Work Of Sartre Research Articles

A Despairing Duty

The taste for risk... is taste for employing one's to reveal destructive forces in a field of freedom.1 In late 1940s, Sartre sets in motion his quest for an ethics. This pursuit alters his negative account of social ontology from and Nothingness,2 leaving him with many dynamic but undeveloped positions. With hope of showing inherent logic of Sartre's work, I offer an explanation and justification for one of his most dynamic positions: obligation to assist those who cannot provide help in return. To set stage, Sartre's concern for (from What is Literature?) is introduced. The most obvious evidence for Sartre's other-regarding ethic surfaces here, seeing that very function of committed writer is to emancipate oppressed. Yet Sartre does not offer a comprehensive argument for why committed writers should devote their art to such a project. The problem is especially vexing since logic of reciprocal respect, which Thomas Anderson shows to be a basic rationale for Sartre's ethics, breaks down in writer/oppressed context.3 Due to dire circumstances, oppressed people either cannot read or do not trust what writer has to say, leaving writer without her intended audience. I look to two related notions as means to overcome this problem. The first, elaborated in Truth and Existence, is dialectic between humanity's verifying mission and willful ignorance. I take this dialectic as a centerpiece to Sartre's socially inspired ethics. second, logic behind the gift is explored as a way to reinforce argument that writers, indeed, all intellectuals, have an obligation to aid in eradication of oppression, even in a climate of non-reciprocal respect. The Opacity of Common World In What is Literature? Sartre describes positive and productive relationship between reader and writer. Accordingly, we see Sartre distancing himself from negative opposition between subjects as described in and Nothingness. The issue of is one of most obvious differences between two texts (WL, 61-65; cf. TE, 6, 45, 65). Sartre's treatment of generosity is a departure from his earlier view in at least two ways. First, taking work of literature as an intersubjectively accessible object, Sartre offers a description of genuine cooperation and sharing. The text presents itself as a pact of generosity, originating from unity of trust and effort required from each participant in creation of textual world (WL, 51, 63). Sartre does not limit bond between author and reader to infra-referential world of text. He takes us back to reality when he emphasizes that prose-not poetry-is authentic mode of expression for a committed writer (WL, 34-38). The writer can and should try to advance reader's concrete by exposing a situation to which reader is an accomplice yet of which reader may be ignorant. The writer has thereby an important destabilizing role to play in society of readers (WL, 81). The topic of ignorance is interesting, and widely discussed in this phase of Sartre's career,4 for it surmounts a problem in analysis of consciousness in and Nothingness.5 In an attempt to hold subject in total responsibility for being in world, Sartre claims that consciousness is transparent and/or translucent to itself (BN, 49). He raises this point particularly in context of faith. Thomas Busch explains problem: Being and Nothingness assumed that there were only two types of people, those in bad faith, attempting to flee their freedom, and those who were authentic, accepting and shouldering burden of their freedom. The assumption of both attitudes was that everyone knew that he or she was free.6 Fortunately, Sartre comes to realize how untenable this position appears; freedom is simply too radical of a thesis. …

L'Homme et le neant chez Jean-Paul Sartre

The present volume is one of the very many that were published to mark the centenary of Jean-Paul Sartre's birth. If Royle's book shares the aims of most of the other short ‘centenary’ volumes — that is, to demonstrate the continuing relevance of Sartre for the twenty-first century — it differs significantly in the audience that it is targeting: this is not a volume for the curious general reader. Nearly all of the ten chapters are close readings of selected themes in L'Être et le néant, from guilt to solipsism, passing through negation and irrationalism. Although the volume is packaged as a book, as opposed to a collection of articles, it is difficult to give an idea of the development of the argument, and this is doubtless due to the rather odd architecture of the volume: whilst the argumentation within chapters is normally very tight, almost pedantically so at times, the signalling of the relationship between chapters ranges from weak to random. This impression of a baroque construction is reinforced by effects of contrast: whereas most of the chapters are marked by high seriousness and technical competence, two of the early chapters appear almost whimsical in comparison. These chapters are the only ones to deal with Sartre's prose fiction and drama (Royle's best-known specialism). Both chapters interrogate Sartre's humanism, and they do so by exploring the network of word-play around the obsessive presence of crustacean imagery in Sartre's work. The main problem here is that Royle appears unsure as to the status of the pun in Sartre's work — or the status of the pun, full stop: he asks, quite seriously, if it is possible to conceive of an unconscious pun … There is also some uncertainty as to the location of the line that separates the probable from the downright fanciful; that line is surely crossed in Royle's pursuit of the signifying chain that takes him from Ramon Gris — a character (who does not appear) in ‘Le Mur’ — to Ibbieta (a character who does) via Viva la muerte!, Iberia and the ibex! This hermeneutic self-indulgence is unfortunate because it detracts from Royle's more serious attempts to build on the nexus of meanings around homme/homard (but not hommelette) in a way that supports his general effort to champion Sartre's brand of humanism. This effort culminates in the ultimate confrontation in Chapter 10 between Sartre's humanism and a certain postmodern tendency represented — somewhat arbitrarily, it seems to me — by de Man and Derrida. In the end, it has to be said, this is a flawed volume: flawed in its structure, flawed in its ultimate design and flawed stylistically — some chapters comprise upwards of thirty per cent quotation, lending the writing an air of outmoded scholasticism. Most of the chapters function best when abstracted from the baroque architecture of the whole and treated as discrete articles; when they are viewed in this way, it is easier for the reader to appreciate the tenacity and finesse of Royle's close readings.

