By Guido Frilli
The core theoretical argument of Alfredo Ferrarin’s Il pensare e l’io is that the fundamental divergences between the Hegelian and the Kantian conceptions of reason can be appreciated only by considering an essential and often overlooked continuity. This continuity pertains to the ambivalent relationship between thought and the thinker; or, more properly, between reason as a universal force or transindividual power, and subjective or individual thinking as the sole ground upon which such a power can appear and know itself as such. According to Ferrarin, this continuity is one of shared problems more than of common solutions; but it is critical for grasping both Kant’s and Hegel’s standpoints on reason, as well as making better sense of their essential disagreements. For both, thinking exists only as embodied qua the thinking of an ‘I’, while at the same time it precedes and transcends subjective thinking. Reason is the self-production of truth; it cannot become my reason without corrupting itself. Nonetheless, in order to become self-conscious and at home in its world, reason’s activity must decline itself in the first person. In the biblical terms employed by Hegel, logos becomes flesh; and it becomes flesh as the conscious thinking of an ‘I’. Reason is thus the locus of an unresolved tension between the impersonal and spontaneous force of self-determination, and the activity of a conscious subjectivity this force must embody.
This is a stimulating and complex thesis that Ferrarin defends deftly and convincingly. It is surprising, and much to the author’s merit, that a book of only 240 pages can articulate such a rich and controversial argument with both theoretical subtlety and deep exegetical familiarity with both authors. This said, I believe that certain topics of the book deserve a more extended consideration; specifically, I think that some crucial conclusions of the book contain more questions than answers, and that these questions need to be sharpened and radicalised. My critical remarks will be focused on three Hegelian points, all concerning reason’s internal duality between givenness and production, or passivity and activity: (1) Hegel’s conception of the ‘I’; (2) the idea of wholeness; and (3) the role of production in Hegel’s account of reason.
In order to contextualise these three topics of consideration, some more words are needed about the methodological structure of the book and about Ferrarin’s main goals and polemical targets. The first four chapters investigate Hegel’s conception of thinking in various aspects: Denken as embodied in the desire of immediate self-consciousness (Chapter 1); the idea of objective or non-human thinking (Chapter 2); thinking’s movement of self-reification in the world (Chapter 3); and thinking’s complementary activity of turning representations into concepts (Chapter 4). Together these chapters seek to outline an alternative to both the transcendentalist and the realist interpretations of Hegelian philosophy (pp. 135ff.).
The interpretations of Hegel as a metaphysical realist correctly acknowledge the objectivity of logos and its independency from human thinking, but fail to emphasise that Hegelian logos is movement and life, and that it is nothing apart from its own activity of self-determination—the truth of logos is to become spirit, i.e. the self-conscious subjectivity that animates human history. Instead, realism takes thinking to be a transcendent a priori which man has only to discover. Against this aristotelianising interpretation of Hegel’s absolute Idea, Ferrarin repeatedly stresses the Christian and modern roots of Hegel’s notion of Denken as self-development; there is no truth but a known and actualised truth, since true universality is a result: the universality of logos has to be made concrete and living through its conscious appropriation by human subjectivity.
On the contrary, the transcendentalist readings of Hegel claim that universal logos—the Idea as a self-organising system of categories—is a product of human thinking. Typically, these readings also claim that Hegel’s philosophy is a radicalisation of Kant’s Critical project (pp. 171ff.), insofar as Hegel historicises Kant’s subjectivist and ahistorical conception of thinking by making reason essentially dependent on human sociality, praxis, and language. As Ferrarin shows in Chapter 1, a variation of this view is the attempt—recently pursued by Robert Brandom and Robert Pippin—at grounding self-consciousness in intersubjective recognition (pp. 51ff.). This general approach is the main polemical target of the book, insofar as this approach distorts the fundamental aims of both Hegel and Kant. Because it makes the Idea a product of subjective thinking and, in the end, an artefact of human history, the transcendentalist thesis cannot recognise the objectivity of thinking; it reduces thought’s objective self-development to a human production, thus reducing dialectics to discursivity (p. 239). As for self-consciousness, transcendentalism fails to distinguish between recognition and intersubjectivity, and to acknowledge that the genesis and becoming of self-consciousness is not grounded in recognition or in sociality, but in the embodied soul and its subsequent self-opposition as individual consciousness (p. 67).
