1 Daimon Appearances in Arendt’s Account of Disclosive Action by Trevor Tchir – University of Alberta [I]t is more than likely that the “who,” which appears so clearly and unmistakably to others, remains hidden from the person himself, like the daimon in Greek religion which accompanies each man throughout his life, always looking over his shoulder from behind and thus visible only to those he encounters.1 –Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition Hannah Arendt argues that political action discloses who the actor is, as it discloses the world. Following Arendt’s notion of natality, action consists of deeds and speech that disclose new or unexpected aspects of the world in ways that break normalizing social processes. It can also manifest a new space for further action. It is widely acknowledged that Arendt’s notion of action is a re-working of Aristotle’s notion of praxis. As such, action may take the form of public debate about the ends and meaning of the political community, a re-articulation or augmentation of the constitution, understood as a shared political way of life. According to Arendt, the meaning of an actor’s disclosive speech or deed is retrospectively judged, through interpretive argument, in a discursive community of spectators. She further holds that action is only meaningful through the disclosure of who the actor uniquely is, a form of revealing that she posits as the basis of human dignity, and suggests that disclosive action’s existential achievement is a form of redemptive reconciliation to one’s existence.2 In the following, I propose two theses. I want to argue first that Arendt’s notion of disclosure helps us to rethink the individuated actor, not as a sovereign and self- transparent subject whose action expresses an authentic individual essence or constative what of the self, but rather as a decentered and ecstatic who whose action, in plurality with others, reveals meaningful dimensions of the world and of the agent’s unique situation in history, through the performance of acts and speech before public spectators. The idea that no actor can stand in a position of control with respect to his life story, that no one can make his story, extends to a critical displacement of the notion of freedom understood as sovereignty. This line of argument leads us to explore Arendt’s creative appropriation of the thought of Martin Heidegger. My second argument is that by tracing the appearances of the daimon figure in Arendt’s published work, lecture notes, and in the work of her most important theoretical influences, we may come to a new reading of Arendt’s notion of the who disclosed in action. The ancient Greek daimon is a figure that emerges in Arendt’s own texts and lectures, but also in Plato’s Socratic dialogues and the myth of Er, as well as with thinkers with which Arendt engaged in developing her account of action and judgment – particularly Heidegger’s notion of Dasein’s disclosure of Being, Jaspers’ valid personality, and Kant’s notion of genius. Understanding the who in light of the daimon figure problematizes the distinction usually read in Arendt between the political space of appearance as a secular realm and another, spiritual or metaphysical realm, inconsequential to politics. Arendt has been read as offering a post-metaphysical reading of the engendering of meaning in the public realm, a phenomenal account of political action removed from questions of the actor’s relationship to a transcendent realm. It is my contention that the daimon figure at the basis of Arendt’s account of the who 2 illuminates an underdeveloped possibility for Arendt’s account of action: that action reveals a divine element in actors in that it engages the actor as a decentered discloser of transcendent meanings of Being and of the duality of thinking. The daimon also implies that action publicizes the who as a valid personality, while preserving alterity within and outside of the actor. Alterity within the actor is marked by the two-in-one of conscience, which can be read as the internal, anticipatory representation of the plurality of spectators who will judge the act. Actual spectators are the second order of alterity. This reading occludes some of Arendt’s most famous theoretical distinctions. It problematizes the distinction between the aesthetic and the moral - what the actor makes appear and what the actor intends, prior to action. However, Arendt occludes these distinctions herself. References to the daimon, read along with the Socratic dialogues, show that moral deliberation, the internal conversation of the two-in-one of thought, is more closely bound up with public disclosure of the who than Arendt suggests in published texts prior to The Life of the Mind. Arendt also occludes these distinctions in her account of reflective judgment, inspired by Kant. Here, we see that the figures of the actor and spectator may reside in the same individual, both in the notion that to publicly render one’s judgment as a response to an event consists of a form of action, and in the notion that the actor must tame his or her daimon, or inspiring spirit, in order to be made intelligible to his anticipated spectators. The anticipated spectator is immanent to the deliberation of the two-in-one