Travel Notes from the Guangzhou Conference

In Guangzhou I caught a cold, and after coming back I spent several days recuperating, so the task of writing up the trip was delayed by several days as well; I only began writing on December 8……

First, a bit of emotion: how time flies. In a daze, the annual conference on phenomenology and philosophy of technology has already been held six times, and this was the fourth conference I have attended. I took part in the Nanning conference as a master’s student, and in the blink of an eye I am almost done with my doctorate. As for these conference “takedowns” of “I love my teacher,” this is already the third one.

The previous two trip reports were mainly critical; in many places I was simply acting as if I had no respect for my elders, full of the air of someone ignorant of the vastness of heaven and earth. Yet afterward I not only received the tolerance of most teachers, but was also greatly encouraged. That left me both flattered and under enormous pressure, because this trip report seems to be written in a ride-tiger-and-cannot-dismount sort of way.

When chatting idly with classmates, Wu Ningning once helped me analyze why my trip reports could be so broadly tolerated by teachers. Besides the teachers’ broad-mindedness, there was another reason: basically every report I critiqued, and I did not favor one over another, so it showed that I was critiquing the matter and not the person, with no personal target in mind. In particular, every time Professor Wu’s report was also inevitably subjected to my criticism, so it became even easier for the other teachers to accept it. But this time Professor Wu himself simply chose not to give a report at all, which means he couldn’t serve as an example in either a positive or a negative sense. Alas～

As usual, I will still write this conference record under the name of a “trip report.” “Trip report” emphasizes the personal color of these comments: it tells only of my own observations and impressions, and is not an objective, rigorous overview. I do not conceal my personal likes and dislikes in my assessments, but after all they are impressions formed from a superficial survey, so they are certainly very one-sided.

 

December 7 early in the morning, I set out together with four fellow Wu-school disciples—Jing Qi, Wu Ningning, Jin Shixiang, and myself. We took a taxi to Nanyuan Airport, then met up with Dong Xiaoju, who had already arrived (a student of the madam), and took a small China United Airlines plane to Guangzhou. This was my first time at this airport; it had quite a mysterious feel, and the taxi fare was 99 yuan.

After arriving in Guangzhou, according to the conference notice we should have taken the subway to South China University of Technology. But we saw that one airport shuttle bus had a stop called South China University of Technology, so we tried to be clever and took the shuttle instead. As it turned out, this was a case of cleverness outsmarting itself: after getting off, we had to walk along a very long “expressway” road before we could reach the school, and the whole way there was no way to hail a taxi……

We arrived at South China University of Technology a little after four and checked into the West Lake Garden Hotel on campus. The campus environment was excellent, with rippling blue water and green trees providing shade; the drizzle and the flowers all over the ground made it feel like a place so pleasant one would gladly forget to think of the north. Although Guangzhou had had light rain for several days, the climate was still very warm; astonishingly, both the shuttle bus on the way over and the hotel room had the air conditioning on.

Jing Qi and Jin Shixiang were assigned to one room, while I was placed in a room with Professor Tian Song. In the afternoon, Professor Tian had not yet arrived, so after settling in I went to Jing Qi’s room to chat with them. The main topics were academic ones. During the conversation, we mentioned that Jing Qi’s oral explanations were clearer than his written articles, and suggested that when writing in the future he should be a bit freer, a bit more colloquial, and not deliberately make things abbreviated and restrained; clarity should come first. We also discussed how Professor Tian’s “questioning of waste” could be developed into a very good problem in natural philosophy or intellectual history for further examination. Jing Qi accepted our suggestions, so next week he will be speaking about the waste issue in a more open manner; I may even write another article in response then.

The hotel conditions were excellent, both in terms of the environment and the service. In particular, the quality of the staff—from dining to room management—is something one can hardly see in the north. There was wireless signal in the room, and I also discovered a free good-night milk service. Taking advantage of Professor Tian not yet being there, I ordered a cup →_→. A cup of milk is not worth much money, of course, but it really was a very thoughtful service, and it made one feel quite comfortable.

At eleven at night, Professor Tian finally arrived, and soon afterward Professor Jiang Jinsong came over to chat with him. Professor Tian was about to comment on Professor Jiang’s report; both of them were exceptionally serious, one still constantly revising the report, the other also constantly revising his comments.

 

Nothing happened overnight. The next morning we got up early for the buffet breakfast, which was not only abundant in variety but also tasted very good. In particular, the unlimited Cantonese dim sum, wontons, noodles, and rice noodles were truly striking. Lunch was also buffet-style, but with Cantonese dim sum and wonton noodles missing, it felt somewhat less impressive. In any case, there was really nothing to complain about in the food this time. Of course, some people may feel that Cantonese cuisine is too light, but for people from Shanghai it is just right.

 

Now we formally enter the conference proper:

This conference had a total of 34 paper presentations, and the schedule was very tight. The presentations came in several formats: a “full version” included a 20-minute talk, a 10-minute designated commentary, and a 10-minute open discussion; there were also forms such as a 20-minute talk plus 10 minutes of open discussion; a 15-minute talk plus 5 minutes of discussion; and a 20-minute talk with no discussion.

At 8:00 on December 1, the conference officially began. Session 1, “Opening Ceremony and a Phenomenological Prelude,” was chaired by Professor Wu Guosheng, and the host institution’s vice dean of the School of Marxism at South China University of Technology, Professor Wu Guolin, delivered the opening speech.

Professor Duan Weiwen from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences gave the first report: “From Acceptable Science to Multiple Realities.” Professor Duan argued that “one of the common inferences of phenomenology, existentialism, and pragmatism is that science is a humanized artifact aimed at constructing multiple realities…… The essence of contemporary science is technological.” One feature of this technologicalized science is that “and” takes priority over “is,” and operation takes priority over assertion. Professor Sheng Xiaoming gave the commentary. He said he had drunk too much wine yesterday; at first he seemed to understand, but after listening he felt he no longer understood. Of course, this may not have been only because of Professor Sheng’s drinking. Professor Wu hit the nail on the head when he pointed out that Professor Duan really did not explain himself very clearly, though he wrote a bit more clearly. But to be honest, when I later went back to read Professor Duan’s text, I still felt completely boggled. The key point is that this programmatic report draws on too many lines of thought. Just the main resources Professor Duan listed in his own abstract include “Basil, Hacking, Latour, Arendt, Deleuze, Varna, Law, Mol, etc.”; the body of the paper also brings in Mid- Platonists, Marx, Hume, Popper, Kuhn, Foucault, and all sorts of heroes and worthies. Gathering so many intellectual threads into a single narrative inevitably leaves one overwhelmed. Perhaps Professor Duan himself can command his overall line of thought and summon each school and faction at will, but for readers the burden of interpretation is rather heavy.

Moreover, through such a grand gathering, the subtle differences among the views and concepts of these various thinkers may be bypassed. For example, Professor Wu pointed out that Professor Duan introduced Arendt’s concept of “action,” but in Arendt action and fabrication, action and working are clearly distinguished. Yet when Professor Duan speaks of “fabrication as action,” he seems not to have noticed this distinction. In short, because I did not really understand Professor Duan’s report, I will not comment further. But I do think that the fact that a text is hard to understand is not entirely the reader’s responsibility. Professor Duan once told me privately that McLuhan’s texts are too scattered, but in a certain sense Professor Duan himself also seems to have quite a freewheeling postmodern style.

 

The second paper was Professor Wu Tong of Tsinghua, “Body and Space in Chinese and Western Medical Practice.” Professor Wu Tong reflected on the diagnostic and treatment settings of Chinese and Western medicine. Chinese medicine is “seeing the doctor,” centered on the body, whereas Western medicine is “seeing the illness,” centered on disease. Behind different forms of diagnosis and treatment lie different views of the body, and views of the body in turn involve the disciplining of spatial structure. Modern Western “space” is objectified and standardized, whereas the space of Chinese medicine is more natural and intersubjectively interwoven. A technologized body demands different responses; in this way we can understand the different modes of diagnosis and treatment in Chinese and Western medicine. Professor Xiao Ling gave commentary, adding that related reflections may help us understand the current doctor-patient relationship problem. She believes that in Western medicine the doctor-patient relationship is mediated by machines, replacing the human-human relationship with a human–machine–human form.

In the free discussion, Teacher Jiang Jinsong pointed out that in Chinese medicine there is also a division within the body between yin and yang; the body is a battlefield where right and evil are locked in combat, so it is not necessarily only a matter of speaking about the balance of the whole. In addition, traditional Chinese medicine also contains all kinds of power relations, while Western medicine likewise has special clinical relationships such as private doctors, so one cannot generalize. A teacher from Guangzhou Medical University asked whether the “specialization” of Western medicine is ultimately a result or a cause. In Wu Tong’s formulation, this kind of spatial discipline fundamentally comes from a certain state political consciousness, a standardized system of power; under this spatial order, “the body must also be standardized.” But on the other hand, Wu Tong also said that “the body views of the two medicines” “determine” that the objects they treat are different: Chinese medicine takes the whole body as its object, while Western medicine takes separate diseases as its object. So which comes first, the “body view” or the division of space? That does indeed seem to be a question. Of course, in my view, the very idea of seeking a linear, one-way causal relation is itself modern; since we have already revealed the link between body views and spatial division, there is no need to determine a clear causal relation after all. Finally, both Pan Enrong and Teacher Sheng Xiaoming pointed out that Wu Tong’s method of analyzing Chinese medicine was too Western, and that he had not combined it with the indigenous lines of thought and concepts of the Chinese tradition. This criticism is fair, but I think it need not necessarily be corrected: modern scholarship is basically built on the tradition of Western learning to begin with, and using Western methods to carry out reflection is a basic approach. Of course, further on, we can go deeper into the tradition itself and reconstruct the ancient context; that is the task of the intellectual historian. But as far as Wu Tong’s own interests are concerned, there is no necessity for him to do so.

