THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL METHOD

By Manuel B. Dy, Jr.

Traditionally, a formal study of philosophy begins with logic (the study of correct
reasoning), then goes through metaphysics (the study of being), followed by cosmology (the
study of nature and the universe) and ends up with philosophical psychology or philosophy of
man. The philosophical study of man comes last in the curriculum. Moreover, man is defined
by traditional scholastic philosophy as rational animal, or as a composite of body and soul.
Under the aspect of body, he is like any other animal, a substance, mortal, subject to the
limitations of time and space. Under the aspect of soul, he is gifted with the power of reason,
free and immortal. From the behavior of man to think and decide, it is concluded that he must be
gifted with human soul.

The method we are going to use in our reflection on man will attempt to do something
different from the traditional approach. Instead of going first in to logic (after all, reality is not
always logical), we shall begin with man himself in his totality. Isn’t it that our understanding of
the world, and even of God, is somehow based on what we understand of ourselves? We shall
not start too with definitions of man, definitions that may cut man into parts. Instead, let us
describe man from within, from what is properly human, not from a point of view that is
external, our method is called phenomenological.

Historical Considerations
The man behind the phenomenological movement was mathematician turned philosopher
named Edmund Husser (1859-1938). He had an aim very similar to Descartes: to arrive at
“philosophy as a rigorous science”. But, unlike Descartes who was impressed by the progress of
the sciences of his time, Husserl came to this goal as a result of dissatisfaction with the sciences
of his time. According to him, the natural sciences start out with a lot of presuppositions. In
particular, he was reacting against the naturalistic psychology of his time which treats of the
mental activity as casually conditioned by events of nature, in terms of stimulus-reaction
relationship. This kind of psychology would presuppose therefore that man is a mechanistic
animal.

As a result of this dissatisfaction with the sciences, Husserl turned to philosophy in order
to make it “the science of ultimate grounds,” in other words, “ a rigorous science,” he meant a
“presupposition less philosophy,” a philosophy not without any presupposition (for that would be
impossible) but a philosophy containing the least number of primary presuppositions, so basic
and immediately evident that they need not be clarified any further or reduced to other
presuppositions.

How does one arrive at this kind of philosophy? According to Husserl, one has to
transcend the so-called “natural attitude”. What is the natural attitude?
 The term “natural attitude” was used by Husserl to refer to the most predominant attitude
of this time, namely the scientific attitude. The scientific attitude when carried to the extreme
and used as the only way of looking at things, becomes “scientific”.

Briefly, the scientific attitude observes things, express their workings in singular
judgments, then in universal judgments, and by the process of induction and deduction arrives at
concrete results. This is the way science makes progress. But fir Husserl, this attitude contains a
number of assumptions:

1.) It consumes that there is no need to ask how we know.

2.) It assumes that the world (the object) is out there, existing and explainable in
objective laws, while man the subject is a pure consciousness, transparent to itself and
facing the world to know it as it is.
3.) It takes for granted the world-totality.

To put in less technical terms, the natural attitude looks at reality as things. It’s way of
knowing things is fragmented, partial, fixed, clear, precise and manipulative. There is no
room for mystery in the natural attitude. It is, in the words of Husserl, “fact world”.

Thus, Husserl saw that philosophy needed a new starting point and method, different
from that of the sciences. He realized that the sciences were getting farther and farther away
from the heart of things. And so, he cried for a going “back to things themselves!” By “back to
things themselves!’ he meant the entire field of original experience. He came to the point that
the ultimate root of philosophy and of all rational assertions was not to be found in a concept, or
in a principle, not in a Cogito but in the whole field of our lived experience. This new method
would attempt to go back to phenomenon, to that which presents itself to man, seeing things as
they really are, and independent of any prejudice. This method would be logos of the
phenomenon, in short phenomenology.

Some characteristics of the Phenomenological Attitude

Before going into the method itself, it might be worthwhile to mention first some
characteristics of the phenomenological attitude in order to see how the phenomenological
method fulfills the aim of Husserl of going back to original experience.

