make one's decisions pander to one's inter-
es 1: s-—in an existential freedom ethicist's sense of inter—
es ts—-is to make a decision based upon alienated freedom's

r
e 3 sons.

121

Let us suppose for the sake of argument, however, that
the reason was not an obvious case of using an utilitarian
argument in bad faith: Pesticides were intended as a gift
that would do more good than harm. What is odd about this

away of thinking is we think of gifts as being something
gycuod, not harmful. Explaining this point through an ordi—
:r123:ry language approach, Wilkinson says,

While Carolyn & I were hiking through the woods, I told
her of the senses of 'give' & then we thought of a
couple of more uses idiomatic in English:

7. I gave him a clout on the ear.

8. I'll give her a piece of my mind.

9. Give me a break!

In #7 & #8, it's clear that the giving doesn't involve
a gift and is not giving in the relevant sense. floral:
a genuine gift cannot be abusive. [My emphasis] But a
fake gift can: you give someone you don't like an unde-
sirable or inappropriate "gift", in order to make them
squirm as they try politely to thank you & express
appreciation. In this way you one-up them at the
Christmas party.

#9 works in Sartrean terms. A break could indeed
be seen, perhaps in a slightly extended sense, as a
gift, and indeed insofar as the recipient's aspirations
are made realizable, the gift is better than some
material possession: it is a sort of gift of freedom.

10. The person with whom I had a one-night stand

gave me the clap.

#10 is a bit like #7 & #8. It's not giving in the
relevant sense because the gift is undesirable,
although if it was made unintentionally, it's not ex—
actly abusive. And if done ignorantly & unintention—
ally, as it could be, it cannot perhaps be said cru—
cially to involve freedoms at all. We do see, in
English an idiom which allows us to associate the
giving with a gift: "My lover gave me a gift"--i.e., a
venereal disease or an unwanted pregnancy. But in
these cases, I think, 'gift' is being used in a mood of
sarcastic humor, so should count as figurative, and the
usage is non-para— digmatic. (Letter on Chapter Six,
June 28, 1994, p. 6b)

C3 ‘
:L‘TUrsen Wilkinson's suggestions, it seems to me the person who
'Vv
Eadrlrts to give a true gift to other people would wait until
53 .
he or he had a gift that would not entail foreseeable

122

harms. But should the person decide to give a gift that

does portend harm, I must ask, "What could be the motivation

for such giving?" It seems it would have to be alienated

freedom's motivations, not moral freedom's motivation of

gi ft-giving. In other words, I believe that a person who

willed freedom as the foundation of our world, which would

be after all not hers or his, but ours, would not have

created pesticides, for example, as a gift, since it would

have been foreseen to be a counter-gift. In any case, the

taking up of actual counter-finalities as interests to be

perpetuated can stem solely from alienated freedom. And

when interests rule the worlding of being, the world's

foundation will be unfreedom, and its countenance, lacking

i n generosity.

Finally, given that generosity, or gift-giving, is the

model for authentic relations with other people, it should
be fairly apparent that a world based on supply and demand,

C:C33lflsumerism, wages, profits——in short, capitalistic econo—

mi Qs—-is founded on unfreedom. Consequently, one of the

aims of the existential freedom ethicist will be putting an

e . . . . .
rid to the role exp101tat1ve economics plays in our lives.

In summary, since interests do not interest the morally

E

b ee person, she creates the world beyond her interest and
b

eBiond her ego. And since she does not uphold her interest,

8
he does not create herself as an oppressor and she does not

reate an oppreSSive world. She worlds being in terms of

pportunities for herself and other people, not in terms of

123

interests, which entail a fate for other people. Lastly,

through such generosity, she transcends and helps other
people transcend the hell of practico-inert interests and

counter-interests. And as Sartre rightly says,

Relations among men must be based upon this model if
men want to exist as freedom for one another: lst, by
the intermediary of the work (technical as well as
aesthetical, political, etc.); 2d, the work always
being considered as a gift. (1992a, p. 141)

Now, given generosity is the model for authentic rela-

‘t:jL<3ns, we might wonder whether this existential freedom
<3:t:13ic allows for the possibility of asking another person

if<:yz‘help. It should come as no surprise that it does, but

1:1(3r4 the request is made will be ethically relevant.
In the Notebooks Sartre makes an important distinction
l:><ertn~een the existential structure of an appeal and of a

demand. When I demand something from another person, I am

r1<2>1:.respecting his or her being-free. By demanding that
Eu:1<:>“|:her person do something for me, I am treating that
‘FDSEBJIZnson.abstractly, because I am implicitly saying that she
C’JZT Jae cannot legitimately refuse to help me--that is, what-
EB‘U”<EE:I the person's personal goals might be are irrelevant.
q?kjleii~.s shows that I refuse to comprehend the other person. In
aC:3L<:1.:ition, it shows I am my treating my own goal as uncondi-
tlji“:>cnal; I will use any means to bring about my end. The
LIDShot: The demand is a form of violence.

By contrast to the demanding person's request, a gener—

ous person's request will be nothing like the demand. One

t13’13e of request that has the structure of generosity is the

124

appeal. Sartre says,

the appeal is first of all concrete, not abstract
recognition of the other. What I recognize is not an
unconditioned freedom set above any and all situations.
To recognize such a freedom would be a trick of bad
faith disguised as a plea or a demand and would be
violence, since it tries to separate the other's free-
dom from his situation. In reality to recognize the
other's freedom concretely is to recognize it in terms
of its own ends, along with the difficulties it experi-
ences and its finitude, it is to comprehend it. .

And since I neither demand nor plead, since, on the
contrary, I recognize the concrete situation, I count
all the more on the gratuity of the other's freedom.
But at the start, I recognize that my end has to be
conditional for the other as it is for me. That is,
that it must always be possible for the other to refuse
to help if the means used in such help will alter his
own ends. (1992a, p. 283)

jPLIn. appeal then, unlike the demand, entails comprehension of
1:1t1ee other person. And when a request includes comprehension
(3'13 the other person, the person making the request thereby
Ei<::}<nowledges the being-free of the other person. .Also
1411:1LLLike a demand, an appeal to another person acknowledges
t:1:1<3, appealer's own being as being-free. Therefore, by
appealing to another for help, the appealer sets the stage
ff<3>ltr the type of reciprocity found in generosity. I acknow-
1‘553”<:1<ge that the other person my very well refuse to help me;

3’653‘1tl if she does help me, I acknowledge that her willingness

t:c:> eassist me is an act of generosity.

Furthermore, because the appealer recognizes and ac-
cz‘EECE;>‘ts the possibility of refusal, she takes a risk when she
reguests another person's help. Risk is also implicit in
the appeal, because the person to whom the appealer appeals
IILEiTS’ refuse to comprehend the appeal or to do what the ap-

pealer requests. In other words, one person's particular

125

,aIDEDeal to another person is also an appeal that the person
gaIDEDealed to comprehend the appealer's situation.

By contrast to the appealer, the person who demands is
Lirlvqilling to take these risks. A.demand is an attempt to
ggtleirantee the future and signifies the fear of refusal.

Because the appeal entails the comprehension of the
other person's being as being-free and relies on the genero—
53;i_t:y'of that person to comprehend the appealer's being as
being-free, the appeal, unlike the demand, has the structure
<:>jf generosity and the gift.11 As Sartre says,

In every appeal there is a gift. In the first place,
there is a refusal to consider the original conflict
between freedoms by way of the look as something impos—
sible to surpass. There is a gift of my end to the
other's freedom in confidence. There is an accept-
ance that my operation will not be realized by me
alone; that is, acceptance: lst, that the other haunts
my realized end, that is, haunts me inasmuch as I
announce what I am through the object (hence a begin-
ning to the moral conversion that will consist in
preferring that my creation exist as something indepen-
dent and in resigning myself to losing myself . . . );
2nd that the other transcends me with all his freedom
toward my end, that is, I accept being traversed [my
emphasis] in my freedom toward my end by the other's
freedom. (1992a, p. 281)

ibili” <gift to the other person through my appeal is, then, my
“'li—«JL lingness to project a relationship with that person
it>IEEEI&’<3nd a sado-masochistic relationship and to treat my end
67:53 :not solely my own. In other words, the appeal implies
1::t7L‘Ei generosity of the appealer. .And because it does, as
‘h7‘35§3.j1 as relies on comprehension, the appeal contains the
ESYtlitfucture of reciprocity that is compatible with moral free-
Cfl‘:>1rl. The kind of reciprocity engendered through the appeal

Effielies on the concrete recognition of the being of the

126

appealer as being-free, as well as the concrete recogni-
tgicyn of the being of the one appealed to as being—free.
bdcarreover, the successful appeal, like comprehension that
culminates in helping another person, fosters reciprocity in
VJIjJiXZh oneself and the other person are ends to the extent
t:1121t.oneself and that person are means. .And though the
Eigag>ealer asks, as well as allows, the other person to tra-
verse her transcendence, she does not ask the other person
‘t:c> ‘transcend her transcendence. This means she asks only
13(31: assistance in achieving her end and assistance only is
‘vvlléat.she receives. She is a transcendence traversed, not
transcended, by another's transcendence. Therefore, an
EiEDEDeal does not imply masochism on the part of the appealer.
In overview, the appeal goes beyond the dialectic of
'EBEicijjmiand masochism, because the appeal creates an inter-
tZ‘hJ:irning of one's end with another person's end, as well as
511:1 .intertwining of both oneself and another person as the
means to distinct, yet, intertwined ends. The appeal arises
IFJCT<Z>In generosity and creates unity, but maintains difference.
h7171~jL11e discussing the appeal in the Notebooks, Sartre says,
An appeal is first of all the recognition of diversity.
. . . Hence I do not consider that our joining together
is given in the first instance (identity) and I do not
require an act in the name of some prior identity. On
the contrary, I conceive the act that I am asking for
will be expressly destined to create a solidarity and a
unity that do not yet exist. (1992a, p. 274)
Now that we have a richer sense, than we had pre-

\7-~
:1‘<>1Jsly, of what it is to will oneself and others morally

free, I want to discuss why historically group action has

127

often failed. To will oneself, as well as others, morally

free is to act generously toward other people and to fos-

ter——in the same act--their generosity. When relations with

other people are based on generosity, such relations are

created. And since this is so, the creation of authentic

relations with other people need not presuppose a given

similarity. Moreover, since ethically successful gift-

giving signifies that both gift-giver and gift-receiver

aCknowledge the being-free of one another, the intersub-

jective relation created by generosity, in fact, presupposes

there are concrete differences between beings whose being is

being-free. So authentic group action will take into ac-

count the concrete differences between group members and

will create solidarity through, not in spite of, difference.

Yet nowhere in all the possible phases of group action is

the relation between members explicitly based on generosity.

Let's consider the fused group first. Historically the

fused group often is most likely based on a given similar-
ity, e.g., membership in a particular class or of a parti—

cular gender or race, etc. When this is why the individuals

fOrm a fused group, then the members of that group are not
rGlatecl to one another through the type of reciprocity found
in the true gift. As a consequence, the fused group does
not necessarily constitute authentic intersubjective rela-
tions. Moreover, the transition from a fused group to a

pledged group betrays the lack of generosity within the

original fused group, because the pledge signifies the

128

members' refusal to take a risk. And by requiring a pledge,

the members of the group are implicitly or explicitly asking

group members to choose alienated freedom as their mode of

being-free.

The pledged group comes into being when members take

the pledge to maintain the group regardless of individual

personal circumstances. And by making a pledge, the member

agrees to act in disaccord with her or his being-free,

because the pledge requires the compliant member to live out

her or his freedom abstractly. This demonstrates that the

pledge is, in effect and foundation, a demand, not an ap-

peal, answered; as such, it is violence "and a submission to

Violence".12 Therefore, pledged group members refuse to act

generously toward one another. And the pledge is really an
anti-gift, since it destroys the possibility of gift-giving.
It is not surprising, then, that the pledged group often

evolves into an institution.

Criticizing Sartre's Critique characterization of group
praxis and consequently my description of it, Aronson in

Jean-Paul——Philosophy in the World says,

Designed as a philosophical basis for historical mater—

ialism, the Critique is also a forceful attack on
Marxism's hope for humankind.

At the core of Sartre's mature, as much as his

early thought, we encounter a single dominant mood, his
abiding pessimism. (1990, p. 287)

But why does Aronson believe Sartre's Critique character-

ization of group praxis is pessimistic? Perhaps because his
Characterization of group praxis does not imply the
inevitability of a utopian society or of social progress.

129

‘Aunci 13erhaps because Sartre's (or any existential freedom
ertlaixsist's) characterization of group praxis does not pre-
suppose a given human solidarity. Unlike the Marxist who
believes in historical materialism, which holds to a predes-
tziriend utopia and presupposes a given human solidarity, the
existential freedom ethicist leaves everything up to us.
Ervreri so, I believe Sartre's Critique shows the sources of
CHJI? failure to create solidarity and, thereby, shows us what
idea twill need to do if we want to bring about a concrete and
CNDIltLingent world founded upon freedom. I find this to be
arry42hing but pessimistic-~unless, of course, you define
'pessimistic' as any philosophy not endorsing a pre-given
Thinuan solidarity and utopian destiny.

In any case, I shall show now that an existential
freedom ethic, far from encouraging a mood of pessimism,
lenads to joy. And contrary to the view of some existential
frneedom ethic commentators, e.g., Kerner, I shall argue an
eXistential freedom.ethic does not condemn the morally free
EDEErson to the moods of despair, forlornness, or nausea.