The problem with Wu Tong, however, is that even within Western learning this work is still not deep enough. For example, the citations of Merleau-Ponty and other thinkers are rather superficial; there is no more thorough excavation or elaboration, nor any critical pursuit—only a rather crude introduction of certain claims or distinctions, with a bit of the flavor of waving a great banner to cover oneself with tiger skin. Of course, as Teacher Wu Guosheng summed up at the end, the “old comrades” represented by Wu Tong persist in exploring, keep thinking without stopping, and every year can produce fresh results that are quite original; that is something to be praised. Compared with Wu Tong, Teacher Wu Guosheng, who for several consecutive years has failed to produce a complete article and even this year has no article, forms a striking contrast ←_←.

 

After the tea break and group photo came the second session, “Phenomenology and Philosophy of Science I,” chaired by Teacher Wu Tong.

The first paper was Meng Qiang’s report, titled “‘The more constructed, the more real’—On factishism.” The article he brought was a long piece called “Things, Reality, and Politics,” and the report focused only on its third section. Meng Qiang argued that Latour’s factishism (factishism = fact + fetish) could be a third option beyond “scientific realism and anti-realism.” Teacher Duan Weiwen commented that Meng Qiang’s formulation was a bit like “wave-particle duality”: reality and construction are two sides of one coin, but when one sees reality one cannot see construction, and when one sees construction one cannot see reality. I think this analogy is apt. Teacher Duan said that Meng Qiang’s route was an eclectic one; Meng Qiang disagreed, saying that it was a route that pleased neither side.

During the free discussion, Teachers Jing Qi and Li Zhangyin both criticized Meng Qiang’s discussion of Heidegger. Meng Qiang mentioned that Heidegger improperly set up an opposition between “object” and “thing,” with only the latter being the fourfold gathering of the “gathering,” whereas Jing Qi pointed out that Heidegger was only distinguishing objects from things on a certain specific level; compared with the “standing reserve” brought forth by modern technology, both “objects” and “things” are also gathering-like. Li Zhangyin, for his part, thought that Meng Qiang had precisely flattened the tension between object and thing in Heidegger, because he had mistaken the “object” discussed by Heidegger in a specific context for the “object” discussed by Latour. But Meng Qiang insisted that he did not want to repeat Heidegger’s line of thought, which implied that no matter how many subtle remarks Heidegger may have had, he was not especially impressed.

Broadly speaking, Brother Qiang’s views and interests share many points in common with mine; routes such as “toward a history of things in knowledge” are also, in spirit, akin to my program of a “history of media.” But the difference is that Meng Qiang tries to break away from Heidegger or even earlier philosophers and move closer to newer postmodern theories, whereas I am more inclined to return to Heidegger, and even to Kant and Aristotle; I believe that the so-called new route I propose has long been contained within the possibilities opened up for us by classical philosophers. Meng Qiang, however, is dissatisfied with classical philosophy, with phenomenology, and with practical philosophy alike, and is trying to “blaze a new trail.” For instance, if one is equally dissatisfied with the binary opposition between scientific realism and constructivism, my own method is to trace things back, to return to Wittgenstein, Heidegger, or to instrumentalism, conventionalism, and even transcendentalism. Whether it is Wittgenstein, Heidegger, Bohr, Poincaré, or Kant, in fact no one was denying “reality” from the very beginning; they were merely trying to redefine the meaning of the word “reality” in different ways. Kant’s theory can be said to be “the more subjective, the more real,” and Poincaré’s can be “the more conventional, the more real.” Therefore I choose to return to Kant from the perspective of philosophy of technology and historicism, and to seek a third path, or the original path, by reaffirming traditional philosophy. The so-called “scientific realism” and constructivism that rose to prominence in the late twentieth century have both gone astray; the way to respond to a wrong path is to back up, return to the starting point, and walk it again, rather than continuing forward along the modern and postmodern routes.

In addition, Meng Qiang does not seem to distinguish between fact and the actual (fact) on the one hand, and the real and reality (real) on the other. Generally speaking, what is called “realism” refers specifically to realism, but factishism and Meng Qiang’s discussion both involve fact, and there is still a very large difference between these two concepts. Realism—whether medieval realism or scientific realism—generally emphasizes whether there is a corresponding “entity” behind a “concept” (a common term in the Middle Ages, or in modern times basic terms such as atoms and electrons). Realism says that “‘electron’ is real,” that is, there is an entity behind the word; instrumentalism says that words are merely tools, but they can still acknowledge the same “experimental facts.” No one thinks that the entire scientific theory is illusory; the disagreement lies only in how to understand specific scientific terms. The reality of “electron” is an idol constructed by theory; this view is not new, and is not some new path beyond realism and anti-realism, but is nothing more than the original anti-realist position.

 

The second paper was Xu Zhu from the University of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, titled “How Can the Idea of Transcendental Philosophy Be Practiced in Philosophy of Science?” Xu Zhu argued that Kant’s transcendental philosophy contains two basic dimensions: first, the “constructive character of transcendental consciousness”; second, the “foundationalist transcendental normativity.” The former emphasizes the subjective constructive aspect of knowledge, while the latter emphasizes its objective rules. But there is tension between these two, and the development of contemporary philosophy has taken approaches that preserve one side or the other: from Neo-Kantianism to logical positivism, the focus is on saving normativity; from phenomenology to philosophy of scientific practice, the focus is on insisting on constructivity. Xu Zhu believes that both of these routes are one-sided, and that the way out should be to seek a path that affirms both, in a new sense, at the same time. Teacher An Weifu from East China Normal University gave comments. He affirmed Xu Zhu’s work as a useful attempt to “bring philosophy of science back to intellectual history,” and added that Kant’s a priori judgments actually come from Newtonian science.

Teacher Duan Weiwen asked why, before discussing “how to practice transcendental philosophy,” one must first practice transcendental philosophy at all—that is the question. I do not think that is really a problem. Xu Zhu interprets the core of transcendental philosophy as a kind of argument establishing “necessary conditions” on the level of logic, and that seems a bit too rigid. In my view, transcendental philosophy is first and foremost a way of asking a question—how is knowledge “possible”? This is a question that philosophers after Kant cannot escape. In a certain sense, all contemporary philosophy is the result of practicing transcendental philosophy, only the manner of practice differs: some people give up this aspect, some people give up that aspect. But in any case, inheriting the tradition of intellectual history is our natural fate; if one were to completely abandon this tradition, we would instead have to ask: how is that possible?

Teacher Li Zhangyin mentioned that Rouse leaves Kant’s first person and uses third-person things to construct third-person things, attempting to use empirical things to construct transcendental things, rather than giving up normativity out of a concern for constructivity. Jing Qi pointed out that Neo-Kantianism includes not only the Marburg School, which leans toward positivism, but also the Southwest School, which leans more toward phenomenology, so one cannot generalize. In fact, these issues reflect that Xu Zhu’s dichotomy seems rather crude. Whether in terms of theoretical content or in terms of actual intellectual schools, this dichotomy appears too broad. In fact, in a certain sense one can say that every thinker must pay attention to the normativity and constructivity of knowledge; they simply interpret them in different ways. Xu Zhu’s use of a dichotomy to highlight two possible directions of theoretical development is still suggestive, but whether this distinction exactly constitutes the division between the corresponding camps in the history of philosophy remains worth discussing.

 

The third paper was Teacher Tao Jianwen from South China University of Technology, presenting “A Study of the A Priori Legitimacy of the Mathematicalization of Quantity.” Teacher Tao distinguished “quantity” into “extensive quantity” and “intensive quantity.” He believed that the mathematization of extensive quantity is direct and a priori legitimate, whereas the problem lies with intensive quantity; Tao believed that “the transformation into extensive quantity is the basis for the a priori legitimacy of the indirect mathematization of intensive quantity.” Teacher An Weifu commented by summarizing Tao’s main points and affirming Tao’s writing style of focusing on a small problem.

Teacher Li Zhangyin pointed out that this issue is very important, but that in Husserl’s Crisis there is already a discussion of the mathematization of “secondary qualities,” and Tao had not noticed Husserl’s literature. Teacher Wu, meanwhile, pointed out that Tao was merely repeating the medieval scholastics’ distinction between “extension” and “intension,” and that this distinction in substance is a matter of which sense takes precedence. The primacy of extension comes from visual centrism.