of thinking, prior to action. I. Action’s Decentered Disclosure of the Who There is a curious contradiction in action’s disclosure of the who, between the actor’s self-stylized performance that self-consciously attempts to present one’s virtuosity to the public, and the ultimate impossibility for the actor to control who he or she discloses in the performance. On one hand, the disclosure of the who is achieved through the public presentation of a defined and coherent personality. The actor stylizes him or herself for public display, and changes him or herself and his or her surroundings as he or she acts or speaks. Dana Villa suggests that the self prior to action, understood biologically and psychologically, is fragmented and dispersed, lacking objectivity or worldly unity and reality.3 It is marked by a multiplicity of conflicting drives, needs, feelings, wills, and not-wills. Arendt holds that even action’s motives are hidden from the actor’s own introspection. The fragmented self is also the thinking self, caught up in an internal conversation with itself, the two-in-one. Public appearance and discourse with others calls the divided self out from its divided interiority, where it may speak and act as one recognizable voice. This recognized shape is the achievement of a distinct style of action or virtuosity. For Arendt, it is the stylized actor, the public persona or valid personality that appears before others in public, that constitutes the reality of the actor. But Arendt also holds that the disclosure of the who is implicit in everything the actor says and does, including features that cannot be willfully concealed from the view of spectators. While the who may appear clearly to spectators, the actor him or herself never knows exactly whom he or she discloses, despite his or her best attempts at the stylization of a public personality.4 Even for those who encounter the actor, either as engaged with him or her as a co-actor or as an observing spectator, it is impossible to 3 fully conceptually reify, without remainder, the way in which the who appears “in the flux of action and speech.”5 So, who is disclosed, exactly? Arendt argues that most attempts to identify the who lead to a description of what he or she is, a description of universals shared with others, categories of social function or general standards of human behavior, which conceal the who’s uniqueness. Within the category of the what, Arendt includes the actor’s talents or shortcomings, the person’s function in the totality of social production, their biological traits, objects that represent their life’s work, and even their moral intentions.6 Arendt’s relegation of moral intention to the category of the what and its exclusion from action’s disclosure of the who lead some readers to see Arendt’s notion of the who as vacuous and meaningless. I propose that Arendt’s reference to the daimon re- introduces moral deliberation to the phenomenon of action and its disclosure of the who. This is especially so if we understand the daimon figure in the context of the Socratic dialogues, an important source for Arendt’s writing on the two-in-one of deliberative thinking, and in the context of Arendt’s theory of judgment, inspired by Kant’s aesthetics.7 Arendt presses the distinction between the existential who and the categorical what to further distinguish properly political affairs as those which deal with a plurality of whos whom political actors and spectators can never ultimately dispose of, as stable entities, according to a principle of reason or will.8 Given the plurality of unique whos, the logic of techne, which depends on stable and namable entities, is inadequate for fully reckoning with the complexity and dignity of human affairs. The impossibility to identify a human essence in the who is due in part to the historicized conditionality of human co-existence.9 The identification of the who of action thus entails an identification of decentering conditions that situate action as a response to events in the world. It is inseparable from the disclosure of meaning within the shared world. Great deeds and speech disclose the significance of a historical time and the everyday relationships of that time. Action is world disclosive, and has a revelatory capacity to become historical, since it takes place between discursive subjects who overlay the world of durable things and make it a place of appearance and meaning.10 Heidegger and Arendt both seek out historical-existential structures of disclosive activity. But while Heidegger denies the essential unity of a self-transparent self prior to its various determinations, he still admits that ontologically, there is a who that maintains itself as identical through changes in experiences and behavior.11 But who is this? Much of the existential analytic of Being and Time attempts to answer this question. Heidegger concludes that the question of who Dasein is can only be answered by demonstrating phenomenally the ontological origin of the unreified Being of Dasein.12 Heidegger presents Dasein not as a punctual, self-transparent subject of will, but as a “clearing,” an open structure of free play, through which entities stand out as mattering in some determinate way, provided the context unconcealed by Dasein’s taking a resolute stand. This account of human existence, fundamental to Arendt’s own thought, suggests why in tracing Arendt’s notion of the who, it often appears as vacuous, if one is looking for a substantial, self-willing subject, rather than a conduit for the emergence of various forms of Being. To Heidegger, freedom entails a “letting-be”13 at odds with the notion of freedom as the assertion of will or the humanizing of nature through conceptual or material labor. 