by Markus Hodec
Review: Alžbeta Kuchtová, The Ungraspable as a Philosophical Problem: The Stubborn Persistence of Humanism in Contemporary Phenomenology (Leiden/Boston, Brill, 2024), viii + 327pp.
[A detailed discussion will be published (in German) in: Jahrbuch der Prager Gruppe No. 4, 2026.]
In her book The Ungraspable as a Philosophical Problem. The Stubborn Persistence of Humanism in Contemporary Phenomenology, Alžbeta Kuchtová leaves the realm of human thought. She has to do so, because her object of research is non-human. Kuchtová analyses and approaches that which cannot be grasped by the human hand, the human eye, the human ear, or even the human mind – the ungraspable. Thus, it is not only humanism and phenomenology that are criticised, as the subtitle suggests. The very foundation of any philosophical principle is called into question: the question of the place of knowledge and its ethics in philosophy.
Kuchtová addresses an epistemological problem that resonates throughout much of posthumanism, namely the paradox of humans being able to think non-human thoughts. The author tackles this challenge by focusing on the ungraspable: ‘The core of the book consists in an analysis of the ungraspability of the inanimate objects that are part of nature and of the environment[.] […] Their otherness cannot be grasped by the hand or by the eye’ (6). And later: ‘The human perspective is limited, however, and it cannot hope to grasp the totality and most precise details of the world’ (9). But, wouldn’t this be a humanistic idea that differs from onto-theologies or theo-ontologies of all kinds? ‘My aim is not to offer a new universal theory of grasping but to propose a possibly useful way of thinking that can be applied in a Western European consumerist society’ (10). Are the results of her research once again being presented as universal truths that go far beyond this possible and useful way of thinking? Is this yet another attempt to transcend human thought in order to derive a universal truth from it?
Kuchtová’s work spans the spectrum between Martin Heidegger, Emmanuel Levinas, and Jacques Derrida. Conceptually, the book can be structured in three steps: grasping, otherness, différance. She also draws repeatedly on the works of Donna Haraway, Karen Barad, Elizabeth Povinelli, Jean Baudrillard, John Baird Callicott, Gayatri Spivak, and others.
In the first chapter, ‘The Hand and the Deconstruction of Phenomenology: Humainism’, Kuchtová describes the starting point of her research. She says: ‘In order to describe the ungraspable, as something that escapes the movement of the hand in principle, one must first describe the process of grasping’ (15). The ungraspable is thus reduced to the lowest common denominator of the original grasp and grasping of the hand. The reference to Heidegger’s ‘Zuhandenheit’ is already clearly indicated when she states, ‘phenomenology must begin with, or be limited to, the human. This is Heidegger’s position’ (16). In the course of this anthropologisation of ‘grasping’, Kuchtová borrows concepts from Jacques Derrida and speaks of ‘humainism’ (which understands the hand, main, as essential to humanism): ‘Derrida connects humainism with anthropocentrism. Humainism is that which begins with the “we” and with the “hand.” The “we” designates the perspective of the proper and of common sense’ (17). The grasping is ours and it is done with our hands.
The second chapter of the book, ‘The Ungraspable in the Work of Emmanuel Levinas’, shifts the focus from Heidegger and his concept of ‘Zuhandenheit’ to Emmanuel Levinas’s focus on otherness. ‘My goal is to develop an interpretation that shows that Levinas’s thinking of otherness does not definitively, in all texts and in all periods, exclude conceiving of the otherness that is other-than-human’ (66). At this point, Kuchtová sets out to develop a way out of humainism, out of the anthropocentrism of phenomenology. She transfers this dehumanisation of phenomenology to the object under investigation and states: ‘the purely ungraspable is not thinkable’ (108). However, by ‘purely’, the author primarily means a divine attribute. It is primarily Levinas’s philosophy that can be helpful in breaking out of the structure of the human. ‘This is the most important element of Emmanuel Levinas’s conception of the world, and we ought to keep it in mind, precisely because it allows us to see that his philosophy offers an escape from humainism’ (117). For, ‘In phenomenality, we find the ungraspable’ (133).