Kerner, for example, says,

In order to be free in the ethical sense, we must come

to see and face our freedom. According to Sartre, that

is a matter of learning to live in anguish, with a

sense of forlornness, and in despair. It is these

feelings or moods which disclose to us the truth of our
existence—-namely that our freedom entails unlimited

responsibility. (1990, p. 168)

“ulile I agree with Kerner that anguish is, as I argued in

tile first chapter, of ethical significance, I do not believe

thesame is true of despair and forlornness. Anguished

130

rrafilection, as you recall, entails the questioning of the
mvc>rfild.and of oneself, as well as the revelation that one's
koeyirig is being-free. In anguished reflection, one is at the
czrmosssroads of choosing alienated freedom or moral freedom;
8&3, .in anguished reflection, one will not be either pessi-
nuisst:ic or optimistic about the future, rather one's future
is; .113 suspense. Since that is so, anguish does not entail
ciemsgoair or forlornness, because both of these moods imply an
a1:t:j;tude has been chosen with regard to how one's future
vviLLJ_ go: both imply a pessimism about the future.
Moreover, despair and forlornness are moods of evasion,
because they cover over one's being as being—free. And
ssirnoe they hide one's being-free, they hide anguish too.
Despair and forlornness, then, are moods correlative to
alrienated freedom. Sartre says as much about despair.
Many men, in fact, know that the goal of their pursuit
is being; and to the extent that they possess this
knowledge, they refrain from appropriating things for
their own sake . . . . But to the extent that this
attempt still shares in the spirit of seriousness and
that these men can still believe that their mission of
effecting the existence of the in-itself-for—itself is
written in things, they are condemned to despair; for
they discover at the same time that all human activi-
ties are equivalent (for they all tend to sacrifice man
in order that the self-cause may arise) and that all
are on principle doomed to failure. (1956, P. 627)
III other words, the despairing, or forlorn, person's ideal
‘fo being is to be, even though he or she recognizes that
trlis ideal is unachievable. And rather than seeing beyond
t<> moral freedom's ideal of being, which is a dovetailing of
‘giVing and doing, the despairing or forlorn person lives his

Or her days disingenuously, in ungenerosity. As a result,

131

we can see that such a life corresponds to an alienatedly

free life, not a morally free one.

Not only is the morally free person's mood beyond for-

lornness and despair, it too is beyond nausea. In Sartre's

novel Nausea, Roquentin's nausea corresponds to his belief

that he is uncreative and inessential. He sees his exis-

tence as absurd, contingent and superfluous. In fact all

cxorlcretely existing things are de trop; they are sickening.
(Drllgy the undifferentiated and ephemeral being "behind" all

things is essential; only it is pure. Only it is. Like the

Eflaatonic Socrates who yearns to rid himself of his bodily

le>cistence, Roquentin too has a distaste for flesh. He wants

‘tc> transcend his own flesh, as well as the "flesh" of the

‘chrld. His nausea, therefore, stems from alienated freedom,

txecause Roquentin wants to flee his facticity. Roquentin's

ruausea also reveals his refusal to will freedom as the

Mnorld's foundation, because his nausea subsides only when he

filees the fleshiness of this world.

But the morally free person assumes her or his facti-
Clity and creates the world by unveiling the "flesh" of

lDeing. And the authentic person, Sartre says, has "a taste

fkbr Being". (1992a, p. 495) The mood correlative to such

llnveiling is joy, not nausea, not despair, and not forlorn-
Iless. Of willing freedom as the world's foundation,

Irightly says,

Sartre

Authenticity at this level is a double source of joy:
through the transformation of gratuity into absolute free-

domr-through the contact with the being of the phenomenon.
(1992a, p. 491)

132

II] Iny words, joy comes from two aspects of conversion to
InCJItal freedom. First by accepting and willing the contin-
gency and gratuity of my existence, my project to be either
nnyr (ago or to have an ego are replaced by the project of
myself as a gift through my work. I am what I will do, not
what I am or what I have. Second by willing freedom as the
QIITDIJDd of the world, my relation to being changes from one
(bf? aappropriation and identification to one of illumination.
WHuart.both of these amount to is the assumption, recognition,
allci willing of oneself as a limited, but generous, creator.
Punci joy, not surprisingly, is the distinctive mood of gener—
CHSi:ty. After all, think of how you have felt when you have
given truly, generously.

But if joy is the distinctive mood of the morally free
Fmarson, how are we to make sense of the ethical significance
CXE anguish. Anguish is, as I showed in the first chapter,
tile mood correlative to non-accessory reflection and to the
Elwareness of our very being as being-free. And since the
fluorally free person wills to act in accord with being-free,
j:t would seem she must will herself anguished. And if this
ins so, why would and how could the morally free person
GXperience joy?

Although I argued anguish is correlative to non-acces-
Ehory reflection, I also argued that anguish is not corre-
3lative to moral freedom's way of being. I argued moral
freedom's reflection is authentic, non-accessory reflection

and is a modification of anguished reflection. So, any

133

IUCDCKjS correlative to moral freedom's way of being will be a

InLDCLification of anguish and will not be anguish, simplici-

‘teazr. Such moods will be complex——that is, they will incor-

1>c>rnate, rather than hide, one's anguish.l3 For example,

sraeaaking of the mood correlative to authentic love, Sartre

saa3rs,

. . . in love itself, at its heart, there will be, if
it is authentic, this being or not being, and thus a
fundamental anxiety that this love might not be. And
just as love is willed at the same time that it is
felt, this anxiety too must be willed in authenticity
as our only defense against the future. (l992a, p. 477)

Siinnilarly, the joy of the morally free person will be an

allgnaished joy, not a simple, or delirious joy. And this is

IEi1:ting, since the person who wills freedom as the world's
fcnandation and who unveils the concreteness of being, as—

Stunes and wills herself as a limited and gratuitous creator

(Di? the world. As a limited and gratuitous creator of the

Mnorld, the morally free person is joyful, but also anguish—

Efld. She knows that through her limits as a creator her

Srenerosity is a risk, and her creations are at risk. Her

Sienerosity might not be received generously by others, and

1“lergifts might not turn out as she had hoped. Even so, she

llakes the risk; she explicitly creates herself and her rela-
tlions with others. As a consequence, she is joyful, though
anguished.

In summary, anguished joy is a distinctive mood of

SJenerosity, not nausea, not despair, and not forlornness.

By'willing freedom as the world's foundation, the morally
free person sheds light on being, which would otherwise be

134

J_<>sst in darkness and obscurity. Through her concrete and

jgbeezrspectival illuminations, she wills to lose herself in the

Eirigyuished joy of creation. Sartre aptly says,

. to see is to pull Being back from its collapsing.
And as soon as it is revealed, Being springs into this
unveiling with all the reaffirmation of its Being.

Perception is the upsurge of Being, the fixed, dizzying
explosion of Being into the "there is," and this is

originally for the For-itself enjoyment. (l992a, p.
494)

With this passage, we can see that the existential freedom
631:11icist's world is beyond the nausea of Roquentin's world,
it>€3yond the despairing and forlorn world embraced by Kerner,

Eirld.beyond the terror-bound world of the pledged group. All

j_r1 all, this passage captures not only the importance of

Eieasthetic unveiling in a world where freedom is founding, it
Eajlso captures the concrete, non-idealistic unveiling pecu-

1¢iar to such a world founded upon freedom. And for all of

T&Nou who unveil the beauty of this mountain range or that
IZ‘ainforest, this painting or that person, you will exper—
j~ence the concrete joy of creation; for upon conversion to
Imoral freedom, anguish proper will be transformed, as

VVilkinson suggests, into "a kind of excitement about life,

63nd maybe then the joy would then be a sort of bittersweet

jjoy". (Letter on Chapter Seven, June 30, 1994, p. 3a)

Defense of the Existential Freedom Ethic Revisited

Now that we have before us the existential freedom

ethicist's conception of generosity and the moods entailed

by generosity, I shall reply to some perennial and not so

135

jg>eexrennial objections to an existential freedom ethic. By

x:eejferring to the moods entailed by generosity, I first will

ITGBEDly to the following perennial charges leveled against an

€32<xistential freedom ethic: 1. the charge of abstractness, 2.

t:11€3 charge of pessimism, and 3. the charge of nihilism.

jetjftner replying to these perennial objections, I shall reply

t:<3 the not so perennial objection that this existential
ifjreaedom ethic is practically inefficacious, because genero-

53:11:y, in the existential freedom ethicist's sense, is not

possible.

Firstly, the anguished joy of the morally free person

i.s; of this world and not the eternal bliss Plato projects

i.rrto an intelligible world. Secondly, the morally free

Ibeerson's worlding of being is correlative to an anguished
IjCDy and not to the despairing and forlorn world of Kerner.
Thirdly, the morally free person's worlding of being is
CZorrelative to an anguished joy, not to Ivan's delirious joy
5353 he relates to Alyosha his tale of the Grand Inquisitor.“
The first point demonstrates the actual concreteness of
tillis existential freedom ethic, because the joy correlative
tun moral freedom arises from and with the creation and dis—
Cxovery of the sensible world, not from and with the contem-
IDlation of a Platonic ideal.
The second point demonstrates that this existential
freedom ethic is not pessimistic, because this ethic does
not condemn one to unrelenting despair; rather it enjoins

people to transcend despair through the joy of creation.

136

The third point demonstrates that this existential
ifzreaedom ethic is opposed to nihilism, because the type of

jic>3z correlative to moral freedom's mode of worlding being is

airigguished. Anguished joy signifies that one is creative and

c3c3r1cerned about the effects of one's creations on other

jg>€e<>ple; however, Ivan's delirious joy, which is the joy of a

riziluilist, betrays his destructive irreverence for other

people and his refusal to create.

The last point has bearing on the not so perennial

CDlafjection that I shall entertain now. In this chapter I

irlaaxne argued that generosity, in the existential freedom

€31:Iricist's sense, is the basis for creating authentic rela-

tlixons with one another, for creating authentic group praxis,

arLd.for founding the world on freedom; but the not so peren-
r1ial objection contends generosity is not a possible mode of

1C'Dehavior for human beings, because human beings by nature

Clean act only from self-interest.15 In other words, the

cDbjector holds that all human actions are necessarily self-
ish; therefore, generosity is not humanly possible, because

<lenerosity entails being concerned about how one's actions

Eiffect other people. It entails that one not intentionally

lHarm other people and that one intentionally help other
people.

My first response to this objection is to point out
that not all people act selfishly and not all people who,
for the most part, act selfishly do so all of the time.

Some people are concerned about the effects of their actions

137

(311. other people, are concerned that their actions not harm

c>1:11er people, and are concerned that their actions help

(31:11er people. Buddhists, physicians, nurses, parents,

t:eeaachers, etc. show this type of concern for other people.

At this point the objector says, "You have misunder-

531:<Dod the objection. I'm not claiming that people won't

ssljraw this type of concern for other people; I'm claiming

‘tzllzit if they do show such concern, their motive is necessar-

:ih1;y a self-interested one. I'm not claiming that people can

'Eiczt: only selfishly; I'm claiming that people can never act

Citissinterestedly. People will always and only act according

t:c> what they perceive as benefitting themselves. If helping
C>tiher people is perceived to benefit oneself, then and only

t:11en.will a person help another person. Surely even you see

tillat Buddhists, physicians, nurses, parents, teachers, etc.
1Help other people, because doing so benefits themselves,
€3..g., it feeds their egos or fills their pocketbooks."

In reply to this version of the psychological egoism

(blojection, I call on the reader to ask himself or herself if

like or she has ever acted generously. Surely each of you has

Eitleast once in your lifetime done something for another

13erson that was not motivated by self-interest. It could be

ESomething as seemingly insignificant and commonplace as
giving directions to a lost, unknown person to something as
seemingly supererogatory and rare as peaceably intervening

with persons unknown to oneself who are engaged in a barroom

knife fight.

138

At this point the objector says, "But you must realize

t:11£1t people do not always know what their real motive is.

53c: even if someone believes she or he has acted disinterest-

ea<jLLy, it is very likely their real motive was a self-inter-

e sted one."

My response to this version of the objection is to

point out that, since the objector seems to refuse to accept

€111}; evidence as falsifying psychological egoism, the believ-

eacc‘ in psychological egoism presupposes there is a given

lijgunan nature, whereas we do not. Our conception of con-

Escziousness and the ego differs from the objector's concep-

tlixon. For us, consciousness is contentless. There is no

llrlconscious in consciousness. There is no ego in or "be-

flignd" consciousness. The ego is an object in the world; it

i.s; a projection of consciousness.16 This implies that

Eiczting from self—interestedness is a choice, and it is the

C3hoice of heteronomy, i.e., it is alienated freedom. Gener-

c>sity, too, is a choice, and it is the choice of autonomy,

i—-e., it is moral freedom. We grant, then, that it is

possible for people to act solely from self-interest, but it

j~S also possible for people to act from motives other than,

(Dr in addition to, their own self-interest. The upshot:

(Senerosity is a possibility even if the bad faith of egois-

tic self-interest rules the western world.

In summary, generosity engages one's own, as well as

another person's freedom. When a generously given gift is

accepted as a true gift, we can transcend the hell of

139

sado-masochistic relations depicted in "No Exit" and the
hell of practico—inert being. Through generosity, we posi—
tively will ourselves and other persons morally free. So in
contrast to Kerner's world of knightly duels, the world of
this existential freedom ethic is more like the world of an
improvisational jazz ensemble, where each player makes a
gift of her or his notes for the other players who in their
turn take up the gift and turn it into a new gift of
1'1c>tes.l7 However, through this metaphor I do not want to
give the impression that moral freedom can surface only in
the world of art. The point is to turn all doings into

generosity and gifts: Let freedoms ring!!!

140

NOTES

]_.. Many Sartrean commentators have argued Sartre's ontology
cicowes not make room for such a possibility. One such commen-
tator is Kerner who in Three Philosophical Moralists says,

Mutual recognition of freedom in real life, as we have
seen, seems to be, in Sartre's terms, a preordained
impossibility. Were I to make the freedom of someone
else my goal, by this very act I transcend and deny it.