4 Similarly, Arendt defines action as free insofar as it is neither under the dictates of intellect nor will, but free from motive and its intended effect. This is not to say that freedom and the performative disclosure of the who has nothing to do with the faculty of willing. To the contrary, Arendt writes in The Life of the Mind that action is the redemption of the inner war between the will and its counter will, between velle and nolle.14 As Jacques Taminiaux interprets, the will is “the mental organ of the freedom of spontaneous beginning.”15 Action that discloses the who is spontaneously propelled by the will, but free action must not be conceived by a particular determination of this will, be it moral or logical, for then the will would not be spontaneous. Freedom is here not a question of a subjective disposition of the will, or the successful objective actualization of this will, but is rather grounded in a particular existential disposition within a shared world marked by contingency. Arendt is committed, like Heidegger, to a repudiation of standards provided by reason, nature, the cosmic order, or discursive rationality, which would determine action or ground the will. In Heidegger’s sense, the German word for “open,” frei, reveals its etymological significance as the root of “freedom,” Freiheit. The open, as the free, salvages Being.16 Understanding freedom as an existential, open comportment to Being, rather than as a disposition of a grounded subjective will, posits a who, rather than a what, as the disclosed actor. Heidegger describes Dasein as an entity whose exhibited characteristics are not properties present-at-hand, categories by which the what of Dasein can be understood. Rather, Dasein is an entity whose characteristics are existentialia.17 Dasein exists only in the performance of acts and the projection of possibilities in a world of reference relations into which Dasein is thrown. Dasein’s thrownness means that Dasein finds itself already in a world it does not control, with a finite range of possibilities received historically and culturally. This thrownness is what makes Dasein uncanny or unhomely, never quite at home in the world into which Dasein is thrown. Dasein first encounters beings within a totality of involvements, where each entity is pre-reflectively met as equipment ready-to-hand for whatever project Dasein is concerned with.18 Entities are projected upon a whole of significance or reference relations: the shared world. Discourse, in what Heidegger calls its primordial purpose, is the articulation of the intelligibility of the “there” in which Dasein is disclosed along with the meaning of entities that speech picks out from the totality of reference relations.19 When an assertion gives a definite character to something present-at-hand, it says something about it as a what. In appropriating what is understood, interpretation no longer reaches into a totality of involvements.20 This parallels Arendt’s idea that when an actor is referred to through categories pertaining to a what, the possibilities of myriad disclosures of reference relations is cut short. Authentic Dasein and Arendtian Plurality Arendt’s notion of plurality is an important alteration of the Heideggerian notion of Mitsein (with-being), the idea that Dasein always exists among others. This difference is fundamental to how Heidegger and Arendt differ in their answers as to how the who is disclosed. According to Heidegger, for the most part Dasein lives in an inauthentic way in relation to others. Heidegger refers to others as the anonymous, public das Man (the They).21 The They maintains itself in an average verdict of what it regards as valid, 5 successful, permitted, or of interest. This tends to level what is unique and exceptional, and to gloss over the original meanings of linguistically transmitted cultural sources by treating them as long well known, common sense. It distributes an average understanding and state-of-mind with regard to beings and events.22 The average ways things are interpreted provide self-assurance, covering over the essential groundlessness of interpretations. Like Arendt’s image of “rule by nobody” in the bureaucratized world that is a symptom of her “rise of the social,” Heidegger’s image of the They implies an agency of which one can say: “It was no one.”23 Fallenness refers to Dasein’s tendency to become lost in fascination with the public interpretation of the world, of the They that bears an average intelligibility and appears falsely as a complete disclosure of Being. Dasein forgets that there can be other elements of Being that can be disclosed, that the public disclosure of meaning rests in concealing other possible interpretations and possibilities of Being. Heidegger presents the possibility