Diasporic Subjectivities

This article explores connections between the notion of diaspora and theories of subjectivity and language, especially in the work of Sartre and Derrida. In L’Etre et le néant Sartre relates the pour-soi to the Jewish Diaspora, and in Le Monolinguisme de l’autre Derrida refers to his own experience in Algeria to develop ideas about the originary alienation from place and language. The diasporic subject has no home or language of its own; it has no assurance of its place with a settled order which would secure its sense of belonging or even its existence. Some of the epistemological, ethical and political aspects of this are explored with reference to recent films and Camus’s short story ‘L’Hôte’.

Sartre and the Word

dates of patriarchy we will better grasp the lived struggles of Sartre the person, get a more comprehensive understanding of Sartre's rela tionships with others, especially Simone de Beauvoir, and acquire a deeper appreciation of Sartre's work. Boule draws on the rich litera ture of gender studies, sociology, and psychoanalysis, and on Beau voir's interviews with and accounts of Sartre, to probe the gendered dynamics revealed in Sartre's autobiographical and philosophical writings. He makes the case that from 1905-1945 the psycho-social and gendering influences at work in Sartre's development led Sartre to embrace a philosophy and persona of stoicism. He argues that Sartre was transformed during the war—that after 1945 Sartre repu diated his stoic stance and embarked on the search for authenticity— and concludes that Sartre changed significantly after 1973 when he becomes almost blind. For those who are interested in the workings of the patriarchal gender system and for those interested in Sartre's life and work, there is much to ponder in these provoking and insightful analyses. Reading Boule's study led me to the names Lacan, Cixous, Sade and Beauvoir. I could not read his account of Sartre's self formation without hearing Lacan's account of the mirror stage and its subse quent period of aggressivity. I could not read his analyses of Sartre's understanding of literature without thinking of Cixous' discussions of feminine writing. I could not read his discussions of Sartre's sexu ality without recalling Beauvoir's account of the Marquis de Sade's sexuality in Must We Burn Sade? Further, given what we know about Sartre's and Beauvoir's collaborations, I could not help but situate The Second Sex's account of the erotic within the context of what Boule identifies as the masculinity at work in Being and Noth

Sartre: The Violence of History

There is a sort of natural closeness between Sartre and violence. Many have claimed that Sartre was fascinated by violence. Authors as diverse as Michel-Antoine Burnier and Mohamed Harbi have criticised the violence in Sartre, and even Bernard-Henri Lévy sees in Sartre's preface to Fanon's Les Damnés de la Terre a 'Sartre possédé'. Unlike these authors, we claim that Sartre was in no way fascinated by violence. In his eyes, violence was an historical fact that was characteristic of his time and which he, personally, discovered at an early age. What is more, Sartre's violence is situational. If he discovered the world in books, it was also in books that he discovered violence. Books and history were the melting pots of a violence that haunts Sartre's work. The historical situations in which he found himself explain the omnipresence of violence in his work.

Thinking with Sartre

How did I come write Sartre, Self-Formation and Masculinities? Being versed myself in gender studies, with specific emphasis on the ories of masculinity and having worked more recently on AIDS writ ing1 using a psychoanalytical approach, I reread Sartre's War Diaries2 and decided try and tackle the issue of masculinities in Sartre's life and work. I had no idea about what I would discover or where it would lead me, and I felt daunted by the task (why did I want to put Sartre on the couch?). Before discussing in detail Bergoffen's and Flynn's commentaries, I would like mention some theoretical tools used in my book or concepts that I think are fundamental readers understanding the interaction between the three articles.

