Merleau-Pontian Phenomenology as Non-Conventionally Utopian

Merleau-Pontian Phenomenology as Non-Conventionally UtopianAuthor(s): Greg JohnsonSource: Human Studies, Vol. 26, No. 3 (2003), pp. 383-400Published by: SpringerStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20010341 .

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^M Human Studies 26: 383-400, 2003.

V% ? 2003 Kluwer Academic Publishers. Printed in the Netherlands. 383

Merleau-Pontian Phenomenology as Non-Conventionally

Utopian

GREG JOHNSON Department of Philosophy, Pacific Lutheran University, Tacoma, WA 98447-0003, USA

(E-mail: [email protected])

Abstract. This essay takes up the claim made recently by Simon Critchley in The Compan?

ion to Continental Philosophy that a "feature common to many philosophers in the Conti?

nental tradition" is the "utopian demand that things be otherwise." The general question I

pursue has to do with whether or not such a claim includes movements within Continental

philosophy that do not self-identify with the Utopian (like critical theory). The particular

question has to do with whether or not the movement of phenomenology is Utopian or does

it, because of its other commitments, view the Utopian as the antithesis to its orientation, which

makes that claim that phenomenology is Utopian seem strange. My thesis is that phenomenol?

ogy can be seen as a Utopian tradition but that some account must be given that demonstrates

this connection to the Utopian. In particular, I argue that Maurice Merleau-Ponty's phenom?

enology provides an understanding of the Utopian, which I call a non-conventional view, that

is vastly different from the one assumed by most when they see or hear the word "utopian," which I label conventional. I show that such a non-conventional understanding can be devel?

oped in a way that neither requires us to view the Utopian solely as opposed to finitude and

contingency, nor a form of thought and action from which we necessarily need to dissociate

ourselves. It is this non-conventional view of the Utopian that in the end enables us to under?

stand how Continental philosophy in general and phenomenology in particular are important bearers of the Utopian demand that things be otherwise.

In his introductory essay for A Companion to Continental Philosophy Simon

Critchley claims that a "feature common to many philosophers in the Conti?

nental tradition" is the "utopian demand that things be otherwise" (Critchley, 1998a, p. 10, emphasis in original). This is an unusual remark because of the

range of thinkers it appears to include. I say "appears" because he claims that

many Continental philosophers exhibit this commitment to the Utopian and

even that the Continental tradition itself is Utopian. There would be virtually no disagreement that such a claim would apply to some movements within

Continental philosophy. But all? There is little doubt, for example, that criti?

cal theory is a Utopian movement within Continental philosophy and that this

Utopian dimension is one way of distinguishing critical theory from other tra?

ditions. The more modest claim, however, is not Critchley's. His pronounce? ment that the Utopian is "common to many philosophers in the Continental



384 GREG JOHNSON

tradition" is certainly stronger. Given this pronouncement, the initial ques? tion that I want to raise, and one that frames this essay, is the following. Does

Critchley's claim include movements within Continental philosophy other than

those who self-identify with the Utopian (like critical theory)?1 More specifi?

cally, what about phenomenology? Can one make the case that phenomen

ologists are one of the many to which Critchley refers? Or do phenomenologists fall beyond the bounds of those who can be labeled "utopian?" One could say that phenomenologists are exceptions to Critchley's claim. Doing so, however,

would in effect dismiss what is arguably the most dominant movement in

Continental philosophy; a movement, both in its historically narrow formu?

lations and its broader use by many of its contemporary practitioners, that is

often considered synonymous with "Continental philosophy."2 Additionally,

responding in this manner would call into question Critchley's claim that many in the Continental tradition are Utopian, especially where the many either di?

rectly reflect a commitment to phenomenology or work in its shadow (an ar?

gument, for example, that one could make of deconstruction). I want to suggest here that phenomenology is or should be included in Critchley's statement.

My thesis, therefore, is that if Critchley is to be taken seriously then some

account of phenomenology should be given that demonstrates how it might be legitimately understood as Utopian.3 My aim, consequently, is to offer an

account of how phenomenology in general, and Maurice Merleau-Ponty's

phenomenology in particular, can be understood as utopian, though as the title

of this essay suggests an understanding of the Utopian that is non-conventional.

Critchley's claim is startling for another reason: It makes a commitment to

the Utopian a distinct mark of Continental philosophy. He mentions two other

characteristics of this tradition that certainly extend to and I would contend

emerge from phenomenology: the radical finitude of the human subject, and

the thoroughly contingent or created character of human experience (Critchley,

1998a, p. 10). Given these two additional traits, it does not take much to see

how his claim that the Utopian is a "feature common to many philosophers in

the Continental tradition" is bold. How, in the light of these other character?

istics can the Utopian be a definitive trait of Continental philosophy when the

other two aspects suggest qualities that appear to be contrary? These other

characteristics, finitude and contingency, demonstrate how the Utopian is un?

common to most Continental thinkers, especially those aligned with phenom?