1. The phenomenological posits the unity first before analyzing the parts or aspects of this
unity. This is being faithful to original experience because in original experience we see
no opposition between subject and object. What I perceive in original experience is an
integral unified whole. For example, when I see a pretty “chick” walking in the corridor,
I see the whole “chick” first before I notice the sharpness of her bust, the smoothness of
her legs, etc.
The phenomenologist is also interested in the parts but only insofar as these lies in the context of
the totality of human experience. For example, when phenomenologists undertake an analysis of
the language, he will look at this phenomenon not just as a body of words, with a grammatical
and phonetic structure, but also as embodiment of thought.
 2. The phenomenologist does not reason from particular instances to general statement
(induction) nor deduces from a general law some particular cases (deduction) but
describes. The phenomenologists simply explicates, unfolds what is already there. Since
the totality is already there, what is left to do is reveal structures of this totality. Original
experience can only be described, not deduced or induced because it is already there, the
ultimate, the origin. Thus, the phenomenologists describes meticulously, and since
reality is rich and inexhaustible, there is no conclusive end to his description. Whatever
he describes will only be a “bite” of reality.

3. The phenomenologists is essentially concerned about experienced and about man. His
world is not the world of formal typifications and models, of constructs (like the
scientist’s) but the worked s lived by man. What concerns him is man’s being-in-the-
world-with-others, the problem he encounters in life like death, love, etc., his memories
of the past and his anticipation of the future. All these he must bring light to.

4. In his attempt to be faithful to experience, the phenomenologist uses “epoche”. This is a

term coined and borrowed by Husserl from mathematics to refer to a stepping from
prejudice, a suspension of judgment, a bracketing of the natural attitude. We shall explain
this in greater detail in our discussion of the method proper.

Some Important Steps in the Phenomenological Method

Space and lack of time prevent us from giving a complete discussion of Husserl’s
phenomenological method. For our own purposes we shall select only three important steps in
his method:

1. Epoche. Epoche literally means “bracketing” Husserl borrowed this mathematical

term and applied it to the natural attitude. This is the preliminary step in the
phenomenological method. Before I can investigate anything, I have to bracket, that
is to say, hold in abeyance my natural attitude towards the object I am investigating.
My natural attitude consists of my prejudices, biases, clear fixed precise,
unquestioned, explicit knowledge of the object. These I have to suspend for a while,
not denying it nor affirming it.

Let us say, I am an Atenean and I meet a La Sallite. What is my natural attitude towards
him? If I am a typical Atenean, I would say here is a student who is “all form but no
substance”. If I am a La Sallite and I meet an Atenean my natural attitude would be,
“here is one who is all substance but no form”. All these conceptions may have some
truth, may be so clear to my mind, but if I am to use the epoche, I would have to suspend
all these and let the other unfold himself before me.
What is my natural attitude towards a priest? That he is one who is holy, pure, a messenger of
God. What is my natural attitude towards a teacher? That he is one who gives grades, a terror
whom I have to coy and please. What is my natural attitude towards a pretty “chick”? That she
is one who can probably satisfy my sexual appetites.
 It seems that we do have a natural attitude for anything, not realizing how much this
hides the manifold richness of the object before us. We remain secure in the conceptual level,
and unless we the epoche, we will never perhaps come to see the richness, the beauty; the
goodness of a person or thing. We have to use the epoche in order to see the world with
“new eyes” and to return to the original experience from where our conceptual natural
attitude after all was derived.

2. The Phenomenological Eidetic Reduction. The term “reduction” is another term

borrowed by the Husserl from mathematics to refer to the procedure by which we are
placed in the “transcendental sphere”, the sphere in which we can see things as they
really are, independent of any prejudice. In Husserl’s philosophy, there are several
reductions; and Maurice Merleau-Ponty, another phenomenologist, may even have
more. But for our own purposes, we shall mention only the two most important ones:
the eidetic reduction and the transcendental reduction.
The eidetic reduction is derived from the Greek word “eidos” which means essence. Under this
step, I reduce the experience to its essence. How do I arrive at the essence? I start out with an
individual example and investigate what changes can be made in the example without making it
cease to be thing it is. That which cannot change without making the object cease to be thing it
is the invariant, which is the eidos of the experience.