After having cleared the path for a correct understanding of Hegel’s notion of Denken, Chapter 5 —the longest of the book—finally brings Hegelian reason to a large-scale theoretical confrontation with Kant. To this end, Ferrarin criticises some of the fundamental presuppositions of Hegel’s reading of Kant as a formalist and subjectivist thinker. Hegel’s early appreciation of Kantian reason as an originary unity of oppositions in Glauben und Wissen (pp. 175ff.), later reformulated in his Introduction to the Subjective Logic, stands in fundamental contrast to Hegel’s own tendency to reduce the Critical philosophy to a corollary of Humean empiricism (p. 188). Had Hegel devoted to Kant the same exegetical curiosity that he had to Aristotle, he could have acknowledged that Kantian Vernunft is irreducible to Verstand, and that it is—despite all Kantian ambivalences and oscillations—an autonomous force of self-production and self-legislation. Moreover, he could have realised that, for Kant, it is pure reason as a transindividual and non-subjective power that declines itself into an I (p. 185), just as the Hegelian Concept divides itself into a finite consciousness opposed to the world. By underscoring this essential affinity, Ferrarin is not interested in radicalising criticism or measuring the extent to which Hegel is indebted to Kant—he claims that such alleged indebtedness should, if anything, be contextualised (p. 174). Ferrarin argues, on the contrary, that a fresh and genuine theoretical confrontation on reason—one that Hegel was unfortunately not willing to have with Kant—can teach us something important about both Kant and Hegel, because it allows us to grasp their alternative solutions as inspired by fundamentally analogous problems (pp. 33–4).
I make one brief parenthetical comment on this point before coming to my first critical remark. Ferrarin’s intentions are theoretical, not historical. He is not presenting a Wirkungsgeschichte of the connection between reason and subjectivity after Kant; rather, he is ideally suspending time in order to imagine a possible Kantian response to Hegel (p. 174). If historical completeness were the goal, Ferrarin claims, one should at least take the developments of the Kantian Ich denke through Fichte into account, and the 1795 debate between Schelling, Hegel and Hölderlin (p. 43n.5). It seems to me, though, that something more than just historical extensiveness could be drawn from the early idealistic context. It is not enough to say that Jacobi, Fichte and Schelling shape the way Hegel looks back to Kantian reason and the Ich denke (by reformulating, for example, the relationship between Vernunft and Verstand in terms of infinite and finite; p. 179). They also develop—and Fichte in particular, I would add—alternative and autonomous solutions to the very questions Ferrarin sees Kant and Hegel as dealing with: the problems concerning a non-subjectivist idea of reason as universal movement that nonetheless needs the activity of self-consciousness in order to realise itself. “Thinking and the ‘I’” could be the fitting title of an original theoretical re-appropriation of classical German philosophy as a whole, in which the philosophical primacy of Kant and Hegel need not be decided from the start.
Hegel and the ‘I’
Ferrarin argues thematically through the first two chapters that there is a seeming tension in Hegel’s account of the ‘I’. On the one hand, the ‘I’—i.e. finite human consciousness – is for Hegel something derivative, if not residual. Modern philosophy takes the individual ego as an underlying substrate of thought. Consequently, it sees concepts as empty forms that need to be filled by an external matter; and it considers the ego as a fixed pole to which thinking, will, passions and sensations merely belong as different properties. Dialectico-speculative philosophy, on the contrary, cannot begin from the ‘I’. It has to show how thinking dynamically pervades everything that we experience, conceive, do, feel, and will. Thinking is the inner activity of a universal form that articulates itself into particular contents: it cannot have an originary self-reflective pole as its basis or presupposition. Just the opposite is the case: the ‘I’ is not at all originary, but a product of thinking’s own self-differentiation. If it claims to have value or intelligibility per se as a self-grounded substance, the ego becomes untrue and one-sided. Thinking is reduced to representation; on the ethico-political level, the objectivity of rational will is perverted into an abstract sum of individual wills.
