I hoped I haven’t lost you … apologize for the delay in responding …
Thank you for your list of quotes … I’ve included one from your list to establish a context for our conversation (in the spirit of Gadamer) …
G says that the interpreter’s own horizon is decisive … but not as a personal standpoint … this is what we need to explore … to use a Heideggerian example, the Greek temple discloses a historical world to us … this world is not our world … but the meaning of the Greek world (for us) is only understood from within the horizon of our world …
… granted: our own horizon is not ‘personal’ in the sense of arbitary individualistic whim, but is shared with others …
Gadamer is very clear that we cannot reactivate the ‘authorial’ meaning … our understanding of the Greek world, and of the Greek temple, is different from that of a 5th century Athenian …
so what is meant by the normative meaning of the text, of the artwork? What ‘space’ does it inhabit?
I guess what I’m asking about is Gadamer’s notion of a fusion of horizons (the Greek world and our contemporary world). On the one hand, according to G, we cannot break free of certain ‘prejudices’ (i.e, our world, our horizon) … but then G talks about fusion … so where or what is our freedom here (from relativism) … Heidegger says that we are stuck in our facticity (at least in one sense) … yet G seems to suggest that there is a way out …
please clarify
Yes, according to G the is a way out–as far as one can and should want a way out of his historical situation–in the process of interpreting a text.
(1) “history does not belong to us; we belong to it.” (276) “one of the conditions of understanding in the human sciences is belonging to tradition.” (328) “Consciousness of being [historically] conditioned does not supersede our conditionedness.” (448)
(2) But this is not a disadvantage. “belonging to a tradition is a condition of hermeneutics.” (291)
Why?
(3) If we don’t approach the text with some given understanding (fore-understanding, “prejudices”) of the subject matter brought to us in our historical situation by tradition, we have no way to relate the subject matter of the text to our lives and relate our lives to it. It would be alien gibberish and we would never understand it at all. If we have no experience of love and relationships
Romeo and Juliet would be impossible to understand.
But . . .
(4) If the reader merely seeks to know the historical situation of the text, where it is coming from, then he can never see himself in it, he has abandoned its claim to say something true and valid for himself, and has stopped trying to reach an agreement. (303) see also (335, 337)
Rather the reader must transpose himself into the other situation of the text, see himself in it, and thus achieve a “fusion of horizons.” Then the truth claims of the text can be heard. (305-6) see also 378 and 388.
IOW, our own fore-understanding and horizon is the avenue to enter the world of the text because it is about the human world which both the text and we share in. Then the text can speak for itself. Don’t forget G is speaking about the method of the human sciences.
Nonetheless, don’t forget–
(5) So “the prejudices and fore-meanings that occupy the interpreter’s consciousness are not at his free disposal. He cannot separate in advance the productive prejudices that enable understanding from the prejudices that hinder it and lead to misunderstandings. Rather
this separation must take place in the process of understanding itself,” (295-6)
One intends to understand the text itself. But this means that the interpreter’s own thoughts too have gone into re-awakening the text’s meaning. In this the interpreter’s own horizon is decisive, yet not as a personal standpoint that he maintains or enforces, but more as an opinion and a possibility that one brings into play
and puts at risk, and that helps one truly to make one’s own what the text says.” (388)
This and the other quotes should help to address the issue of relativism.
Is this helpful? G is not Derrida.
“The mode of being of a text has something unique and incomparable about it. It presents a specific problem of translation to the understanding. Nothing is so strange, and at the same time so demanding, as the written word. The written word and what partakes of it–literature–is the intelligibility of mind transferred to the most alien medium. Nothing is so purely the trace of the mind as writing, but nothing is so dependent on the understanding mind either. In deciphering and interpreting it, a miracle takes place: the transformation of something alien and dead into total contemporaneity and familiarity. This is like nothing else that comes down to us from the past. Then remnants of past life–what is left of buildings, tools, the contents of graves–are weather-beaten by the storms of time that have swept over them, whereas a written tradition, once deciphered and read, is to such an extent pure mind that it speaks to us as if in the present. That is why the capacity to read, to understand what is written, is like a secret art, even a magic that frees and binds us. In it time and space seem to be superseded. People who can read what has been handed down in writing produce and achieve the sheer presence of the past.” (163)