Teacher Tao disagreed with reducing the relationship of precedence between extensive and intensive quantity to the primacy of various senses; he emphasized that another key feature of intensive quantity is that “it is very difficult for us to find a third-party scale that can directly measure intensive quantity.” For example, we cannot find “a stretch of hardness” or “a stretch of temperature” the way we can find “a stretch of length.”

Indeed, whether one can isolate a “portion” can be said to be the difference between some senses and others, but the question is whether this difference is exactly what is meant by the distinction between extensive and intensive quantity. Teacher Tao compared length and hardness, but did not notice certain ambiguous zones, such as brightness and weight. We can weigh an object with our eyes closed; not only can we distinguish light from heavy, we can also discern a certain unit of weight. We can feel that one kilogram is equivalent to two jin. We can also feel how bright a light bulb is in terms of how many candles its brightness equals. Theoretically speaking, the units “kilogram” and “candlepower” do not, a priori, require conversion into extensive quantity in order to be recognized, and yet they are “intensive quantities.” On the other hand, although extensive quantities can distinguish a “portion” by reference to a third party, they also have a certain inadequacy. For instance, when length loses all reference to a third party—for example, when a shape appears all alone in a monocular field of view—if you are not allowed to move your body or use any other object or any other means to assist yourself, and you do not know how far the object before your eyes is, then with only this visual impression given, “length” loses its meaning, whereas color and brightness remain meaningful. Compared with length, which depends on a referential background in order to be perceived, other so-called intensive quantities are more immediate. Even without the assistance of other tools or senses, they still present themselves as a degree. As for being prone to illusion, visual perception of length is likewise unreliable, because people are easily influenced by reference objects, and such error has no limit; under the right scenery, we can even see a person as taller than a mountain. By contrast, errors in the perception of temperature no matter what cannot be boundless: a fire will never be colder than ice, and a feather will never be heavier than a mountain. The reason length can be measured more objectively and precisely is entirely because we ultimately found the aid of standardized measuring techniques such as rulers. But when it comes to immediate givenness or the immediacy of what is given, sensations of hot and cold, dry and wet, light and heavy, bright and dark, etc., seem to have the upper hand. In other words, in terms of objective precision achieved a posteriori, in view of practical technical means, “length” is indeed superior in some respects; but in the sense of a priori legitimacy, are not those more direct sensations the more privileged ones?

 

The fourth paper, also the last one of the morning, was Jin Shixiang’s “The Origin and Crisis of Modern Science—An Interpretation of The Phenomenology and the History of Science.” This report suffered two uncontrollable and fatal blows. First, it was scheduled for the very worst time slot, the last session of the first morning (perhaps everyone would be more adjusted on the second day), and people’s minds were already on lunch, so the effect of listening was bound to be greatly reduced. Second, the venue’s computer was using Office 2003, so the pptx file Jin Shixiang had prepared in advance could not be opened. Later reports by other teachers improved this problem, but Jin Shixiang became the sacrificial victim and could only read from the manuscript in a fluster. Under this double blow, the report’s effect was rather poor, and the audience found it difficult to grasp the article’s main thrust and key points. Commentator Teacher Li Zhangyin pointed out that the report’s main purpose was to suggest a historiographical route of a “phenomenology of the history of science,” and noted that Jin Shixiang’s writing was rigorous and cautious, but that his reference to Husserl’s texts was still not sufficient, and he also lacked attention to Heidegger. Jing Qi offered some defense for Jin Shixiang: after all, the aim of the article was not to interpret Husserl, but to use Husserl, especially Klein’s work, to suggest a phenomenological method of historiography. As for the introduction of Heidegger, that is also a question I care about; of course, for this article, not citing Heidegger is still complete and rigorous, but I am more interested in a Heideggerian phenomenological history of science, and I raised the relevant issues in the post-discussion “Discussion on Intentional History and Actual History” after the workshop.

 

When we came back in the afternoon, the third session, “Phenomenology and Philosophy of Technology,” was chaired by Teacher Sheng Xiaoming, but Teacher Sheng was late by quite a while, so the conference started on its own.

The first paper was Teacher Deng Bo’s “Language Philosophy of Technology as First Philosophy.” Deng began with Plato and Aristotle, saying that Western philosophy has two routes: one is ontology as metaphysics (asking after the being of beings), and the other is substance-based metaphysics (asking after the original substance). From ancient natural philosophy all the way to modern realism, what has continued is the route of substance-based metaphysics, whereas in modern philosophy, especially in philosophy of language, substance metaphysics is rejected and ontology returns to the center. Philosophy of technology also represents a direction of development for ontology as first philosophy. Teacher Deng believes that the ontological question is fundamentally the question of “how language can map reality”; language philosophy of technology as first philosophy “means starting from language technology, and through the operations of writing technology constructing models of being…”

Teacher Zhao Weiguo commented that Teacher Deng seemed to have some “backsliding,” and moreover the first half’s outline of ontology and substance-based first philosophy seemed somewhat disconnected from the final part’s claim that philosophy is nothing more than something drawn by language. Teacher Wu was even sharper in criticizing Deng for “retreating to pre-phenomenology,” merely replacing “essence” with “language,” and still clinging to the rigid dichotomy between matter and spirit, splitting it into technological thinking and material technology, without phenomenologically classifying technology.

The criticism of backsliding may perhaps not be quite apt. Teacher Deng seems precisely to want to accomplish a grand mission of advancing by retreating: to return to the original pursuit of Greek metaphysics, while also using the proposition that “philosophy is nothing more than the product of language” to dismantle the entire metaphysical tradition at its root. But the problem is that Teacher Deng seems to have retreated without advancing; he has paid too much attention to the macro-level grasp of the entire history of philosophy, while in his grasp of “language” and “technology” he has not made obvious progress. He still merely emphasizes the sentence that “philosophy is the product of language technology,” but his understanding of what language is and what technology is remains stuck in a certain common-sense, or in Teacher Wu’s words, “rigid,” model. Teacher Deng believes that Heidegger’s viewing language as a tool blocks the path of reflection, but he did not notice the distinctive dimension of reflection opened up by Heidegger’s re-interpretation of language; the force of these insights far exceeds a simple definition such as “language is a technology of thought.”

Of course, Teacher Deng’s attempt to root himself in the history of philosophy and establish a certain position for philosophy of technology as first philosophy is something I very much support; in fact, that is what I myself am doing. But the entire history of philosophy is tangled in too many threads and involves too many connections; to try to grasp it as a whole in such a broad manner in a short essay is perhaps a bit overambitious, and Teacher Deng also did not clearly rely on some theoretical resources as support. As a result, the whole report seemed rather hollow. My own choice is to focus on the issue of the unity of consciousness in transcendental philosophy, using Stiegler as support, which gives me a bit more confidence.

Then the second presentation was Hu Yilin’s (mine), titled “Media History as Transcendental Philosophy.” The content can be found on my blog, so I won’t repeat it here in a self-congratulatory way. Once again, it was Zhao Weiguo who offered the commentary. Teacher Zhao pointed out that I was in fact using a kind of hermeneutic circle to deconstruct transcendental philosophy; he also mentioned that Kant’s own three syntheses may not necessarily have weaknesses, since once time is introduced, Kant’s theory begins to circle within itself. Teacher Zhao was right. First, I think Kantian philosophy is basically self-contained and, internally speaking, almost flawless; nor was I trying to attack Kantian philosophy, so whether it has weaknesses or not is beside the point. But the self-consistency of Kant’s philosophy is still historical, and in this respect I was indeed using a hermeneutic circle to deconstruct Kantian philosophy. However, I still retained the concept of “transcendental philosophy,” because I do not completely equate transcendental philosophy with Kant’s philosophy. I think “transcendental philosophy” is precisely a certain kind of “first philosophy” that has continued since ancient Greece, merely reformulated most explicitly by Kant, but by no means Kant’s exclusive property. So what I deconstruct, one may say, is Kant’s transcendental philosophy, but I believe I am still carrying forward the path of transcendental philosophy, still answering the “transcendental question.”

During the open discussion, the teachers spoke enthusiastically, and in the end we went over time, so I was not allowed to answer. This situation occurred many times at this conference; in the end, Teacher Tian and others protested, arguing that it was unfair either not to let people throw bricks or not to let them respond, and I agree with that. The presenter should not deprive the audience of time for questions, and the audience should also leave the presenter one or two minutes to respond; all this should be properly managed by the moderator.

Teacher Wu first helped me by offering a defense, pointing out that my article involved the issue of the intelligibility of history, and that Stiegler’s analysis of the three syntheses provides an important entry point for technology entering philosophy. Teacher Wu also thought that the importance of the three syntheses should be reversed: the third synthesis, or the technical synthesis, ought to come first. As for this last point, I do not entirely agree, because what I meant was only that the three syntheses form a kind of “circle,” a relation of mutual grounding, but what counts as first is not easy to say. Of course, insofar as recollection is concerned, technology is the closest thing we encounter first, and in that sense the third synthesis’s position as “first among those to bear the brunt” is also not bad.