enology. Put differently, the trait that Critchley highlights as a decisive mark

of Continental philosophy is one that is arguably considered a prominent

enemy of contemporary philosophy in general, but especially of Continental

philosophy. Whereas many would claim that the Utopian signals an interest

in future projections that are na?ve and ultimately irrelevant to our present

situations, contemporary Continental philosophers are overwhelmingly con?

cerned with philosophical issues such as difference and otherness that are

pertinent to our present condition. Thus, the argument might go, since the



MERLEAU-PONTIAN PHENOMENOLOGY AS NON-CONVENTIONALLY UTOPIAN 385

Utopian is a na?ve projection of a world beyond our own, such a form of think?

ing ultimately opposes our finitude and contingency. With this view of the

Utopian one could easily make the case that Continental philosophy, to the

degree that it relates to the Utopian, does so in a stance of dis-engagement. Let me elaborate on this.

When the word "utopian" appears on the pages of many Continental works

in particular it is most often, though certainly not always, assumed to be that

kind of thinking against which a particular trajectory of thought (usually that

of the author) is opposed.4 The understanding of the Utopian operative in these

cases can appropriately be called "conventional" (cf. Critchley, 1998b, p. 29). For this conventional view the Utopian is synonymous with na?ve, static pro?

jections of the future. Frequently the accompanying presumption is that the

Utopian is simply a cloak that hides the grand, over-arching, and totalizing

metaphysics that has infected Western philosophy. Accordingly, references to

the Utopian in many works of Continental philosophy either explicitly or tac?

itly suggest that Continental thinkers concerned with difference, otherness, finitude and contingency, should either be suspicious of the Utopian or reject it altogether for its irrelevancy at best, and its violent tendencies at worst.

Specific support for this claim can be found in the work of Jacques Derrida

and Luce Irigaray.

Regarding democracy Derrida writes that we "always propose to speak of

democracy to come, not of & future democracy or the future present, not even

of a regulative idea, in the Kantian sense, or of a utopia - at least to the extent

that their inaccessibility would still retain the temporal form of a future present, of a future modality of the living present" (Derrida, 1994, pp. 64-65). Irigaray states,

" I am ... a political militant for the impossible, which is not to say a

Utopian. Rather I want what is yet to be as the only possibility of a future"

(Irigaray, 1996, p. 10, emphasis added). Neither Derrida nor Irigaray say what

they mean by the Utopian, but their use of the term betrays a conventional

understanding. For Derrida, the Utopian is that form of thinking which lies

beyond even a regulative ideal, Kantian or otherwise, where the future present becomes a modality or complete actuality of the living present. As he con?

cludes most recently, "The here-now indicates that [political action] is not

simply a question of utopia" (Derrida, 2002, p. 180).

Irigaray reflects a similar assumption. She opposes the militant to the Uto?

pian and suggests strongly that to be Utopian is to be in favor of a future pos?

sibility that is, where we can only assume that is here means the potential future

of the Utopian completely actualized. In contrast, her own understanding of

political militancy remains open to the future possibility that is always "yet to be," which is to say always becoming and never completely actualized. What

is plain in both thinkers' remarks is that the Utopian signifies for them a form

of thought and practice from which good political activists should distance

themselves. More importantly for my concerns, both thinkers clearly assume



386 GREG JOHNSON

an understanding of the utopian that is otherworldly, unable to contribute to

present political practices (democratic or militant); a form of thinking that

privileges future actualization over future presence, and is problematic at best, and violent at worst. In short, the understanding of the Utopian assumed here

is that which I have identified as conventional. It is no surprise that they dis?

sociate their own projects from anything Utopian because the Utopian is thought to be opposed to our finite and contingent situations. Their writing certainly demonstrates how the Utopian is common to Continental thinkers (both of

whom owe much to phenomenology).

My thesis here is that phenomenology, and particularly Merleau-Pontian

phenomenology, offers a way to think the Utopian in a non-conventional way that is different from the understanding assumed by Derrida, Irigaray, and many others. This argument turns on how we understand the notion of the Utopian. I will make a distinction between the conventional view of the Utopian assumed

by thinkers like Derrida and Irigaray and a non-conventional view of the Uto?

pian that I maintain emerges from Merleau-Ponty's work. The result, as I hope to show, is a view of the Utopian that is uniquely phenomenological.

Conventional Utopian Thought

A colloquial understanding of the Utopian, articulated best by the Oxford

English Dictionary, tells us that Utopian thinking, with its goal of Utopia, focuses on a "place, state, or condition ideally perfect in respect of politics,

laws, customs and conditions." As such, the pursuit of Utopian thinking is

ultimately the pursuit of an "impossibly ideal scheme, especially for social

improvement." Political theorists such as Barbara Goodwin and Krishnan

Kumar echo this colloquial understanding in more technical ways. Goodwin

(1991, p. 53) defines utopian thinking as that which either directly or indi?

rectly reflects on "politics and society, which seeks the perfect, best, or hap?

piest form of society, untrammeled by commitments to existing institutions."

