How do I know I walk through the Westpark when I walk through the Westpark? How do I know where I am? First of all from the positions and relationships of trees, banks, statues that are identical to the positions and relationships that make up the concept of “Westpark” that I have. But what happens if one day the layout of the park changes completely, becoming full of olive trees and statues representing African deities? Then I know I’m in another park, instead of the old one. If the park completely disappears and a pit appears in its place, I know, nevertheless, that I am in Munich. But how about after an atomic explosion, which would turn the whole Earth into a desert and throw me hundreds of miles away? Can I still know if the sandy place where I arrived is the former Munich or the former Tokyo? In this case places can no longer be distinguished, but I still know that they are on planet Earth. But what if the Earth gets scattered in the cosmos and I remain floating in a vacuum? I can in principle still determine in which region of the galaxy or in which galaxy I find myself starting from the position of the stars. This regression shows one simple thing: I always locate myself through external objects. But what if the whole cosmos were to disappear and I were the only remaining entity? The logic that I have followed so far – of externally orienting myself – is broken, because I have no external object to deduce my location from. How can we deduce our place, alone, in the darkness of the empty space? Can we still ask about “where” we are if there is no “where” anymore? When all external “wheres” disappear, another “where” becomes available, namely, that of one’s own body. I can therefore use my own body to know where I am.
Kant shows, in a small writing about the directions in space, that by its very existence, the human body transforms space. The empty space does not in itself give directions, in it there is no up-down, right-left, forward or backwards. But the intersection of our body with the three spatial dimensions “produces” (erzeugt) another spatiality, a directional field: “The primary condition, on which we form the concept of directions in space derives from the relation of the planes of space intersected with our body” (Kant). I can see a given space “as” being to my right or my left and then I can form a primary location. It can be said, however, that in this case I used an external object, my body, that I used my two hands to determine the left-right directions. But, Kant points out, the distinction of directions cannot be deduced from the distinction between the two hands. From a physical point of view, the constitutive distances and relations of the two hands are almost identical. They do not differ as material objects, but as spatial objects; their difference in direction cannot be deduced from the difference in their composition, because they are often almost identical. The basis of their spatial distinction is an “internal” one, Kant says. That is why the left and the right hand are two incongruous opponents: although they are materially identical, they cannot be brought to occupy the same place by any continuous transformation in space. They represent two irreducible orders of space. Therefore, the left and right directions cannot be deduced from the existence of both hands, because their development already implies spatial asymmetry. The same goes for beans, says Kant. No matter where a bean grows, it always does so from right to left, so it has its direction, and accordingly its asymmetry, planted in its seed.
In the case of the human body, it is possible to go back to the origins of this asymmetry: to the “distinct feelings of the right and left sides”. The neutral space around the body is structured by feelings. The right side, Kant says, structures the space via a sense of power and ability. That’s why we jump over the pits with the right foot forward or strike first with the right fist. The left structures the space sensitively, the left eye and ear being usually more sensitive. The wedding ring is worn on the left because it represents a union between the sensitive spatialities of two individuals.
Kant doesn’t talk about up-down or forwards-backwards, so I won’t discuss them here at large, but I believe that if a someone left alone in the cosmos would want to pray to God, they would look up, and if they would think of their sins, they would look down. Although “up” and “down” seem to make no sense in such a situation, they still express strong feelings through which the surrounding space is structured. The top of the mind of the person who thinks the divine also imbues space with a form of “up”.
Right-left, up-down, back-and-forth come from internal distinctions, but they are also something outside, something exterior. This is a sign that the space around us has an ambivalent structure. It is neither internal nor external, neither objective nor subjective, but both in one place. This is why it is said that the problem of distinguishing between hands that cannot occupy the same space was the starting point of Kant’s transcendental philosophy.
What do all these things tell us? That the mere existence of the body structures the space around it through feelings and transforms it into a directional field. The human body produces a spatiality that overlaps with the physical space, it is in a spatial “where” from which it projects a directional “where” (the directions are not seen). We have thus obtained two concepts of “where”, one external spatially and one internal spatially, but also the combination of the two that leads to the non-spatial spatiality around the human body. Now the title question can be better asked. It seems at first glance to be non-sense because it asks: “where(from)” do you know “where” you are, it asks for an explanation of a “where” by means of the same “where”, as if you were asking “from which city is this city? But bearing in mind the two concepts of “where” we can see that the question makes sense and actually becomes an answer if the first “where” is taken internally and the second externally: based on one “where” (internally-directional) you know “where” (externally-positional) you are.
We can see now that the primary activity of localization is produced by the subject. Even alone in the cosmos, I would be able to know, that I am at the center of a system of directions that I introduce into the empty space, which is no longer empty, but acquires a formal order and becomes a “here”. This space that I call “here” makes possible the concept of a space that is “there”. With the difference between here and there a break in the homogeneity and symmetry of empty space appears. I can even try to reduce “there” to “here” by imagining a line that crosses all the infinite space, different from me, adding a structure to it.
We can therefore conclude the following: the mere presence of humans introduces three elements into the cosmos. 1. The Unseen: The directions are not seen, they are not a fixed external “where” (we do not see the right side as we would see an apartment block). Any discussion of the involvement of the spirit into the world or of the meaning of life should begin with the analysis of the concept of direction. 2. Order: the directions structure the space into a “here” and a “there” and thus make possible a determinable number of distinct movements (I can move and the rest of the space may be at rest or vice versa). 3. Infinity: empty space is by itself neither finite nor infinite, but I as a subject introduce infinity by projecting in my mind a line that crosses it endlessly. The fact that I can think of this infinite line shows that my space, the “here” already has infinity in it. Here is how a person, without doing anything, spreads or extends being, that is, unseen, order, infinity, around him. The sign of this entry of being into the world is always the asymmetry – as can be seen especially in the generation of moral space, which I will not discuss here.
What is the conclusion? What do I know now, after the Cosmos reappears and I see myself again in the Westpark? I know that I self-locate, produce my space and “where” internally and only then locate myself through external objects. First I structure the space through the top-down, left-right, forward-backward and only then can I move and deduce from the make-up of the park where exactly I find myself to be. But this leads me to an ontological judgment: I am only if I find myself. “Being” is projected in the cosmos from a place of high density and tension that functions in another ontological regime. Heidegger did not accidentally call this regime Befindlichkeit, from sich befinden, to find oneself. Finding oneself in a place is not the same as being there. In the question “wherefrom can you know where you are?” the first “where” belongs to the region of finding oneself and the second to the region of being.
This text was originally published in Romanian on Romania Literara.