Teacher Xiao Feng asked about my concept of “media” here. He pointed out that I was either using it in the narrowest sense, that is, specifically language, or in the broadest sense, as synonymous with technology, but that I had not addressed the general sense of media, namely those technologies specifically for information exchange. That is correct. In fact, as far as this article stands on its own, it might have been better to use the word “technology”; it is only because this article is one link in my broader plan for writing my doctoral dissertation that I still used media as its name. I chose “media” for many reasons. First, of course, to bring in the resources of the media ecology school; second, because the word media more clearly highlights the intermediary character of “through …”; third, because the structure “media—content/information” will be very useful. Of course, the usual meaning of media as “the medium of information exchange” will indeed be one of the central topics of discussion, and I also want to extend the intention of “exchange” to the broad sense of media, that is, the concept of general technology. General technology, including the hammer, is also a kind of “message,” in which the structure of exchange is implied.

Teacher Duan Weiwen asked whether, under the developed condition of modern media, some kind of total forgetting might be produced. Teacher Duan also gave an example: if the Encyclopædia Britannica were digitized, and then that digital number were converted into a fraction between 0 and 1, and then a mark were carved at the corresponding place on an iron bar, then the entire Encyclopædia Britannica would become this iron bar with a single notch. Teacher Duan did not explain in detail the implications of this thought experiment, but as I understand it, this example has something to do with “total forgetting” as well as the essence of recording technology. It is obvious that the Encyclopædia Britannica is not merely a slash mark, even though it can be inscribed as such a slash mark; but if there is no whole set of inscription and decoding technologies, then this slash mark itself is utterly meaningless. In fact, isn’t the paper Encyclopædia Britannica itself also like this? If there were no whole set of language and writing technologies used by people to make the text on the page decodable, then those black characters on white paper would also be meaningless. Any technology in fact implies such a whole set of “encoding—decoding” procedures; the meaning of technical objects is rooted in the world as a whole. If one strips away the worldliness of technical objects and treats them as solitary lumps of matter, then technical objects will all become absurd like that iron bar. But the reason that when we read a book we more easily feel that this thing is “rich in information” than when we look at an iron bar is that, in our initial activity of “seeing,” there is already a set of “decoding” procedures. We can directly decode the lines on the page into meaningful words, but we cannot directly see information in an iron bar, because through learning and training we have already internalized the procedures for interpreting writing within our bodies. But the procedures for interpreting an iron bar are too complex and unlikely to become internalized as our bodily technology, though this is only a matter of degree. For example, staff notation can be understood as a way of encoding a “slash mark” at a certain position to correspond to some specific information; an untrained person cannot directly “read” notation and instead needs some external translational aid to convert it into music, but a trained person may directly see the staff as darting notes. As for so-called “total forgetting,” it may refer to a situation like this: for example, after we externalize memory with excessively complex technology, the encoding procedure is so complicated that it can never be internalized as a bodily procedure, so that we can only decode it through complex technological means; then, once we lose those technological means, we will never be able to retrieve those externalized memories. But this risk of forgetting is more often a matter for the individual, for example if I use some complex ciphertext to record my own thoughts, and my encryption method is completely private, then once I myself forget that encoding method, I will be helpless before the ciphertext I recorded. However, technology belongs not only to each individual, but also to the communicative world in which we coexist; the reliability of my personal memory is precisely secured by others with whom I live. Without the communicative world, I might even be unable to distinguish dream from reality. When we externalize memory and encode it, we are not only entrusting memory to “technical objects,” but also entrusting it to others, entrusting it to human history. In this sense, the development of media generally does not lead to total forgetting; however, it does require memory to acquire a certain publicity. Those ancient memories passed down in private, refusing publicity—such as primitive myths and sacred knowledge—will indeed face the risk of total forgetting. Of course, that risk already belonged to these forms of knowledge from the start, but modern technology and its globalization have intensified the extinction of cultural diversity, objectively aggravating the risk that certain ancient forms of knowledge will be forgotten.

Teacher Li Zhangyin pointed out that Kant’s third synthesis is what determines experience under the concept of “the one,” and whether the diversity of technology will fragment cognition. In any case, the unity inherent in experiential objects that may present themselves in multiple guises is the starting point of my question. As for whether this “one” of unity precisely needs to be secured by the concept of “the one,” I think not. On the contrary, the “one” in a concept is precisely something that must also be obtained from the object itself. Why is “apple” a single concept rather than the two concepts “apple” + “fruit”? Why is watermelon a single concept rather than the two concepts “water” + “sweet melon”? These “concepts” themselves become “one” only in the corresponding context. In this respect Chinese, especially Classical Chinese, is more obvious than Western alphabetic writing. Alphabetic writing tends to treat word by word as independent entities—yet even in the West, before printing, clear spacing had not yet been formed; the use of spaces is a recent thing. That is to say, the fact that “concepts” can be split into “one by one” is not something natural at all. It is not that we first can split a concept into “one,” and only then can form a unified cognition of things. On the contrary, the independence of concepts themselves is the result of various specific cognitive activities and technological environments. The reason the determination of “concepts” has not become “fragmented” is precisely that concepts are first and foremost technical.

In addition, Teacher Tao Jianwen, Teacher Zhang Qiucheng, Teacher Lei Depeng, and others also raised questions or suggestions; I cannot remember the specifics, and I am therefore unable to respond further. My thanks to all the teachers for their guidance.

 

The third presentation was by Teacher Li Sanhu from the Party School of the Guangzhou Municipal Committee, “Technology and Body Politics: A Phenomenological Perspective.” Since this report came right after my own, and I was still immersed in the various questions the teachers had raised without giving me time to respond, I did not listen to this report very carefully. This article involved many cutting-edge issues, including body politics, feminism, and other fashionable fields, but as Teacher Meng Qiang said in his commentary, the overall feeling was still rather vague and not woven together. Teacher Wu commented that what Teacher Li called the “authentic body” lost in technology still carried a certain flavor of essentialist anthropology. Teacher Li acknowledged this; he believed that critique requires the setting up of prototypes, such as the non-technological “ape-man.” Of course, I think this theory of prototypes is problematic and unnecessary, but that would take too long to explain. In fact, much of the first volume of Stiegler’s Technics and Time is precisely a critique of Rousseau’s prototypical anthropology.

 

After the tea break came the fourth session, “Heidegger and Others I,” chaired by Teacher Deng Bo.

The first presentation was by Teacher Wu Guolin, “Phenomenological Reflections on the Wave Function.” This time, Teacher Wu Guolin used the ontological difference to explain the relation between the wave function and particles—particles are beings, while the wave function is the being of beings. Teacher Wu Guosheng offered commentary. Teacher Wu (when I say “Teacher Wu,” I default to Teacher Wu Guosheng) said that Wu Guolin talks about quantum mechanics every year because, in essence, his non-phenomenological way of thinking is always “beaten up” by other participants; Teacher Wu said that this time he wanted to prevent the host from suffering such a tragic scene again. So Teacher Wu offered several positive evaluations of Teacher Wu Guolin. First, he revealed the status of “relation” as prior to “relata”; the “wave function” is essentially a relation, and establishing the ontological status of the wave function implies a new relational realism. Second, he indicated that the intertwining of past, present, and future shown in quantum mechanics has a certain superficial connection with phenomenological theories of time; this connection may be more than merely verbal, and its deeper meaning still awaits excavation. Third, he pointed out that quantum technology as ontological difference—that is, wave-packet collapse caused by quantum measurement—and the difference between being and beings do indeed bear a certain formal similarity; this similarity is probably not accidental and is worth probing in depth.

Teacher Wu’s positive assessment did not stop people down below from throwing bricks. For example, Teacher Tian Song sharply criticized Wu Guolin’s text as full of “a quantum fog piled together from concepts,” with an inescapable “ghost of realism.” Teacher Tian pointed out that the wave function is not something that preexists before measurement; quantum theory holds that before measurement there is no real thing whatsoever.

In any case, although Teacher Wu Guolin insists every year on his stubborn interpretation of quantum mechanics, it can be seen that he is indeed continuously exploring. Though his use of phenomenology is never fully satisfying to us, he nonetheless manages to bring out something new every year. By comparison, Teacher Tian Song’s thinking on quantum mechanics seems somewhat lacking in ambition; after so many years he cannot merely live off his doctoral dissertation, occasionally borrowing a bit of Wheeler to oppose realism. Teacher Tian merely uses quantum mechanics as a destructive tool, but it seems he has not made much deeper progress in the philosophical reflection on quantum mechanics. In this respect, Teacher Tian should learn from Teacher Wu Guolin.

As for me, the reason I switched from science to humanities in high school and began to take an interest in philosophy was also due to my astonishment at quantum mechanics. The problem of quantum mechanics has always been a concern I cannot let go of. I once thought that intuitionism could very well crack the mystery of quantum theory, and after encountering phenomenology I had some deeper thoughts. For example, in private conversation with Jin Shixiang, I mentioned that the philosophical essence of quantum mechanics is a return from Platonism to Aristotle, returning to Aristotle’s view of motion that resolves Zeno’s paradox. So quantum theory is actually not a new paradox at all, but precisely the final solution to Zeno’s paradox, the final verdict in the dispute between Plato and Aristotle. I will elaborate on this when I have the chance.