of another, more authentic kind of comportment. Dasein’s own Being is the sole authentic for-the-sake-of-which.24 Heidegger’s description of the authentic Dasein in Being and Time picks up from his earlier reading of Aristotle at Marburg. Heidegger interpreted Aristotelian phronesis as an activity concerned not with the achievement of particular ends, but rather with Dasein’s self-contained comportment as the arche and for-the-sake-of-which. In his image of authentic Being-toward-Self, Dasein’s authentic attitude is not geared toward a variety of posited ends, but rather from Dasein’s care for itself.25 Villa rightly suggests that Heidegger’s disclosure of the “there” in Dasein’s projection of possibilities prefigures Arendt’s account of political freedom, in that it transcends questions of utility and of ultimate success in the attainment of ends.26 To find itself out of the They, Dasein must first have its potential for an authentic Being-one’s-self attested to through the voice of conscience, revealed as a call to taking- action and to its own potentiality-for-Being-its-Self, which Heidegger calls resoluteness.27 The call of conscience instructs nothing and never suggests content for action, never tells Dasein anything useful about the assured possibilities of taking action that are calculable. The resolution is the disclosive projection of what is possible at the time. It is the fact that the call of conscience comes from Dasein itself that its unequivocal character becomes free. However, this call to Dasein, by Dasein, comes not in a self-willed, voluntary form. The contradiction at work here brings us to the heart of the who. Arendt accentuates these ecstatic elements of action’s disclosure of the who in her references to the daimon, which, in the Socratic dialogues, is a voice of conscience, a call, one which arises in specific worldly situations but which instructs no content for action, and comes in an uncanny way, both from within and from outside the actor. There always remains a projected potentiality for Being that is still outstanding. Dasein never reaches wholeness until death.28 This remainder partly explains how a complete image of the what of the self cuts off or conceals further possibilities of Dasein, in its reification. It is also a reason why Dasein itself, as a constant not-yet, can never get a full grasp on its own who.29 Dasein’s projection of possibilities in the face of its own oncoming death is, for Heidegger, the source of Dasein’s individuation, its principium individuationis. This influences Arendt’s argument that the who of the actor can only adequately be narratively rendered by spectators once the life of the actor has ended. Until then, there still remain possibilities, situations in which to act. Here Arendt 6 engages the Aristotelian idea that man is only eudaimon at the end of a complete life.30 Similarly, according to Arendt, self-disclosure can only become fully manifest at the end of a complete life, when the spectator’s judgment and consequent narrative is rendered. Arendt, however, reverses Dasein’s primacy of Being-toward-death, in favor of the notion of natality, or action as a redemptive response to one’s birth.31 Arendt proposes that the actor individuates him or herself by responding to the fact of his or her birth, by responding to his or her first beginning with further beginnings, much like the Roman concept of augere. The notion of the authentic resoluteness of Dasein as a groundless projection of possibilities re-emerges in Arendt’s notion of public courage and performative disclosure that contains its own arche and telos. This performance is delivered into an intersubjective web of relationships, one that recasts Heidegger’s notions of thrownness and guilt. There is a crucial difference, however, between Heidegger and Arendt regarding the possibilities of individuation in relation to others. Heidegger maintains that the publicness of the They is something into which Dasein falls, and that authentic existence can only occur by transcending this realm. Conversely, it is precisely in the realm of the public, the intersubjective realm of appearance and doxa, where Arendt proposes that freedom and individuation may occur, despite the risk of the appearance of unreflective doxa. Arendt admits that guilt, contingency, and thrownness are part of public performance, that this is part of why it takes courage to appear in public, where our acts become part of the web of relations that we cannot control, and our image becomes determined by the opinion of spectators. The actor stands in a non-sovereign position in relation to his or her disclosure. This, however, does not mean that we fall away from an authentic realm of disclosure, or attunement to Being. Rather, it is only in public, among others, that we individuate at all and come to learn about the situation that provides the context of our actions, the world that we disclose, without which there is no who. II. Appearances of the Daimon Arendt argues that most attempts to define who one is usually revert to notions of the superhuman or divine.32 When explaining how the who is disclosed to spectators in action, Arendt herself evokes man’s connection with the divine. If we move beyond Arendt’s published