Emilio Uranga's Analysis of Mexican Being

Emilio Uranga (1921-1988) was a Mexican philosopher who was born in Mexico City. From 1941-1944, he studied medicine at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM), but he then entered the Facultad de Filosofía y Letras of UNAM to study philosophy, where he was taught and influenced by the Spanish philosopher José Gaos (1900-1969), who was a faculty member at UNAM from 1939-1969.

      In 1948, Uranga became a member of the Hyperion group (el grupo Hiperión), an intellectual community of young philosophers who were influenced by Gaos and the existentialism of Heidegger and Sartre. The group included Ricardo Guerra (1927-2007), Jorge Portilla (1918-1963), Salvador Reyes Neváres (1922-1993), Joaquín Sánchez Macgrégor (1925-2008), Fausto Vega (1922-2015), Luis Villoro (1922-2014), and Leopoldo Zea (1912-2006). The group was named after the Greek mythological figure Hyperion, a Titan, son of Uranus and Gaia. Hyperion was the father of the sun god Helios, and was a symbol of illumination, watchfulness, and wisdom. The Mexican philosopher Gustavo Escobar Valenzuela, who was later a student of Uranga’s at the UNAM in the 1960’s, explains that Hyperion was also “hijo de la tierra y del cielo, encargado de unir lo concreto con lo universal” (“son of the earth and sky, charged with unifying the concrete with the universal”).¹

       From 1953-1957, Uranga studied at the universities of Freiburg, Tübingen, Cologne, and Hamburg, before doing further study at the Sorbonne and receiving his doctoral degree in philosophy. He later taught at the Facultad de Filosofía y Letras of the UNAM. His major writings included Ensayo de una ontología del mexicano (1949), Dos teorías de la muerte: Heidegger y Sartre (1949), Análisis del ser del mexicano (1952), Kant y Santo Tomás (sobre el problema de la verdad) (1954). Goethe y los filósofos (1958), A la sombra de Hegel (1958), Astucias literarias (1971) and ¿De quién es la filofofía? (1977).

      Uranga’s reputation began to decline in the 1960’s, as he became an increasingly outspoken defender of the Mexican government against its left-wing opponents, even after the Tlatelolco massacre in 1968. He alienated himself from many of his friends, and became increasingly isolated and withdrawn from society. He died in Mexico City in 1988.

      In his Analysis of Mexican Being (Análisis del ser del mexicano, 1952), Uranga says that the being of human beings is accidental insofar as it is contingent on events other than itself. Being as accident is a being reduced or disrupted by its merging with nothingness. There is in it both a clarity and an obscurity in which being and nothingness communicate.²

      To see the being of human beings as accidental is also to see it within the horizon of possibility of accident itself. To try to escape the condition of accidentality is to seek an illusory substantiality. The being of human beings is not “substantial,” in the sense of being non-accidental. It is thrown toward both being and nothingness, and this ontological equivocality is what makes it “accidental.”³

      Uranga’s point of reference is not the human (lo humano), however, but the Mexican (lo mexicano). His project is not to construct an ontology of the Mexican by starting from the human, but to construct an ontology of the human by starting from the Mexican. He explains that in the mode of being of the Mexican can be seen the mode of being of the human. Whenever we affirm that the being of the Mexican is accidental (just as we may affirm that the mode of being of the American or European is accidental), a horizon of meaning opens up for our reflection.

      Taking the concept of the Mexican or Mexicanness as a starting point for an ontology of humankind also avoids the prejudices and presuppositions that have traditionally been associated with the taking of the European as a template for humankind in general. The European may not interrogate its own mode of being as European if it identifies the human as European and not as Mexican or as any other non-European mode of being.⁴

      Mexicanness (Méxicanidad) is not something with rigid contours that can be subsumed under a simple definition. It's not fixed, invariable, or monolithic. It may accommodate social class, ethnic, regional, and historical differences. Uranga quotes the philosopher Samuel Ramos (1897-1959) as saying, “Una cosa es utilizar una filosofía para explicar al mexicano y otra cosa es utilizar al mexicano para explicar una filosofía” (“It’s one thing to utilize a philosophy in order to explicate the Mexican, but another to utilize the Mexican in order to explicate a philosophy”). Ramos explains that if philosophy is utilized to investigate Mexicanness, philosophy may to some degree help us to discover its true nature. But if Mexicanness is used to explicate a philosophy, we may make the mistake of assuming that what we’ve found in Mexicanness was not already present in that philosophy. We may not recognize the true nature of Mexicanness at all.⁵

      Uranga claims that all ontology of the Mexican is “autognosis” (self-knowledge) of the Mexican, but that the converse does not hold true. There are productive and rewarding autognostic modalities of the Mexican that are not ontological.⁶ For precise knowledge of the Mexican to be attained, however, ontological investigation is necessary.

      What is the final outcome of any autognosis of the Mexican? How does the being of the Mexican explain the many and diverse experiences of Mexicans? An answer, says Uranga, is found in the openness of the being of the Mexican to possibility, to contingency, to accident. Autognosis of the Mexican reveals that the being of the Mexican is “accidental.”