Kumar (1991, p. 3) shows that historically the value of thinking Utopia "lies

not in its relation to present practice but in its relation to a possible future."

The practical use of Utopian thinking, he proposes, has been "to overstep the

immediate reality to depict a condition whose clear desirability draws us on,

like a magnet." These descriptions of the Utopian indicate the following fea?

tures of a conventional view.

First, Utopian thinking possesses a fixed horizon, a magnet in Kumar's

words, which draws us toward complete actualization. There is no proceed?

ing beyond perfection. Second, this horizon, because it is fixed, is presented most often as a static vision toward which we are moving. Consequently, the

Utopian speaks more about the future present than the immediate present.

Finally, effective Utopian thinking must oppose the more embodied, histori




cal, and social dimensions of existence, otherwise Utopian thought will be?

come too particular and too located. Thus, it is not surprising that such think?

ing has come under attack. As Cornel West (1993, p. 166) concludes, we should

be suspicious of such thinking because it "presupposes a form of philosophi? cal idealism that inevitably results in a mystification which ignores difference,

flux, dissemination and heterogeneity." On the basis of this picture of a conventional view of the Utopian, we can

see why thinkers like Derrida and Irigaray distance themselves from it and, more importantly, why there is a need to reconfigure such thinking, especially

if phenomenology can be understood as Utopian. That is, if the Utopian is to

remain an integral part of future Continental philosophy, it should not be in

the violent form inherent in the conventional view that seeks perfection and

absolute certainty with the goal of overcoming difference(s) and otherness.

Such a non-conventional view exists, I now want to argue, in Merleau-Ponty 's

phenomenology of embodiment, particularly the structures of transcendence,

intentionality, and motility.

Merleau-Ponty and the Bodily Basis of the Utopian

Over thirty years ago, Northop Frye wrote the following (1966, p. 49, em?

phasis added):

New utopias would have to derive their form from the shifting and dissolv?

ing movement of society that is gradually replacing the fixed locations of life. They would not be rational cities evolved by a philosopher's dialec?

tic; they would be rooted in the body as well as in the mind, in the uncon? scious as well as the conscious, in forests and desert as well as highways and buildings, in bed as in the symposium.

Merleau-Ponty's work equips us for thinking through Frye's remark and illu?

minates how phenomenology is Utopian. His phenomenology illustrates how

alternative possibilities are rooted in our bodies. In addition, his work allows

us to make connections between the structures of embodiment- structures that

potentially open us to new life possibilities - and the structure of the Utopian,

which is best described as the demand that things be different. Put in more

Merleau-Pontian language, we begin to see how the inventive possibilities associated with the Utopian emerge in and through the active transcendence, or active engagement, of one's lived bodily experience. The body understood

in this Merleau-Pontian way figures the Utopian in a non-conventional way, which Merleau-Ponty himself captures when he writes that "the future is only

probable, but it is not an empty zone in which we can construct gratuitous

projects; it is sketched before us like the beginning of the day's end, and its

outline is ourselves" (Merleau-Ponty, 1969, p. 95, emphasis added).5 With this



388 GREG JOHNSON

passage in mind, I now want to explore the specifics of this phenomenological

understanding of the Utopian inaugurated by and through the structures of both

our embodiment and lived bodily experience. Let me begin with some gen? eral remarks.

Our first concern is terminology. In what follows I use terminology that is

both intentional and paradoxical. We should not fear the paradoxical for, as

Kierkegaard reminds us, "the paradox is the passion of thought, and the

thinker without a paradox is like the lover without passion: a mediocre fel?

low" (Kierkegaard, 1985, p. 37). Accordingly, I will adopt the paradoxical

prefix pre (as used in conjunction with pre-schematically schematizes and pre

primordial) to indicate, first, how the body "knows" in a pre-cognitive man?

ner. Second, and most important for my purposes, I employ this prefix to

indicate something about the body that is before the pre of which either we

cannot speak, or speak only with difficulty. I have in mind specifically, bor?

rowing from Emmanuel Levinas the idea of the priority of ethics.6 When

Levinas writes of the priority of ethics as a first philosophy it is not so much

as a substitute for metaphysics in the canonic order of first philosophy. Rather, it is prior to the very order of philosophical discourse itself. In this regard,

then, the pre used in conjunction with embodiment suggests a pre-philosophi cal priority at which the body only gestures, but nevertheless orients us in po?

tentially transformative ways. Third, such indications are necessary in order

to be faithful when speaking and writing of the body. What we will see is that

since the body itself is a movement of transcendence, it is extremely difficult

to speak in a demonstrative fashion about it. As a result, we are in need of

markers that indicate this difficulty. But markers can at best only gesture to

this difficulty and acknowledge the indeterminacy of such gesturing. My use

of pre is such a gesture or qualification to alert the reader that I am aware of

the complexity in speaking of the body. The second general remark, which is most important for my argument, has

to do with the distinction I make between embodiment and zvribo?it?ness. I

use embodiment to indicate certain structures potentially shared by all. I em?

phasize potentially to indicate clearly that these structures, while appearing to be shared by all humans, nevertheless often cannot to be activated. To speak of the structure of embodiment, furthermore, is to invoke a particular under?

standing of structure. Minimally, structures can be thought in at least two ways; as Merleau-Ponty notes, "Structure, like Janus, has two faces" (Merleau-Ponty,

1964a, p. 117). First, structure can be thought of as transcendental structures

in the strict sense; as determining the necessary and sufficient meaning of no?

tions like "inside" and "outside," or "immanence" and "transcendence."