Yet this is only half the story. Hegel also states that the ‘I’ is the highest form of the realised Concept, that is, the Concept as free and conscious self-determination. The ‘I’ is the true universality of thinking as it exists per se (p. 105). Here Hegel is no longer talking of the ‘I’ of representation—a fixed formal pole opposed to its objects—but of the absolute self-consciousness of objective thinking. In Section 2.4, Ferrarin thus claims that in a dialectical conceptualisation of the world, self-consciousness—just as thinking itself, reality, subjectivity etc.—has different meanings that, though essentially interconnected, need not be confused. In particular, we seem to be facing a sort of duality here. The harsh criticism of the ‘I’ of Vorstellung cannot make us forget that self-consciousness also has a speculative meaning: the realised Concept as self-consciousness of the substance. This is the standpoint of absolute knowing at the end of Phenomenology: once the totality of oppositions between finite consciousness and the object has been traversed, the philosopher must set his own particular ‘I’ apart in order to let the Thing itself, i.e. objective thinking, spontaneously develop. But in its fullest sense, this development quite surprisingly coincides with the ‘I’ as the movement of absolute self-knowledge of reality.
Chapter 1 and 2 expand on the picture of this ostensible duplicity. As already mentioned, Chapter 1 aims at showing that self-consciousness, according to Hegel, is a result, not a primum, though not a result of sociality or recognition. Self-consciousness in the 1807 Phenomenology appears to itself as something originary and ungrounded; but, on the one hand, it is the outcome of the becoming of consciousness, and, on the other, it is a one-sided appearance of reason. Self-consciousness debuts as Begierde, movement, life; yet it opposes the life whence it comes and tries to affirm its autonomous self-certainty. In the larger (but by no means identical) framework of Subjective Spirit, we see the ‘I’ first emerge from anthropology, i.e. from a corporeality already shaped by Spirit in the passive form of a natural soul, and then being overcome by reason and Spirit. In both cases, individual self-consciousness is the surface of a preindividual logos which pervades nature as well as the preconscious activities of human life.
The same point is made in Chapter 2 on a more general scale when Ferrarin argues that, for Hegel, das Logische is objective, impersonal, preconscious and non-human before assuming the conscious human form of an ‘I’. The Science of Logic, which has das Logische as its content, exposes the pure movement of Denken intrinsic to nature as well as to Spirit. Yet we have seen that this Hegelian anti-subjectivistic stance has its own opposite according to Ferrarin. The objective logos that permeates the world is not a fixed net of intelligibility; it is the negativity that drives every determinate being beyond itself. Hence, it is best understood as impulse, life, and instinct; it is a Trieb “to find itself through itself in everything”, as Hegel says in the chapter on the absolute Idea. It is crucial to understand that, insofar as it is a negative movement intrinsic to everything, the Concept is a self before becoming explicitly self-conscious as Spirit. For example, organisms are a self, a teleological interconnection of every part in a whole which makes them active and self-centred. Objective logos is impulse; but it is the impulse of becoming a self-knowing subject; in this sense, it needs the ‘I’.
In other words, subjectivity is a larger structure than self-consciousness, because thought’s objective movement is a self before becoming an ‘I’. Yet thinking as an only implicit and passive subjectivity is realised and becomes per se as human consciousness. And it is only thanks to the conscious work of the philosopher that logos, which is scattered and passive in nature, comes to know itself as absolute Spirit. Here Ferrarin underlines a double affinity with Kant. First, Hegel, like Kant, eroticises reason: that is, he makes reason its own goal, a self-activating movement that realises its own ends. Reason’s activity is spontaneous, like a seed that becomes a plant. But secondly, just like Kant, he conceptualizes reason according to a double teleological model. When objective, logos is impulse; it is only when embodied in human self-consciousness that this impulse can exist in a shape fitted to its own satisfaction. In the first sense, logos is uncontrollable and independent; in the second, it depends on conscious intentions.
Accordingly, the position of the ‘I’ in Hegel’s philosophy becomes unexpectedly central. If logos exists everywhere as instinct, then the ‘I’ is instinct that leads beyond instinct. Going beyond Hegel’s own terms, we could perhaps say that human consciousness is the locus of a split in universal logos between passivity and comprehension, between impulse and knowledge; but it must at the same time be the point in which these two forms of Denken find their unity and continuity. If this interpretation is correct, then one particular question becomes crucial for Hegelian philosophy: does the ‘I’ itself have a logos?