The main academic objective is formulated in the third chapter of the book: ‘In what follows I will reflect on the possible consequences of this interpretation, in particular the claim that the otherness of things is both ungraspable and non-illusory’ (155). This section reveals a clearly discernible shift toward a contemporary style of academic work, which is also confirmed by the fact that parts of the chapter have already been published. Levinas’s position is defined as a starting point against humanism. Kuchtová’s argument is embedded in cross-references to the philosophy of the subject and its critique by Claude Lévi-Strauss, Jacques Lacan, and Michel Foucault. A bridge is built from Levinas to Derrida: ‘He [Levinas] considers the subject a pre-original subject and prior to himself’ (159). Kuchtová wants to reach to Derrida and the introduction of non-phenomenality with regard to the ungraspable: ‘The ungraspable and the graspable are interlaced. Derrida confirms this by saying that the Husserlian phenomenology of the object already contains in itself the possibility of its own non-phenomenality’ (164). This completes the conceptual arc from Levinas to Derrida and perhaps even provides a key to understanding the book. However, this does not entirely lead to abandoning the Levinasian concept of otherness: ‘I understand otherness as ungraspable; if we associate otherness with the ungraspable, a new perspective is opened up from which we might forge a different understanding of the relationship between the Other and the Same in Levinas’s thinking’ (170).
In the fourth chapter, Kuchtová presents an interpretation of Derrida that places the non-human at the centre of the debate, first in the form of the animalistic, then in the form of the inorganic. Central to this line of thought is the premiss of narcissism underlying human thinking. This brings us to the area of the non-human, which we already touched on at the beginning but which is only now becoming clear, with regard to a new formulation of philosophical ethics: ‘I will critique the idea that environmental ethics ought to be based only on the concept of the living’ (178). Kuchtová therefore criticises biocentrism in ethics, at least in environmental ethics. According to the author, the inorganic must also be included in the discourse. The Judeo-Christian world and Greek mythology, with their preference for the human, are highlighted as the cause of the problem. Kuchtová takes Derrida’s extension of Levinas’s ethics to include animals one step further and extend it to include the inorganic. This inorganic element, initially introduced as a negation of the living, soon attains the status of ‘more-than-living’. This is justified by the discursive argument that ‘Death and life are profoundly anthropocentric concepts’ (204). Kuchtová’s aim is to deconstruct the opposition between ‘living’ and ‘more-than-living’, ‘Thus, Derrida wishes to deconstruct the distinction between the living and the more-than-living, but he does so by vitalising the inorganic, the more-than-living, and the object of use’ (208). Biocentrism thus still represents the central obstacle for Derrida as well. ‘In spite of everything, Derrida’s concept of survival remains an organic category that is not open enough to welcome the inorganic’ (216).
In the spirit of abstraction and systematisation, the fifth chapter summarises what has been written so far: ‘the overall aim of this study is to question the hierarchisation of different types of graspable and ungraspable entities’ (238). The chapter takes on particular significance due to the fact that it is no longer just the human that is up for debate in ethical terms, but also in epistemological terms. ‘Focusing on the “non-human” […] comes with the risk of diminishing the importance of deconstructing the human hierarchies that have led to the oppression of women, disabled people, queer and trans people, and other marginalised groups’ (239). Kuchtová struggles to clarify the meaning of the ungraspable in order to derive from its concept the fact that the other is being grasped. This, she argues, ultimately justifies one’s own violence. ‘The possibility of recognising and knowing my own violence is the possibility of ethics. Perhaps this is impossible, but it is necessary to attempt to understand the violence of the movement of grasping, and this chapter represents just such an attempt’ (243f). At the same time, Kuchtová arrives at the actual methodological foundations of her work: ‘By “ungraspable” I mean something that in principle cannot be grasped by concepts’ (259). In this context, Kuchtová also speaks of ‘discontinuity and rupture’ (259). Terms and concepts are introduced that recursively give an idea of the conceptual value of the developments from Heidegger to Levinas and Derrida.
Derrida seeks to deconstruct the conceptual systems from the inside, while revealing as incorrect the tendencies that lead toward the absolute absence of conceptual systems. In his opinion, it is necessary to engage in paleonymy, i.e. to reuse and recontextualise old concepts that once had a stable position in a system, thus giving them a new role. (267)
This is the conceptual core of the book – here we approach the object of desire: the ungraspable. And with it, we also approach an assessment of what Kuchtová wants to say with her book. ‘The intertwining of the ungraspable and the grasped means that the ungraspable is only given in the grasping movement, in the grasped object or by thinking’ (269). Overall, the book becomes much more condensed from page 270 onwards. Starting points and goals, motivations and even ideological pledges of allegiance are specified or clearly formulated. Kuchtová seeks to conceptualise the non-conceptualisable, but not with conceptual rigour and ontological narrowness. ‘My simple claim is that if we see through the limits of the desire to grasp, we will see that everything is intertwined’ (270). And yet, with constantly repeating the universal quantifier, Kuchtová creates precisely the ontological basis from which she wants to escape. It remains unclear why stating ‘everything is intertwined’ would set the différance of deconstruction in motion. On page 272, she writes within a single paragraph: ‘everything’, ‘controlled’, ‘interconnected’, ‘every other’, ‘each and every’, ‘to every’, ‘all other’, ‘includes all except humans’, ‘always’.