Second, and the way I speak of structures here, they can be understood as

gwasi-transcendental. Instead of closing off possibilities, they open us to

the world in new and interesting ways. The three structures of embodiment

that I discuss below potentially empower us to break free from the narratives




that have determinately defined us, and as such, they illuminate more clearly the connection between the structures of embodiment and the structure of the

Utopian demand that things be otherwise.7 In addition to embodiment I use

embodiedness to designate the lived bodily experience of individuals within

particular situations that often limit access to the structures of embodiment.

Finally, I will use "embodiedness" and "lived bodily experience" interchange?

ably and the more generic term "body" to denote both embodiment and em?

bodiedness.

I want to demonstrate how embodiment and embodiedness together pre

schematically schematize the Utopian, which is to say, following David

Michael Levin, that all "interactions are opportunities for the progressive flesh?

ing out of this originary schematism, this implicate order, this hint, in our

intercorporeality, of a more Utopian intercorporeality, concretely structured

forms of reciprocity generated from within the shared body of social experi? ence" (Levin, 1990, p. 43).8

The Structures of Embodiment and the Utopian

In this section I examine three important structures of embodiment that pro? vide the basis for a different understanding of the Utopian from the view assumed

by Derrida and Irigaray. This understanding allows us to see phenomenology as the bearer of a non-conventional understanding of the Utopian. I begin with

the structure of transcendence.

The Movement of Transcendence

The notion of transcendence looms over the whole of Merleau-Ponty 's, work

especially as it relates to his critique of empiricism and intellectualism, which

he refers to as the paradox of transcendence and immanence (see for example

Merleau-Ponty, 1962, Introduction).9 In the Phenomenology of Perception

Merleau-Ponty speaks of the paradox of transcendence and immanence as

another way of thinking about the internal/external split, where the two are

viewed as mutually exclusive - a problem that plagues Western philosophy.

Merleau-Ponty's thesis of the primacy of perception searches for a ground on

which immanence and transcendence intersect without collapsing into each

other. The paradox of transcendence and immanence (and I would add uni?

versal/particular, being/knowing, body schema/body image etc., all of which

Merleau-Ponty discusses) is a problem for philosophical reflection which,

although is never completely resolved, becomes less problematic as we in?

volve ourselves with the things of the world. What happens in this interactive

involvement in the world, as Merleau-Ponty states, is that "Reflection does



390 GREG JOHNSON

not withdraw from the world towards the unity of consciousness as the world's

basis; it steps back to watch the forms of transcendence fly up like sparks from

a fire; it slackens the intentional threads which attach us to the world and thus

brings them to our notice . . ." (PhP, p. xiii). This familiar passage reveals that we are involved with the world such that

we can never fully separate ourselves from it, though we are in some sense

always distinct from it. This view of transcendence is one of an "active tran?

scendence," which is the "simultaneous contact with my own being and with

the world's being" (PhP, p. 377). In other words, the movement of active tran?

scendence grounded by embodiment is the "act in which existence takes up, for its own purposes, and transforms such situations. Precisely because it is

transcendence, existence never utterly outruns anything, for in that case the

tension which is essential to it would disappear" (PhP, p. 169). As movement

that links us to but also emerges within the intercorporeality of human beings, transcendence in the end "no longer hangs over man: he becomes, strangely, its privileged bearer" (Merleau-Ponty, 1964a, p. 71). What Merleau-Ponty sug?

gests is that the structure of transcendence, when intercorporeally situated is

the movement of becoming that opens us up to new possibilities. Understood

in this way, transcendence neither culminates in a fixed point nor functions

as a static horizon against which we move and have our being. As a quasi transcendental structure of new possibilities grounded in and by our embodi?

ment and embodiedness, transcendence becomes an essential feature of the

Utopian understood in a non-conventional way. As structured by the movement of transcendence, the Utopian does not have

to be a future realization of something that is or can be wholly determined.

To say this would fall prey to conventional thinking and present the Utopian as a movement with a final destiny capable of ordering our lives in ways that

overcome difference and otherness. A Merleau-Pontian understanding of tran?

scendence offers a way of thinking differently about movement in general and

the movement of the Utopian in particular: The latter, understood as active

transcendence intercorporeally grounded, carries with it the possibility of

interruption and withdrawal within and from the horizon of determinative

relationships. Embodiment, then, becomes the vehicle of this non-conventional

movement of the Utopian. A return to the body is a return to a pre-primordial

ground of a non-conventional understanding of the Utopian. Let me elaborate.