In the aforementioned Section 2.4, aptly entitled “logica dell’Io”, Ferrarin answers in the affirmative. But he insists that this logos is to be understood as dialectical: that is, the ‘I’ cannot be captured by a stable definition; it does not have a fixed substance but changes according to the way we consider it. The ‘I’ is only what we make of it. It would be mistaken, Ferrarin holds, to believe in a somewhat stoical fashion that we begin from the untrue and particular individuality of representational self-consciousness before equalising ourselves to the universal self-knowledge of thinking (p. 106). Instead, ‘I’ is neither particular nor universal; I am no more—and no less—than what results from my efforts. Hence, the freedom of the Concept I reach through thinking is my freedom, because true universality is not an anonymous cosmic reason, but universal thinking made concrete and lived in particularity. The self-knowledge of thinking is my true self-consciousness, because the inner substance of my ‘I’ is nothing but thinking. Absolute self-knowledge involves both the universality of the ‘I’ and its pluralisation. By contrast, an ‘I’ that makes no effort is a universal that does not permeate particularity; it is the abstract universality of Vorstellung, and for this very reason it is only my particular ‘I’.
This explanation is quite convincing in itself and undeniably faithful to Hegel, but it does not suffice to account, in my opinion, for the more radical problem of the seeming duality between objective thinking and the ‘I’; it doesn’t supply us with a logos of the ‘I’—rather, it takes the twofold form of the ‘I’ as an already given manifestation of thinking. I may be wrong, but this could be the reason why Ferrarin advances another and more problematic explanation later in the same paragraph. Here he states that for Hegel, the ‘I’ is constituted by the negative self-relationship of thinking. Self-negativity articulates thinking into a universality that makes itself individual: this logical relationship constitutes “our truer self” (p. 109), hidden by the initial self-comprehension of the ‘I’ as an abstract universal (p. 108). Accordingly, phenomenal self-consciousness is “an immediate that appears as such” (p. 109), but “is in fact constituted by the substantial logical mediation of self-relationship” (trans. mine).
Here I wish to make two remarks. First, this second explanation appears to me to stand in contrast to the first one. It is no longer true, as it was in the first explanation, that the ‘I’ has no given substance and becomes what I make of it. The ‘I’ is the self-relationship of the Concept; if one initially deems otherwise, it is not because he/she makes no effort to truly be an ‘I’, but because he/she is wrong, that is, he/she is not really thinking. Ferrarin’s own main thesis on the simultaneous presence of a double teleology can be adapted to address this problem: in the first explanation, I am in control of my self-realisation as true universality; in the second, I have to adapt myself to the spontaneous and impersonal self-negativity of thinking which constitutes my inner being and which is initially hidden behind my phenomenal self-representation. Yet these explanations are not two alternative and equally valid ways of describing the same phenomenon; instead they are incompatible, mutually exclusive, and probably insufficient as well.
Secondly, not only do the two explanations stand in contrast to each other, but the second one is deeply puzzling in itself. While I am convinced that this difficulty resides in Hegel, not in Ferrarin’s interpretation of him, I highlight it here for its impact on the argument Ferrarin is interested in advancing: that is, the relationship between the impersonal and objective self-negativity of thinking, and the ‘I’ in which thinking is incarnated. Does negative self-relationship, universality making itself particularity, actually explain the constitution of the ‘I’? That is to say, is it really an elucidation of the constitutive connection between thinking’s self-negativity and my phenomenal sense of myself? Thinking as a negative self-relationship is impersonal and universal. How does it become my perspective on myself? This perspective cannot be at best an illusion, as in Schopenhauer, or an epiphenomenon of chaos, as in Nietzsche, because particularity in the form of my self-consciousness is essential to universality: it is thinking’s own self-realisation and presence in the world. But we are still left without a justification of how an impersonal and universal reflexivity becomes not just particular and determinate, but my particularity and determinacy. Ferrarin seems to be replying that, in this way, we presume to have already circumscribed what ‘I’ means, and to measure the movement of thinking on the basis of this uncritical presumption (p. 109). But it is also possible that in his argument, Hegel introduces a phenomenon (immediate self-consciousness) that exceeds the very explanation that should lead to it.
One is left wondering whether the undisclosed assumption of Hegel’s thesis is that the ‘I’ doesn’t actually need an explanation, because thinking is not only a self-like movement, but already an originary ‘I’ in the form of a personal divine thinking. My self-consciousness would then be a fragment of the divine self-consciousness in which I take part and which awakes from nature qua human self-consciousness. But this solution is less akin to Hegel than to the theism of the Schelling of the Untersuchungen. And it is much more a mythos of the ‘I’ than a philosophical logos in any case.