Sartre and Terror

It is one of Sartre's greatest strengths that his declared aim was 'to write for his own time'.1 From the 1940s onward, he became ever less interested in 'timeless' questions, and ever more concerned to explore the concrete realities of his own age. This engagement with the contemporary makes it particularly tempting to consider what Sartre's responses to the events of our own age would be. Ever since his death in 1980, those of us who have drawn insight and inspiration from Sartre's works have tended to ask how Sartre might have judged particular political developments. And because of the central place given to violence in his thought, as well as his detailed reflections on the Second World War and the wars in Algeria and Vietnam, it is only natural to ask how Sartre would have responded to the appalling events of 11 September 2001 and the subsequent 'war on terror'.2

Sartre and Nietzsche

<section class="abstract"> Some have characterized the twentieth century as a Nietzschean century, while others, such as Bernard-Henri Lévy, call this Le siècle de Sartre. Those who are interested in the works of Sartre and Nietzsche wish to know what these two authors, who have left a deep impression on the twentieth century, share in common. Others, myself included, dare to ask: "Was Sartre a Nietzschean?" Studies on this connection are few and, besides Jean-François Louette's book, Sartre contra Nietzsche, no major study exists. What is the particular nature of the relations between their thoughts? Is there an influence of Nietzsche upon Sartre? Is there a philosophical kinship? I will begin by clarifying the question of Sartre's interest in Nietzsche. Then, I will demonstrate that they had the same philosophical starting point: nihilism. Finally, I will show that both give a similar answer to the problem opened by nihilism, the question of meaning. </section>

The Invention of Two Women in Les Chemins de la liberté

been said and we will not dwell on it here—women don't play a pre ponderant, influential, or even likeable role in Sartre's works. Apart from a few positive feminine figures like the heroine of Le Diable et le Bon Dieu2 the principal actors are men. But if we take the time to observe the moving, dynamic relations between the author and his characters, it seems—for Les Chemins de la liberte at any rate—that the invention of women cost Sartre more effort than that of the male

Processo de criação no fazer musical: uma objetivação da subjetividade, a partir dos trabalhos de Sartre e Vygotsky&lt;a name=n1&gt;&lt;/a&gt;

O sujeito é compreendido neste trabalho como constituído e constituinte do contexto social, e a música como uma linguagem reflexivo-afetiva, capaz de construir sentidos coletivos e singulares. Entendemos como reflexiva toda atividade humana que objetiva predominantemente uma racionalidade; e, como afetivas as objetivações que, embora mediadas por uma racionalidade, contemplam sobremaneira emoções e sentimentos. A partir dos trabalhos de Sartre e Vygotsky, compreendemos que nos processos de criação musical os sujeitos unificam dialeticamente a aprendizagem dos conhecimentos técnicos, numa postura afetiva, a qual implica em relações entre percepção, imaginação, sentimentos e emoções. O músico, no processo criativo, transforma os sons numa objetividade subjetivada, como negação dialética do determinismo de um contexto, já que nele deixa, necessariamente, a marca da sua subjetividade. O processo de criação musical deve ser compreendido sempre como um produto histórico-social, completamente inserido no contexto no qual se dá.

When Sartre was an erotic writer: body, nation and Existentialism in Japan after the Asia-Pacific War

This article explores the manner in which Jean-Paul Sartre's philosophy of existence is equated with the carnality of post-war Japan as expressed by writers such as Tamura Taijir l (1911-83), and understood to be of a piece with post-war Japan's 'literature of the flesh' ( nikutai bungaku ), and the ramifications of this. This cross-fertilization of images is crucial to understanding the intellectual terrain of post-war Japan because, in the late 1940s, Existentialism was a critical element, especially in relation to issues of identity in the post-war milieu. The fictions of Tamura Taijir l and Jean-Paul Sartre were read as complementary parts of a post-war project to restore dignity to the individual via carnality. This article explores the reception of Sartre's work, the background for this specific Japanese reading of his fiction in the late 1940s, and looks closely at the work of Tamura Taijir l in order to explicate these overlaps.