. . The conclusion to be drawn is therefore this.
Mutual antagonism cannot be overcome, and the
co-operation of others cannot be taken for granted, but
we can face all this in candour. . . . Conflict between
humans is inevitable. . . . The freedom of another is a
threat to me. Hence I embark on the effort to limit or
even destroy it. (1990, pp. 165—167)

53C), while Kerner contends that our relations with other
Ipeaople are necessarily conflictual, he also accepts the
<:]_aim that we must will other people free. Kerner says,

Respect for the freedom of others must mean therefore
solely that it is an end only negatively, that is, I
must not undermine or sabotage it. (1990, p. 166)

811d

Genuine co-operation is also a rivalry. Challenges are
needed for freedom to unfold. Therefore, willing my own
freedom entails that I must will also the freedom of
others, for only another free being can challenge me.
(1990, p. 161)

All in all then, Kerner's characterization of an existential
freedom ethic is that of knights dueling and is based on the
assumption that the hell of sado-masochistic relationships
cannot be overcome.

By contrast to Kerner's characterization, I have argued
that an existential freedom ethic requires one positively to
will the freedom of other persons; so I do not bite the
sado-masochism bullet. I contend that we not only can, but
also must, transcend the circle of conflictual relations.

2. In a marginal note on an earlier draft, Wilkinson points
out that the ego, for Sartre, "includes one's self-image &
reputation".

3. At this point I want to say that this existential free-
dom ethic's concept of generosity differs from.Aristotle's.
First, in this ethic, generosity is not a virtue; rather, it

141

:i.ss being—free in the mode of moral freedom.
<:>£3;ity is not a mean, as it is for Aristotle,

‘Jaj_<:es of ungenerosity and wastefulness.
s e em generosity,

sseeinse,

Second, gener—
between the

And though it might
in the existential freedom ethicist's

is a mean between sadism and masochism, it is not
53:113ce generosity actually transcends the alienated freedom
<>:ff sadism and masochism. Third, generosity is not solely or
eesawen fundamentally concerned with the sharing of one's
wealth, as it is for Aristotle. Rather, in this ethic,
generosity fundamentally involves the giving of oneself.
(Ezranted one might do this by sharing one's wealth, but
estiaring one's wealth is not the only way for one to give of
(Drieself. Making time for another person or helping another
f>€arson in her or his endeavors are examples of giving of
(Drieself that do not involve wealth. Fourth, generosity
czzreates authentic intersubjective relations, but for Aris-
‘trotle generosity need not create such relations.

The existential freedom ethicist's concept of genero-
sity is, however, similar to Gabriel Marcel's concept of
aaxrailability. (In a letter from Wilkinson, June 30, 1994, he
Intentions that Sartre's/Henig's notion of generosity reminds
him of Marcel and I agree.) For Marcel availability con-
I1c>tes one's willingness to make time for others, although
Iic>t in a slavish manner. Perhaps more significantly, avail-
alaility is related to giving, as opposed to having, is the
Ineaans by which one creates ethical intersubjective relations
ij_th other people, and involves something like our ideal of
Exositively willing oneself and other people morally free.

4.. Not only can a gift become a counter-gift because of the
tudgenerosity of another person, a gift can also become a
Chounter-gift because of one's ignorance of the "disposition"
<>f matter. In the next section while I discuss the differ-
eences between the way in which alienated freedoms and moral
freedoms world being, I also discuss the ethical signifi-
cance of a counter-gift arising from such ignorance. Note,
however, that regardless of the reason a gift becomes a
counter-gift, a gift is a counter-gift if the giver's gener-
ous intention is undermined in such a way as to create an

effect in direct opposition to giver's gift-giving inten-
tion.

5. Sartre discusses the importance of comprehension in the
context of the aims of the NOtebooks; he also discusses the
importance of comprehension in both Search for a.Method and
the Critique. In the ethical work, comprehension is tied
directly to authenticity and thus to ethics; but in the
meta-anthropological works, comprehension is tied directly
to the grounds for obtaining anthropological knowledge and
thus to scientific methodology. Comprehension of other
people is, then for Sartre, not only related to fostering
the good, it also is related to obtaining the truth.

142

ES- Discussing the third attitude, Sartre says in the Note-
lacaoks,

The only authentic form of willing here consists in
wanting the end to be realized by the other. And
wanting here consists in engaging oneself in the opera-
tion. But not to do it oneself, rather to modify the
situation so that the other can do it. Indeed in so
doing, I keep my comprehension since, in effect, I in
no way negate the value and the end by surpassing them,
but, on the other hand, I preserve their autonomy for
them in relation to me. I do not steal them from
anyone, they are not mine. Yet I do surpass and de-
stroy their factual aspect. The reaching of the goal
will no longer be an event for me that does not concern
me. I contribute to its happening (or, in some cases,
I turn away from my own ends so as not to prevent its
happening). (l992a, p. 279)

Ichte Sartre suggests that sometimes helping another person
‘t<> achieve her or his ends means that the one assisting not
(it) something he or she had intended to do. This is as it
sliould be, since, to paraphrase Sartre, not acting is also
all act. So, in some cases, not acting my be the very act
'tliat contributes to another person's achievement of his or
her end.

7.. Although in the example under consideration the only
zatlthentic attitude toward the other person is comprehension
‘tllat culminates in helping her achieve her end, there may be
trimes when willing another person morally free entails not
Ileelping that person bring about her or his immediately
caliosen end. In the next chapter, I discuss several cases
When this is so.

8.. I refer the reader to Note 4.

9-. For example, Robert Oppenheimer in the 1950's worked to
prevent future use and development of the atomic bomb;

vVhereas Edward Teller spent his entire career promoting the
development of atomic weapons. (I even heard Teller give a
SFHeech on the "beauty" and importance of the neutron bomb.)

ask.you, "Who of these two physicists ultimately willed

frneedom as the world's foundation and who willed unfreedom
353 the world's foundation?" The answer is clear to me.

1C). The addendum to this statement was a marginal comment
'3’ Wilkinson on an earlier draft of this chapter. It is an

1nlportant addendum, since without it my statement would not
e true.

11. I want to reiterate a point made by Wilkinson. A gift
meednot be a material thing. Thus, "Giving another the
tJJne of day", like "Giving another a break", might entail

143

t:11<3 creation of an authentic intersubjective bond. By
"ggciving another the time of day", we show concern for anoth—

eaz: person's well-being, and we thereby treat this person as
51 subject, not an object.

1.22. Wilkinson noted this aspect of the demand in a marginal
czcanmmmt on an earlier draft of this chapter. It is an

jrnxportant addendum, since it reveals the bad faith of those
t:zaking the pledge.

1L3. In Robert C. Solomon's work The Passions, Solomon
czliaracterizes existential angst in such a way that it would
13€3 impossible for it to be compatible with any "positive"
In<>ods. Although Solomon distinguishes between anguish and
anxiety, in both characterizations Solomon links these
ennotions with fear. Solomon characterizes Sartre's notion of
.azigst as the "fear of oneself" and in particular as the
"EEear of one's own 'nothingness'". (1983, p. 288) Solomon
ailso says that angst makes "negative evaluations of one's
cnnn potentiality", is the desire "to render oneself impo-
txant, to protect oneself (and the world) from oneself", and
"nnakes trust of others difficult". (1983, pp. 289-290)

I disagree with Solomon's understanding of what Sartre
auad the existential freedom ethicist mean by 'anguish'.
IFirst, anguish is not a form of fear. (I refer you to Being
aind NOthingness, pp. 29-30.) Second, despair and forlorn-
IleSS imply pessimism about oneself and the world, but an—
<guish does not. Third, willed anguish is the desire to take
responsibility for one's creations, which is anything but
the desire to render oneself impotent. Fourth, willed
anguish expresses one's willingness to take risks, which
includes the risk of trusting other people. Overall,
Solomon's understanding of what we mean by anguish is mis-
taken. Therefore, when I argue later in this chapter that
anguish and joy are compatible, it is important to keep in
view the existential freedom ethicist's sense of anguish.

14. My discussion here refers to the section titled "The

Grand Inquisitor" in Fyodor Dostoyevsky's novel The Brothers
Karamazov.

15. This is not a perennial objection to an existential
freedom ethic, because this is the first time generosity has
been explicitly held to be fundamental to achieving authen—
ticity. Kerner's characterization of an existential freedom
ethic, for example, appears to be compatible with the claim
that all human behavior is motivated only by self-interest,
because "dueling knights" need not be concerned with promot—
ing the freedom of one another or with the effects of their
actions on one another. However, I have argued that moral
freedom entails willing oneself and other people morally
free and entails generosity. As a consequence, my charac-
terization of an existential freedom ethic is not compatible
with the claim that human behavior is motivated only by

144

self-interest. And if psychological egoism is true, then
this existential freedom ethic can not be practically effi-
cacious even if it is theoretically consistent and coherent.

In short, if psychological egoism is true, then we cannot do
what we ought.

16. See Sartre's The Transcendence of the Ego, and, in
particular, see pages 56-60.

17 . My use of the jazz ensemble metaphor comes to me by way
of Wilkinson.

145

CHAPTER FOUR
IMPORTANCE OF SITUATION

In the previous chapter, I insinuated that Ivan

Kzazraimazov's decree that anything is permissible if god does
ntpt: exist is not a tenet of this existential freedom ethic.

bd§r (discussion in the first and second chapter of its ideals

arici of why it does condemn, for example, oppression should

nnaikxe it clear an existential freedom ethicist does not share

Jivzinfs View that everything is permissible--though she does

agree that god does not exist. Even so, an objector might

Exoijut out that I have failed thus far to offer any practical

gnaixjance for determining what is and is not permissible.

Moreover, Sartre in his essay "The Humanism of Existential-

isun" seems to embrace Ivan's decree and to imply that an

€n<istential freedom ethicist's method of decision making is

Eintinomian.1 In response to these objections, I shall argue

Enad demonstrate here that our method of decision making is

That antinomian. I shall then illustrate an existential

freedom ethicist's method by discussing the issues of lying,

institutionalized punishment, environmental destruction, and

assisted suicide.

General Characterization of the Existential Freedom Ethic's
Method of Decision Making

In this section, I shall argue this existential freedom

ethic represents a situation ethics similar to, yet distinct

from, the ethics Joseph Fletcher proposes in Situation

146

Ethics. .And to keep in View the differences between the
two, I shall call our situation ethics 'situationalism' and
use Fletcher's term, 'situationism', to refer to his version
of a situation ethics.

Fletcher characterizes a situation ethics as a method
of decision making between the extremes of legalism and
antinomianism. The situation ethicist's method makes use of
prima facie guidelines, whereas the legalist's method relies
on rules or principles. At the other extreme is the antino-
mian approach, which shuns all rules, prima facie guidelines
and prior experience. For this reason Fletcher refers to
the antinomian approach as "unprincipled". By 'unprin-
cipled', Fletcher intends not only a neutral connotation,
but also the negative connotation of unscrupulousness,
arbitrariness, and capriciousness. Between these two ex—
treme approaches to decision making is situation ethics,
which is not a slave to rules nor is it an anarchist of the
moment. This third approach is responsive to the particu-
lars of a situation requiring a decision, yet makes use of
ethical guidelines or ideals, which are to be treated as
"illuminators" and not as directives.

I contend the method of an existential freedom ethicist
is situationalist. A freedom ethicist's method is not
legalist or antinomian, because she employs her ideal that
freedom become the world's foundation as a goal to be
achieved and she recognizes that the achievement of this

goal is dependent upon determining the appropriate means for

147

each situation. This means as Beauvoir rightly says that
no behavior is ever authorized to begin with, and one
of the concrete consequences of existentialist ethics
is the rejection of all the previous justifications
which might be drawn from the civilization, the age,
and the culture; it is the rejection of every principle

of authority. (1948, p.142)

In other words, an existential freedom ethicist would not
hold, for example, that lying is wrong because society holds
it to be wrong or because a god commands it to be wrong.
However, our rejection of authority does not entail an
acceptance of capriciousness or arbitrariness in decision
making, since our aim is to bring about freedom as the
world's foundation.

Yet I admit our Situationalism differs from the
Fletcher's situationism. Of his version of a situation
ethics, Fletcher says,

The Situationist enters into every decision-making

situation fully armed with the ethical maxims of his

community and heritage, and he treats them with respect
as illuminators of his problems. Just the same he is
prepared in any situation to compromise them or set
them aside in the situation if love seems better served

by doing so. (1966, p. 26)

Unlike Fletcher's situationism, our Situationalism does not
begin with ready-made maxims of the tradition, culture or
community, nor does it take Christian love as the absolute.
Given the role ethical maxims play in Fletcher's situation~
ism, it seems his situation ethic is fundamentally a deonto-
logical ethic. Our Situationalism, however, is goal-based
and the achievement of the goal is necessarily dependent
upon and responsive to one's situation. This difference

suggests to me that the existential freedom ethicist's

148

method is more truly a situation ethics than is Fletcher's
situationism, because his situationism is covertly legalist.

In any case, Fletcher contends an existential freedom
ethicist's method must necessarily be antinomian. Despite
his acknowledgment that Beauvoir's characterization of an
existentialist ethic is not explicitly antinomian, Fletcher
maintains it must be.

She [Beauvoir] shrinks from a candid antinomianism. But

the plain fact is that her ontology--her idea of basic

reality is, like Sartre's, one of radical disconti-
nuity, so that there can be no connective tissue be-
tween one situation or moment of experience and anoth—
er. There is no fabric of life, hence no basis for
generalizing moral principles or laws. Every situation

has its own particularity! (1966, p. 25).

But what is it about our ontology and characterization of
reality that allows Fletcher to come to such a conclusion?
Fletcher says that our conception of reality is one of "rad-
ical discontinuity". But this is not so.