texts and uncover the meaning of the daimon in Greek literature, we see that the daimon is a mediator between the gods and mortals, and a giver of advice in the manner of the Oracles. Arendt notes: “Socrates used the same word as Heraclitus, semainein (‘to show and give signs’), for the manifestation of his daimonion.”33 Julia Kristeva notes that the manifest signs of the Oracles were “condensed, incomplete, and atomized” in a way that gives rise to the “infinite action of interpretation.”34 Like the daimon of ancient Greece, the who is disclosed behind the back of the actor, visible only to spectators, but never fully controlled by the actor. Arendt relates that in Sophocles, Oedipus’ grasp of his own daimon is inevitably distorted, a form of self-blindness that is the “misery of the mortals,” while the chorus, themselves a form of interpretive spectator, asserts that they see and know Oedipus’s daimon as an example.35 According to Waterfield, a translator of Plato’s Republic, this personal deity is likely Pythagorean in origin36 and was understood as “the genius or guardian spirit of your life – which, 7 ultimately, makes you the particular individual you are, with your predilections and life- pattern.”37 The Myth of Er, Aletheia, and the Daimon as Discloser of Being The daimon makes an appearance in one of the central legends of the Occidental tradition, the myth of Er, which Heidegger calls a primordial myth. The myth of Er is told in the final chapter of Plato’s Republic, and relates what becomes of souls between one life of earthly appearance and the next, the relative roles that necessity and choice play in determining man’s destiny. We may read this as an account of the uncanny call of Being coming from both within and outside the actor. According to the myth, souls spend ten times the length of their last human life in the underworld or in the heavens, where they receive punishment or reward for deeds in their last earthly life. After this time, souls return to a meadow where they encounter the three Fates, the daughters of Necessity: Lachesis (who sings of the past), Clotho (who sings of the present), and Atropos (who sings of the future). As the souls prepare to be reborn to another earthly cycle, Lachesis, the Fate of the past, throws lots into the crowd of souls, determining the order in which each then chooses from a collection of sample lives. After the souls finish choosing their deities, they approach Lachesis, who gives “each of them the personal deity they’d selected, to accompany them throughout their lives, as their guardians and to fulfill the choices they had made.”38 With their daimon, they then pass under the spindles of Clotho and Atropos, and under the throne of Lady Necessity, thus fixing their chosen destinies. The souls then travel to the Plain of Oblivion (or Lethe). Here they camp by the River of Neglect (or Carelessness), from which they are all required to drink a certain amount, before being thrown back to Earth, like shooting stars, to be born again. This myth serves to illuminate many dimensions of Arendt’s account of disclosive action. Here, the daimon is described as the soul’s birth attendant, a connection to the Arendtian phenomenon of natality and beginning. Further, it articulates one’s fateful thrownness into a situational context of action, the impossibility to fully control who one discloses. In the story, the order of tokens is assigned from without. But, on the other hand, the souls choose their own accompanying daimon. There is a degree of self- choosing after the order of choice is assigned. One can decide how one will act given their situation. Thus, the myth expresses the essential contradiction between thrownness and freedom at the root of disclosive action. Along with the daimon, the plain of Lethe is another key component of the myth of Er that finds its way to Arendt’s thought, via Heidegger. Aletheia, according to Heidegger, was the central concept for understanding the truth of Being in the pre- Socratic Greek experience. Aletheia signifies an unconcealment, unveiling, or un- forgetting. It is the opposite of lethe, which translates as oblivion, forgetting, or concealment. Heidegger’s recovery of truth as aletheia and his depiction of Dasein’s relation to Being both influence Arendt’s conception of the disclosure of the who as a decentered phenomenon in which the world is also disclosed. Heidegger’s notion of aletheia, recast in Arendt’s notion of disclosure, gives Arendt a framework to consider action in a way that abandons a teleological approach based on a given definition of the what of human nature and its ends, to focus rather on the conditions necessary for the disclosure of meanings of the who and of the world. In the Marburg lectures that Arendt 8 attended in 1924-25, Heidegger depicts aletheia as an event (Ereignis) of disclosure that must be differentiated from the notion of truth as a correspondence between a thought, representation, or predicate, on one hand, and a given state of affairs, on the other. According to Heidegger, whereas the ontologically primordial notion of logos is as an existentiale, a mode by which Dasein reveals a relation to Being, performed within a dialectic between the hidden and the disclosed, logos eventually