The Immortal Divine, Part IV: The Language of Questions and the Ethics of Immediate Responsibility
Introduction
"What can be shown, cannot be said."
— Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 4.1212
Through the first three essays of this series, we have traced a philosophical journey from Nietzsche's paradoxical assumption of divine authority in proclaiming God's death, through the transformation of transcendence in modern science and technology, to the proposal of an ethics grounded not in transcendental commands but in ontological questioning. We discovered that the divine function—the structural necessity of transcendence in human meaning-making—cannot be eliminated but only transformed. We proposed that ethics need not derive from transcendental truth but can emerge from the question: "What kind of world do you want to live in?"
This fourth essay addresses a fundamental criticism of this "questioning ethics" and, in doing so, reveals deeper dimensions of its philosophical significance. The criticism asks: If a society genuinely wants to live in a patriarchal, xenophobic, or exploitative world, does questioning ethics have the resources to condemn it? This challenge appears to resurrect the specter of relativism that non-transcendental ethics supposedly cannot escape.
Yet this criticism, upon closer examination, reveals itself as a circular argument that misunderstands both the nature of oppressive societies and the radical potential of genuine questioning. Through careful analysis of linguistic choices, the distinction between saying and showing, and the concrete application of ethical questioning to real human suffering, we will demonstrate that questioning ethics does not retreat from moral responsibility but intensifies it through immediate encounter with the Other.
The Circular Critique and Its Unraveling
The criticism that questioning ethics cannot condemn oppressive societies contains within it a profound misunderstanding. It assumes that such societies arise from genuine collective questioning and choice, when in fact they persist precisely through the absence of questioning—through blind adherence to transcendent authorities that place certain arrangements beyond interrogation.
Consider how patriarchal societies actually function. They do not emerge from women being asked "What kind of world do you want to live in?" and responding "One where we are subordinate to men." Rather, they maintain themselves through appeal to transcendent justifications—divine ordinance, natural law, immutable tradition—that specifically prohibit such questioning. The very act of a woman asking "Do I really want to live in such a world?" is branded as rebellion against God, nature, or social order.
As Simone de Beauvoir observed:
"One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman... It is civilization as a whole that produces this creature... which is described as feminine."
— Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex, 1949
The "choice" to accept patriarchal arrangements is not a choice at all but a constructed compliance enforced through the prohibition of genuine questioning. The moment authentic questioning begins—the moment women are genuinely asked and genuinely free to answer "What kind of world do you want to live in?"—patriarchal structures begin to crumble.
This reveals the circularity of the critique. It claims that questioning ethics cannot prevent oppressive societies, yet such societies exist precisely because transcendent ethics prevents questioning. The criticism assumes as already accomplished (a society choosing oppression through free questioning) what transcendent authority makes impossible (the freedom to question fundamental arrangements).
If a society were to engage in genuine questioning—where all members, including the marginalized and oppressed, were truly free to articulate their vision of the world they wish to inhabit—and still chose hierarchical oppression, this would indeed be their choice. But such a choice would face immediate consequences in their relations with other societies who have made different choices. There would be no transcendent authority to which they could appeal for justification, no divine mandate to shield them from the judgment of others who find their arrangements abhorrent.
The critique thus defeats itself. In attempting to show the weakness of questioning ethics, it inadvertently reveals the oppressive function of transcendent ethics—to prevent the very questioning that might challenge existing power structures.
The Linguistic Precision of Ethical Address
The formulation "What kind of world do you want to live in?" contains a philosophical depth that may escape those not attuned to the nuances of language. The choice of "you" rather than "I" marks a fundamental shift from monological to dialogical ethics, from self-reflection to encounter with the Other.
"What kind of world do I want to live in?" remains within the sphere of individual contemplation. It is a question I can ask and answer in solitude, potentially ignoring the existence and desires of others. This formulation risks what Charles Taylor calls "the malaise of modernity":
"The dark side of individualism is a centering on the self, which both flattens and narrows our lives, makes them poorer in meaning, and less concerned with others or society."
— Charles Taylor, The Ethics of Authenticity, 1991
By contrast, "What kind of world do you want to live in?" is inherently relational. It acknowledges the Other as a subject with their own vision, their own desires, their own right to participate in the creation of our shared world. This linguistic choice embodies what Emmanuel Levinas identified as the foundation of ethics:
"The face of the other at each moment destroys and overflows the plastic image it leaves me."
— Emmanuel Levinas, Totality and Infinity, 1961
The question addressed to "you" creates what Martin Buber called an "I-Thou" relationship rather than an "I-It" relationship. It recognizes the Other not as an object to be categorized and controlled but as a subject whose response will make demands upon me. When I ask "What kind of world do you want to live in?" I implicitly commit myself to hearing and responding to your answer.