Fletcher has either ignored or misunderstood the signi—
ficance of the interplay of facticity and transcendence
whereby one creates and discovers a world. With the threads
of facticity and transcendence one weaves the fabric of
one's existence and world. Granted the fabric of the world
does not exist before humans exist, since for us existence
precedes essence. Moreover, since humans are the creators
of the world, humans are responsible for the continuity or
discontinuity in it. In addition, the interplay of facti-
city and transcendence constitute one's "situation". I use
'Situation' here in its technical and Sartrean sense. The

significance of Sartre's notion of situation has direct

149

bearing on the issue of continuity in human life. One's
situation connotes continuity in life, because one's situa-
tion is necessarily temporal. One's situation is not only
the present, but also the past and the future. Through
transcendence of the present, one projects a future and in
so doing reaches back to the past by illuminating and making
use of one's facticity in order to bring about one's future.
Therefore, for us, situation connotes continuity in life,
not radical discontinuity. Contrary then to Fletcher's
belief that this freedom ethic must be antinomian, our
godless ontology does not preclude meaning and continuity in
human life. It only precludes that meaning and value may
pre-exist human life.
I have contended that our Situationalism is more truly
a situation ethic than is Fletcher's situationism, since our
Situationalism is not, as is Fletcher's situationism, co-
vertly legalistic. Yet, this difference might raise con-
cerns about the form of relativism entailed by our situa—
tionalism. Of his own method Fletcher says, "In our attempt
to be situational, . . we can pin another label on our
method. It is relativistic." (1966, P. 43). However,
To be relative, of course, means to be relative to
something. To be "absolutely relative". . . is to be
inchoate, random, unpredictable, unjudgeable, meaning-
less, amoral--rather in the antinomian mode. There
must be an absolute or norm of some kind if there is to
be any true relativity. This is the central fact in
the normative relativism of a situation ethic . . . .
In Christian situationism the ultimate criterion is, .
. "agapeic love." It relativizes the absolute, it does
not absolutize the relative! (1966, pp. 44-45).

Thus, Fletcher holds that his own situation ethic is not

150

perniciously relativistic; yet, since he holds that an
existential freedom ethicist's method is antinomian, he also
holds it is perniciously relativistic. But our freedom
ethic is no more "absolutely" relativistic than is
Aristotle's ethic. I grant that the end sought in our
freedom ethic is not conceived of as a given telos, but the
end sought, when concretely expressed, is relativist in the
sense that its particular content will be relative to one's
situation. This acknowledgment, however, does not entail a
pernicious ethical relativism any more than Aristotle's
ethic——which holds the expression of moral virtue is rela-
tive to a person's particular situation—-entails a perni-
cious ethical relativism.
In overview, consider the following passage from
Beauvoir's Ethics of Ambiguity:
Ethics does not furnish recipes any more than do sci-
ence and art. One can merely propose methods. . . .
one may say that in the case where the content of
action falsifies its meaning, one must modify not the
meaning, which is here willed absolutely, but the
content itself; however, it is impossible to determine
this relationship between meaning and content abstract-
ly and universally: there must be a trial and decision
in each case. But likewise just as the physicist finds
it profitable to reflect on the conditions of scienti-
fic invention and the artist on those of artistic crea-
tion without expecting ready—made solutions to come
from these reflections, it is useful for the man of
action to find out under what conditions his under—
takings are valid. (1948, p. 134)
Note that the method Beauvoir describes is responsive to the
situation, since she enjoins us to obtain a harmony between

the end sought and the means used to attain the end. This

method is not arbitrary, since transcendence and facticity,

151

intention and content, and end and means are internally
related. Means cannot be treated separately from one's
chosen end. This means right action is that by which the
realized end is consonant with the projected ideal of this
freedom ethic. And though this freedom ethic refuses to
treat ready-made principles from tradition as authoritative,
an existential freedom ethicist does not create something
from nothing. She acts with and from her facticity and the
good at which she aims is to create a world founded on free-
dom. Overall then, as Beauvoir rightly suggests, the method
of decision making employed by an existential freedom ethi-
cist is no more "ruleless"--that is, it is no more capri-
cious or arbitrary--than is the method used by a scientist
or an artist.

Given this characterization of an existential freedom
ethic's method of decision making, it should be apparent
that Situationalism is concerned with the consequences of an
act, since its method of decision making aims to have the
meaning (intended result) of an act coincide with the actual
results (consequences) of an act. Even so, it is not con-
cerned solely with the actual results of the act, since it
is also concerned with both the intended result (freedom as
the world's foundation is its fundamental goal) and with the
content of an act (the means employed to its goal). And
since an existential freedom ethic does not aim to promote
an aggregate freedom, its method of decision making is not

reducible to a cost/benefit analysis of what best maximizes

152

an aggregate good--that is, its method is not utilitarian;
rather its method of decision making is a Situationalism in
which one aims to promote the concrete moral freedom of each
individual.2 And since the method of decision making is
situational, no act is a priori good or bad. In short, our
method of decision making is not Kantian or utilitarian.3

To substantiate my claims that our method of decision
making is not antinomian, legalist, Kantian, or utilitarian,
I shall illustrate our situationalist method by taking up
the ethical issues of institutionalized punishment, lying,
assisted suicide, and environmental destruction. Along the
way, I shall suggest prima facie guidelines, which, for an
existential freedom ethic, are proposals--not demands or
commands--concerning what would constitute ethically per-
missible action in particular situation types. I refer to
these prima facie guidelines as proposals, because they are
tentative, experientially and, thus, historically rooted,
are meant to be discussed with other people, and are sugges-
tions only.

In addition to making proposals concerning the ethical
permissibility of institutionalized punishment, lying,
assisted suicide, and environmental destruction, I shall
discuss the antinomy of action, which is an ethical paradox
peculiar to an existential freedom ethic that Beauvoir
discusses at length in her ethics.4 An antinomy of action
arises for an existential freedom ethicist in contexts of

oppression, because in these contexts the existential

153

freedom ethicist more often than not is unable to will the
oppressor morally free though one of her ideals is to will

all people morally free.5

The Issue of Institutionalized Punishment

What would be the existential freedom ethicists' justi-
fication of institutionalized punishment-~that is, if any is
possible? For starters, if we could give a justification,
it would not be deterrence—based, since this justification
uses the person who is being punished as a mere means.6 Nor
can we a priori appeal to a retributive justification, since
we cannot claim irrespective of a person's situation that a
person who breaks a law must be punished.

Another question is: "What would constitute a crime
according to a freedom ethic?" For an existential freedom
ethic only those actions that explicitly and intentionally
run counter to promoting freedom as the world's foundation
would constitute prima facie grounds for interfering with
another person's freedom. Consequently, rape, murder and
oppression would constitute prima facie grounds for inter-
fering with a person's expression of his or her freedom,
because a person who rapes, murderers, or oppresses another
person treats that person merely as a means.7 When treating
another person as a mere means or merely as a means, the
rapist, murderer or oppressor reduces his victim to her
facticity and thereby does violence to her and, thus, to her

freedom.

154

 

«C

But since an existential freedom ethic cannot appeal to
a deterrence justification of punishment and cannot appeal a
priori to a retributive defense of punishment, it is unclear
whether a person who rapes, murders, or oppresses another
person could be justifiably punished. And punishment in and
of itself is, after all, also violence. On the other hand,
Beauvoir suggests,

We have to respect freedom only when it is intended for

freedom, not when it strays, flees itself, and resigns

itself. A freedom which is interested only in denying

freedom must be denied. (1948, pp. 90-91)

And since a person who rapes, murders, or oppresses another
person does violence to his victim and her freedom, it might
seem we are justified in denying the freedom of the one who
rapes, murders or oppresses. So it seems imprisonment, for
example, might be justified; however, Beauvoir also says, "I
am oppressed if I am thrown into prison, but not if I am
kept from throwing my neighbor into prison." (1948, pp.
90-91) So it seems imprisonment would not be legitimized by
an existential freedom ethic. All things considered, we
seem to have, then, an antinomy of action with regard to
institutionalized punishment; because by incarcerating an
oppressor, rapist or murder, we seem to be oppressing them
and thus there seems to be no moral difference between our
action and the oppressor's, rapist's or murder's action.

To see the way through this antinomy, I think what is
needed first is a clarification of the senses of 'freedom'.
Beauvoir's initial description is of being-free in the mode
of alienated freedom turned into oppressive freedom;

155

therefore, it is being—free in the mode of oppressive free-
dom with which we can interfere. But is throwing someone
into prison also an act of being-free in the mode of oppres-
sive freedom? It depends. It depends on what prison condi-
tions are like. It depends on why the person is imprisoned.
It depends, because the other fundamental ideal of our ethic
is that one will oneself and other people morally free.8
First, because our current system of justice does not
allow a person found guilty of a crime any say in how he or
she should be treated, our current system of justice does
not will the moral freedom of the person found guilty of a
crime. It does not because it does not treat the guilty
person as an end to same extent that it treats this person
as a means.9 Second, our current prison system does not aim
to promote the moral freedom of the inmates, since inmates
are, in fact, treated as non-persons and often leave prison
with the attitude that oppression is the way of the world.
As a consequence, many for whom rape or murder might have
been a once—in-a-lifetime act of violence, become serial
rapists or serial murderers. So imprisonment as it is
currently practiced is oppressive and often, in fact, en—
courages people to play out their being-free in the mode of
oppressive freedom. What this means is that the way in
which our prisons are set up does amount to oppression and,
therefore, the prison system must be changed or abolished.
But that is not all that must be done if incarcer-

ation is to be morally justifiable. The judicial system

156

will need to treat each person found guilty of a crime of
violence individually. It will need to try to establish why
the accused did what he or she did. It thereby treats the
individual as an end to the same extent that it treats him
or her as a means. And it should allow the guilty party to
have some say in how he or she should be treated. It there-
by treats the individual as a means to the same extent that
it treats him or her as an end. And if the judicial system
treats the guilty party as an end to the same extent that it
treats him or her as a means and treats the guilty party as
a means to the same extent that it treats him or her as an
end, it is showing respect for the person's concrete being-
free, as well as encouraging that person's moral freedom.
Given what has been said, it seems to me incarceration
would be justifiable only if it is to prevent a person from
committing future crimes of violence. In this case the aim
of incarceration is not to punish or to harm the oppressor,
murderer, or rapist, rather it is to prevent such people
from harming other people. And since the aim is to prevent
such people from harming other people, the purpose of incar-
ceration, in the long run, is to "rehabilitate" such people
so that they can re-enter society. Given that rehabilita-
tion is the aim of incarceration and not punishment, we can
get an idea of how our prison systems should be changed.
They will need to be made more hospitable. For example,
rather than guards patrolling the cell blocks, humanistic

psychologists or psychiatrists will make the rounds.

157

I submit that prevention coupled with a humanistic and
rehabilitation oriented prison system does not give rise to
the antinomy of action under discussion, because the preven—
tion justification of incarceration coupled with a non-
punitive prison system does not reduce the person incar-
cerated to his or her facticity; however, it does take into
account that person's facticity. It takes into account that
person's facticity, because it recognizes the oppressor's
freedom as what it is: oppressive and intentionally so. But
by incarcerating an oppressor within an hospitable environ-
ment, the oppressor's oppressive freedom is curtailed while
fostering the oppressor's transcendence of his or her op-
pressive freedom. In short, incarceration under these
conditions is not tantamount to violence, since the aim is
not punishment.

In summary, I propose imprisonment is justifiable for
an existential freedom ethic only from the standpoint of
prevention and only when the prison system is hospitable.
Incarceration, however, as it is currently practiced and
justified amounts to oppression. As a consequence, the
antimony of action arising from the issue of imprisonment is
currently present, since it is both permissible and imper-
missible to incarcerate people who are unwilling to change
their violent ways. Notice that this version of the anti-
nomy arises due to the lack of appropriate means within our
world and not from something intrinsic to an existential

freedom ethic.10 In other words, the antinomy of action

158

concerning imprisonment is contingent, and since means and
ends are intertwined, if we will freedom as the world's
foundation, then we must will the means to achieving this
end. .And since the means are not present within the world,
then creating those means is a secondary ideal to willing
freedom as the world's foundation. This means that we must
try to change our current prison system from a place of
punishment and oppression into a place of learning, growth,
and nurturance. The upshot: This antimony of action can be
resolved, but only through time and the re-making of the
world in terms compatible with moral freedom.

"But what is to be done in the meantime with violent
offenders? Should or shouldn't they be imprisoned?" In
other words, "Can the antimony of action with regard to
imprisonment be resolved in the short run or through a
single act?" The answer is no. All that this existential
freedom ethicist can propose is that the antimony of action
concerning incarceration be recognized and assumed. This
means the existential freedom ethicist will be saddened and
anguished if she promotes the incarceration of violent
offenders, because the means she employs to bring about
freedom as the world's foundation discolor the projected and
realized end. On the other hand, if the existential free-
dom ethicist maintains that no one should be imprisoned
until the prison system and judicial system fulfill the
requirements of an existential freedom ethic, she will be

saddened and anguished when violent offenders continue to do

159

violence against other people. So, in either case, the
existential freedom ethicist will acknowledge and take
responsibility for her dirty hands, because she either fails
to promote the moral freedom of the person of violence or
she fails to prevent the person of violence from oppressing
another person. In any case, the existential freedom ethic-
ist will be anguished, because her decision entails respon-

sibilities and risks.11
The Issue of Lying

For a purely consequentialist moral theory like act
utilitarianism, lying is not in and of itself either right
or wrong. For example, an act utilitarian physician might
lie to a patient about the patient's health. Realizing that
the patient's days are numbered, but that the patient and
the patient's family would be devastated by the news, the
act utilitarian physician decides not to reveal the gravity
of the situation. But what would the physician do if she
were an existential freedom ethicist? She doesn't have in
her "black bag" either the Kantian rule that she must never
lie or the utilitarian calculator programmed to determine
what will best promote the aggregate happiness. Yet, she
wills to promote the moral freedom of all people, and
through such willing, her acts will emanate from generosity.
So, she might ask, "Would lying promote the patient's moral
freedom?"