Embodiment is the movement of transcendence and as such is a movement

of withdrawal. The body ordered by active transcendence and situated inter?

corporeally is an order that withdraws itself from complete stasis and fixity. This withdrawal, characterized as interruption, serves as the genesis of the

utopian where the Utopian becomes a pre-primordial ground of "open possi? bilities."10 Transcendence as withdrawal reveals the most significant quality of the non-conventional view of Utopian, which is its ability to interrupt,

(re)orient us, and turn us toward newness. This newness, inaugurated by the




Utopian moment of disruption, never settles. Rather, like the order of life it?

self, an order derived from the body, the Utopian is always on the move, al?

ways becoming; transitory and never complete. In the end, this withdrawing structure of active transcendence grounded intercorporeally radically reshapes how we might understand the movement of the Utopian. To be u-topian, moved

elsewhere, is not to have an anchored, theoretical position that is secured and

fixed for all time. It is a position ordered by the quasi-transcendental struc?

ture of our embodiment/embodiedness because, like life itself, the Utopian at

its best moves; it does not stand still. And it is in this ever-present and absent

active transcendence that the adventure of something new begins to become,

begins to interrupt, and begins to transform. These embodied potentialities cannot always be enacted or apprehended, though they may be structurally

possible. To illustrate this point let us consider the following. The structure of transcendence, which illuminates the movement of the

Utopian and reveals the many open possibilities of embodiment, may be what

Iris Young (1990, p. 148) calls ambiguous transcendence:

Now, once we take the locus of subjectivity and transcendence to be the lived body rather than pure consciousness, all transcendence is ambiguous because the body as natural and material is immanence. But it is not the

ever-present possibility of any lived body to be passive, which I am refer?

ring to here as the ambiguity of the transcendence of the feminine lived

body. ... [In some instances] a woman typically refrains from throwing her whole body into a motion, and rather concentrates motion in one part of the body alone, while the rest of the body remains relatively immobile.

Only part of the body, that is, moves outward toward a task, while the rest remains rooted in immanence.

Even though the Utopian possibility of newness is structurally possible, it is

not a given since we find ourselves involved in conditions that suppress these

possibilities. The ambiguity of transcendence underscores how lived bodily

experience always colors, limits, diminishes, and hides pre-primordial Uto?

pian possibilities for newness. We see this same dialectical relationship between

embodiment and embodiedness when we turn to the second Merleau-Pontian

structure, intentionality, a structure that further demonstrates how phenom?

enology enables us to reconfigure the Utopian.

Intentionality, Motility, and Embodiment

Intentionality is that structure which fully situates the movement of transcend?

ence and prevents it from becoming fixed on something that pretends to give absolute order. This fundamental notion of intentionality is what Merleau

Ponty calls "operative intentionality," a broad understanding of intentional?

ity that "produces the natural and antepredicative unity of the world and of



392 GREG JOHNSON

our life, being apparent in our desires, our evaluations and in the landscape we see, more clearly than in objective knowledge. . . ." (PhP, p. xviii). In other

words, intentionality is best thought of as a part of the "active transcendence

of consciousness," which is "to experience the harmony between what we aim

at and what is given, between the intention and the performance - and the body

is our anchorage in a world" (PhP, p. 144). Anchorage here should not be read

as an arche. Rather, the body-as-intentionality is that which both constitutes

and is constituted by our world - another avoidance of the distinction between

"inside" and "outside" of embodiment. Nor is intentionality understood solely as an act of consciousness. Insofar as intentionality emerges as a structure of

embodiment, it is a kinesthetic intentionality that relies on bodily tactility within a particular environment.

The order of priority in this relationship is, I suggest, unknown and really

unimportant. Rather, the important point is what Merleau-Ponty says when

he writes that "I have the world as an incomplete individual, through the agency of my body as the potentiality of this world, and I have the positing of objects

through that of my body, or conversely the positing of my body through that

of objects, not in any kind of logical implication, as we determine an unknown

size through its objective relations to given sizes, but in a real implication, and because my body is a movement towards the world, and the world my

body's point of support (PhP, p. 350). The structure of intentionality is that of

being-in-the-world, which is a way of saying that embodiment is ultimately "to be intervolved in a definite environment, to identify oneself with certain

projects continually committed to them" (PhP, p. 82). This emphasis on the

body-as-intentionality as that which anchors us to a situation even as we move

toward new possibilities is a theme evident throughout most of Merleau

Ponty's work. Whether it is due to his own concern with his transformation

of phenomenology, or to his more overtly political writings, intentionality in

this broad sense pervades his thinking. Consider the following. He writes, "What makes me a proletarian is not the economic system or

society considered as systems of impersonal forces, but these institutions as I

carry them within me and experience them', nor is it an intellectual operation devoid of motive, by my way of being in the world within this institutional

framework" (PhP, p. 443, emphasis added). A second remark sheds light on

this passage and reveals further how Merleau-Ponty himself is aware of this

environment-body/body-environment relationship as it opens for us potentially transformative alternatives:

