It has been said at this conference that our deliberations may not have much relevance to the world beyond the walls of the community of professional philosophers. It is also quite clear that our discussions are straining against the limitations of purely cerebral constructions. We have been trying to find that personal and intimate element without which knowledge and experience are at best sterile and at worst dangerous. None of this is accidental. On the contrary, we are approaching something very important: the limitations, under certain conditions, of Pure Reason. When the moment comes to make history, it not the philosophers who make it. It is made by other people, acting less rationally than professional spinners of theory. When one universe collapses and another is being born, Reason hovers, impotent, in the shadows. In keeping with the tone of most of our work and because truth, to be grasped, must be anchored in experience informed by passion I will argue my case from personal experience. In Bulgaria, the 1980s opened with the regime looking stronger and more popular than ever. Yet in the spring of 1983 it suddenly dawned on me that a society held together by a tissue of lies and fuelled by cynicism cannot survive for long the end of communism would fall well within my lifetime. This being the case, some preparation on my part was needed. I started racing through different schools of thought in various sciences history, political theory, cultural theory in order to work out, with the help of these tools, what needed to be done, when, how, to whom and by whom. In spite of the increasingly distracting presence, at my lectures at Sofia University, of stocky individuals wearing moustaches and raincoats, I spent several years trying to prepare my students for the coming upheaval, in which they would also have their part to play. When the upheaval started, I tried to act in accordance with the rational strategies that could be distilled from the accumulated wealth of social science. Every time I trusted intellectual discipline and philosophy, as opposed to the anarchical hooliganism, if you like, of my instincts, I failed to be useful. Every time I trusted my instincts for the wrong reasons, or for no reason I did the right thing. Ultimately, by early 1990, it had become abundantly clear that philosophy could not make history the owl of Minerva does, indeed, spread its wings only with the falling of dusk. I left my very senior position at a research institute, terminated my involvement with Sofia University, where I had lectured for four years, switched off that part of my brain which contained philosophy, and dived into street politics -