 

The second presentation was by Teacher Li Zhangyin, “The Endless Argument — Refuting Carnap.” Teacher Li said this was an issue he had “been bottling up for 30 years”; he wanted to refute Carnap’s criticism of Heidegger. Carnap took Heidegger as a typical metaphysician to criticize, and Heidegger’s “the nothing nothings” was cited as a typical meaningless statement. Teacher Li believed these criticisms were wrong. Heidegger, first of all, is by no means a typical metaphysician, and his explication of nothingness has its own rationale. Teacher Yan Qingshan from East China Normal University commented, saying that in fact the criticisms Carnap leveled at Heidegger, or Li Zhangyin leveled at Carnap, were all criticisms of a mixed kind. The key to understanding Carnap’s criticism lies in understanding what kind of metaphysics Carnap had in mind. Relative to the metaphysics in Carnap’s mind, Heidegger may indeed be a typical case; Heidegger’s use of ambiguous concepts is exactly what Carnap wanted to criticize. In this sense Carnap’s criticism is reasonable. Teacher Yan believed that what Heidegger pursues is precision, not clarity, and therefore language must become ambiguous—for example, “red” is a clear expression, whereas “dark red,” “brilliant rose red,” and so on are more precise expressions but at the same time precisely more ambiguous. This distinction made by Teacher Yan is quite interesting, but I think that the reason Heidegger uses language that appears equivocal is, besides this so-called intention toward precision, that there is a deeper consideration, namely the spirit of what is called “formal indication.” Heidegger does not regard words as labels that are either clear or precise and pasted onto some object one wants to define; rather, he regards them as media for some kind of formal indication or situational display. Heidegger tries to open up a space of thought with his language, aiming to open the reader’s horizons rather than to lock or focus our gaze on some ready-made object. Therefore every word or proposition Heidegger utters cannot be taken out and analyzed on its own; it must always be interpreted in context. Of course, as Meng Qiang later also criticized, Teacher Li here still seems too eager to defend Heidegger, failing to display the heavier accumulation one would expect from 30 years of groundwork, especially by neglecting important texts such as “Parting Ways.” The merit of “Parting Ways” is that it does not hasten to draw a clear boundary between Heidegger and Carnap; rather, it asks after the deeper roots of the very fact that they ultimately drew such a boundary.

 

The third presentation was by Teacher Bao Guoguang, “Five Paths to Inquire into Technology on the Basis of Heidegger’s ‘Ontology’.” Surveying Heidegger’s various early and late ideas, Teacher Bao summarized five paths for inquiring into technology: 1. through “being-in-the-world” (existence); 2. through nature (bringing-forth); 3. through works of art; 4. through the “four causes”; 5. through “thing-space.” Teacher Wu Guosheng offered commentary. Teacher Wu first expressed admiration for Teacher Bao’s “unswerving devotion” to studying Heidegger; of course, in a certain sense this was also a criticism, because according to Teacher Wu’s academic ideal and expectations for the field of phenomenological philosophy of technology, he would rather one be able to go in and also come out: to learn phenomenology, and ultimately to play phenomenology oneself. After plunging into Heidegger’s deep and dense forest, Teacher Bao seemed to have become a little like someone who cannot bear to leave Shu, unable to extricate himself. Teacher Wu pointed out that the second point Teacher Bao mentioned is especially important, namely that the concept of “nature” contains “technology”; this is also the insight Teacher Wu recently wanted to expound upon (a pity he hasn’t written it out). Teacher Wu believes that the Greeks constructed natural philosophy because of their mastery of technology. Finally, Teacher Wu criticized Teacher Bao for listing five paths without further exploring the links among them. Teacher Wu believes that the second and the fourth paths are connected, and the third and the fifth are connected; in the end, all roads lead to the same destination. I also very much agree with this criticism. We know that the work of summarizing the general meaning of chapters can be used to test whether a person’s “reading comprehension” is accurate, but this work is of little significance when it comes to helping others understand the original text. On the contrary, an itemized summary may instead dissect the author’s overall and coherent line of thought, not only failing to help others truly “read through” the original author, but also more likely to produce misleading cherry-picking and decontextualized interpretation.

Jing Qi raised a number of questions about the details of the article. For example, he argued that the “equipment” Heidegger discussed in his early writings cannot be equated with “technology”; that μορφή[the setting-into-appearance] stresses “setting-into-appearance” and should not be abbreviated simply as “setting”; and so on. On the matter of “equipment” being different from “technology,” I do not fully agree with Jing Qi’s distinction. Of course, Heidegger’s terminology and style of writing differ greatly between his early and late periods, and one cannot make simple one-to-one correspondences. But this criticism also applies to Jing Qi himself, since he establishes links between his early doctrine of “formal indication” and his later Ereignis, and I have always felt that those correspondences are highly questionable. By contrast, the correspondence between equipment and technology is more direct, because they already correspond in everyday language. And Heidegger would never ignore the historical connections within a concept itself and then arbitrarily define the usage of some concept out of thin air; his use of concepts is always rooted in the history of the concept itself. Therefore, if equipment is nothing more than an everyday understanding of technology, then the problem of equipment and the problem of technology will not belong to separate domains.

 

The fourth paper, which is also today’s final one, was brought by Zhang Xiaoming from the School of Tourism, Sun Yat-sen University: “The Urgency of Construction: On an Academic Construction of Heidegger by Harvey.” Zhang Xiaoming comes from a background in human geography and was attending our conference for the first time. He brought a paper defending Heidegger, pointing out that a citation by a certain contemporary geography master, Harvey, is clearly a case of taking things out of context. I offered some comments: if Harvey really did cause serious misunderstandings of Heidegger in the geography circle (though the facts do not seem to support this; on the contrary, it may even have had a positive promotional effect), then this paper might be somewhat interesting if shown to colleagues in geography. But for us, it does not have much point. Whether in terms of elucidating Heidegger’s own thought or of the possible introduction of phenomenology into human geography, this paper does not offer much that is fresh. Moreover, the criticism of “taking things out of context” is not enough to invalidate Harvey’s own significance, because whenever academic giants cite other scholars, they often do so in the style of “the Six Classics interpret me,” and this may be even more obvious in Heidegger’s case; if one were to restore the text alone, there would probably be even more places where things are taken out of context. From our standpoint, there is not much interest in defending Heidegger more and more. On the contrary, Harvey and other human-geographical ideas mentioned in this article interest me more, especially when it comes to the question of “place.” What we hear most often are philosophers of science or sociologists of science talking about “local knowledge” and the like, but the way human geographers discuss it also seems very worth attention, after all, “place” was originally also a question for “geography.”

 

Thus the conference of the first day came to an end. In the evening I went out for a stroll, bought a cup of scraped-cupping herbal tea that was more bitter than medicine, and, without checking navigation, wandered off at will only to lose my sense of direction. I circled around for more than an hour before making my way back, collapsed from exhaustion and went to sleep, and the night passed without incident.

 

At 8 o’clock the next morning, the fifth session, “Heidegger and Others II,” began, chaired by Professor Li Zhangyin. This session followed a format of 15 minutes for presentation plus 5 minutes for discussion. But in actual operation, discussion time was often squeezed down considerably.

The first paper was by Professor Shu Hongyue, “Technology for Dasein: From Inauthenticity to Authenticity.” Heidegger opposed authentic and inauthentic, that is, technological life, while Stiegler takes technology as the authentic constitution of Dasein’s existence and opens up a new task for ontological research. Professor Wu and Senior Brother Dazhi raised some questions. Since I didn’t really understand Professor Shu’s presentation or paper, I won’t comment much.

 

The second paper was by Professor Zhang Qiucheng of Northeastern University, on Heidegger’s Distinction Between Ancient Technology and Modern Technology. Professor Zhang believes that Heidegger’s “Gestell” also applies to ancient technology, and that Heidegger conflated ancient technology with art, thereby obscuring the real difference between modern and ancient technology. Professor Zhang distinguishes them in terms of “transparency” and “obscurity.” Jing Qi raised some objections. With a slightly ironic tone—he later said this irony was unintentional—Jing Qi said that Professor Zhang’s paper was a “major breakthrough” in Heidegger studies, but that he did not agree with it. Jing Qi believes the continuity between ancient and modern technology lies in the fact that both are some kind of “solidified retention,” while modern technology pushes this to the extreme and moves toward “constant availability,” and so on. These views are all touched on in Jing Qi’s own article.

In my view, Professor Zhang Qiucheng’s so-called obscurity and transparency are not entirely different from Jing Qi’s retention and stockpile; what I said last year in “Is Heidegger a technological pessimist?” was also something similar: summons and ordering, with the characteristic of modern technology being that it leaves “no room to maneuver.” But in any case, this level of distinction is not an original insight that goes beyond Heidegger himself.