But economic life is at the same time the historical carrier of mental struc?

tures, just as our body maintains the basic features of our behavior beneath our varying moods; and this is the reason on will more surely get to know the essence of a society by analyzing interpersonal relations as they have been fixed and generalized in economic life than through an analysis of the




movements of fragile, fleeting ideas -just as one gets a better idea of man

from his conduct than his thought. (Merleau-Ponty, 1964b, p. 108)

As I understand these remarks, intentionality in the light of active transcend?

ence is best described as the "I can" of the body. Intentionality as a pre-pri? mordial act is the ability to orient us within a given environment and act within

that situation. It is, for example, expressed in the very ability to reach out and

turn the handle to open the door. It is also expressed in my ability to become

a philosopher or carpenter or a number of other potentialities relative to my situation. Notice: this structure of intentionality is the way we conceptualize this movement. As a structure of embodiment, however, intentionality is both

potential and limit. No matter how much I want to fly, I cannot fly like a bird

because of the intentional constraints of embodiment. On the one hand, there

are wide ranges of possibilities for me given my circumstances. On the other

hand, because of impediments -

brought on, for example, by an accident or

disease -1 may not be able even to move a cup across my desk. As with tran?

scendence, intentionality as a structure of embodiment communicates simul?

taneously the potential for possibility inherent in our lives and its limits. As

such, intentionality, like transcendence, marks our becoming and participates in the movement of thought, which can be forward-looking or not. Forward

looking capacities are often limited so that not just any future is possible.

Further, these capabilities, to the extent that they remain forward-looking, are

co-dependent on our intercorporeality. Our bodies are not necessarily prede? termined to inherit certain narratives that, through inevitable constraint, de?

grade and dehumanize us. It is here that we see the connection to the Utopian understood in a non-conventional manner.

As that which structures the utopian, intentionality, like transcendence, pre

primordially and intercorporeally orients us in potentially forward-looking

ways. I am not saying that this bodily intentionality, or these forward-look?

ing possibilities, is "in" the body to be acted "on" by the outside world and

that this forward-looking capacity automatically guarantees that we will en?

act this structure in ways that transform our existence. What I am suggesting, rather, is that this structure of intentionality is the forward-looking capacity that the body carries with it, and that enables us to conceptualize the demand

that things be better, a demand rooted in the body that can be potentially con?

stituted. Similar to transcendence, intentionality, while being referred to as a

structure of embodiment, is always understood relative to one's lived bod?

ily experience and is why intentionality can become inhibited intentional?

ity (Young, 1990, p. 148). The intentionality of embodiment suggests an "I can." But often we do not

live this "I can" either by our own choice or because of circumstances that

dis-able these enabling possibilities. Lived bodily experience can dictate to

us an "I cannot," which can be either internal or external (Young, 1990, p. 148).



394 GREG JOHNSON

We might be tempted to think that embodiment exudes an uninhibited inten?

tionality insofar as it projects and aims, organizes and unifies itself in light of

this aim. However, an injury or societal markings can constrain the ability to

project an aim. Such is the case with Merleau-Ponty's example of Schneider

(see Merleau-Ponty 1968, p. 98ff). This does not diminish the potentially for?

ward-looking structure of intentionality, which guides our Utopian politics of

possibility. Rather, the awareness of the limits reflected by the "I cannot"

acknowledges that the body faces constraints that fly in the face of the need

for something better. In short, though we might demand that things be better

and generate alternative possibilities, there is no assurance that the structures

that yields this possibility, intentionality and transcendence, will culminate

in activation of these potentialities. Iris Young again helpfully shows how

intentionality becomes inhibited when, in discussing female bodily comport?

ment, she writes:

Feminine motion often serves this mutually condition relation between aim and enactment [in Merleau-Ponty]. In those motions that when properly per? formed require the coordination and directedness of the whole body upon some definite end, women frequently move in contradictory way. Their bodies project an aim to be enacted but at the same time stiffen against their

performance of the task. In performing a physical task the woman's body does carry her toward the intended aim, often not easily and directly, but rather circuitously, with the wasted motion resulting from the effort of test?

ing and reorientation, which is a frequent consequence of feminine hesi?

tancy.

For any lived body, the world appears as the system of possibilities that are correlative to its intentions. For any lived body, moreover, the word also

appears to be populated with opacities and resistances correlative to its own

limits and frustrations. For any bodily existence, that is, an "I cannot" may appear to set limits to the "I can."

Young does not deny the existence of the structures of intentionality. Instead,

her point is that the structure of intentionality does not exist in pure eidetic

form, but rather emerges within lived bodily experience as structure (inten?

tionality) and experience (inhibition) are understood as affecting and being affected by each other. We see this dialectic as well when we consider the

structure of motility, which is the last structure I consider as informing the

non-conventional view of the Utopian I have been developing.