The Third Mountain: A Meditation on Chaos and Order

Thinking is a way of being that isalways in danger of clinging to merelyconceptual distinctions. The oppositionbetween Chaos and Order bounds all modesof Western thought, and this means that italways manages to impose Order at some level orother: for example, the kind of Order thatdivides Chaos from Order, or my project fromyour project, or silence from speech. This wayof thinking is not necessarily regrettable,but it is or can become an impediment. Thispaper interprets the relation between Chaos andOrder in Western thought, using the work ofSartre, Hegel, Nietzsche, Derrida, Heidegger,and Wittgenstein as its principal examples. Italso speculates on the possibility of a way ofbeing that does not reject dualism, but doesnot cling to it either.

Sartre and Cinema: The Grammar of Commitment

Even before his release from prison camp at Baccarat, Jean-Paul Sartre was worried about money. At first, there was a backlog of funds being held for him at Nouvelle Revue Francaise-12,855 francs; I said: twelve thousand eight hundred fifty-five francs.' Although that would be enough to hold him and Beauvoir for some time, Sartre had to face again the prospect of earning a living by teaching. Once back at the lycee, and in between prayers for Allied bombing raids that would at least interrupt his classes (QM 264), he adopted a twofold strategy. First, he determined to make a great deal of money as quickly as possible by writing screenplays for Pathe. Second, during the window of financial opportunity this afforded him, he would ratchet up his own literary production, intensifying his self-exploitation through the use of amphetamines. In the summer of 1943, when he was finishing the first draft of the screenplay for The Chips are Down (Les Jeux sont faits) he received a payment of FF37,500, with the promise of more to come. So there is a strong chance, he wrote Beauvoir. Truly we'll be able to say piss off to the alma mater (QM 256). Although The Chips are Down was accepted, it was not until In the Mesh (L'Engrenage) (see figure 1) was also taken by Pathe that Sartre and Beauvoir were on easy street.2 Still, the strategy was largely successful, and in its wake, critics have ignored Sartre's early work on the cinema, assuming it was little more than a way out of the academy. (The Freud Scenario, fifteen years away,

The Constitution of Impairment: Modernity and the aesthetic of oppression

Impairment has been set aside in debates about disability dominated by the social model. This paper seeks to go beyond the Cartesianism which produces this neglect. It suggests that radical disability studies can prosper from a critique of modernity which entails a shift from its singular epistemological origins in the critique of capitalism. The argument challenges the contention that the oppression of disabled people is reducible to social restrictions which are the outcome of a set of structural determinations. It suggests that the oppression of disabled people is also umbilically linked to the visual constitution of impairment in the scopic regime of modernity. The vision of modernity is impaired by the assumption that to see is to know, that is, by its ocularcentrism. In deconstructing the visual culture of modernity, it is possible to demonstrate that the non-disabled gaze is a product of this specific way of seeing which actually constructs the world that it claims to discover. Using the work of Sartre and, to a lesser extent, Foucault, this paper argues that impairment is constructed-not discovered-in the non-disabled gaze. The invalidation and disfigurement of impaired bodies is, therefore, not simply an economic and cultural response to them, but also arises in the mode of perception which visualises and articulates them as strangers.

A Phenomenology of the Profane: Heidegger, Blumenberg and the Structure of the Chthonic

2Yet Otto's analysis of the numinos as simultaneously daunting and fascinating 3 did not shed much light on the difference between the sacred and its opposite, the profane. It was Mircea Eliade, in several works on the history of archaic religious narrative, ritual, and art,' who made prominent the ubiquity of the sacred­ contrast throughout world mythologies. But still, while an almost limitless variety of expressions for the sacred have been the subject of many phenomenological and anthropological studies, different senses of the and their connections have been much less widely studied, though they are as important in our symbolic history. As an archetype for all that is unmeaning in Heidegger's sense,' the profane is not simply the absence of meaning. Rather, the has a positive archetypal meaning that remains one irreducible pole of the religious experience of Being which later existentialists, following Otto's inspiration, tried to recapture. The main goal of this essay is to fill this gap by interpreting the through its close connections with a series of anti-vital paradigms that following Claude Levi-Strauss, Eliade, and other mythographers - I classify together under the heading 'chthonic.' As I will show, these chthonic figures for the profane, which are found in mythic and legendary narratives the world over, divide up into several complexes of associated motifs. 6 To make these motifs clear, I will look at a wide variety of sources, ranging from archaic mythology, ancient art, folklore, and pre-Socratic writings to modem film, psychology, and examples from the work of Sartre and Heidegger that seem to fit the same figurative paradigms. These more recent instances from art and existential philosophy, and their prima facie connections with mythological motifs of the profane, will help illustrate the enduring significance of archetypal analysis for understanding contemporary themes - a relevance perhaps too rarely appreciated by philosophers today. Understanding the means much more than simply reviewing some interesting curiosities of our cultural history: it may give us a vantage point for critical evaluation of contemporary issues. For