Professor Zhang Qiucheng argued that Heidegger “only saw the silver platter as a work of art and ignored the production process of the silver as raw material.” He pointed out that silver mining depends on slavery, and that slaves can be said to be a kind of “energy resource” in ancient Greece, whose condition of being “set in place” was even more severe than in modern technology.

On this point, Jing Qi offered a rebuttal: in ancient Greece, slaves were not regarded as human beings, so, in context, the fate of slaves is not a human question. This rebuttal seems a little forced. In my view, there are still three further points of rebuttal. First, what is called “techne” does not refer primarily to those artifacts, but to human activity; thus this activity is itself a kind of “unconcealment,” a kind of “bringing-forth.” When Heidegger analyzes the silver platter, his focus is not on the silver platter as an objective thing, but on the craftsman’s “gathering.” If one wants to compare it with the corresponding link in modern technology, a proper example would be the plates produced as commodities on an industrial assembly line; the distinction between ancient and modern technology is first and foremost made at this level. Second, “ancient” and “modern” are not, first of all, an objective temporal boundary. Just as there can be ancient technology in the modern world, there can of course also be “modern technology” in the ancient world. Slavery has, in a certain sense, modernity. Professor Zhang Qiucheng’s remark that “slaves were regarded as the predecessors of modern machines” is correct; that is why, when Mumford talks about the modern “mega-machine,” he traces the earliest mega-machines back to the pyramids of ancient Egypt. When critics of technology criticize modern technology, what they are often targeting is precisely the fact that modern technology makes people lose freedom and become slaves. But this does not mean that the age of slavery was somehow more modern than the modern age. Third, even if ancient slavery contains certain roots of modernity, the oppression of human beings in ancient slavery is still different from the way modern technology places human beings. Professor Zhang Qiucheng mentioned that “if slaves disobeyed, at best they would be starved, whipped… at worst they would be executed; the miserable condition of slaves in ancient Greek society was even more severe than the condition Heidegger describes, in which modern humans are turned into a standing reserve.” But the distinction between ancient and modern lies precisely here—modern people’s condition is not miserable. Ancient slaves “disobey” and therefore need to be whipped; modern workers “obey”—obey whom? Apparently they all do so consciously and voluntarily, for the sake of their own livelihood. The problem lies exactly here: subordination turns into compliance, life turns into livelihood, and obeying the master turns into obeying the logic of technology. That is the pre-positioning of human beings by modern technology.

 

The third paper, by Shi Xianming of Luoyang Normal University, was “Heidegger’s Thought on ‘Thing’.” It was basically a synthetic overview, and I did not listen to it closely… Professor Wu pointed out that factuality should be translated as “facticity” rather than “actuality,” and Professor Zhao Weiguo further discussed the concept of actuality, pointing out that actuality is nothing other than “something with content.”

 

The fourth paper, by Wen Zhiqian of Nanjing Normal University, was “A Comparative Study of Heidegger’s and Habermas’s Views on Technology.” This was his master’s thesis; in the conference volume only the abstract was given, and at the venue he merely read out the beginning and the ending of the full text. Professor Sheng Xiaoming stated on the spot that he was “very dissatisfied,” saying that Wen’s attitude was simply to throw the beginning and the end at us: “You figure it out yourselves.” What are we supposed to do? Professor Sheng also questioned what the point was of comparing figures from two different systems of thought. Wen Zhiqian said that he wanted to reveal the internal tension in German thought when faced with the problem of modernity.

 

The fifth paper was by Jing Qi, a Peking University student, “Toward a Philosophy of Nature of Ecological Phenomenology: A Review of Foltz’s Dwelling the Earth.” The paper Jing Qi had originally prepared was the one printed in the table of contents, “The Third Peak of Philosophy of Nature.” This paper was pieced together by him within an hour from an earlier reading report at Professor Wu’s request. In that respect, the result was still pretty good. Jing Qi is currently working hard to shift from being a Heidegger researcher to being a user of Heidegger’s thought, turning his gaze away from Heidegger’s texts and toward more real-world problems. Ecological phenomenology is also a breakthrough he only recently found, and his work in this direction will be worth looking forward to. However, one formal problem with this paper is that it is almost entirely indirect quotation—except that each subsection’s title includes a note indicating a span of page numbers from the book (often spanning dozens of pages), meaning that each subsection is in fact just a summary of Foltz’s original book, but within each subsection there are no direct quotations at all. This means that if we want to check whether a certain statement Jing Qi attributes is accurate, we would have to reread whole chapters, even the entire article, of Foltz! Moreover, Jing Qi only added a paragraph of his own comments at the end, rather than interweaving exposition and commentary. In short, this paper might perhaps be called a “guide to reading,” or even serve as the book’s preface, but it is hard to call it a scholarly review. During the discussion phase, Meng Qiang suggested that one should refer to works of philosophy of nature by Schelling and others—I suspect this suggestion was somewhat retaliatory, because Professor Sheng Xiaoming had suggested that Meng Qiang should refer to Hegel and the like, and Meng Qiang’s reaction seemed to be that there was no great need for it. This time, however, he was just using the other side’s method to deal with the other side.

 

The sixth paper was by Wang Xianwei of Jilin University, “An Environmental Philosophy Based on Experience: The Current State and Significance of American Ecological Phenomenology Research.” His focus regarding “ecological phenomenology” was completely different from Jing Qi’s: rather than emphasizing philosophy of nature, he was concerned with how to provide a legitimating account, grounded in “experience,” for “intrinsic value.” He pointed out that the relationship between humans and nature is grounded in an initial “chance encounter,” a “casual glance,” and that the examination of this “first reaction” will be the basis of ecological ethics. Professor Wu and others discussed Wang Xianwei’s understanding of “experience”; in phenomenology, experience and idea are in a certain sense the same thing. Wu Ningning pointed out that Wang Xianwei’s taking “experience” as a different “another term” from “experience” is obviously problematic—wasn’t the original text the same word? Wang Xianwei argued in response that this was indeed two uses of the same word, hence two translations, but this was obviously not very convincing. This detail shows that Wang Xianwei still seems to lack sufficient clarification and probing of “experience,” the core concept of his article.

 

The seventh paper was by Dong Xiaoju of the University of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, “Technology and the Good Life: A Study of Borgmann’s Philosophy of Technology.” Dong Xiaoju came with us on the plane. On the way she thought she had no presentation to give (Teacher Qiu had not made it clear to her), and only after arriving in Guangzhou did she prepare her PPT, but the result seemed pretty good. The talk was mainly about Borgmann’s philosophy of technology, as a continuation and development of Heidegger, with the emphasis on technology as a “focal thing.” A typical example of a focal thing is the stove (which is also the etymology of “focal”)—“The stove cannot be seen merely as a device that provides usable goods, but rather plays a crucial role in a household as a focal point. Around the stove, the members of the household take on different roles and jointly participate in the activity of heating, and the rich connotations of the world of things thus unfold.”

Zhang Qiucheng suggested that there should be a more explicit comparison between Borgmann and Heidegger, specifying exactly in what ways Borgmann develops Heidegger. Indeed, Dong Xiaoju mainly talked about Borgmann’s inherited aspects. In my view, if one wants to say where he “develops” Heidegger, one need not begin with Heidegger’s late “Gestell”; the key lies in revealing the “being-with” implication of technology. Although Heidegger mentions “being-with,” he does so vaguely and does not explore it deeply; Heidegger’s philosophy is basically solitary. But Borgmann reveals here the connection between “tool phenomenology” and “being-with”: what a tool is as a tool manifests itself precisely in the relation of human coexistence, and human relations are in turn precisely given within the technological environment. As a focal thing, the object reflects human “roles.” Only then can we easily understand why the problem of modern technology is precisely the problem of modern society, the problem of communication.

 

The sixth session, “Idhe and Heidegger,” was chaired by Professor Li Sanhu.

The first paper was Wu Ningning’s “Is Ihde’s Philosophy of Technology Phenomenology?” Wu Ningning first commented on Ihde’s famous four modes of the “human-technology” relation, pointing out the “unsolved mystery” within them, and arguing that Ihde evades the key question of “how embodied technology is possible.” This is not accidental, but stems from Ihde’s overly reified understanding of the “human-technology” relation, and fundamentally is related to Ihde’s “misreading” of phenomenologists such as Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty. Professor Sheng Xiaoming gave comments, disagreeing with Wu Ningning’s conclusion that Ihde is not phenomenology. This is because phenomenology itself does not have a clear trajectory; Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty are both also deviating from Husserl’s path, and the degree of their deviation is by no means less than Ihde’s. Tangling ourselves up in the question of whether something is phenomenology does not fit the longstanding spirit of our conference. Professor Wu helped Wu Ningning respond to Professor Sheng’s criticism: Professor Wu pointed out that Professor Sheng’s criticism was too “external” and did not delve into Wu Ningning’s specific argument. Professor Wu believed that the divergence and convergence of phenomenology must have tension; sometimes making some distinctions of name is still meaningful for consolidating our academic position. Ji Haiqing pointed out that Ihde himself once said phenomenology was his “burden,” and that he did not care whether he was sufficiently phenomenological. Yao Dazhi explicitly stood on Wu Ningning’s side, believing that Ihde’s naturalistic tendency was too strong.