At first glance, it seems that lying would not, because

160

the lie would undercut the patient's ability to act in
accord with his being-free. To know something about another
person, but not to tell them, is to allow the person to live
in a "fake" world. In this case, the patient who is not
told about his terminal illness cannot fully engage his
being-free, for he is not fully aware of the facticity of
his being—free, which is part of the means by which he can
achieve a projected end; therefore, he cannot knowingly
employ his transcendence. This means his final days are
reduced to a fate. So it would seem the existentialist
physician would tell her patient the truth in order to
promote the reign of concrete moral freedoms.

On the other hand, telling her patient the truth might
in fact interfere with her patient's actualization of his
transcendence of freedom. Knowing his days are limited, the
patient might very well choose to live the remainder of his
days under the full weight of his facticity. If the exis-
tentialist physician suspects this to be a likely possibili-
ty, she would not be promoting the moral freedom of her
patient by thoughtlessly and coolly announcing the simple
truth. And if she were to act in this manner, her so-called
gift of the truth is tantamount to a false gift. In short,
her manner of truth-telling would be ungenerous.

But since the existential physician's ultimate aim will
be to give her patient the truth, the existential physician
might decide to prepare her patient for the truth. By pre-

paring the patient for the truth, the existential physician

161

acts generously not callously. In this case, she will take
into account the temporal dimension of human freedom when
she reveals the truth about the patient's condition. For
example, she will discuss possible modes of treatment, but
will indicate they are at best a long shot. She will ask
her patient to set up an appointment with her at a time in
the near future and will ask him, in the meantime, to dis—
cuss with friends and family what course of treatment, if
any, is wanted.

Given my explanation as to why the existentialist
physician will ultimately reveal the truth to her patient,
does it follow that for this freedom ethic lying will in
fact never be ethically permissible? Will it turn out that
it entails the hypothetical imperative that if you promote
moral freedom, then you must, in time, tell the truth? Not
quite, for I think it is more accurate to think of this as a
proposal. The proposal is that telling other people the
truth promotes the ideals of a freedom ethic, because others
require the truth in order that they might effectively act
in accord with their own situated being-free.

Let us now look at this proposal by considering in-
stances when lying might in fact be the appropriate means
for promoting the ideals of this existential freedom ethic.

Let's first consider the classic example of calling
into question a deontologist's position on lying. The case
I am referring to is whether one must tell the Nazi the

truth about where one's Jewish friend is hiding. According

162

to Kantian ethics one is obligated to tell the truth. But
what if one is an existential freedom ethicist?

The existential freedom ethicist—-let's call her
Hannah--realizes that the goal of the Nazi is against the
ideals of a freedom ethic, because the Nazi aims to destroy
or to otherwise oppress people. The Nazi's goal is to make
unfreedom the world's foundation. So, if Hannah did know
where her friend was and if she told the Nazi where her
friend was, she would be an accomplice to the Nazi's alien-
ated and oppressive freedom. It follows that in this case
by telling the truth Hannah would not be promoting freedom
as the world's foundation and she would not be willing the
moral freedom of other people. So it seems she should not
tell the Nazi the truth.

On the other hand, Sartre suggests in the thebooks
that lying runs counter to the ideals of an existential
freedom ethic. He says,

freedoms are normally side by side, each pulsation of

the one being felt by the other, each one being a situ-

ation for the other. .A lie unglues or sections off
freedoms from each other. One of the two is butting up
against the void. .A lie is a withdrawal. I deliber-
ately transform a freedom into a thing. At the same
time, I take away every concrete signification from the
other's words and gestures. If my fellows are in on

the game, the deceived person is like the blindfolded
player in blind man's bluff. I see him but he doesn't

see me: perpetually transcended. (1992a, p. 200)

In my words, Sartre is saying that by lying to another
person, we reduce him or her to facticity. And since one of

the ideals of an existential freedom ethic is that we will

all people as both facticity and transcendence, it seems I

163

ought to tell the Nazi the truth, for to do otherwise seems
to reduce him to his facticity.12

Here, with the Nazi example, we encounter an apparent
antinomy of action. Hannah should not tell the Nazi the
truth, since the Nazi is a perpetrator of violence; yet, by
lying to the Nazi, she seems to be reducing the Nazi to his
facticity, which does violence to his being—free. Hannah
could try to surmount this apparent antinomy of action by
getting the Nazi to change his Nazi ways. But what if this
does not work or is not advisable? Beauvoir suggests,

In order for a liberating action to be a thoroughly

moral action, it would have to be achieved through the

conversion of the oppressors. (1948, pp. 96)

Therefore, it seems Hannah cannot surmount this antinomy if
the oppressor does not agree to change his oppressive ways.
Even so Hannah has a decision to make.

Hannah's choices are either to be the Nazi's accomplice
or to be the oppressed person's protector. As a result, she
believes that lying to the Nazi will best bring about free-
dom as the world's foundation. After all, the Nazi's mode
of being-free is an oppressive freedom. And by acknowledg-
ing that the Nazi's mode of being-free is an oppressive
alienated freedom, Hannah realizes there really isn't an
antinomy of action here. First, the only reason for Hannah
to believe lying in this case is morally impermissible would
be that she were implicitly appealing to a categorical
imperative. But as I argued in the first chapter, an exis-

tential freedom ethic's ideals are hypothetical, not

164

categorical, imperatives. Second, by lying to the Nazi, she
is not reducing the Nazi to his facticity, since she is not
killing the Nazi or preventing the Nazi from transcending
his Nazi ways.

When lying appears to be what the situation requires,
we might wonder what content the lie should have? Hannah,
our existential freedom protector of the oppressed, could
lie by saying she does not know where her friend is, or she
could lie by telling the Nazi a place where she believes her
friend is not. But could these options in their own way run
counter to accomplishing freedom as the world's foundation?
Perhaps. For example, if Hannah employs the second option,
an option Sartre formally considers in his short story "The
Wall", Hannah risks being the Nazi's unwitting accomplice;
for her friend might have moved to the very place where
Hannah believes she is not.13 This lie could, then, com-
promise the safety of the person Hannah is trying to protect
and, thus, could undermine Hannah's ideal to bring about
freedom as the world's foundation.

So what about the other option? It is a simple lie,
since it does not endanger Hannah's friend. But does this
lie promote freedom as the world's foundation? In a way it
does not. By lying under these circumstances, Hannah might,
in a way, be giving in to the Nazi's goals, because she
might be being an accomplice to the untruth and unfreedom of
the Nazi regime. She might be giving into fear. On the

other hand she might not be. So what could Hannah do that

165

would not involve her in complicity with the Nazi? She
could say that she does know where her friend is, but that
she is not going to tell the Nazi. Or she could say noth—
ing. Or she could turn the Nazi's question into a ques-
tion. She could ask why the Nazi wants to know. She could
ask why the Nazi is a Nazi. In other words, there are many
possibilities other than the simple truth or the bald lie.
Of all these possibilities, other than telling the truth,
not one is necessarily better than another--at least at this
level of abstraction. Even so, Hannah must choose and must
take responsibility for possible failure.14

There are situations, then, in which lying would pro—
mote the ideals of an existential freedom ethic. And that a
lie, as Sartre says, "unglues freedoms" is precisely what
the existential freedom ethicist wants to do when she en-
counters the demands of an oppressor. She wants to "unglue"
the oppressor's world, so she can create a world that is
held together through freedom. And in opposition to what
Sartre implies about lying, I propose that if one wills
freedom as the world's foundation, then one should speak
honestly unless doing so involves the existential freedom
ethicist in maintaining the oppressor's world.

But does this proposal mean that one should always lie
to an oppressor? So it would seem. Yet this proposal would
constitute reducing the oppressor to his facticity, because,
if we were always to lie to an oppressor, we would not be

acknowledging that the oppressor might and can transcend his

166

facticity. Consequently, I believe my proposal needs to be
revised. I propose that if one wills freedom as the world's
foundation, then one should speak honestly unless one is in
a situation of imminent violence. This was the situation
Hannah found herself in and is similar to a situation Sartre
describes in his play "The Respectful Prostitute".15

In this play, a black man who is hiding from a lynch
mob asks Lizzie (whom he and another black man, according to
the lynch mob, raped) to hide him. She has already been
asked by the perpetrators of the lynching to lie, to sign a
paper saying she had in fact been raped by him and his
friend-—which she had not--and saying this was why a white
man had killed the other black man.16 She does not want to
lie and tells them she won't, but waffles throughout the
play. However, when the black man asks to be hidden and has
the lynch mob on his heels, she tells him to go into the
bathroom and she gives him a gun. Her "paramour" arrives,
who is one of the chief instigators of the lynching, and
hears someone in the bathroom. He demands to know who it
is. She first denies that anyone is in there. (This is a
simple lie.) But as he advances toward the door, she tells
him that it is a "paying" client unlike himself. Did Lizzie
do wrong by lying in order to protect the black man? No,
the lie, which ends up not being a bald lie, takes place in
a situation of imminent violence. On the supposition that
Lizzie wills the moral freedom of all people, the lie in

this context "unglues" the oppressor's world and creates a

167

gap for creating a world founded on freedom.

In summary, it seems to me that the times in which
lying would promote freedom as the world's foundation and
would not give rise to an antinomy of action are when vio-
lence against oneself or another person is imminent; how-
ever, it seems that in non-violent situations telling an
oppressor a lie would not promote the ideals of a freedom
ethic. Therefore, my revised proposal is that if one wills
freedom as the world's foundation, then one should tell the
truth unless telling the truth would involve oneself as an
accomplice to another person's alienated and oppressive
freedom. Yet, as I have shown, the truth is not necessarily
a simple truth. For example, the existentialist physician
will not simply tell the patient her prognosis and say
good-bye. The existentialist physician will take time to
talk with the patient, will answer questions, and will be
available for help. When one wills the moral freedom of
other people and becomes concretely involved in another
person's life, one must take into account the temporal
dimension of human freedom. If an existential freedom
ethicist were to do otherwise, she would be willing only
(abstractly another person's freedom and, hence, would not be

‘the promoting that person's moral freedom.
'The Issue of Assisted Suicide

The next issue I want to discuss is that of assisted

.suicide. The existential freedom ethicist does not rule out

168

assisting another to take his or her life. However, she
will not decide the permissibility of such an action based
upon an aggregate good or a "happiness" factor; instead she
will decide whether such an action promotes the suicidal
person's moral freedom. So the question for the existential
freedom ethicist, let's call her Jill, is whether helping
another to die would in fact promote that person's moral
freedom. If willing the moral freedom of other people were
merely a matter of helping them do whatever they want to do,
then one would help with no questions asked. But willing
the moral freedom of other people is not so simple. For
example, the person who is being asked for assistance needs
to find out why this person wants to take his or her own
life. The person's reason needs to be known, so that the
person being appealed to for help can determine whether the
reason stems from moral freedom or from alienated freedom.
If the person's reasons stem from alienated freedom, then
Jill would not help the person because if she did she would
be an accomplice to the other's alienated freedom.

At first glance it might seem that the reason to kill
oneself could only stem from alienated freedom, since the
person who wants to kill himself or herself seems to be
fleeing, rather than assuming, her or his being—free. For
examples, the person who wants to die because of a "broken"
heart or the person who wants to die because he falls into
financial ruin is refusing to transcend her or his situa-

tion. Both people want to die so that they can flee their

169

facticity. By helping such people kill themselves, Jill
would not be promoting their moral freedom; rather she would
be an accomplice to their alienated freedom. So, rather
than help such a person commit suicide, Jill, by discussing
future possibilities, suggests all is not lost.

But what happens if the person's reason for wanting to
die seems to stem from moral freedom? (In a moment I shall
discuss what reasons might stem from moral freedom.) Should
Jill say, "Okay, what's your poison?" Perhaps if she is
trying to introduce some levity into the situation. But
Jill still doesn't seriously jump in and set up a date for
the person's demise. Time is needed. Just as the existen—
tialist physician might decide to tell the truth to her
terminally ill patient over a period of time, so too will
Jill, the existentialist who considers helping another take
his or her life, take time to make certain the reason for
wanting to die does not stem from alienated freedom. Jill
would discuss future possibilities, as well as the irrevoca-
bility and finality of such an act. I am not suggesting
that the existentialist freedom ethicist would be moralis-
tic; she would be understanding, but determined to find out
the motivation through discussion over time. And given that
Jill does not believe in life after death, heaven or hell,
she realizes that with death the freedom of the dead person
is no longer an issue. Consequently, she sees that in many
cases she would not be promoting moral freedom by helping

another to take his or her life, for she would be helping

170

another to flee permanently his or her being-free.

Jill also needs to take into account her own reasons
for helping another take her or his life, because Jill needs
to make certain her reasons stem from moral, not alienated,
freedom. A person's reasons for doing something when in the
mode of alienated freedom are, as you recall, to be or to
have; whereas, a person's reason for doing something when in
the mode of moral freedom is a giving that dovetails with
doing. Therefore, if Jill does decide to help a person take
his or her life, she will help for the sake of helping and
not, for example, for the sake of an egoistic interest or
personal gain. This is what is ethically suspect about
someone like Jack Kevorkian, for he seems to enjoy the
celebrity status that has come along with his deadly deeds.

From what I have said thus far, does it follow that a
freedom ethic always rules out the permissibility of assist-
ed suicide? No, but it does suggest to me the proposal that
in some cases helping a person kill himself or herself would
go against the ideal that one will oneself and other people
morally free.

Let us now consider instances when assisting a person
to kill himself or herself might promote that person's moral
freedom. Such instances might be: 1. A terminally ill
person whose pain is unremitting and wants to die. 2. A
person being tortured who is concerned that she will tell
her torturer what he wants to know so wants to die. 3. A

person who has an illness that will eventuate in mental

171

incapacitation and who wants to die before being reduced by
her disease to her facticity. 4. A person who in a lifeboat
situation where there is not enough food for everyone to
survive wants to die.