      Whenever we recognize accident in the horizon of human existence, we discover previously unknown complexities in its ontological structure, and thus we also recognize human existence in the horizon of accident.⁷

      All remoteness from being as accident implies a certain attempt at substantialization, explains Uranga, and all nearness to being as accident implies a certain attempt at accidentalizing ourselves.⁸ To be open to, and not to try to evade, the accidentality of our own being is also for us to be open to humanness in its deepest sense. We may search for something to make us feel more secure and substantial, but the courage to open ourselves to all that is human, and the willingness to express our affinity with others by demonstrating such qualities as compassion, empathy, kindness, and mutual respect, enables us to more clearly understand our own being.

      According to Uranga, the Mexican (or Mexicanness) may be conceptualized as the human (or humanness), and the human may be conceptualized as the Mexican. Thus, the concept of the Mexican has both nationalistic and humanistic aspects. However, nationalism can have its dangers, and can separate the Mexican (or Mexicanness) from the human (or humanness). If nationalism becomes a delimitation or confinement of the human, then the ontology of the Mexican becomes a kind of anti-nationalism, since it attempts to explain how the being of the Mexican is open to all that is human. Thus, the ontology of the Mexican understands the Mexican and the human as an inseparable pair (pareja) of modes of being. The human is understood as the Mexican, and the Mexican is understood as the human.

    

FOOTNOTES

¹Gustavo Escobar Valenzuela, “Emilio Uranga (una aproximación)”, in Humanismo mexicano del siglo XX, edited by Alberto Saladino García (Toluca: Universidad Autónoma del Estado de México, 2004), pp. 495-504.

²Emilio Uranga, Análisis del ser del mexicano, y otros escritos sobre la filosofía de lo mexicano (1949-1952), edited by Guillermo Hurtado (México: Bonilla Artigas Editores, 2013), p. 40.

³Ibid., p. 122.

⁴Ibid., p. 68.

⁵Ibid., p. 142.

⁶Ibid., p. 78.

⁷Ibid., p. 49.

⁸Ibid., p. 45.

Questions of Language

“Are All Philosophical Questions Questions of Language?” is the title of an article by Stuart Hampshire that was published in the Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Supplementary Volume XXII (1948, pp. 31-48). Hampshire says, first of all, that in order to answer the question of whether all philosophical questions are questions of language, we must be able to distinguish philosophical from non-philosophical, and linguistic from non-linguistic questions.

      Regarding the distinction between philosophical and non-philosophical questions, there may be some questions that are borderline in nature; however, there are also many questions that are recognized as being distinctively philosophical. Regarding the distinction between linguistic and non-linguistic questions, there may be some questions that are neither purely linguistic nor purely non-linguistic, but are in fact both linguistic and non-linguistic. Another way of saying this is that if non-linguistic questions are “questions of fact” as opposed to “questions of language”, then there may be some questions that are both “questions of fact” and “questions of language.” There may also be some linguistic and non-linguistic questions that are neither purely “questions of fact” nor purely “questions of language.”

      Regarding the question of whether the distinction between philosophical and non-philosophical questions is identical to that between analytic and synthetic questions, Hampshire explains that the answers to questions of language may include not only analytic, but also synthetic statements (statements about the actual uses of words or sentences in a particular language), and that philosophical questions cannot therefore be wholly analytic if they are questions of language.

      If all philosophical questions are questions of language, then all philosophical problems may be regarded as linguistic problems, and philosophy may be regarded as an activity involving the analysis of language in order to resolve linguistic confusions, obscurities, or ambiguities. According to this view, problems created by linguistic confusions may dissolve when subjected to linguistic analysis, and such analysis may not require consideration of matters of fact, other than facts about the ordinary uses of language.

      However, Hampshire criticizes this view, arguing that many important philosophical problems have been suggested by, or refer to, developments in the physical sciences and mathematics.¹ While such problems may be clarified by analyzing differences between the terminology of ordinary language and the terminology of the physical sciences and mathematics, they may not arise solely from confusions or ambiguities in the uses of ordinary language.

      Hampshire also criticizes the view that if all philosophical questions are questions of language, then they constitute requests for definitions of, or criteria of use for, the terms they contain. He says that if all philosophical answers are prescriptions for language use or rules for language translation, then we may still be left with no explanation as to why we might, for some purposes, prefer one language to another or why we might decide not to translate.²

      Moreover, the question of whether a given way of using language is confusing may in the final analysis be an empirical question. Whether philosophical problems are resolved by clarifying the meaning of words or sentences may also be an empirical question.

      Hampshire explains that a “question of language” may be a “question of definition” insofar as it may be a question of how the meaning of words or sentences is to be defined. However, he argues that it’s misleading to say that all philosophical questions are questions of language if the term “questions of language” is taken to mean merely “questions of definition.” Philosophical questions may be empirical, as well as definitional questions.

      He concludes that a definitive answer to the question of whether all philosophical questions are questions of language may depend on the particular language in which philosophical questions are expressed, and on whether philosophical questions that arise when one particular language is used also arise when other languages are used. Some philosophical questions may arise with the use of only some, and not all, languages. Whether all philosophical questions are questions of language may therefore be an empirical, as well as analytic question.