 

The second paper was by Su Li, “A Phenomenological Study of Early Bird.app.” In fact, this was also a critique of Ihde. Early Bird is an iPhone app launched by Starbucks. Su Li pointed out that this app cannot be fitted into Ihde’s four categories, and then analyzed why Ihde’s classification fails: because Ihde ignores the fact that perception is always perception-in-action, and because Ihde treats the body as a mere organ of perception rather than as an organ of action. Su Li’s article is divided into two parts; the second part, criticizing Ihde from the perspective of action, is very good, but the first part’s analysis of Early Bird actually commits a basic error, which I pointed out at the time: Ihde’s classification is of the four modes of the human-technology relation, not a classification into four kinds of technology, so for the same technological artifact, the relation between humans and it can of course be multiple. A hammer may sometimes be an embodied relation, sometimes an alterity relation, and even a hermeneutic relation or a background relation may be possible—let alone a multifunctional app. In addition, some teachers thought that an app is software, whereas the technological unit that should be analyzed should be a material entity, such as the iPhone. I do not agree with this. Software can perfectly well be an object of technological reflection. Even if software always runs attached to hardware, the hardware in this case is more like a kind of “background,” just as when we use any other “hardware,” we are in fact always relying on some technological background: a pen cannot do without paper, a lamp cannot do without electricity, a train cannot do without rails, and software merely highlights this fact. More conspicuous is the “network” technology: there does not seem to be a single technological entity called a network, and yet we do indeed have the behavior of “going online” and “using the internet.” The key is that technology first resides in our “action,” rather than first being a mere object of perception. Thinking from the center of “action,” technology is precisely those conditions that make action possible. The reality of technology comes from the externalized preservation of action programs; in this sense, technology is first and foremost “software,” “program,” and “code,” and only secondarily fixed onto certain objective objects.

The third presentation, delivered by **Ji Haiqing** of the Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences, was titled “**Overcoming the Fate of the Metaphysical with Rich Experience — Ihde’s Critique of Heidegger’s Philosophy of Technology and Its Significance**.” Unlike the first two, which were critical, this one defended Ihde’s position. Ji Haiqing argued that Ihde “critiques Heidegger’s philosophy from three aspects: historical experience, anti-romanticism, and anti-essentialism.” Of course, we “the Peking University faction” generally do not agree with these critiques. Jin Shixiang raised objections to the so-called critique of romanticism. Ji Haiqing said, “The romantic Heidegger loved art and belittled technology,” while Jin Shixiang believed that this showed Ihde (including Ji Haiqing) had not understood the intellectual intent behind Heidegger’s discussion of art. I have always also felt that Heidegger was neither romantic nor someone who understood art; in matters of art, he was essentially a “country bumpkin.” Heidegger approached art entirely from the standpoint of a pious thinker, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with “romanticized aesthetic appreciation.” In addition, I feel that the so-called “anti-essentialist critique” is highly problematic. What Ihde seizes on is Heidegger’s repeated talk in *The Question Concerning Technology* about “the essence of technology,” and he takes this to be essentialism. But in late Heidegger, “essence” is actually just an ordinary word, much like when we write “basically this or that,” “the fundamental point is…,” or “in essence it is…”; this does not mean that the use of such words amounts to foundationalism or essentialism. Whether Heidegger’s talk of the essence of technology, or the essence of truth, is actually essentialism cannot be decided solely on the basis of such linguistic formulations. The key is whether Heidegger’s theoretical structure is in fact fixated on these “essences.”

 

 

After coming back in the afternoon, the seventh session, the “Special Reports,” was chaired by Professor Xiao Feng. Each presentation was allotted 20 minutes with no discussion, though in practice discussion still took place if the speaker managed to save time.

The first presentation, by **Pan Enrong** of Zhejiang University, was titled “**The Path of Modern Philosophy of Technology**.” Pan Enrong defined his own position as “a somewhat analytic, engineer’s perspective,” and described the contemporary “empirical turn” and “naturalist approach” in philosophy of technology. The so-called “empirical turn” is a program in philosophy of technology that was proposed only in 1998. If this does indeed represent a new trend in the international academic community, then Pan Enrong’s references certainly helped broaden our horizons. However, the kind of philosophy of technology he mentioned is in fact not the philosophy of technology we are concerned with. The phenomenological philosophy of technology, especially the phenomenological philosophy of technology starting from Heidegger (and under the banner of Professor Wu), is in fact a kind of philosophy of technology as “first philosophy,” rather than a branch of philosophy that takes technology as its object of study. Although the empirical turn Pan Enrong mentioned also means greater attention to the “epistemological problems of technology,” this epistemological priority is understood as the question of whether technology can have its own distinctive epistemology and logic of inference, like science. By contrast, the philosophy of technology as first philosophy is not actually aiming to carve out a special epistemological problem; rather, it seeks to answer general epistemological questions starting from technology. Of course, this is not to say that philosophy of technology as a departmental philosophy has no significance; it is only to say that these two levels of philosophy of technology have their own developmental dimensions. But as for philosophy of technology as a departmental philosophy, there is still a basic question of positioning, because much of what Pan Enrong actually discussed can be categorized as “philosophy of engineering,” but is philosophy of engineering the same as philosophy of technology? Pan Enrong distinguishes engineering from science, and places “design” culture alongside scientific culture and humanistic culture as the “third culture.” I think this distinction is interesting, after all science has always been different from engineering, and engineers have a certain independent path to glory. But can engineering and technology be further distinguished from one another? Why can technology not be the fourth culture (and then medicine the fifth, and so on)? In fact, the field referred to today as “technology” often specifically means information technology, within which there has already formed a distinct culture called “geeks.” This culture is unlike science, engineering, or literature, yet it is related to them in certain ways. Of course, the representative figure of ancient technology, the artisan, was also different from the engineer. In short, if Pan Enrong’s article were titled “The Empirical Turn in Contemporary Philosophy of Engineering,” it might be more appropriate; but if the title is set as “philosophy of technology,” then the legitimacy of this title itself first needs to be defended.

 

The second presentation, by **Yao Dazhi** from the same senior generation, was titled “**An Overview of Contemporary French Philosophy of Technology**.” Senior Brother Dazhi introduced the distinctive situation of French philosophy of technology: in fact, it is not philosophy of technology but “technology studies” in French that emerged as a field of study. This led to a situation in France where the field of “technologists” is especially broad, including several major currents: empirical and historical studies of technology; anthropological, ethnological, and sociological studies; epistemological studies; and ethical and metaphysical studies. Some important French technologists have long been neglected by the English-speaking academic world, and Senior Brother Dazhi gave some introductions. The time was used up, so there was no discussion.

 

The third presentation, by **Zhuo Li** of Fudan University, was titled “**‘Geisteswissenschaft’ and the Two-World Turn**.” Zhuo Li understood Dilthey’s contribution as a “two-world turn,” namely that “the world of natural science and the world of the humanities are two worlds that are mutually fractured.” But this claim is highly questionable. The original words of Dilthey that Zhuo Li cited were: “From the facts of the mechanical order of nature, one cannot derive psychological facts or spiritual facts.” Although I am not familiar with Dilthey, just from this sentence alone I do not see a conclusion about two worlds being mutually fractured. What is being emphasized here is the limitation of scientific method, the boundaries of knowledge, rather than the setting up of a boundary between worlds. It is like saying that “the sea cannot be measured with a bucket,” that a balance scale cannot weigh a mountain, that an axe cannot split bacteria. Every tool, method of measurement, or method of calculation has its own limits of applicability. Scientific methods, including experimental methods and logical inference, are not all-purpose measuring instruments. Like buckets, balance scales, axes, and so on, they are only suitable for certain specific objects, but this does not mean that these objects must then constitute an independent world.

 

The fourth presentation, by **Chen Zhiguo** of Shandong University, was titled “**Heidegger and Strawson: The Same Reading of Metaphysics**.” Chen Zhiguo compared Heidegger and Strawson—respectively major figures in continental philosophy and analytic philosophy—in their readings of the metaphysical tradition. Heidegger divided metaphysics into an essential-transcendental ontological metaphysics and an existential-transcendental theological metaphysics; Strawson, meanwhile, distinguished descriptive metaphysics from revisionary metaphysics (the former aims to reveal, on the basis of ordinary language, the conceptual structure through which we think about the world, while the latter attempts to provide some sort of world-picture that transcends ordinary thinking). Chen Zhiguo believes that the two philosophers’ distinctions and understandings of metaphysics have certain points of comparability and can even complement one another in some respects. Research that “compares” philosophers from two very different schools is full of risk, and Chen Zhiguo was also aware of this, but he still “moved forward in peril,” opening up certain possibilities of dialogue between the two major academic camps of our time. If I still have some dissatisfaction, I would say that Chen Zhiguo’s work is still mainly concentrated on laying out certain formal correspondences between the views of the two philosophers, without delving into the deeper tensions between them. That is to say, they are not only comparable, but ideally should also be able to be “matched against one another”; only then does comparative research become more interesting. And we generally feel that continental philosophy and analytic philosophy differ so much in approach that there can be no real “opposition” between them, because they are not even on the same platform. Theories developing along different dimensions may present certain structural similarities, but that does not mean they can be set side by side to contest or dialogue with one another, unless we can find some level on which they are in direct conflict.