In two of the instances--the lifeboat situation and the
torture situation—-the person wants to die in order to help
other people. In these instances, or instances like them,
the person is really giving himself or herself as a gift to
other people. So the person's reason stems from moral free-
dom, since the reason is nothing other than generosity. As
a consequence, it would be permissible for Jill to assist in
this suicide-~that is, if help were needed and if Jill's
reason also were based on generosity.

Even so, Jill will feel anguished if she assists in
this suicide, because, while she is assisting this person in
the promotion of moral freedom, she is also assisting this
person to destroy her being-free.

These instances when generosity is the reason for want-
ing to commit suicide show that unending pain is not, for an
existential freedom ethic, a necessary condition for the
permissibility of assisted suicide. But let us now discuss
whether unending pain, as in instance number one, is a per-
missible condition for assisting another die. In this
instance the person wanting to die is terminally ill with
unrelenting, unbearable pain. He wants to die now. And he
appeals to Jill for help. Would helping him promote moral

freedom? Perhaps.

172

If the pain is intolerable to the point that the dying
person is nearly reduced to his facticity, because there is
no way the alleviate the pain, then the reason to commit
suicide might in fact arise from moral freedom. Suicide, in
this case, might be the only means by which the terminally
ill person could meaningfully transcend his situation.
Therefore, Jill may help this person die, because doing so
promotes his moral freedom. Yet, if she does help, she
feels the weight of her action; since, by helping to promote
his moral freedom, Jill is also assisting in the extinction
of his very being as a freedom.

What of instance number three--the person wants to die
due to the prognosis that the course of her disease will
reduce her to her facticity--should Jill help? This in-
stance of wanting to die is similar to instance number one.
In both cases, the person wants to die, because dying seems
to be the only means by which the person can meaningfully
transcend his or her facticity. However, this case differs
from the first case in that this person has not yet reached
the point of being reduced to her facticity. This person is
entangled in a dilemma not met in instance number one. On
the one hand, for this person to take her life before she is
reduced to her facticity might be an act of flight from her
freedom. As long as her disease has not incapacitated her,
there might be meaningful ways for her to transcend her
facticity. On the other hand, once the disease has reduced

her to her facticity, as in the case of advanced alzheimer's

173

disease, she would be unable to contemplate suicide, let
alone, appeal to another for help. So, if this person were
to want to die before being almost reduced to her facticity,
she might be acting in the mode of moral freedom. In this
case, Jill might help her.

In summary, I do not contend I have given an exhaustive
list of instances when an existential freedom ethic would
condone assisted suicide; however, I think the instances I
have considered indicate several things about when it would
be permissible. I propose that it is permissible when the
suicide is an act of generosity or when the act of suicide
is the only meaningful way for the person to transcend his
or her facticity, because in these cases the suicide assis—
tant would be helping the person to play out his or her
being—free morally.

Note, however, that for an existential freedom ethic
unending pain is not in and of itself a criterion for the
permissibility of assisted suicide; rather the ability to
transcend one's facticity in a meaningful manner is what is
at issue. Secondly, note that all of these instances when
assisted suicide would be permissible are instances of what
Sartre refers to as limit situations. Limit situations are
situations when someone's concrete future is nearly closed
off. When a person, as in case one or three, is nearly
reduced to her or his facticity, her or his ability to
create a concrete future is practically nil. Here suicide

presents itself as the only concrete possibility for

174

engaging one's being—free. Instances two and four involve
limit situations as well. In these instances, the person
decides to commit suicide in order that the other people in
the situation may have a concrete future. This act of
generosity takes place within a situation that is collec—
tively limiting. The aim of this act of generosity is to
change the limit situation into one in which the concrete
future of others becomes a real possibility. Third, note
that an instance of assisted suicide is permissible only
when the instance of suicide is permissible. However,
having pointed this out, I want to mention a concern I have.
If a person decides to commit suicide and does not need the
assistance of another person, yet asks for assistance, then
Jill wonders why the person would appeal for help.17 Per—
haps the request for assistance is really a cry for help.
This is another reason Jill takes ample time to talk with

those appealing to her for help.

The Issue of Environmental Destruction

In this final section, I shall briefly discuss the
issue of environmental destruction from a Kantian perspec-
tive and from an act utilitarian perspective. Then I shall
discuss the existential freedom ethicist's approach to the
issue.

Since for Kantians the only thing that is good in and
of itself is a good will and since one is obligated to treat

only persons as ends and never as mere means, a Kantian

175

would have no direct obligation to protect the environment.
Furthermore, since Kantians are not concerned with the
unintended consequences of an act, e.g., counter—interests,
such unintended consequences as destroying the environment
are ethically neutral as long as no one is treated directly
as a mere means. For example, destruction of the rainforest
by the fast food industry, which levels the rainforest in
order to raise cattle as cheaply as possible in order to
supply its customers with inexpensive burgers and, of
course, to make a larger profit than it would if the cattle
were raised elsewhere, is of no ethical concern as long as
the indigenous people are not treated directly as a mere
means. My main point is environmental destruction is not in
and of itself an ethical issue for a Kantian, since he is
ethically blind with regard to the counter-finalities or
counter-interests produced by his actions.

The utilitarian, however, is concerned with the conse-
quences of his actions, so the issue of environmental des-
truction will have ethical significance for him. But wheth-
er destroying the environment is ethically permissible is a
matter of "number crunching", since his good is an aggregate
good. Taking an act utilitarian approach to the rainforest
issue, I submit that an act utilitarian sympathetic with the
concerns of business and industry would calculate his way to
maximizing the aggregate happiness by destroying the
rainforest. On the other hand, I submit that an act utili—

tarian sympathetic with the concerns of environmentalists

176

and ecologists would calculate her way to maximizing the
aggregate happiness by not destroying the rainforest. So
whether destroying rainforests or protecting rainforests
maximizes the aggregate happiness depends upon whose happi-
ness one includes in one's calculations, depends upon the
relative weights given to costs and benefits, and depends
upon how far into the future one projects his or her
cost/benefit analysis.

In short, while the Kantians peacefully slumber as the
trees come crashing down, the utilitarians will be bickering
well into the night about whether protecting the environment
maximizes happiness. But what about the existential freedom
ethicists? Would environmental destruction be an ethical
issue for them?

Like the utilitarian, the existential freedom ethicist
is concerned with the consequences of her actions, so she
too would consider environmental issues as having ethical
significance. However her good is not an aggregate good.
And rather than "crunching the numbers" to determine when
environmental destruction is impermissible, her determin-
ation of impermissibility is rooted in her ideals, which are
not quantifiable and include willing herself and other
people morally free. So, the question for the existential
freedom ethicist, let's call her Rachel, is whether acts
that create environmental problems undercut her ideals.

Let's consider now, from Rachel's perspective, the

issue of the fast food industry's destruction of the

177

rainforest. First, the fast food industry's destruction of
the rainforest stems from alienated freedom, since the
destruction is based on an interest and not upon generosity.
Second, the fast food industry's interest has produced a
correlative counter-interest for much of the rainforest's
indigenous population. As you recall from Chapter Two, an
interest upheld by some produces a correlative counter-
interest for others. In addition, the significance of the
counter-interest correlative to the interest upheld is that
those upholding an interest oppress those for whom the
upheld interest is a fate. In the example under considera—
tion, the fast food industry's interest in raising beef as
cheaply as possible has created a correlative counter-
interest for the indigenous population of the rainforest
being destroyed; therefore, the fast food industry's upheld
interest oppresses those for whom destruction of the rain—
forest is a fate. And since an ideal of this freedom ethic
is the promotion of a non-oppressive society, destruction of
the rainforest by the fast food industry is condemned by our
ethicist Rachel.l8 And even though the destruction of
rainforests may become, if it is not in fact already a fate
for those of us living outside of the rainforest--that is,
if scientists are correct about the connection between the
green house effect and mass destruction of forests--we need
not make appeals based upon this possibility, since the
existing indigenous population's counter-interest is suffi-

cient for condemning the fast food industry's destruction of

178

rainforests.

So whether the way in which one uses and interacts with
the environment leads to counter-interests is the ground
from which an existential freedom ethic sprouts environmen-
talism. In other words, if one wills freedom as the founda-
tion of the world, then one will will the end of existing
counter—interests and the prevention of future ones. For
example, not only does Rachel condemn the destruction of the
rainforests by business and industry, she would also condemn
air, water, and land pollution by business and industry;
however, she would not necessarily condemn every instru-
mental use of the environment, e.g., use of trees for furni—
ture, use of ores for the construction of bridges, use of
silicon for the manufacture of computer chips, since an
instrumental use of the environment need not necessarily
create counter-interests. It follows then that the kind of
environmentalism promoted by an existential freedom ethic
will be moderate, since extreme forms condemn all actions
that alter the environment.

Up to this point, I have given no indication if the
environmentalism promoted by an existential freedom ethic
would protect endangered species, wild-life refuges, nation-
al and state parks and forests. .At this point in my discus-
sion, the only issue for Rachel is whether interests upheld
create counter—interests. Therefore at this point, Rachel
would only protect endangered species, or wild-life refuges,

or national and state parks and forests if to do otherwise

179

produced a counter—interest. It seems to me that by not
protecting endangered species, or wild—life refuges, or
national and state forests and parks, one does not necessar-
ily produce a counter—interest, because the demise of endan—
gered species, or of wild-life refuges, or of national and
state forests and parks does not necessarily entail others
are oppressed. In any case, I shall now introduce a reason
Rachel believes an existential freedom ethic would protect
endangered species, wild—life refuges, and national and
state forests and parks.

This reason concerns the difference between the way in
which moral freedoms and alienated freedoms world being.
Since alienated freedom's ideal of being is to have or to
be, the way in which alienated freedoms unveil being will
often be primarily instrumentally egoistic or purely egois—
tic. For example, the alienatedly free person whose
worlding of being is instrumentally egoistic would not see,
or would be indifferent to, the beauty of the forest or of
the mountains, for she or he only sees wood and pulp, "pre-
cious" ores and concrete. And though the alienatedly free
person whose unveiling of being is purely egoistic might see
the beauty of a forest or a hillside, her unveiling is not
generous, for she wants to be the only person who has the
opportunity to unveil being. Therefore, an egoistic unveil—
ing of being is at odds with moral freedom's unveiling of
being, because moral freedom's unveiling of being is gener-

ous but alienated freedom's egoistic unveiling of being is

180

stingy. The alienatedly free person's egoistic unveiling of
being is at odds with moral freedom's generous unveiling of
being, since the morally free person's generous unveiling of
being entails that being can be unveiled from a multitude of
perspectives. Metaphorically put: the egoist wills a
monochromatic unveiling of being whereas the generous person
wills a polychromatic unveiling. Because the morally free
person's unveiling of being is generous, the morally free
person will try to promote the protection of endangered
species, of wild-life refuges, and of state and national
parks and forests, since by protecting these things she
ensures that other people can also unveil these aspects of
being. Moreover, by protecting endangered species, wildlife
refuges, and state and national parks and forests, the
morally free person is in effect giving these possible
unveilings as gifts to other people; this the alienatedly
free person whose unveilings are instrumentally egoistic or
purely egoistic does not do.

Another environmental upshot of an existential freedom
ethic is that by acting in the mode of moral freedom we are
less likely, than when acting in the mode of alienated free-
dom, to create environmental problems in the first place,
because many of our environmental problems are the result of
the perpetuation of interests, which, as I have argued, are
upheld by alienated freedoms and produce counter-interests.
But since moral freedoms transcend interests in the name of

generosity, the morally free person will not create——that

181

is, at least not intentionally create-—counter-interests.

In addition, since the morally free person creates relations
with other people based on gift—giving and not based on
interests or exigencies, the morally free person will try to
ensure that her gifts to other people are not harmful. And
if it turns out her gifts are harmful to other people, she
will take action to undercut the harmful effects of her
gifts. These points I made in the previous chapter. In
short, I believe that the alienatedly free person is more
likely to create counter-finalities harmful to the environ-
ment than is the morally free person.

My reasoning that an existential freedom ethic entails
environmentalism, though perhaps more limited in scope than
some environmentalists would want, might come as a surprise,
since Sartre showed little concern with ecologist's criti—
cisms and environmental concerns brought to his attention in
an interview in 1975.19 For example consider the following
exchanges in that interview.

R. There is a problem that is very bothersome to the

Americans (who have a solid naturalist tradition),

namely, ecology. Have you reflected on it?

Sartre No.
and

P. . . . . what concerns these ecologists is that

we are now in a situation in which we risk exhausting

the resources of Nature, or of spoiling them com-

pletely. In several years there will be no more air

for us to breathe. . . .

Sartre That is rather likely. In that case there

are two alternatives: the first is that as resources

have been exhausted, we will have invented something

else, which could happen; the other is that we will

disappear, which could also happen. I never thought
that the human species was infinite. (1981, P.29)

182

Sartre here claims he has given no thought to environmental
problems and shows no concerns about pollution. Yet some of
Sartre's examples in his Critique of counter-finalities and
counter-interests suggest an awareness of ecological prob-
lems and an implicit condemnation of their perpetuation.20
In any case whether Sartre was an environmentalist is not
really the issue. The issue is what in fact follows from
the existential freedom ethic's ideals.