The conclusion, ‘The Horizon of Nature’, takes a stance within scientific discourse:
My account can be interpreted as aligning with what is commonly called eco-phenomenology, although it goes beyond eco-phenomenology in examining the relationship between phenomenology and feminist and post-colonial studies and in taking a cross-cultural approach. I therefore do not call myself an eco-phenomenologist, and my aim is to move beyond this perspective. (276)
In fact, the author refers to one aspect of an ethnological interpretation of Inuit culture in several moments, but with one reference only, the aspect of ‘cross-cultural’ remains up in the air. In general, the conclusion brings a great many new sources and references to the debate that had not been discussed before. The conclusion clarifies the fundamental methodological problematic of the study. ‘The ungraspable, as I understand it, can also include the inorganic, waste, mass-produced objects, etc’ (279). ‘The broader aim of this book is to show that ungraspability and ethics concern both the living and the non-living’ (280). There is a summarising clarity at the end of the book, which is shaken by unprepared vehemence in personal reminiscence. ‘Perhaps the reason why I embark on these dangerous expeditions lies in a desire to forget myself. I forget myself in the pain I feel, in the exhaustion and in the fatigue. […] I free myself from this self of mine, from my own existence. We must forget ourselves’ (285f). And so, one may wonder whether the dissociation and abandonment of (self-)consciousness is presented as the ultimate goal when the prophetic sentence is written: ‘I disappear’ (296).
The conclusion also opens up new discourses, such as the question of global conditions of production and consumption by and for the human species on a global scale: ‘From an ecological point of view, we can see that the human population has now reached such numbers that we lack the resources to satisfy our needs’ (296). The generalisation of hopelessness and lack of prospects is instantly followed by an optimistic appeal: ‘This is a problem on the political level: alternative methods of cultivating plants and meat in order to preserve the environment must be invented and implemented’ (296). Kuchtová herself immediately points to the internal and external dynamics that undermine the absoluteness of her own gloomy premiss. However, dealing with the future, both in ethical and epistemological terms, opens up another gap in the discourse. Sometimes the ‘more than today’ is at the centre of the analysis of the present and the possible perspectives for the future, but sometimes it is the ‘more than human’. This difference is significant. Thus, it remains unclear whether Kuchtová’s posthumanism is really posthumanism or perhaps futurism after all.
The aforementioned question of the relationship between epistemology and moral philosophy, a question that is as central as it is often overlooked within posthumanist theory, is addressed by Kuchtová in a footnote to her conclusion:
One may doubt the possibility of leaving behind the paradigm of anthropocentrism, since it is an aporetic task. We can distinguish between the (strong) concept of moral anthropocentrism and the (weak) concept of anthropocentrism, with the first implying a hierarchy of entities of the world and the second expressing the simple fact that we can never escape our human perspective, which leaves room for rejecting the hierarchy and acting ethically. (303)
At this point, interest arises in Kuchtová’s more in-depth analyses, which remain pending and give hope for further texts by the author. However, the last paragraph offers a promising outlook on what may follow. The author refers to the field of discourse on ‘repetition and automatism’ (312) – certainly a worthwhile area for further investigation of the ungraspable. At the end, she also addresses the mass production of objects as relevant to the juxtaposition of singularity and otherness. The author also provides an outlook for her future work when introducing the concepts of ‘repetition’ and ‘something new’: ‘Iterability conditions the production of objects, but it is never absolute; it is a repetition that always adds a new element, the element of the ungraspable’ (313). Reading Kuchtová’s book leaves many questions unanswered. And some of them only arise during the course of reading. Assuming we go along with the presented premisses: Would it not be necessary to reveal human posthumanism in its own violence? A violence that colonises the non-human? A non-human defined by humans? And, shouldn’t we ask ourselves whether we as humans are even capable of doing so, and if so, whether we really want to? Is the proposed inclusion of the inorganic by humans possible without mysticism, without some sort of totemism or animism?