Wholeness and Discursivity
I now wish to explore some themes from Chapter 3, “Spontaneity and Reification”, and from its conclusion in particular (pp. 137ff.). Ferrarin has argued that the movement of thinking can be understood as a self-reification, or as a self-forgetting in determinacy. Passive thinking is the movement of thinking as it is temporality solidified and “forgotten” in the first and second nature. In its passive form, thinking is an implicit impulse to self-presence; it becomes active when it dissolves its reified and finite form into its conscious self-knowing. We saw in the first section that this implies a sort of duality between objective thinking—which Chapter 3 encourages us to see as objectified or reified thinking—and conscious subjectivity. Now Ferrarin hints at a different—though interrelated—form of duality, that between activity and passivity, thinking and thought, Denken and Denkbestimmungen.
There is an asymmetry between these two sides of thinking, insofar as it is only active thinking that knows both itself and its reified form; passive thinking is Denken without being Wissen. Yet this asymmetry is not difference; thinking is one. More properly, the difference between thinking and its objects—the Denkbestimmungen—is immanent to thinking itself, and constitutes the intrinsic energy of its movement. Pure thinking is both the universal background in which finite determinacies appear, and the movement of determining itself. But if dialectical thinking is fuelled by the discrepancy between activity and passivity, ideality and determinacy, how does it know its oneness? What does it mean for thinking to be a whole, and to know itself as such?
Ferrarin describes this issue as follows. Since it is essentially mediation, Hegelian thinking is discursive. But this means that the recovering of its moments is finite (p. 139): it is a succession in time, even if it is the ideal or suspended time of pure thinking. That is to say, when I think one determination, I cannot think the others. How do I think the whole of thinking’s development, if the whole can never be a totum simul—which would require a form of intellectual intuition—but only a totum aggregatum, a sequence of discrete determinations? And yet, the way thinking is certain to be the whole must somehow differ from the knowledge of its parts (p. 139).
It is remarkable that Ferrarin avoids mentioning two standard hegelianising answers to this key problem: namely, that the whole is a result, and that the whole is a circle. I believe that he implicitly suggests that these two standard answers are, in fact, either mere platitudes, or end up begging the question. How do I know to have found the all-encompassing result if I don’t have a preliminary intuition of the meaning of the whole? And how do I know that the immediacy I reach at the end of the process is identical to the one I began with—sheer emptiness—if a separate source of knowledge does not inform me that the fullness I have achieved is so complete as to become equivalent to emptiness? The riddle remains unresolved: the unity of activity and passivity must be grasped in a different way from its discrete and progressive stages; but there is no thinking at all without discreteness and difference.
Ferrarin denies that the self-knowing of the Idea or of the absolute Spirit implies some sort of momentary intellectual intuition of the whole that cancels the difference between thinking and its objects and concentrates the process in an Augenblick (p. 140). Accordingly, he denies that the recurrence of the word Anschauung in reference to thinking (at least after the 1807 Phenomenology, I would add) is to be taken literally. I think he shares a fear with Hegel himself, namely, of being forced to make room for a form of Jacobian immediate certainty of the Absolute—and I believe that the surprising duration of Hegel’s confrontation with Jacobi is an indication of this fear. On the contrary, Ferrarin insists that for Hegel there can be no conclusive identity of thinking and thought, just as there is no absolute self-transparency of the Idea. It seems to me that he is right, but also that this is simply a reformulation of the problem of the wholeness of thinking, and not a solution to it. But just as Hegel has no logos of the ‘I’, it could also be that he is incapable of displaying a logos of the whole, which can only be indirectly seized by mythos.
Thinking as Production
One last aspect of the duality between an active and passive side of thinking needs to be examined. As we saw, Ferrarin criticises the realist interpretations of Hegel’s Denken because they understate the character of activity, movement and production which pertains to dialectical logos. Yet, he asks, in which sense is thinking productive? If to produce, or hervorzubringen, means bringing to light something that was not there (p. 136), Denken cannot essentially be productive, because it is always already there as the intrinsic or passive substance of things. If anything, the concept of production could mislead us into believing that thinking is a supernatural actor that produces the world according to an irresistible plan or hidden intentions. On the contrary, Ferrarin insists that for Hegel, thinking is a unitary, binding and overwhelming force to the thinker; but it is nothing outside or beyond its own self-manifestation as passive logos in nature and as our conscious logos.