What I have proposed is that an existential freedom
ethic does entail not polluting and wantonly destroying the
environment. My reasoning is not based on an appeal to
rights, to the principle of utility, to the environment's
intrinsic value, or to a future—generations morality. My
reasoning is based on the concrete and historical fact that
environmental pollution and destruction falls short of res—
pecting the concrete freedom of existing persons for whom

environmental pollution and destruction is a fate.
Overview of Situationalism

In this chapter, I have described the situationalist
method of the existential freedom ethic I am developing. I
believe I have shown that our Situationalism is not anti—
nomian or covertly legalist, because, although our method of
decision making does not imply that anything goes, it also
does not entail applying rules to a situation; rather our
method makes proposals for action. I have proposed that

truthfulness promotes freedom as the world's foundation

183

unless a person is being threatened with violence. I have
proposed that incarceration promotes freedom as the world's
foundation only when used to prevent violence and only when
coupled with a non-punitive prison system. I have proposed
that assisted suicide in some situations promotes freedom as
the world's foundation. And I have proposed that wanton and
careless destruction of the environment does not promote
freedom as the world's foundation. These are proposals,
because an existential freedom ethicist's knowledge is
situated, arises with and from action, and is responsive to
consequences. So I hope I have not given the impression I
have laid down laws or that my characterization is complete.

I have illustrated how our situationalist method is to
be employed and hope to have demonstrated that it is not
based on the calculative type of reason employed by the
utilitarian or on the legalistic type of reasoning employed
by the Kantian. The method, as Beauvoir correctly says, is
neither a recipe nor a decision procedure. Consequently,
the type of reason employed by the existential freedom
ethicist is more similar to Aristotle's conception of prac-
tical wisdom than it is to Kant's conception of practical
reason or to utilitarianism's calculative reason.

I believe I have demonstrated that our Situationalism
is responsive to one's concrete situation, because lying,
for example, is sometimes morally permissible. In addition,
I have demonstrated that our method is experimental and

inventive, unlike the method employed by the legalist or by

184

the Kantian, because our method yields proposals. As a
result, the method employed by the existential freedom
ethicist involves risks and entails that she learn from her
mistakes. And just as an artist is an artist only by get-
ting her "hands dirty", so too for the existential freedom
ethicist. Neither the armchair ethicist, nor the would-be
artist who merely dreams about the work she or he will
produce, takes risks. Then again, neither one ever accom-
plishes anything. The existential freedom ethic is not
armchair ethics; it is an ethics that requires thought,

action, risks, and anguish.

185

NOTES

1, See "The Humanism of Existentialism", pp. 40-41. Detmer
in Freedom as a Value, for example, interprets this passage
as a Sartrean endorsement of Ivan's decree. (1988, pp.
153—154) He also interprets Sartre's discussion of an
ethical dilemma confronted by one of Sartre's students as
betraying Sartre's antinomian ways. (1988, p. 156) See
"The Humanism of Existentialism", pp. 42-45.

2. Please see page 54 for my discussion of why an existen-
tial freedom ethic's ideal is not the promotion of aggregate
freedom.

3. Our method of decision making is not utilitarian nor is
it Kantian also because our understanding of the means-end
relationship differs from an utilitarian and a Kantian
understanding. See page 56, note 6.

Zklso see page 47 for an explanation of why an existen-
tial freedom ethic is not Kantian and thus why our method of
decision making does not employ a categorical imperative.

4. See The Ethics of Ambiguity, pp. 96-156. My discussion
of the antinomies of action differs from Beauvoir's in two
different respects. While Beauvoir's approach to coming to
grips with an antinomy of action is covertly utilitarian, my
approach does not directly or indirectly appeal to a
cost/benefit analysis. Also unlike Beauvoir's belief that
antinomies of action are ubiquitous and a necessary outcome

of an existential freedom ethic, I believe otherwise. She
says,

"Thus one finds himself in the presence of the paradox
that no action can be generated for man without its

1:9);ing immediately generated against man. (1948, pp.
)

I hope to show that Beauvoir has failed to distinguish
between morally free action and alienatedly free oppressive
action. While the latter type of action is generated for
some peOple and is concomitantly generated against other
peOPle, the same is not true of the former. Thus, I do not
believe that morally free action entails the oppression of
the Oppressor.

5° SGtting up the antinomy of action Beauvoir says,

. . . if the oppressor were aware of the demands
of his own freedom, he himself should have to
denounce oppression. But he is dishonest; in the
name of the serious or of his passions, of his

186

 

will for power or of his appetites, he refuses to
give up his privileges. In order for liberating
action to be a thoroughly moral action, it would
have to be achieved through a conversion of the
oppressors: there would then be a reconciliation
of all freedoms. . . . However by virtue of the
fact that the oppressors refuse to co-operate in
the affirmation of freedom, . . . others will here
have to be treated like things, with violence; the
sad fact of the separation of men will thereby be
confirmed. Thus, here is the oppressor oppressed
in turn; and the men who do violence to him in
their turn become masters, tyrants, and execution-
ers: in revolting, the oppressed are metamorphosed
into a blind force, a brutal fatality; the evil
which divides the world is carried out in their
own hearts. (1948, pp. 96-97)

In tlie: text that follows, I shall discuss whether it is true
that: "In order for liberating action to be thoroughly [my
emphasis] moral action, it would have to be achieved though
a corrvwarsion of oppressors". I shall suggest that while at
times this might be true, it is not always true.

6. See pp. 49—50 for my discussion of why one who wills
freedom as the world's foundation ought not treat other
peoplta as a mere means. See also my discussion of the
"authentic" torturer objection, pp. 51-52.

7. iNtite I have excluded as punishable offenses the use and
sellirig of drugs, because drug use does not necessarily
entaiLL treating oneself or another person as a mere thing.

3. Seae pp. 45-46 and pp. 49-50 for a discussion of why this
is an .ideal of an existential freedom ethic.

9; Sena pp. 49-50 for the explanation of why someone who
Wills :freedom as the world's foundation ought to treat other
peoplea as ends to the same extent that she or he treats them
a33meeuus and ought to treat them as means to the same extent
that She or he treats them as ends.

10°, Iijoint this out because Beauvoir seems to treat the
:2fi4ncuny'of action as intrinsic to an existential freedom

t $C- See notes 4 and 5 where I present Beauvoir's charac-
erlzation of the antimonies of action.

ii° .31 Iwant to mention that this antimony of action concern—
thg lnC_:arceration does not arise for either the Kantian or
ecagfxilitarian. _It cannot arise for the utilitarian,
Viduaf°e his good is an aggregate, not a concrete and indi—
he hollzed, good.. It cannot arise for the Kantian, because
(is that punishment of a guilty party constitutes

187

showing respect for the guilty. One upshot of this is that
both the Kantian and the utilitarian can sleep with a clear
conscience that he has done the right thing when a guilty
person is incarcerated. In other words, they will not
experience anguish. Perhaps, many will see this as a virtue
of both of these ethics; however, its seems to me that it
amounts to bad faith. So, rather than seeing the awareness
of an antinomy of action as a weakness or inconsistency in
an existential freedom ethic, I believe it is one of its
strengths. It is a strength, because it unveils the truth
that the other two ethics hide. The apparent inconsistency
--that is, the antinomy of action--arises from the concrete
situation, because the current judicial practices and the
current prison systems are not founded upon freedom. As a
result, an existential freedom ethic is not an ethic of the
status quo. I do not think the same can be said of either
Kantianism or utilitarianism.

12. See pages 49—50 for my discussion of why if one wills
freedom as the world's foundation, then one will will that
other people be both facticity and transcendence.

13. The short story "The Wall" appears in The Wall and
Other Stories, pp. 1-17. The story is told by Pablo Ibbieta,
who is a revolutionary during the Spanish Civil War and who
is taken prisoner. He is told that he will be killed in the
morning by a firing squad if he does not tell where Gris,
another revolutionary, is. Pablo believes he knows where
Gris is, but says he does not know. Morning comes and Pablo
is given another opportunity to tell where Gris is. In a
final act of defiance, Pablo tells them Gris is in a ceme-
tery, where Pablo believes Gris is not. What was to be only
a farce turns out to be the truth; Gris is found at the
cemetery and Pablo's life is saved.

14- That an existential freedom ethic is occasionally
unable to give a determinate answer as to what one ought to
d0 18 held up as proving its untenability as a normative
theory, It is held to be untenable, because this lack of a
determinate answer and call to make a choice is interpreted
3? arbitrariness. Yet, given the situation under discus-
319nr. What would an act utilitarian do? Should an act
ut-‘.Ll_1tar:ian lie? Or should he tell the truth? The act
utilitarian would ask himself what would promote aggregate
happiness. Well, what would? It depends. It depends upon
Whose happiness the utilitarian takes into consideration and
on What he takes to be happiness. Suppose this utilitarian
as aolarge family and by lying he believes he would endan-
ggflhlmself and his family. So, he reasons that he will
deathwhere his friend is, since, all things considered, the
pine Of his friend is more than outweighed by the unhap-
can $3 that would otherwise fall upon his family. .Yet,‘ we
woulcljmaglne other scenarios in which the act utilitarian
COme to another conclusion, because he takes into

188

account more or fewer people whose happiness would be ef-
fected by his decision. So, even though the act utilitarian
could "calculate" his way to an answer, he, too, is involved
in making choices. But more often then not his choice
really amounts to a rationalization of what he had already
decided to do. The point I am trying to make is that the
act utilitarian's apparent determination is often a dis-
guised personal choice.

By contrast to the act utilitarian's arbitrariness, the
freedom ethicist's apparent arbitrariness is really an
affirmation of one's being-free, which is situated and
limited, but creative within its own boundaries. Unlike act
utilitarianism, in an existential freedom ethic the means to
the intended end, as well as one's intention, do play a role
in the her situationalist method. Furthermore, an existen-
tial freedom ethic's ideals are not as elusive as the
utilitarian's aggregate good. For example, there is no
reason to rule out the possibility of an act utilitarian
being sympathetic with Nazism. In other words, a Nazi utili—
tarian is not an oxymoron, for aggregate happiness is con-
ceivably compatible with the goals of Nazism. This is not a
possibility for the person who embraces the ideals of an
existential freedom ethic. As I argued previously, an
"authentic" torturer is an oxymoron. For the situationalist
method of an existential freedom ethic to reveal that there
may exist more than one way to promoting its ideals does not
entail that "any old way" is fine or that "any old" inten-
tion is compatible with its ideals. This has been misunder-
stood or ignored by many critics of existential freedom
ethics.

15. See Sartre's No Exit and Three Other Plays, pp.
249-281.

16. I want to mention that the reasons given by the lynch-
ers as to why Lizzie should lie and sign the paper are
utilitarian. See No Exit and Three Other Plays, pp.
269~270.

17. Of course, we might wonder what would constitute need-
ing help. A person might need help committing suicide,
because he or she is physically constrained, because he or
she does not have the means available to commit suicide, or
because he or she wants the "moral" support of another. I
have my doubts about whether this last example of needing
help to commit suicide stems from moral freedom, since the
person in this case may not really want to commit suicide.
And since I have my doubts about this case, I have my doubts
about Jack Kervorkian's assisted suicide exploits.

18. See pages 48-49 where I explain why if one wills free-

dom as the world's foundation, then one will will a non—
oppressive world.

189

19. The pages of this interview that deal with ecology are
pp. 28-30 in The Philosophy of Jean-Paul Sartre.

20. For examples, consider Sartre's discussion of counter-

finality and deforestation, pp. 161-164 in the Critique, as
well as his discussion of pollution and counter-interests,

pp. 193-196 in the Critique.

190

CONCLUSION

My aim has been to construct an existential freedom
ethic that is internally and externally consistent and
coherent, is practically efficacious, is a viable alterna-
tive to deontological and consequentialist ethical theories,
and differs in relevant respects from existential freedom
ethics constructed by other people. I shall argue, here,
that I have done what I set out to do.

My primary aims in the first chapter-—that is, in addi—
tion to giving an initial characterization of an existential
freedom ethic-—were to demonstrate that this existential
freedom ethic is prima facie consistent, coherent and prac-
tically efficacious. There I explained why the existential
freedom ethicist can consistently maintain that, even when a
person is oppressed, the only limits to human freedom is
human freedom.1 I explained why the existential freedom
ethicist can coherently hold that, even though we are being—
free, freedom is the end of all ethical action.2 I ex-
plained why the existential freedom ethicist can condemn and
adequately account for oppression, even though she maintains
we are always being-free.3 I explained why, even if alien-
ated freedom constitutes something like a human nature, the
existential freedom ethicist can without embarrassment
rightly claim we can do what we ought.4 .And I explained how
the existential freedom ethicist can rebut the existential

paradox of conversion objection.5

191

Also in "Road to an Existential Freedom Ethic", I
implicitly, if not explicitly, gave prima facie evidence
that an existential freedom ethic is an alternative to
deontological and consequentialist ethical theories. It is
an alternative to deontological ethical theories, because it
is based on ideals that are understood to be hypothetical
imperatives, not categorical imperatives.6 It is an alter—
native to consequentialist ethical theories and in particu-
lar to utilitarian ethical theories, because the good that
it promotes is not an aggregate good.7 IMoreover, it is an
alternative to both deontological and consequentialist
ethical theories, because the projected ends of the existen—
tial freedom ethic, as well as the means to used to achieve
the projected ends, are morally significant.8

Since my discussion in the first chapter presents prima
facie reasons for believing this existential freedom ethic
is consistent, coherent, and practically efficacious and for
believing it is an alternative to deontological and
consequentialist ethical theories, I submit that this exis-
tential freedom ethic is a viable alternative to both of
these Western mainstream ethical theories. And since my
description and illustration of the Situationalism of this
existential freedom ethic in the fourth chapter demonstrates
that it represents an alternative to deontological and
consequentialist methods of decision making, the existential
freedom ethic is not only theoretically different from

deontological and consequentialist ethical theories, it also

192

is practically different from them. And I believe this dif-
ference coupled with my discussion of "Freedoms' Legacy" and
the "Importance of Generosity" supports my contention that
the existential freedom ethic is a viable alternative to
these two Western mainstream ethical theories, because in
"Freedoms' Legacy" and the "Importance of Generosity" I bol-
ster my prima facie reasons for believing that the exis-
tential freedom ethic is consistent, coherent, and practi—
cally efficacious.