This shift from "I" to "you" also disrupts traditional power dynamics. Transcendent ethics typically flows from authority to subject—God commands, reason dictates, nature ordains, and humans obey. But the question "What kind of world do you want to live in?" inverts this flow. It gives voice to those who have been silenced, agency to those who have been objectified, participation to those who have been excluded.
The philosophical significance of this linguistic precision cannot be overstated. Those insensitive to such nuances will indeed find it "virtually impossible" to grasp the argument, for the argument itself is enacted through these careful linguistic choices. The medium is inseparable from the message; the form of address constitutes the ethical relation.
Beyond Wittgenstein's Boundary: From the Unspeakable to the Questionable
Wittgenstein's distinction between what can be said and what can only be shown represents one of the most profound insights in twentieth-century philosophy. He relegated ethics to the realm of the unspeakable, concluding that ethical truths cannot be meaningfully stated as propositions about the world:
"Ethics, if it is anything, is supernatural, and our words will only express facts."
— Ludwig Wittgenstein, "A Lecture on Ethics," 1929
This conclusion seems to create an impasse for ethical philosophy. If ethics cannot be spoken, how can it be communicated, debated, or developed? Wittgenstein himself seemed to accept this limitation, ending the Tractatus with his famous injunction to silence about that which cannot be spoken.
Yet the introduction of questioning opens a path beyond this apparent boundary. Questions occupy a unique logical and linguistic space—they neither assert facts about the world nor express mere attitudes. A question opens a space of possibility without determining what must fill that space. "What kind of world do you want to live in?" does not state an ethical truth but creates the conditions for ethical truth to emerge through response and dialogue.
This represents not a violation of Wittgenstein's insight but its extension into a new dimension. If ethical truths cannot be said, perhaps they can be prompted through questioning. If they cannot be stated as propositions, perhaps they can emerge through the practice of inquiry. The boundary Wittgenstein identified remains, but it proves to be not a wall but a threshold.
As philosopher Stanley Cavell suggests in his reading of Wittgenstein:
"The philosopher who proceeds from ordinary language is proceeding from the fact that it is only in or through the uses of language that the philosopher's questions about language can have an answer."
— Stanley Cavell, Must We Mean What We Say?, 1969
The question "What kind of world do you want to live in?" operates within ordinary language while opening extraordinary possibilities. It does not claim to state what cannot be said but creates the conditions for what cannot be said to be lived, chosen, and created.
This move from the unspeakable to the questionable transforms ethics from a domain of mysterious insight or transcendent command to a practice of engaged inquiry. Ethics becomes not something we possess or receive but something we do—continuously, responsively, in dialogue with others.
The Weight of Immediate Responsibility
The true test of any ethical framework comes not in abstract philosophical debate but in concrete encounters with human suffering. Consider how questioning ethics operates when faced with specific moral challenges—not "What is the ethical status of genetic engineering?" but "This child before you suffers from a genetic disease that could be cured through gene therapy. What kind of world do you want to live in?"
In such moments, the absence of transcendent justification becomes not a weakness but a strength. There is no divine command to hide behind, no natural law to invoke, no categorical imperative to apply mechanically. There is only the immediate reality of suffering and the question of how we choose to respond.
Traditional transcendent ethics often provides comfort through delay—the suffering is part of God's plan, justice will come in the afterlife, history will vindicate our choices. But when we acknowledge that this moment is all we have, that our choices create the world we inhabit now, the weight of responsibility becomes immediate and inescapable.
Facing the parent of a child with a treatable genetic condition, could we really say, "God wills this suffering" or "Natural law forbids intervention"? The concrete encounter strips away the abstract principles and leaves us with a stark choice: Will we create a world that perpetuates this suffering or one that alleviates it?
This immediate responsibility is precisely what Heidegger missed in his analysis of Dasein. While he brilliantly explored how human existence is characterized by questioning being, he failed to fully develop how this questioning becomes ethical in the encounter with Others. The question "What kind of world do you want to live in?" bridges this gap, showing how ontological questioning becomes ethical practice.
As philosopher Hans Jonas recognized in his ethics of responsibility:
"Act so that the effects of your action are compatible with the permanence of genuine human life on earth."
— Hans Jonas, The Imperative of Responsibility, 1979
But questioning ethics goes further—it does not prescribe what compatibility means but asks us to define it together, in light of concrete situations and real suffering.
From Ontological Deficiency to Authentic Existence
In Part II, we proposed a radical inversion of Heidegger's analysis—that Dasein might be characterized not by privileged access to Being through questioning but by an ontological deficiency that necessitates meaning-making. This deficiency drives us to create transcendent structures to fill the void at the core of our existence.
The practice of questioning ethics offers a different relationship to this ontological condition. Rather than attempting to fill the void with transcendent certainties or despairing at its emptiness, we can embrace questioning as our mode of being. The question "What kind of world do you want to live in?" does not promise to heal our ontological deficiency but transforms it from a lack to be filled into an openness to be inhabited.