Foucault's Debt to Hegel

. . . truly to escape Hegel involves an exact appreciation of the price we have to pay to detach ourselves from him. It assumes that we are aware of the extent to which Hegel, insidiously perhaps, is close to us; it implies a knowledge, in that which permits us to think against Hegel, of that which remains Hegelian. We have to determine the extent to which our anti-Hegelianism is possibly one of his tricks directed against us, at the end of which he stands, motionless, waiting for us.1 With these remarks, Foucault begins the homage to Jean Hyppolite which marks the end of The Discourse on Language. It is clear from this passage that Foucault credits Hyppolite with establishing the possibility of a definitive break with Hegel, of a truly anti-Hegelian philosophy. Also clear is Foucault's claim that his own work during this first, archaeological phase likewise constitutes thinking which is disloyal to Hegel.2 Of course, that Foucault considers himself to be anti-Hegelian will not surprise anyone who is familiar with his work. Indeed, Foucault seems preoccupied with putting as much distance between himself and Hegel as possible. Many of Foucault's followers likewise accept his claim to have escaped Hegel. On one extremely plausible interpretation of the history of Continental philosophy, Foucault's work represents the culmination ofa century-long attempt to kill off the Hegelian subject, an attempt that had been begun with the work of Sartre, Hyppolite, Lacan, and Derrida.' On this reading, Foucault drives home the final nail in the Hegelian subject's coffin. Although I find this reading of the historical trajectory of Continental philosophy in general and of Foucault's project in particular tempting, I find it equally as troubling. The troubling aspect of this account emerges when we consider the following questions: What happens to the plausibility of this reading if it turns out that Hegel's subject was already, in some sense, and even in a very Foucaultian sense, dead? Furthermore, what becomes of this reading if we find that there is life in Foucault's subject yet? If either of these possibilities holds true, and I will suggest here that both of them do, then the claim that Foucaultian constructivism kills the Hegelian subject fails to convince. I should note at the outset that my aim in discussing these questions will not be to establish that Foucault is nothing more than warmedover Hegel; nor will it be to completely rescue Foucault from his unwanted proximity to Hegel. To jump to such conclusions would, in my estimation, make matters too easy. Rather, my aim will be to show that a discussion of the subject provides a point of reference from which we can begin to rethink the extent to which Foucault remains indebted to Hegel. Language and the Death of the Subject in Hegel and Foucault Let me begin by noting a curious convergence: both Hegel and Foucault claim that, in some sense, to speak is to die, that language entails the death of the speaking subject. In this claim they are certainly not alone. Indeed, Heidegger notes in his 1957-58 lectures on the Nature of Language that mortals are they who can experience death as death. Animals cannot do so. But animals cannot speak either. The essential relation between death and language flashes up before us, but remains still unthought.4 Although they are not alone in this claim, given Foucault's persistent desire to escape the clutches of the Hegelian system, their agreement on this point is intriguing. What are we to make of this agreement? Should we make anything of it, or is it merely a coincidence? There is a strong temptation to regard the agreement between Foucault and Hegel on this particular point as insignificant, as a mere surface convergence masking the deeper incompatibility of their philosophical approaches. However, this response is unsatisfactory. After all, language plays a pivotal role in the reconciliation which consciousness seeks in the Phenomenology of Spirit. …