Motility

Motility, like intentionality, includes the physical capacities of embodiment,

its limitations, and the ability to pursue and consequently fulfill goals. In short,

motility allows us to conceptualize movement toward newness as a movement




from particular situations to that which we believe to be better. An example of this is the shape or color of one's body. Ideally, one has the potential to

become lots of things. However, because so many people experience their

world as "epidermalized" their potentialities are thwarted by virtue of how

dominant discourses define them. What is more, such an epidermalizing of

one's world does not take place exclusively at the institutional level of gov? ernment, education, or other institutions responsible for dominant discourses.

Instead, certain people are defined as different, unable to "be" certain things, and consequently "other," because their bodies and identities are marked at

the level of looks, speech, movement, and other gestures that define them as

"this" or "that" (Slaughter, 1982).11 Motility, in conjunction with transcend? ence and intentionality, is the pre-primordial wisdom of embodiment that

orients us to a particular "given" situation, summons that which can make sense

of this present, and empowers us to alter the situation if needed. Our projec? tion through motility, working in concert with other structures, enables us to

"mark out boundaries and directions in the given world, to establish lines of

force, to keep perspectives in view, in a word, to organize the given world in

accordance with the projects of the present moment, to build into the geo?

graphical setting a behavioral one, a system of meanings outwardly expres? sive of the subjects internal activity" (PhP, p. 112). In short, motility, like

transcendence and intentionality, is a structure of embodiment through which we know and demand that things should be otherwise.

If motility is diminished or incapacitated, then our ability to organize the

present through a summoning of the past is thwarted, which in effect hinders our ability to alter our situation. Accordingly, if intentionality and motility structure the Utopian differently, and if these are somehow diminished, then our ability to keep open the movement of the Utopian will likewise be reduced. But notice here: reduced is not eradicated. The point is that these structures

inform our understanding of the Utopian demand for something better at a level so fundamental that if they are in fact diminished, we have trouble recogniz? ing any open possibilities, whether mundane or essential to human existence. In the end, motility, like that of transcendence and intentionality, is a struc? ture of the Utopian insofar as it enables us to think, in Merleau-Ponty 's words, "a more fundamental function, a vector mobile in all directions like a search?

light, one through which we can direct ourselves toward anything, in or out?

side ourselves, and display a form of behaviour in relation to that object" (PhP,

p. 136). But, as Merleau-Ponty quickly points out, it is more than this because

this searchlight analogy can presuppose a given object at which we aim (an? other instance of avoiding the strict "in"/ "out" demarcation of embodiment/

world). To avoid such a move Merleau-Ponty adds the important notion of the intentional arc.

If bodily motility is diminished to the point of disallowing organization and

projection, then we cannot conceptualize an alternative scenario because our



396 GREG JOHNSON

bodies will not allow it. If our motility is, at its most basic level, the "I can" of

our lived bodily experience, motility draws on and is influenced by an inten?

tional arc, which summarizes the gesture of Utopian capabilities exemplified

by our lived bodily experiences. As Merleau-Ponty suggests, this intentional

arc "projects round about us our past, our future, our human setting, our physi?

cal, ideological and moral situation, or rather which results in our being situ?

ated in all these respects. It is this intentional arc that brings about the unity of the senses, of sensibility and motility. And it is that which goes limp in ill?

ness" (PhP, p. 136). The intentional arc is the body's ability to sense its own

movements and gestures, a sensing that draws together its past experiences into and through the present ones, and anticipates a position toward newness.

That these structures of embodiment illuminate a non-conventional view

of the Utopian can be seen in the following example, which demonstrates how

embodiment grounds the Utopian demand that things be otherwise and, in

conjunction with lived bodily experience (embodiedness), makes possible the ability to see and experience something not previously understood. In

Sojourner Truth's speech "Ain't IA Woman," she states:

That man over there says women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps

me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And

ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman?

I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most of them sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my

mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman? (Quoted in

Collins, 1990, p. 14)

This speech suggests that what it means to be an African-American woman

in nineteenth-century America is to be deemed unworthy of the title human.

One result of the narrative framework in which Truth finds and describes

herself is the dehumanization and degradation of many African-Americans and

women. In critical opposition, Truth's own embodied experience, which I

submit illuminates and carries out the structures of embodiment discussed

above, interrupts and consequently shatters this destructive narrative identity

by "exposing a concept as ideological or culturally constructed rather than as

natural or a simple reflection of reality" (Collins, 1990, p. 14). In its place, Truth's bodily interaction within this oppressive narrative suggests something

fundamentally different about what it means to be black and a woman. Instead

of this alternative being based on disembodied and disembedded principles common to every "rational" person, for example, Truth's Utopian vision for a

society - a society rid of the degradation and dehumanization of people of

color and women - relies on lived bodily experiences such as eating, child




birthing, ploughing, and planting, all of which require transcendence, inten?

tionality, and motility. In short, the demand that things be different and the

potential open possibilities arising from her lived bodily experience and are

given to her by the structures of embodiment. Thus, she accomplishes some?

thing that political philosophies of her time were unable to do, i.e., take seri?

ously bodily phenomena as the locus for critically interrupting oppression and

constructing alternative pictures of reality. In a word, her body is the basis

for her Utopian thought.