became identified with the gesture of assertion, so that grammar and subsequent language philosophy sought their foundations in the “logic” of logos, which was based on the ontology of the present- at-hand, where there is no hidden remainder.39 Understanding truth as aletheia means that assertions do not merely represent the world, but rather disclose it at the same time as they disclose the speaker.40 Speech is a way of orienting in the world so that a state of affairs can show up, so that certain relations stand out from the matter or situation that, before the speech, were apprehended in a pre-predicative, unarticulated totality. The first pre-predicative notion of unconcealment means that we are properly disposed to, or can find our way within, the unarticulated, practical totality from which propositions then can make certain aspects of the situation manifest. Those aspects that we pick out and find salient will depend on who we are. In Plato’s Symposium, the priestess Diotima, speaking to Socrates, alludes to the daimon’s mediating role in communication between the divine and humans.41 Socrates communicated with his daimon. This experience, according to Socrates, “does not result from mere earthly causes,” since “fortunes are not a matter of indifference to the gods.”42 Would Arendt agree? Does her reference to the daimon that accompanies humans in action imply that action is in some way a moment of access to the divine? In a course on Plato delivered at Columbia in 1960, Arendt explicitly relates the daimon to Theos, “the divine working principle.”43 We recall that, for Arendt, action is a mode of disclosure of the who in which the daimon of the actor appears to spectators. In his Freiburg lectures, Heidegger explains the daimon in the context of the Greek experience of man’s ecstatic or decentered role in the unconcealment of Being. Man is eudaimon, according to Heidegger, if he is properly attuned to Being. The divine, or daimon, looks out into the ordinary, points, and gives signs to man.44 The daimon makes a claim on man, as the bearer of logos and mythos, as he who is historically destined to help clear the way for Being to appear: “Where the daimonion, the divine which enters into unconcealedness, the uncanny, must be said explicitly, there the saying is legend, a mythos.”45 There are conflicting notions of the daimon to be found in Arendt’s publications and lectures. On one hand, the daimon remains behind the shoulder of the actor. This implies the decentered, non-sovereign nature of self-disclosure and its retrospective, narrative unfolding, in the hands of judging spectators. While in intimate communication with the actor, the daimon of Arendt’s The Human Condition can only be unmistakably perceived by spectators. Read in light of the myth of Er and Heidegger’s account of aletheia, Arendt’s references to the daimon within her account of action portray the who as an ecstatic discloser of Being, of transcendent meaning. We recall that the who of The Human Condition was emptied of moral intention, something Arendt saw as pertaining to the universal categories of the what. On the other hand, in subsequent lectures and in The Life of the Mind, the daimon is mentioned in the same breath as the two-in-one of 9 conscience, though not always equated with it. Read in light of Arendt’s treatment of the Socratic dialogues, Jaspers’ valid personality, and Kant’s theory of judgment, Arendt’s who regains a moral-deliberative force. The Daimon as Moral Conscience If we think of Socrates, he alone was in communication with his daimon, while others had no access to it. Arendt describes Socrates’ two-in-one, later called conscience, as the fellow who awaits Socrates at home, with whom he converses in quiet.46 By Arendt’s reading, Socrates’ daimon is a sign sent by Apollo, the God of the oracles, and makes Socrates examine his own life, a life in service to the God through activity and full awakeness. She writes that Socrates’ “life is a service to the god because he makes others do what his daimonion made him do.”47 Elsewhere in these lectures, Arendt wonders of the daimon: “Is it conscience?”48 In these lectures Arendt concludes that the daimon, as the divine principle for Socrates, is precisely the capacity to think, the two-in- one as a thinking dialogue between me and myself. For Socrates, it is that which helped him think through the aporia, the perplexities, that he encountered in this inner dialogue.49 But in a footnote to “Some Questions of Moral Philosophy,” Arendt writes: “[The daimon] is a voice which comes from without and cannot be answered – very different from conscientia. And this voice never tells me what to do but only prevents me or warns me away from doing.”50 Similarly, in Plato’s numerous references to Socrates’ daimon and in contrast to Xenophon’s accounts, this spirit only advises in the negative form. In Plato’s Apology, Socrates tells the jury at his trial in Athens that on that day, his daimon never once objected to his course of action. Socrates’ fellow appears in the case of unexamined opinions, but it does not give positive prescriptions. If the daimon does have a close relation to conscience, so that conscience is the who that the actor discloses in action – a contestable claim