The journal continues to publish translations of individual chapters of the book by the famous phenomenologist Michael Marder “The Philosopher’s Plant. An Inteellectual Herbarium”. Of the twelve stories, the fourth, “Augustine’s Pears”, and sixth “Maimonides Palm Tree” are selected. In the chapter “Augustine’s Pears” the first avowal in the Confessions of St. Augustine concerns the episode with the theft of pears, which he committed in the company of teenage friends. Today, most of us will perceive this theft as a relatively (...) innocent teenage prank. However, for Augustine, this act is symbolic, since, according to him, he did not crave pears, but forbidden fruit and the thrill of breaking the law. Whether these events actually took place is irrelevant. To demand to separate the real from the imaginary is to ignore the main message of Augustine and his method. The world for him is a matter of interpretation, an intermediate step towards the God. Everything empirically real pales in comparison with the “fictions” of faith, hope and love that pave the road to heaven. The separation of plant processes from plants themselves, life from continuous growth, and physiological activity from the mortal organism prevents their vitality. The fruit that does not rot in the guise of a good deed, and the memory that is eternally stored in God are theological and metaphysical fantasies that destroy the essence of the metaphor that carries them in itself. If the characteristic philosophical gestures of Augustine are spiritualization, interiorization and the use of allegories, then his ethics, although seeking legitimization in the discourse of natural law, is based on the obvious deprivation of life of its natural properties. By suppressing the plant within himself, Augustine excludes real plants from the sphere of moral significance. Although the fruits of the earth allegorically represent works of mercy, a merciful approach to plants is considered inappropriate. It is not surprising that Augustine shows almost no interest in the plants themselves, treating them as translucent screens through which the divine order shines through. If we want Augustine’s philosophy to remain relevant today, it is necessary to extract the ethical core from the shell of its theological denial of the world. Now that the transcendent absolute is no longer immune from questions, the certainty that the world exists for the sake of something external inevitably collapses. In the process of mourning the loss of the absolutes, one should remember the meaning of Augustine’s modified motto: Mundo frui! Enjoy the world! The chapter “Maimonides’ Palm Tree” is dedicated to Rabbi Moses Ben Maimon –Maimonides – presented a unified worldview based on the theories of his predecessors, and systematized religious laws in a code of fourteen volumes – “Repetition of the Torah”. Maimonides pays attention to everyday details, for example, what is allowed and what is forbidden to those who observe Sabbath; describes in detail the rules governing the sale, gifts and the right to use property. He demands that the stump with two shoots be left untouched from the olive tree. But palm trees can be uprooted because they do not give shoots – that is, these trees can be subjected to unlimited violence. The author calls the palm arbor sacra, thus referring to the concept of homo sacer introduced by J. Agamben. The statement of Maimonides – “man has an erroneous idea of himself and believes that the whole world exists only for his sake” – could well serve as a unifying slogan in today’s struggle against the domination of man over nature. “The Guide for the Perplexed”, the main philosophical work of Maimonides, contains clear and strict information about plants. Maimonides prefers to combine plants with inorganic substances rather than grouping plants together with animals. His “The Book of Cleanness” praises the cleansing properties of the soil, or, more precisely, the attachment of the plant to the soil. Regardless of the contamination of the seeds, their sprouts are purified as soon as they take root, reviving their original connection with the divine origin of existence. But the growth of plants threatens the very integrity of the Law. In order to control the excess of plant raw materials, Maimonides defends the purity of species. Plants are trivial and therefore unworthy of divine interest. A chain reaction occurs: plants are neglected, left to themselves, and subsequently they become more and more mysterious. Their freedom is still more radical than that inherent in the free will of man. (shrink)

The journal continues to publish translations of chapters of the book by the famous phenomenologist Michael Marder “The Philosopher’s Plants (An Intellectual Herbarium)”. Two of the twelve stories were chosen — “Aristotle's Wheat” and “Avicenna's Celery”. The author analyzes the views of the ancient philosopher Aristotle and the medieval Persian philosopher and physician Ibn Sina (Avicenna) on the nature of plants and their place in the diverse world of living beings, showing how the images of wheat and celery become an (...) important part of their philosophical reflections. Marder emphasizes that the ancient scientists were alien to modern systems of biological classification. Each creation occupied its own niche and existed for a specific purpose. However, the contours of these teleologies were not at all what we imagine them to be. For example, for Aristotle, a noble man, a noble animal and a noble plant had more in common than two representatives of the same biological kingdom. In addition, the boundaries between them were quite shaky. A stupid person, unable to follow the strict principles of logic, was literally like a plant. Avicenna discovers in plants the “vegetable soul”, above which he puts the “animal soul”. He finds both of these levels in a person. Awareness of this totality is necessary, according to Avicenna, for genuine self-knowledge and, consequently, for the knowledge of God. The author of the book attempts to answer the question: what if the mixture of similar beings passing into and out of each other, characteristic of the ancient and medieval world, is not a fantastic fiction, but an insightful description of our transgenic present and future? (shrink)

The journal continues to publish translations of individual chapters of the book by the famous phenomenologist Michael Marder "Plants of Philosophers (Intellectual Herbarium)". Out of twelve stories, "Irigaray’s Water Lily" was chosen. The author analyzes the views of a modern French philosopher Luce Irigaray, whose numerous books contain a feminist revision of traditional philosophy and its language. Today, having thrown off the straitjacket of metaphysical reasoning, living thought turns to physicality, marked by finiteness and sexual differences, as well as to (...) the surrounding world, to the rhythms of the earth and the richness of non-Western philosophical traditions. Luce Irigaray's creativity is rooted in all those dimensions of experience that she was able to restore at the sunset of metaphysics. In the work of Irigaray, the vegetable occupies a special place and stimulates the development of her thoughts. Plants provide her with a model of thinking, living and cultivating subjectivity. Cultivation in this case does not mean the formation of the physis in accordance with the predetermined parameters of the mind or the forcible eradication of what grows by itself. On the contrary, cultivating nature, for example, means that we put ourselves at her service, protecting, participating and encouraging myriad plants. Irigaray calls us to listen to the muted vegetative rhythms of our life and thinking, whose growth has been stopped by the prejudices of metaphysics and the arrhythmia of modern existence. Everything that Western philosophers from Aristotle to Hegel rejected and devalued in relation to plants, in her works is lovingly extracted, overestimated and cultivated. (shrink)