Response to Eleanore Holveck

Eleanore Holveck has been far too kind to me. I am deeply grateful and also embarrassed by what she has said about me. But in my reply I will be concerned, not with the ways in which she overstated the case, but with some of the specific points that she has made. To start with, I would like to comment on three questions she raises, with respect to which I feel the need for clarification. The first is the basic problem of the position of the "I" and the "me" vis-a-vis consciousness and the ego. Holveck says that I argue "that Sartre's claim that the 'I' and the 'me' should be eliminated from consciousness is sheer nonsense." As her statement stands, all by itself, I should have to disavow it. To put the "I" and the "me" into consciousness would be unthinkable unless one intends to reject Sartre completely, which I emphatically do not. But I see why Holveck was misled. In my article on "The Role of the Ego in Reciprocity," I mentioned that Sartre, on one occasion in the Notebooks, declared that our (or at least his) goal should be to get rid of the "I" and the "me" and to "live without ego." He was suggesting that consciousness could and should choose to live without creating and sustaining any ego structure; he was not implying that these had ever been inside consciousness in the first place. I did say that the proposed goal was nonsense. And as I went on to note in the article, Sartre, too, evidently felt that he had gone too far. For he quickly added that we must keep the ego in the form of "that always open Moi, always open and always in suspense, which is referred to by the enterprise at hand." If this remains a bit obscure, he clarifies it for us by pointing out that the ego exists in order to be lost.' Now we are on familiar ground. We learned from The Transcendence of the Ego that the ego is the structured personalized self that consciousness creates and recreates as it imposes unity and meaning on its own experiences. I have, on a couple of occasions-half-facetiously, half-seriously-remarked that what I have written on Sartre and the ego in my later work might be considered revisionist Sartre. What I meant is this: I believe that if we accept as valid everything that Sartre has said about the ego, and if we then examine how all this would play out practically in real life, we are forced to grant to the role of the ego far more importance than Sartre scholars have done, or even Sartre in so many words. I think that in practice Sartre has, in fact, given to it a greater significance. In the War Diaries, acknowledging, by the way, Beauvoir's influence in changing his opinion, Sartre points out that free authenticity is not enough. One must plunge into the world, not remain detached from it. One must take one's actions into account. Sartre writes, "Personality ought to have a content. It should be made of clay, and I'm made of wind." In a later passage in the War Diaries, he asks, Does this mean that I must let the Self [=ego] into consciousness again? Certainly not. But the selfness or totality of the for-itself is not the Self, and nevertheless it is the person. Basically, I am in the course of learning to be a person.2 Granted, the War Diaries are earlier than the Notebooks. Yet, surely, all of Sartre's biographical works center precisely on the way that a particular consciousness has formed and remolded its personal ego. In my own mind, I have never sought to challenge or to alter Sartre's view of the self. I do not deny that I have spelled out as logical consequences of his position claims that he never made in so many words. Personally, I believe that to live without an ego would be tantamount to refusing to unify and structure experience, resulting in what we call insanity. In finding a parallel (a rough one, not an exact one) between the relation of consciousness to the ego with that of consciousness to the body, I go beyond what Sartre actually wrote. Yet I think the parallel is there. …

Sartre's Existentialism and Social Work

Abstract The profession of social work is currently facing a crisis of authentic identity. Social work's persistent reliance on other social sciences for its ontological justification, and its tendency to change its mission in response to social reality is inconsistent with authenticity. Existentialism, as a philosophy that values human freedom, social praxis and mutual cooperation towards fulfillment of needs, offers a framework for individual and social transformation congruent with the ideals of social work. In addition, Sartre's existential evolution from unwavering individualism in Being and Nothingness to the necessity of cooperative action in the Critique of Dialectical Reason may help to unify social work practice on the micro and macro levels.

Cold War polarization and cultural productivity in the work of Sartre

Cold War polarization and cultural productivity in the work of Sartre

Truth, meaning, and functional understanding: A post-Sartrean meditation

Forty years after it was written, Sartre's relatively short treatise on epistemology, Writ3 et existence, 1 appeared in print. Although there is no specific reference to the existence of this text in Contat and Rybalka's bibliography of Sartre's work, 2 it is probable that it was part of the vast amount of writing that was produced, but not published until after Sartre's death, as the ethics intended to follow L'Etre et le n~ant. 3 In her introductory note to V~rit~ et existence, editor Arlette Elkaim-Sartre, Sartre's adopted daughter and literary executor, comments that judging from its state of completion, the text probably was intended for publication (VE ii). 4 This work, along with the relevant comments and notes scattered throughout the posthumously published Cahiers pour une morale, 5 provide a interesting picture of Sartre's epistemology as it existed in the few years immediately following the publication of L'Etre et le n~ant. Linking these works is a consistency of structure that derives from Sartre's retention of the basic taxonomy of L'Etre et le n~ant. In the following pages, I will argue that Writ~ et existence presents an interesting theory of meaning on both the individual subjective and intersubjective planes. Beyond that, however, I will argue that Sartre's theory is incomplete and in need of grounding in a conception of overall intelligibility. In order to provide such a grounding, I will suggest that even intersubjectivity is not enough, and that we must look toward a kind of functional understanding more fundamental than, and indeed prior to, the subject. It is precisely this latter factor that converts Sartre's theory of meaning into something post-Sartrean.