It seems to me that Ferrarin’s answer is twofold. On the one hand, he inclines towards assigning a productive character to our thinking, that is, to logos as embodied in the thinker. In considering things in thought, we do not leave them untouched; Denken is a work that idealises and reshapes things, both in the case of subjective Spirit and in that of the pure categories of logic—which exist at first as embedded in the ‘clothes’ of representation. What matters for Hegel is that this transformation brings things to truth; it does not distance us from the true, as happens in Kant, because the inner substance of things is thinking.
On the other hand—and complementarily—Ferrarin relativises the productive character of the Idea; the Idea has a productive side insofar as it needs subjective thinking—and hence idealisation and the transformation of givenness—in order to overcome its passivity in nature and to know itself as the one and only truth. But passivity and reification are likewise essential to thinking. Accordingly, idealisation, work and negativity are not the last words for the Idea; the ultimate model for reason “is not a causal action on a passive side, but the constitution of a unified substantial totality innervated by reciprocal relationships and interaction” (p. 232). This is what truly separates Hegelian and Kantian reason. Kantian reason is fundamentally productive, though not in a ‘poietic’ sense (p. 231): that is, it does not project objects outside of itself, but remains immanent to its effects; and its effects are the laws through which reason organises the natural and the moral world, and in which it comes to know itself and its own unitary activity. Kantian reason is production because, in the end, it has no substance and being. The model for Hegelian reason, for the substance making itself subject, is the Aristotelian hexis as a formed potentiality that becomes itself through its action.
Though accurate as a description of Hegel’s ultimate intentions, I wonder if the conception of the Idea as a substantial totality of reciprocities is doomed to remain a desideratum. On this point, Ferrarin himself had already underscored in his book Hegel and Aristotle (Ferrarin 2001) how the association of thinking with work and idealisation brings Hegel closer to crucial anti-Aristotelian premises of modern thinking. Thinking needs passivity; but passivity in turn is essentially instinct and negativity; this is why Denken is one, and activity and passivity are two sides of the same reality. But this means that thinking’s oneness is fuelled by asymmetry, not by reciprocity; it is only as active idealisation that thinking gets to self-knowledge, and it is only by reproducing the gap between Denken and its Denkbestimmungen, between spontaneity and reification, that thinking has movement, reality and life. In the end, we are confronted once again with an unpleasant alternative. Either the Idea is self-productive, causa sui, in a more supernatural sense, as a divine personal thinking and not only as our idealising activity; or thinking cannot be a substantial and truly reciprocal wholeness, except by transcending mediation, discursivity and negativity through an act of intuitive receptivity. But this last solution would be exactly the Jacobian one that Hegel wants to do away with.
Invited: 17 April 2017; received: 11 October 2017.
 Even the reconstruction of Hegelian metaphysics recently proposed by Kreines (2015) would probably fall into the realistic field, though some interesting affinities with Ferrarin’s own reading are undeniable.↩
 See in this direction Beiser (2002).↩
 The Berlin 1831 Vorlesungen über die Logik, often quoted by Ferrarin himself, contain indeed insightful reflections on this point. See for example this passage: “Das Denken als Tätigkeit ist das Allgemeine als tätig; die Form, wodurch etwas Gedanke ist, ist das Allgemeine. Das Denkende ist tätig, seine Tat is das Gedachte, irgendein Inhalt, der durch das Denken infiziert ist, dem die Allgemeinheit angetan ist; das Subjekt oder das Denkende ist das: Ich” (Hegel 2001:10).↩
 See on this point the observations of Henrich (1982:99–124).↩
 See Rosen (1969), ch. 6.↩
Beiser, F. (2002), German Idealism. The Struggle against Subjectivism (1781–1801) (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Ferrarin, A. (2001), Hegel and Aristotle (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Hegel, G.W.F. (2001), Vorlesungen über die Logik, ed. U. Rameil & H.-C. Lucas (Hamburg: Meiner).
Henrich, D. (1982), Fluchtlinien (Frankfurt a.M.: Suhrkamp).
Kreines, J. (2015), Reason in the World. Hegel’s Metaphysics and its Philosophical Appeal (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
Rosen, S. (1969), Nihilism. A Philosophical Essay (New Haven: Yale University Press).
© Guido Frilli, 2018.
Guido Frilli is Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the University of Florence, Italy. He obtained his Ph.D. from the University of Florence and Université Paris I Panthéon-Sorbonne. Frilli specialises in classical German Philosophy and philosophy and politics in early modern philosophy (esp. Hobbes). His book Ragione, desiderio, artificio. Hegel e Hobbes a confronto is forthcoming from Firenze University Press.