 

The fifth presentation, by **Yan Qingshan** of East China Normal University, was titled “**The Phenomenological Meaning of ‘Being’ as a Second-Order Predicate**.” Although this article seemed formally to borrow certain phenomenological terms, such as epoché and intentionality, it was basically following the line of analytic philosophy’s language analysis. I am rather doubtful about such an approach, and not very interested in it, so I did not listen carefully.

 

The sixth presentation, by **Li Yunfei** of Southern Medical University, was titled “**Husserl and Kant’s Transcendental Idealism**.” I did not take notes on this report either, and have forgotten how it was presented on the spot. In any case, the appearance of such a grand title already makes one suspicious. Each section then went on to explain various major keywords one by one, and it was not very clear what the author wanted to do. It seemed as though he wanted to give a panoramic introduction to the philosophies of Husserl and Kant as a whole. The references were basically all to Husserl, with a small amount of Kant mixed in. It was basically a reading notebook, but lacking a sense of the problem.

 

Session 8, “Phenomenological Philosophy of Science II,” was chaired by Professor Xiao Ling.

The first presentation, by **Professor Xiao Feng**, was titled “**From Phenomenology to the ‘Manifestation’ in Information Technology**.” Compared with Professor Xiao’s report last year, in which he “interrogated” phenomenology, this year Professor Xiao can be said to have happily embraced some phenomenological perspectives and used them quite vividly. Professor Xiao took “manifestation” as a keyword linking information technology research and phenomenology, and raised some good questions, such as: Can manifestation in information technology be regarded as the manifestation of things themselves? Can Heidegger’s theory of Gestell be used in the analysis of information technology? How should technical manifestation and natural manifestation be balanced? and so on. I criticized Professor Xiao for still opposing “technical manifestation” to the so-called “natural manifestation,” and I think he could go further. As early as Kant, it had already been made clear that “things in themselves” (the nature of things) cannot “manifest.” Even in so-called “natural manifestation,” the forms of human cognition are still involved, and we can further argue that these forms of cognition are themselves technical. Even visual perception with the naked eye involves the use of bodily techniques, recording techniques as memory, or technical environments as background, and so on. Professor Xiao’s title can in fact not only be “From Phenomenology to Manifestation in Information Technology,” but even more “From Information Technology to Manifestation in Phenomenology.” The concept of phenomenology can be elucidated through an “information—display” schema. I think Professor Xiao need not rush to convert to phenomenology; rather, he might as well continue to hold fast to information technology research as his own foothold and, from there, interrogate phenomenology’s basic concepts in reverse. That may be more interesting.

 

The second presentation, by **Professor Lei Depeng**, was titled “**Husserl’s Critique of Modern Science’s ‘Amnesia’**.” Professor Li Zhangyin raised questions about some of the claims, while Jin Shixiang emphasized how important it is to understand the relationship between early Husserl’s critique of historicism and late Husserl’s historical turn.

 

The third presentation, by **Professor Lei Liang**, was titled “**A Tentative Discussion of the Relationship Between Husserl’s Philosophy of Science and Western Standard Philosophy of Science**.”

 

The fourth presentation, by **Wang Haiqin**, was titled “**The Unscientific Nature of Naturalistic Psychology and Its Dual Epistemological Impacts**.” Professor Li Zhangyin raised four points of criticism: 1. How can the naturalism criticized by Husserl be connected to the naturalism since Quine? 2. In Husserl, “scientificity” is a broad German usage; 3. Did Husserl really affirm the value of naturalism? 4. Today’s naturalism simply does not care about the problem of skepticism.

 

Finally, the last session, “The Phenomenological Finale and Closing Ceremony,” was chaired by Professor Wu Tonglin.

Only one report remained: **Professor Jiang Jinsong** on “**A Phenomenological Observation and Reflection on a Plate of Dongpo Elbow**.” Animal ethics and vegetarian culture are Professor Jiang’s recent academic focus, and this article of course also carried forward his consistent ideas. Starting from Dongpo elbow, Professor Jiang launched a critique of “meat culture” in seven respects, the key being to reveal the killing, confinement, labeling of animals, and the order of distribution and power, cultural issues, and so on, that are concealed by the image of the dish. Professor Tian Song offered commentary, saying that Professor Jiang speaks better than he writes, and that putting phenomenology to use without jargon is excellent, only that the last-minute addition of a quotation from Ihde was a bit too much. But Professor Tian felt that this analysis was still inferior to Professor Jiang’s earlier analysis of a mineral water bottle, because a good phenomenological analysis should be some kind of *reductio ad absurdum*—that is, to make what is habitual and unremarkable sound absurd, so as to astonish people. Although Professor Jiang was indeed trying to do this, he did not seem to present a fresh interpretive framework that immediately caught the eye; or rather, the freshness was still not quite sufficient. The seven aspects of the article also seemed to be merely in a simple parallel relation, without the feeling of one layer following from and building on another. Professor Tian is also a vegetarian, but what he opposes is industrial meat rather than traditional meat-eating; he still approves of certain symbolic, sacrificial forms of meat consumption.

Zhao Weiguo, an enthusiast of pork knuckle, was the first to stand up and raise some objections, but these objections seemed to be rather amateurish questions from the standpoint of animal protectionists. Professor Jiang directly interrupted and dismissed them as “childish questions.” Professor Wu mentioned that “self-deception at the dinner table” is not limited to meat; just as we do not talk about the slaughter process of meat at the dinner table, we also do not talk about how vegetables are fertilized with shit, and so on. In addition, certain taboos seem to be cultural; for example, Chinese people have the least taboos. Professor Jiang pointed out that the fact that Chinese people lack dietary taboos precisely means that Chinese culture is indeed especially cruel. Meng Qiang pointed out that Professor Jiang had not demonstrated why pigs need freedom. In this regard, I suspect Professor Jiang’s response might be that the pig’s position is similar to that of vulnerable groups such as infants and the disabled, who cannot clearly express their demands, yet still possess some innate rights, and are “born free.” Professor Duan Weiwen said that pigs can exchange a lifetime of laziness and gluttony for the cost of taking the final knife, as a kind of contract between pigs and humans. This is of course also a very good response, but Professor Jiang pointed out that such a “contract” is entirely imagined unilaterally by humans out of their own self-interest.

Basically speaking, I agree with many of Professor Jiang’s arguments; however, I still am a meat-eater, because in my view cruelty, dominance, and unreasonableness are in some sense still preferable. In addition, I completely disagree with the concept of innate rights, whether as applied to animals or to humans. Rights are not something ready-made that one is born with. I do not support animal ethics in the sense of utilitarian normative ethics; rather, I support an animal ethics in the sense of virtue ethics.

 

All the reports for this conference ended here, and Professor Wu Tong delivered the concluding remarks. Professor Wu Tong reconsidered our common goal: bringing phenomenology into philosophy of technology, and bringing philosophy of technology into phenomenology. Professor Wu Tong said that they could be called the “first generation of immigrants” in the field of phenomenological philosophy of technology, receiving the nourishment of phenomenology and opening up new territory, while the second generation of immigrants, once they have established themselves, will have greater prospects. Professor Wu Tong believed that the conference agenda was very tight, but the atmosphere was still lively and had maintained a fine tradition. However, there were some shortcomings in form, because the exchanges in the discussion sessions were extremely important, yet in some reports the discussion sessions were either squeezed out or compressed, or the speakers were deprived of the chance to respond, weakening the atmosphere of confrontation. Finally, Professor Wu Gusheng delivered the closing remarks. Professor Wu summarized that the conference had 42 registered representatives from 26 units, with 37 conference papers submitted in total, of which 34 were presented in the conference hall, and 9 were graduate student papers. At the end, Professor Wu thanked the host Professor Wu Lin, Professor Tao Jianwen, and the various teachers and students responsible for logistics. The conference then came to a successful close.

 

That evening’s dinner was called the “welcome banquet.” Aside from the tactless appearance of pork knuckle, whose inspiration was unknown, and the fact that there was not enough vegetarian food prepared for Professor Jiang, the banquet was lively and harmonious. Classmate Wu Ningning challenged herself for the first time, downing several glasses in a row and entering a state of ecstasy. I slipped away early to sleep; after drinking, Professor Tian Song took some students to watch *Life of Pi*, but fell asleep halfway through…

 

On December 3 we visited the former residence of Liang Qichao and the Zili Village watchtowers. Although I did not get the chance to go into Guangzhou city proper, which was a bit of a pity, the itinerary arrangement was still quite satisfying. Because my rhinitis and the stimulation from a cold caused a nosebleed to burst forth while I was in Zili Village, I attracted a fair amount of attention and even left behind some group photos with tissues stuffed in my nostrils… That evening we took an 8 p.m. flight home. At the airport, Professor Wu treated us to bowls of noodles costing more than fifty yuan each, and the return trip went very smoothly.

 

 

Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.

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