given that elsewhere Arendt subsumes moral intention to the category of the what – it is worth examining what Arendt understands by the two-in-one. In The Life of the Mind, Arendt proposes that thought is marked by duality, a conversation between myself and I, an activity of asking and answering. Conscience’s criterion for action is “whether I shall be able to live with myself in peace when the time has come to think about my deeds and words.”51 In the activity of thought, other individuals, either alive or dead, are represented in the internal dialogue. Thus, the duality of the one’s thinking reflects the essential alterity of the space of appearance. This two-in-one of thought, this original duality, is the internal reflection of the plurality of the external world and “explains the futility of the fashionable search for identity.”52 On the other hand, unity of self only occurs when the outside world intrudes on thought – when the thinker is called back into the world of appearances.53 It is fair to wonder why Arendt refers to the daimon in her account of disclosive action if it is merely prohibitive, merely advising against certain actions. If we understand the daimon as Arendt’s two-in-one of conscience, our answer might be that the daimon’s silence signals its approval of an intended course of action, an indication that one side of the interior duality can “live with” the other side. In the internal dialogue, the deliberation of the two-in-one of thinking prior to action, a prospective spectator is represented. 10 There are admittedly good reasons to question if it makes sense to dwell on Arendt’s references to the divine at all. If we understand the divine as the ultimate sovereign power, then to assert that action accesses or discloses the divine could be interpreted as legitimating acts with the authority of this ultimate power. But this is clearly incompatible with Arendt’s sustained promotion of non-sovereign freedom. If we understand the divine as the ultimate Idea, in Plato’s sense of truth accessible to the few through nous, then disclosure of the divine is restricted to timeless, quiet contemplation or intuition of absolutes. Here, disclosing the divine would imply a full disclosure of Being, or presence, which is impossible for both Heidegger and Arendt. Nous puts an end of the Socratic activity of thinking, which is dialogical, and related to the temporal, tied to the physical person’s situation or engagement in the city. Plato establishes a distinction in man between his body, or physical element, and his soul, that which accesses the divine understood as the Ideas. One inhabits the city of men and engages in politics, while the other engages in philosophy, apart from the city. This division is the basis of sovereignty and tyrannical rule, the notion that only those that can master themselves are fit to rule others. In the Platonic account, self-mastery is thus rooted in the divine element, the soul, ruling the body. Arendt posits this as the fundamental source of the Western tradition’s division of politics and philosophy.54 Contrarily, Socrates teaches how, through thinking and dialogue, humans can disclose the truth inherent in one’s doxa, or how the world appears to us. This thought and argument disclose the political and temporal truths related to men. Being able to communicate between these valid realities discloses the commonness of the world, thus raising them above strict subjectivity.55 The thinker endures the pathos of wonder, and does not dogmatically hold on to an opinion without submitting it to critique.56 Some skepticism over action and thought’s relation to the divine could also be fueled by Arendt’s rejection, most explicit in The Life of the Mind, of a traditional two- world metaphysics that posits a realm of Being and Truth separate from the realm of appearance. According to the two-world view, Being, or the thing-in-itself, provides a higher ground and cause for the mere appearances or imperfect representations that it produces and that are available to human sense, while Being never itself appears.57 In rejecting this type of metaphysics, and by instead positing the unity of Being and appearance, Arendt rejects the notion that what we call the divine merely causes appearances, while she opens up the possibility that action, thought, and judgment disclose it directly. The origin of our thinking activity – that by which we bring out the truth of our various doxai – is impossible to represent to ourselves. Arendt suggests that the notion that our reason, ideas, and thoughts come from another realm, is a semblance inherent to the paradoxical condition of human beings insofar as we are part of a world of appearances but possess a thinking faculty that permits us to withdraw from it.58 This activity accesses thoughts that “of course are never anything like properties that can be predicated of a self or a person.”59 The origin of our thinking activity, that which appears to men as a divine element, is uncanny in the sense of coming from both inside and from outside of the thinker, like Heidegger's call of conscience and Socrates' daimon. Arendt writes: “The experience of the activity of thought is probably the aboriginal source of our notion of spirituality in itself…”60