FOOTNOTES

¹Stuart Hampshire, “Are All Philosophical Questions Questions of Language?”, reprinted in The Linguistic Turn: Recent Essays in Philosophical Method, edited by Richard Rorty (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1967), p. 287.

²Ibid., p. 289.

The Projective Character of Being

In the 2015 NBA draft, when Kristaps Porzingis was selected by the NY Knicks as the fourth overall pick in the first round, he was widely regarded as a “project,” a player whose skills would have to be developed over the course of a few seasons before he would be ready to play at an NBA level (a NY Times headline said, “2015 NBA Draft: Kristaps Porzingis is a Big Project for the Rebuilding Knicks.”¹). However, in his first season, Porzingis proved his doubters wrong by showing remarkable skills as a shooter, rebounder, and defender, averaging 14 points, 7 rebounds, 1.9 blocks, and 28 minutes per game and becoming one of the Knicks’ most exciting and beloved players.

     In what sense then is it possible for all of us to rightfully say of ourselves that we are “projects”? If we see ourselves as individuals whose social, professional, or technical skills need to be further developed and refined, as people whose lives are incomplete and unfinished, as human beings whose possibilities and potentialities remain only partially actualized or fulfilled, then we may rightfully describe ourselves as “projects.”

      We may also describe ourselves as projects insofar as we project ourselves into the future and imagine ourselves to be what we have the potential to be and what we might possibly become. Our projectedness may be defined by the extent to which we direct ourselves toward the future and think of the future in our thinking about ourselves. Our projectedness may also be defined by the extent to which we think in terms of what we may, could, or should become.

      We may also be projects insofar as we are unschooled, unrefined and unpolished in our skills and abilities, and insofar as we are undisciplined and unreliable in our behavior. We may also be projects insofar as we are “not ready for prime time” and are unprepared for the challenges that await us.

      We may also see ourselves, or be seen by others, as projects if we have obvious flaws or deficiencies that need to be corrected. We may be seen as projects if we are inattentive to our tasks and undisciplined in fulfilling our duties. We may be seen as projects if we are easily distractible or capable of lapses of judgment, if we are perceived as untrustworthy and undependable, and if we are seen as lacking in steadfastness and commitment.

      We may also be seen as long-term or continuing projects if considerable time and effort will need to be invested in us in order for us to fulfill our duties as fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, teachers, students, friends, colleagues, supervisors, employees, etc., and in order for us to fulfill whatever other duties we may be called upon to acknowledge and comply with. At some point, we may have to decide whether our own investment of time and effort in a given person or project is worthwhile, and whether a given project that seems not to be making progress will ever fulfill its potentialities. If a project ultimately seems to be promising and to be a worthwhile investment, then we may simply have to await its further maturation and development. We may have to be patient, and renew our investment of time and effort, and wait for a successful outcome.

      Martin Heidegger, in Sein und Zeit (Being and Time, 1927), describes the projective character of being-there (Da-sein) by saying:

 “The projective character of understanding constitutes being-in-the-world with regard to the disclosedness of its there as the there of a potentiality of being…And as thrown, Da-sein is thrown into the mode of being of projecting. Projecting has nothing to do with being related to a plan thought out, according to which Da-sein arranges its being, but, as Da-sein, it has already projected itself and is, as long as it is, projecting. As long as it is, Da-sein always has understood itself and will understand itself in terms of its possibilities.”²

Thus, Heidegger says that our being is inseparable from our projecting of ourselves into the future. Our being is disclosed to us as thrown possibility. The “there” of being-there is the “thrownness” of its being, because being-there discovers that it is always being-in-the-world.

      José Ortega y Gasset, in a series of articles entitled “¿Qué es conocimiento?" ("What is Knowledge?", 1931), based on lectures he delivered in 1929-30 at the University of Madrid, describes the projective character of being by saying:

“When I say that “I am a project,” I am referring to the fact that my mind sometimes deliberately sets about to think of the future and to construct, at pleasure, a program to live by. I am not a program I have thought about; if at all, I am the one who is thinking of his future…Thus, I would likewise say that I encounter myself being the project I am before I wonder which project I am. What is more: none of us has ever succeeded in thinking through the project each one of us is. That is why at Delphi the commandment, “Know thyself!” was inscribed as a utopian imperative and, so to speak, as a summit hardly reachable [by us].”³

Thus, Ortega y Gasset says that our becoming our future selves discloses to us the project that our present selves are. We anticipate ourselves constantly in the present, and we project ourselves into the future through our present actions.

FOOTNOTES

¹Scott Cacciola, “2015 N.B.A. Draft: Kristaps Porzingis Is a Big Project for the Rebulidng Knicks,” in The New York Times, June 25, 2015.

²Martin Heidegger, Being and Time: A Translation of Sein und Zeit, translated by Joan Stambaugh (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996), p. 136.

³José Ortega y Gasset, What Is Knowledge?, translated and edited by Jorge García-Gómez (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002), p. 132.