The seventh chapter is dedicated to Gottfried Leibniz. In a letter to the English philosopher Samuel Clark, Leibniz recalls the episode in the park in connection with his famous principle of the identity of the indistinguishable, or simply "Leibniz's law". The futile search for two exactly identical leaves or blades of grass highlights a metaphysical principle that extends to the smallest elements of nature. If there are not two exactly the same, then they all bear the stamp of uniqueness and (...) individuality, ultimately going back to the wisdom of the Creator. The ethical implications of this ontological axiom are obvious: to destroy a leaf, let alone a whole plant, means to get rid of something that will never appear again in exactly the same form. If there are many species of plants and if each species includes a myriad of subspecies, it is because they all must exist to actualize the infinite possibilities of Divine self-expression. The loss of biological diversity diminishes the richness of manifestations that God finds in the world. From the real park, the philosopher leads us into an allegorical garden depicting his understanding of matter. In paragraph 67 of Monadology, he urges us to imagine every part of matter like a garden full of plants and a pond full of fish. But every branch of a plant, every member of an animal, every drop of its juices is again the same garden or the same pond. Each part of matter, accordingly, is a garden within a garden within a garden — and so on ad infinitum. Thus, it can be said that the plant, as its capabilities become more relevant, expresses (a) the world, (b) God's vegetable view of (a), and (c) essence. As a non-verbal sign, it is oversaturated with meaning, it is entrusted to bear the weight of theological and metaphysical entities partially revealed through it. One can only welcome the philosopher's bold assumption that a plant is not a passive object available for manipulation by humans and animals, but a subject endowed with the ability to act. However, the weak point of this statement lies in the double comparison of animals with humans and plants with animals. The standard that all other living beings must meet is hopelessly anthropocentric, since it implies that animals are less perfect people, and plants are less perfect animals. Thus, an ancient metaphysical prejudice creeps into the philosophical system, which boldly put forward the vegetative idea of infinite matter and the expressive uniqueness of each leaf and each blade of grass. The eighth chapter deals with Immanuel Kant. In his penchant for abstraction, Kant reduces flowers to specimens of pure color, and tulips seem to him the purest of all. Its simple form does not distract us from the beauty of its pure color, and in this it perfectly matches the asceticism of Kant's philosophy and the austere splendor of his aesthetic thought. Kant views tulips as examples of completeness «belonging to no purpose», where by «purpose» he means those practical tasks associated with economic activity in the broad sense of the word. The meaning and essence of the tulip varies according to the field in which we encounter it: as a natural object of study and scientific inquiry, as a useful object of our practical interest, or as an alluring embodiment of the beautiful. In his personal writings of the 1760s, Kant defends the thesis that a plant is possible only in accordance with an idea, defining the latter as the a priori cognition of the understanding by which an object becomes possible. If the material aspects of human existence, according to Kant, do not deserve respect, then even less do non-human animals and plants, which have no share in the rationality of transcendental subjects. There is only one possibility of placing plants and animals under the umbrella of Kantian respect, and it has to do with human self-respect. Kant does not abandon the idea that flowers are vital links in the chain of plant reproduction by which the genus is preserved. In flowers, and in aesthetics in general, Kant sees a utopian prefiguration of human freedom. When he calls flowers «free beauty», he means their liberation from both natural necessity and conceptual understanding. (shrink)

Michael Marder, a well-known specialist in environmental philosophy and political theory, studied at universities in Canada and the United States, received a Ph. D. from the New School of Social Research in New York, and taught at the Universities of Georgetown, Saskatchewan, and Washington. He conducted research at the University of Lisbon and served as an associate professor of Philosophy at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh before becoming a research professor at the University of the Basque Country. M. Marder is a (...) member of the editorial board of journal «Telos» (New York), as well as the editor of four book series: «Political Theory and Contemporary Philosophy», «Critical Plant Studies», «Future Perfect: Images of the Time to Come in Philosophy, Politics, and Cultural Studies» and «Palgrave Studies in Postmetaphysical Thought». Michael Marder works in the phenomenological tradition of continental philosophy. He is the author of books «Grafts: Writings on Plants» (2016), «The Chernobyl Herbarium: Fragments of an Exploded Consciousness» (2016), «Heidegger: Phenomenology, Ecology, Politics» (2018) и «Dump Philosophy: A Phenomenology of Devastation» (2020). Most of his philosophical works are focused on constructing a concept in which plants are viewed as beings with their own form of subjectivity. He is best known for the monograph «Plant-Thinking: A Philosophy of Vegetal Life» (2013). Marder's book «The Philosopher’s Plant (Intellectual Herbarium)» (2014), from which the prologue «Philosophical Herbarium» and the first chapter «Plato's Plane Tree» are taken for translation, is devoted to the relationship between philosophy and plants. The author believes that philosophy did not pay due attention to plants, and seeks to fill this gap. The book contains twelve stories, each of which relates a famous philosopher to a plant or flower (Plato’s Plane Tree, Avicenna’s Celery, Kant’s Tulip etc.), which, according to Marder, allows a deeper understanding of his philosophical ideas. (shrink)