When we genuinely ask this question—not as a philosophical exercise but in concrete encounters with Others—we momentarily transcend our isolation. The question creates a bridge between separate existences, a shared space where world-creation becomes possible. In this moment of genuine questioning and listening, we come as close as possible to overcoming the separation that characterizes human existence.
This is what Heidegger called authentic existence—not the possession of certain knowledge about Being but the courageous acceptance of our thrown, finite, questionable existence. As he wrote:
"The 'essence' of Dasein lies in its existence."
— Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, 1927
Questioning ethics embodies this insight. We do not possess a predetermined essence that dictates our ethics; rather, we create our essence through our ethical choices, through our responses to the question of what kind of world we want to inhabit.
The person who blindly follows transcendent commands remains in what Heidegger called "fallenness"—absorbed in the "they-self" that avoids the anxiety of authentic choice. But when faced with concrete suffering and asked to choose without transcendent guarantees, we are called to authentic existence. We must own our choices and their consequences, creating meaning through our responses rather than discovering it in predetermined principles.
The Philosophical Achievement: Discussing Transcendence Without Becoming Transcendent
Perhaps the most significant philosophical achievement of this approach is that it successfully discusses transcendence without falling into transcendence. Where Nietzsche proclaimed the death of God only to assume a godlike position himself, questioning ethics maintains a thoroughly immanent stance while acknowledging the structural role of transcendence in human existence.
This is possible because questions, unlike assertions, do not claim a transcendent position. "What kind of world do you want to live in?" does not pretend to speak from beyond the world but invites response from within our shared existence. It acknowledges that we are always already in the world, creating it through our choices and actions.
The framework provided by questioning ethics offers what Heidegger envisioned—a way for Dasein to exist authentically as being-in-the-world. It does not promise access to transcendent truth but provides a practice through which we can navigate our existence with integrity, responsibility, and openness to Others.
This approach thus completes the philosophical journey begun in Part I. We started by recognizing the paradox of proclaiming transcendence dead—that such proclamation itself assumes a transcendent position. We traced how this paradox manifests in various attempts to overcome traditional transcendence, from Nietzsche's Übermensch to contemporary scientism. We proposed questioning as a way to maintain ethical responsibility without transcendent commands.
Now we see that this questioning approach not only avoids the paradox but transforms our relationship to transcendence itself. Rather than attempting to eliminate or replace transcendent structures, we acknowledge their necessity while refusing their reification. Transcendence becomes not a fixed position from which to judge but an open question we continuously ask together.
Conclusion: The Ethics of Questioning in Practice
The criticism that questioning ethics cannot condemn oppressive societies ultimately strengthens rather than weakens this approach. It reveals that oppression depends precisely on preventing genuine questioning, on maintaining transcendent authorities that place existing arrangements beyond interrogation. The moment authentic questioning begins—the moment all members of society are genuinely asked and free to answer "What kind of world do you want to live in?"—transformation becomes possible.
This ethical framework does not promise easy answers or comfortable certainties. It offers instead the demanding practice of continuous questioning, immediate responsibility, and authentic encounter with Others. It requires that we face our choices without the comfort of transcendent justification, accepting the weight of creating the world through our responses.
The linguistic precision of addressing "you" rather than "I," the philosophical move from the unspeakable to the questionable, the embrace of immediate responsibility in concrete encounters—these elements combine to create an ethics adequate to our contemporary situation. In an era where traditional authorities have lost their power but the need for ethical orientation remains urgent, questioning ethics provides a path forward.
This path leads not to relativism but to a more demanding form of responsibility. Without transcendent commands to follow, we must create our ethics in dialogue with Others, responding to concrete situations with the full weight of our choices. Without delayed rewards to anticipate, we must build the world we want to inhabit in each present moment.
The question "What kind of world do you want to live in?" thus becomes more than an ethical inquiry—it becomes an ontological practice through which Dasein realizes its authentic existence as being-in-the-world. It transforms ethics from obedience to creativity, from monologue to dialogue, from transcendent command to immanent responsibility.
In this transformation lies hope for addressing the urgent challenges of our time. Whether confronting technological disruption, environmental crisis, or persistent inequalities, we need not wait for transcendent guidance or despair at its absence. We can ask, listen, and create together, building the world through our questioning as much as through our answers.
The immortal divine does not disappear but transforms once again—from external commander to internal questioner, from transcendent judge to immanent dialogue, from the God who speaks to the question that opens space for authentic human existence. In learning to question well, we discover not the death of ethics but its rebirth in a form adequate to our thrown, finite, creative existence.
As we continue to face new challenges and possibilities, the practice of questioning remains ever-renewable, adapting to each situation while maintaining its core commitment to dialogue, responsibility, and the shared creation of meaning. The divine function persists, immortal as ever, but now it speaks in the voice of questions rather than commands, inviting us to participate in the ongoing creation of the world we inhabit together.
Can we, as being-in-the-world, confront the originary deficiency at the core of Dasein and still find the courage to pose the provocative question to the Other?