In "Freedoms' Legacy", I showed that alienated freedom
constitutes something like a human nature, thus that this
existential freedom ethic's ideal to will oneself and other
people morally free is not vacuous.9 I showed that oppres-
sion is contingent and arises from alienated freedoms, thus
how and that oppression can be overcome.10 I showed that
historically the only limit to human freedom is human free-
dom, thus that the existential freedom ethic is coherent.11
I showed that historically conversion to moral freedom is
possible, thus that the existential freedom ethic is practi—
cally efficacious.” And I showed that historically human
freedoms are intertwined, thus why if one wills oneself
morally free, one must will other people morally free, as
well as will freedom as the world's foundation.13

My primary aims in the "Importance of Generosity" were
to describe and explain more concretely than I had in the
first chapter what it means to will oneself and other people

morally free, what it means to will freedom as the world's

193

foundation, how it is theoretically and practically possible
to will oneself and other people morally free, and how it is
theoretically and practically possible to will freedom as
the world's foundation. In this chapter, I developed the
existential freedom ethicist's conception of generosity,
argued that through generosity we can transcend oppressive
relationships with other persons and create the world's
foundation in terms of freedom, and argued that generosity
is humanly possible. All in all, my discussion lends sup-
port to my arguments that

l. The existential freedom ethic is practically effi-
cacious, because generosity is humanly possible.14

2. The existential freedom ethic is internally coher-
ent, because through generosity one can will oneself
and other people morally free.5

3. The existential freedom ethic is internally coher-
ent, because through generosity one can will freedom as
the world's foundation.16

4. The existential freedom ethic is practically effi-
cacious, because it offers practical advice concerning
the words and deeds of a morally free person.17

5. The existential freedom ethic is externally coher-
ent, because it can explain, yet condemn, oppression.18

My secondary aim in the "Importance of Generosity" was
to Show explicitly and implicitly that the existential free-
dOHI eathic I have envisioned differs in relevant respects
frcun “the existential freedom ethics developed by other
people. I believe I have shown explicitly that it differs

in relevant respects from the existential freedom ethic put
forrtlu. by Kerner.19 I believe I have shown implicitly that

i - . . .
t C11~13fers in relevant respects from the eXistential freedom

194

ethics put forth by other people, including Beauvoir's exis-
tential freedom ethic, because no other existential freedom
ethic puts generosity at the heart of an existential freedom
ethic. No other existential freedom ethic develops generos-
ity as the key to transcending oppressive relations with
other people.20
Throughout the body of this text, I believe I have, if
not explicitly shown, then at least alluded to, other ways
in which the existential freedom ethic I've developed dif-
fers in relevant respects from the existential freedom
ethics developed by others. No developer of an existential
freedom ethic makes a distinction between being-free and
modes of being-free. Granted Detmer, in Freedom as a value,
:makes a distinction between "ontological", and "practical",
:fireedom, but this distinction is not the same as the one I
luive made.21 And granted Beauvoir implicitly suggests a
diritinction of the sort I make, but she does not explicitly
flesh it out.22
Another relevant difference between the existential
freendom ethics developed by other people and the one I've
devesloped is that this existential freedom ethic is both
fleShed out and defended in light of Sartre's Critique of
Dialectical Reason, vol. 1.23 Furthermore, other than
passages in Beauvoir's The Ethics of Ambiguity that are
pregnant with suggestions concerning a method of decision
makinIEI peculiar to an existential freedom ethic, no other

eXistential freedom ethicist--that is, other than myself--

195

has developed and illustrated a method by which an existen-

tial freedom ethicist makes decisions.24 Lastly, no other

existential freedom ethic, except the one developed here,

discusses the issue of environmental destruction.25
Although I believe I have just shown that I have done

what I set out to do, I would like to mention, before clos-

ing, some of the possible shortcomings of the existential

freedom ethic that I've developed and defended. First,

while I present some of Sartre's arguments, which I buttress
with my own, why our being is being-free, one could nonethe-
less claim that I have not adequately demonstrated that our

being is being-free. The point is that people who are

committed to a metaphysics of determinism will believe I

have not adequately supported my starting point, which is a

rmetaphysics of possibility. However, to adequately meet

tfliis objection, I would need to write a "Prolegomena" to the
enristential freedom ethic developed here. In such a "Prole-
gonuana", I would deal directly with the metaphysical issue
Of :Eree will and determinism. And that is what I would have
dODEB had I been interested in writing on that issue.

Second, although I believe my discussion of "Freedoms'
Legacy" supports the consistency, coherency, and practical
efficacy of this existential freedom ethic, it does so at a

relatively high level of abstraction. As a result, I be-

lle"€3 ihistorical and cross-cultural case studies of oppres-
81011, <3f individuals who have been oppressed, and of indi-

viduals who have fought against oppression would be

196

essential for determining the extent to which this existen—
tial freedom ethic is concretely supported by the specific

facts of oppression and by the specific personal experiences

of oppression.

Third, although I have given reasons why we ought to

promote freedom as the world's foundation and why we ought

to will ourselves and other people morally free, the argu-

ments, ultimately, will have force only if coupled with

conversion from alienated freedom to moral freedom. In

other words, the significance of "ought" in this existential

freedom ethic is that people choose, rather than be com—

pelled to accept, the ideals of this ethic. For this rea-
son, punishment and institutionalized incarceration pose

ethical problems not met in deontological and consequen-

tialist ethical theories.26 Even so, I contend this is a

gcxod making feature of this ethical theory, because it makes
us :face the brutal facts of institutionalized incarceration
as Lit is presently meted out.

Fourth, although I have proposed that this existential
freemdom ethic entails a modest environmental ethic, more

radical environmental ethicists would think it is too modest

if Ilcrt purely and simply egocentric. This charge would come

frOm-the environmentalist camps that support a biocentric
enVironmental ethic. For these environmental ethicists,
natI—Ire taken as an organic whole is the proper ground from
whi‘311 a suitable ethic will sprout. If they are correct,

t . . .
he“) tlhis existentialist freedom ethic, which is based on

197

Sartre's phenomenological ontology, is hopelessly rotten at
its roots; therefore, this existential freedom ethic would
not be able to sprout an adequate environmental ethic. On
the other hand, if human beings are the origin of value,
which is what this existential freedom ethic holds, then I
submit that the environmental ethic it does sprout is ade-
quate.

Fifth, although I have argued that this existential
freedom ethic does not condemn us to despair, forlornness,
or nausea, I have argued that an anguished joy is a mood
correlative to the morally free person's mode of living.27
Some people might view this as undesirable if not unlivable.
After all, happiness should be a benefit of acting morally,
not an anguished joy. My response to this concern, though
perhaps too flippant, is--to paraphrase Nietzsche--only
blockheads are concerned primarily with happiness.

Sixth, although I have illustrated this existential
freedom ethic's method of decision making, I have admitted
that situationalism entails risks, anguish, trial and error.
Some people might view its situationalism as practically
untenable. People don't want to experience anguish; they
don't want to take risks. My response to this concern is
that ethics is not solely about what people want; it is also

about truth. And the truth is: Action is risky.

198

NOTES

1. See pages 18-24.

2. See pages 28-31 for my response to the vacuity objec-
tion.

3. See pages 21—24.
4. See pages 40-45.

5. See pages 41-43 for my response to the paradox of con-
version objection.

6. See pages 45-48.

7. See pages 52-54.

8. See pages 48-50 and notes 5 and 6 on page 57.

9. See pages 92-94.

10. See pages 68-81 and pages 86-91.

11. See pages 58-68 and pages 86-91.

12. See pages 85-91.

13. See pages 94-95.

14. See pages 142-144.

15. See pages 100-113.

16. See pages 120-128.

17. See pages 128-132 where I discuss the difference be-
tween an appeal and a demand. Also see pages 112-120 where
I discuss the difference between comprehension and the look.

18. See pages 132-135.

19. See Chapter Three and, specifically, note 1 on page
145.

20. See page 3 where I give a list of other people's at-
tempts to construct an existential freedom ethic.

21. See pages 24-28 where I discuss the import of being-
free and Detmer's distinction between "ontological", and
"practical" freedom.

199

22. See pages 28-31 where I discuss Beauvoir's implicit
distinction between being-free and its modes.

23. See Chapter Two. Also see pages 8-9 of the Introduc-
tion where I discuss how my characterization of an exis-
tential freedom ethic differs from Anderson's character-

ization in Sartre's Two Ethics.

24. See Chapter Four where I develop and illustrate the
situationalist method of ethical decision making.

25. See pages 180-189 where I discuss the issue of environ-
mental destruction in light of the existential freedom ethic

I've developed.

26. See pages 158-164 where I discuss these ethical issues.

27. See pages 134-141 for my discussion of emotions.

200

B I BL I OGRAPHY

201

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anderson, C. Thomas. The Foundation and Structure of
Sartrean Ethics. Lawrence: The Regents Press of Kan—
sas, 1979.

. Sartre's Two Ethics: From Authenticity to Integ-
ral HUmanity. Chicago: Open Court, 1993.

 

Aronson, Ronald. Jean-Paul Sartre--Philosophy in the World.
London: Verso, 1980.

Barnes, Hazel E. An Existentialist Ethics. New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1967.

Beauvoir, Simone de. The Ethics of Ambiguity. Translated
by Bernard Frechtman. New York: Philosophical Li-
brary, 1948.

Bell, Linda A. Sartre's Ethics of Authenticity. Tusca-
loosa: The University of Alabama Press, 1989.

Detmer, David. Freedom as a Value: A Critique of the
Ethical Theory of Jean-Paul Sartre. La Salle: Open
Court, 1988.

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov. Translated by
David Magarshack. New York: Penguin Books, 1958.

Fletcher, Joseph. Situation Ethics: The New.MOrality.
Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966.

Jeanson, Francis. Sartre and the Problem of.Mbrality.
Translated by Robert V. Stone. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1980.

Kerner, George C. Three Philosophical.MOralists: hall,
Kant, and Sartre. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990.

Sartre, Jean—Paul. Being and NOthingness: An Essay on
Phenomenological Ontology. Translated by Hazel Barnes.
New York: Philosophical Library, 1956.

. Critique of Dialectical Reason, vol. 1. Trans-

lated by.Alan Sheridan-Smith. Edited by Jonathan Rée.
London: Verso, 1991.

. The Emotions: Outline of a Theory. Translated
by Bernard Frechtman. New York: Philosophical Li-
brary, 1948.

. "The Humanism of Existentialism". In Essays in

202

Existentialism, ed. Wade Baskin. Secaucus: The Cita-
del Press, 1974.

Nausea. Translated by Lloyd Alexander. New
York: New Directions, 1964.

 

. "No Exit". Translated by Stuart Gilbert. In No
Exit and Three Other Plays. New York: Vintage Books,
1955.

 

. Notebooks for an Ethics. Translated by David
Pellauer. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press,
1992a.

 

. "The Respectful Prostitute". Translated by
Lionel Abel. In No Exit and Three Other Plays. New
York: Vintage Books, 1955.

 

. The Transcendence of The Ego: An Existentialist
Theory of Consciousness. Translated and Annotated by
Forrest Williams and Robert Kirkpatrick. New York:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1957.

 

. Truth and Existence. Translated by Adrian van
den Hoven. Edited by Ronald Aronson. Chicago: The
University of Chicago Press, 1992b.

 

. "The Wall". Translated by Lloyd Alexander. In
The Wall and Other Stories. New York: New Directions,
1969.

 

Solomon, Robert C. The Passions: The.Myth and Nature of
HUman Emotions. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press, 1983.

Wilkinson, Winston A. Unpublished letters.
General References

Abbagnano, Nicola. Critical Existentialism. Translated by
Nino Langiulli. New York: Anchor Books, 1969.

Beauvoir, Simone de. Adieux: A Farewell to Sartre. Trans-
lated by Patrick O'Brian. New York: Pantheon Books,
1984.

. The Second Sex. Translated by H.M. Parshley.
New York: Vintage Books, 1974.

Flynn, Thomas R. Sartre and.Marxist Existentialism: The
Test Case of Collective Responsibility. Chicago: The
University of Chicago Press, 1984.

203

Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Translated by John
Macquarrie and Edward Robinson. New York: Harper &
Row, 1962.

Kruks, Sonia. Situation and Human Existence: Freedom,
Subjectivity and Society. London: Unwin Hyman, 1990.

Marcel, Gabriel. HOmo Viator: Introduction to a.Metaphysic
of Hope. Translated by Emma Craufurd. New York:
Harper and Row, 1962.

Marcuse, Herbert. "Sartre, Historical Materialism and
Philosophy". In Existentialism versus.Marxism: Con-
flicting views on Humanism. Edited by George NOvack.
New York: Delta Books, 1966.

Novack, George, ed. Existentialism versus Marxism: Con-
flicting views on Humanism. New York: Delta Books,
1966.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. The Age of Reason. Translated by Eric
Sutton. New York: Vintage Books, 1973.

. Anti-Semite and Jew. Translated by George J.
Becker. New York: Schocken Books, 1948.

. "Materialism and Revolution". In Existentialism
versus Marxism: Conflicting View on HUmanism. Edited
by George Novack. New York: Delta Books, 1966.

. No Exit and Three Other Plays. New York: Vin
tage Books, 1955.

. The Reprieve. Translated by Eric Sutton. New
York: Vintage Books, 1973.

Search for a.Method. Translated by Hazel Barnes.
New York: Vintage Books, 1968.

. Troubled Sleep. Translated by Gerard Hopkins.
New York: Bantam Books, 1961.

Schilpp, Paul Arthur, ed. The Philosophy of Jean—Paul
Sartre. La Salle: Open Court, 1981.

Soper, Kate. Humanism and Anti-HUmanism. La Salle: Open
Court, 1986.

Warnock, Mary. Existentialism Ethics. New York: Mac-
millan, 1967.

204

"Illlllllllllllllllf