Conclusion

What I have tried to offer in this article is a way to conceptualize, or more

accurately reconceptualize, the Utopian in a non-conventional way. I agree with

Simon Critchley that Continental thought in general and phenomenology in

particular is a bearer of the Utopian demand that things be different. However,

I have argued that Merleau-Pontian phenomenology allows us to think the

Utopian in a non-conventional manner, drawing specifically on structures of

embodiment that carry with it a pre-schematic Utopian movement whereby we encounter our world in an oppressive or dehumanizing way and, as a re?

sult of the powerful force of these structures, disrupt and potentially trans?

form such systems of exclusion and violence. I have further demonstrated how

the non-conventional Utopian demand that things be different is grounded in

the truth of the body, its natural movements, and its interrelatedness with oth?

ers. This bodily felt sense of awareness is the source from which we can think

differently about principles of justice, right, or good, all of which are at the

heart of a Utopian politics of transformation. In the end, I have attempted to

show that phenomenology and the Utopian demand that things be different do

not have to be viewed in opposition and that the former, when reconsidered, is in fact a tradition worthy of the label "utopian."12

Notes

1. There are several texts that illustrate how the Utopian is fundamental to critical theory.

First, Seyla Benhabib (1986) clearly shows the way critical theory emerges historically in conjunction with a concern for the Utopian. Second, David Rassmussen (1996) illus?

trates how the utopian is essential for understanding the conceptual makeup of critical

theory. Finally, Herbert Marcuse (2001) shows how the Utopian is at work in his own

project of critical theory.

2. Grondin (2000) and Bernasconi (2000) propose that phenomenology has been and still is considered synonymous with Continental philosophy. Jean Grondin offers an account

of how phenomenology has historically been identified as Continental philosophy, and

Robert Bernasconi presents a compelling account of how the future of Continental phi?

losophy might or should be tied to the movement of phenomenology.



398 GREG JOHNSON

3. Critchley's claim about Continental philosophy and the Utopian is not simply an idi?

osyncratic reading of this tradition. Other Continental philosophers in general and

phenomenologists in particular echo his view. First, Paul Ricoeur's work (1975) specifi?

cally engages the place of the Utopian in political and social theory. And even though he

addresses the Utopian from his orientation as a phenomenologist, he ultimately focuses

on thinkers aligned more with critical theory than phenomenology (e.g., Marx and

Habermas). Bernasconi (2000, p. 3) reveals what could be considered to be a Utopian

dimension to phenomenology when he writes, "The phenomenological movement can

itself be understood as a tradition that opens the future and does not merely open onto

the future. Phenomenology has from the outset been experienced as a breath of fresh air."

4. This aversion to the Utopian cuts across philosophical orientations. While my interest in

this essay is with the Continental tradition, the same need to distance oneself from the

Utopian occurs as often in Anglo-American philosophy. Here is just one recent instance.

Thomas Hill, Jr., whose work on Kant's ethics is unparalleled, cautions us against read?

ing Kant's kingdom of ends formula of the categorical imperative as Utopian. I am not

concerned with his interpretation of Kant, but with his characterization of the Utopian.

He begins by telling us that the "kingdom of ends principle, unless qualified, is in dan?

ger, of encouraging Utopian thinking" (emphasis in original) and continues: "That is,

unless we are wary, it may lead us to draw unreasonable inferences about how we should

act in our very imperfect world from our thought experiments about ideal agents in a more

perfect world (Hill, Jr. 2000, p. 53. emphasis added). Very little is said about the Uto?

pian, but what I say of Derrida and Irigaray applies as well to Hill, namely, that the Uto?

pian is opposed to our situations and as such must be avoided, and in this regard, reveals

a conventional view of the Utopian.

5. Though I am interested in this paper in exploring Merleau-Ponty 's "theoretical" contri?

bution to reconfiguring the Utopian, I do not suggest that his practical contribution, namely,

his existential politics, is unrelated to what I argue throughout.

6. See Emmanuel Levinas (1981) and (1987).

7. I am borrowing Derrida's (1986) understanding of quasi-transcendental.

8. I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to Levin's work, which has been instrumental in

my thinking about these matters. Along with Levin, John O'Neill's work on Merleau

Ponty (especially O'Neill, 1989) raised many points that have also shaped my argument

here. I expect to engage the work of both Levin and O'Neill more carefully in a future

book-length examination.

9. All other quotations will be internally noted as PhP. For a helpful commentary on this

paradox of transcendence and immanence as Merleau-Ponty's response engages Sartre,

see M.C. Dillon (1988), especially chapter 2.

10. I borrow this term as it is from Charles Scott (1997).

11. I would like to acknowledge Iris Young (1990) for first bringing Slaughter's work to my attention.

12. I would like to express my deep appreciation to Simon Critchley who read an earlier

version of this essay and offered his support and encouragement, in addition to the edi?

tor and editorial assistants at Human Studies for their many helpful suggestions.

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Merleau-Pontian Phenomenology as Non-Conventionally Utopian