Provocation is a constant companion in Kuchová’s book. However, if provocation is indeed a strategic component of the book, then the question must be asked: who is exposed to this provocation and where is the potential for it to take effect? The audience is faced with a very naive question: Why should the whole of humanity, and with it humanism, be subjected to collective punishment simply because the dominating discourse in market-oriented societies can be accused of destroying nature? One is reminded of Agent Smith’s argument in the film ‘The Matrix’, that humanity as a whole is a virus. Isn’t this generalisation too simplistic? Doesn’t it oversimplify humanity? Can humans ask the same questions about humanity as do computer programmes? Equally intuitively, we can ask: Why is the apocalyptic diagnosis that humanity is (now and only now) facing its abyss followed by the demand for its abolition? This creates an image of defiant defeatism. Perhaps this also reveals the ultimately power-stabilising and easily marketable character of some varieties of posthumanism: a tendency towards constant radicalism, which finds particular expression in debates about identity and uniformity.
Kuchtová’s criticism is directed exclusively at so-called Western culture. Particularly in a discourse such as that encompassed by the concept of purity in ‘Western culture’, an intended intercultural dialogue must focus on phenomena such as ritual ablutions and purification practices in Hinduism (where even contact with a person from a lower caste provokes virulence), as well as ghusl in Islam, menstrual huts in Nepal, or purification rituals in the Shinto religion, or even lineage in totemism. Simply sweeping all these phenomena under the carpet in the name of justified and necessary criticism of the failings of Western European cultural developments leads only to a Pyrrhic victory. The apologists for (supposedly) Western culture targeted by the criticism can easily dismantle the arguments, and the fate of the oppressed in globally non-hegemonic societies and cultures is (once again, out of a Western perspective) relativised or even concealed altogether: ‘The Indigenous logic […] understands the human as intertwined with the non-human, the living with the more-than-living. If the rock is hurt, then I am hurt as well’ (273). Unless countered through transcultural reflection, statements such as this exude the pungent odour of a romanticised, Western and ultimately colonial conception of indigenous life. The ‘noble savage’, the primitive human living in harmony with nature – incidentally, a mythical remnant of Saturnalian salvation myths – is constructed by means of an ‘indigenous logic’ originating in Europe. This is not elegant and highlights the lacking self-reflexivity of contemporary theoretical development.
The same applies with regard to the transcultural perspective on everyday society. ‘Contemporary man no longer works with his body, nor with his hands. The things around us are no longer close and available for understanding’ (53). ‘Who uses a hammer today?” (54), she asks. The answer is simple: anyone who needs or wants to use a hammer – and knows how to use one. ‘We no longer do things with our hands. This is because we do not always try to use or understand things, because we do not always need to, and this opens up the possibility of the absurdity and independence of objects’ (56f). Such statements – in some instances it is unclear whether they come directly from Kuchtová or whether Heidegger is speaking through her – may well have the potential of provocation within the context of cultural criticism of Western civilisation. But one thing they certainly are: class-blind. And this risks obscuring the historical achievements of atheism, egalitarianism, gender rights, animal ethics and the environmental movement.
Alžbeta Kuchtová’s book is a contribution to various contemporary debates and is as controversial as it is valuable. Yet, anyone who does not already consider themselves a staunch adherent of the form of posthumanism presented here will not find a convincing example of successful theoretical development within this particular scientific perspective. On the one hand, the book presents a well-curated collection of relevant sources on the poststructuralist and postmodern discussion of all phenomena that raise fundamental questions regarding the theoretical development of trans- and posthumanist discourses. On the other hand, the boldly posited theses either peter out into dispirited academic detachment or into unfounded verve. And yet her book does not remain mired in mere postmodern smoothness, but takes a definite stance. Therein lies the great strength and, at the same time, the great weakness of Kuchtová’s book on the ungraspable.
Dr. Markus E. Hodec is a Senior Fellow at the IPPK. He studied philosophy, ethics, political science and sociology at the University of Vienna, the University of Innsbruck, the Faculty of Humanities at Charles University in Prague and the Argentine Academy of Sciences in Buenos Aires. His work focuses primarily on 19th- and 20th-century philosophy, as well as ancient philosophy. His most recent publications include his doctoral thesis ‘Das Neue. Prolegomena zur Känologie’ (Würzburg), his novel ‘Alex’ (Nordhausen), and ‘Das ganze Begehren das Ganze zu begehren. Eine philosophische Bestandsaufnahme zum Mythos von ursprünglich-vollständiger Einheit’ (Berlin). He works at the Medical University of Vienna and is a board member of the IPPK (Institute for Philosophy, Psychoanalysis and Cultural Studies e. V. Berlin). He is currently undergoing training to become a psychoanalyst in Vienna.