Let us say I am describing the phenomenon of love. In the epoche, I bracket my biases
and judgments on love, like love hurts or that love is a “many splendored thing,” etc. Now, I
reduce the object to the love phenomenon of love, to the lived experienced of love. In the eidetic
reduction. I reduce the phenomenon of love to its essence, removing the contigent factors. I
begin with an example, relationship between two people. Can I change their age? Their sex?
Their race? Their family background? Their social status? I discover that I can change all these
without the relationship ceasing to be love. What is it that I cannot change? Perhaps, it is the
activity of giving, the disinterested giving of oneself to the other as he is, I find that if this is
missing in a relationship, then the relationship cannot be called love. This therefore becomes the
essence of love.

3. Phenomenological Transcendental Reduction. Under this step, I reduce the

object to the very activity of my consciousness. Instead of paying attention simply to loving,
seeing hearing, etc. I now pay attention to my loving, my seeing, my hearing, etc. I now become
conscious of the subject, the “I” who must decide on the validity of the objects in experience, I
now become aware of the subjective aspects of the object when I inquire into the beliefs,
feelings, desires which shape the experience. In other words, the object is seen in the relation to
the subject, and vice versa, the subject in relation to the object.

For example, if under the eidetic reduction, I see the essence of love as disinterested
giving of oneself to the other as he is, in the transcendental reduction I reduce this meaning of
love to my experience of it. I see meaning of love as such perhaps because I have experienced it
that way, perhaps because I have been a lover myself. I discover that this meaning of love has a
perspective of the lover. If I were to take the perspective of a beloved, then perhaps its meaning
would be different—maybe, it would be more of a receiving rather than giving. If I were to take
the perspective of a religious, then maybe love would be seen as the activity of god, the presence
of god’s grace in man.

What is rain? Rain can have many meaning. To the romantic, it is a creation of
beauty-its patter is music to his ears, its sight recalls memories of the past, its touch cleanses long
hidden inner wounds. To the children, it is a chance to play and to bathe at the same time. To
the farmer, it is blessing from heaven, a necessity for a good harvest. But for the commuter, it is
a curse, a battle for a ride, a struggle to brave through the traffic, to the poor; a time of misery, of
having to bear up with leaking roofs and walls, with hunger and cold.

The Intentionality of Consciousness

It is in the transcendtal reduction that Husserl came up with the main insight of
phenomenology: the intentionality of consciousness. For Husserl, every conscious act intends
something. Consciousness is consciousness of something other than itself. If an act is present,
the object is also present. Therefore, the character of the object is co-determined by the character
of the act. Consciousness does not just adapt itself to the object passively but rather, its very
essence is to form meaning to the object.

For the phenomenologists, then, there is no object without a subject, and no subject
without an object. The subject-of –the-object is called by phenomenologist as the noesis, and the
object-for-the-subject is called the noema.

Put in other words, there is no world without man, and there is no man without a world.
The world is a human world, and man is being-in-the-world.

Marcel’s Phenomenological Method

The existentialist philosopher Gabriel Marcel uses a phenomenological method less

technical than Husserl’s. According to Marcel reflection which is rooted in experience, is two
levels:

1. Primary Reflection. Primary reflection breaks the unity of unity of experience.

It looks at the word or at any object as a problem, detached from the self, and fragmented.
Primary reflection is the foundation of scientific knowledge, for the science assumes a stand
where the world is apart from the subject. The subject does not enter into the object investigated.

2. Secondary reflection. Secondary reflection on the other hand, recaptures the

unity of original experience. It does not go against the data of primary reflection but goes
beyond it by refusing to accept the data of primary reflection as final. The unity of experience is
grasped by placing back the object to the self. For Marcel, the level of secondary reflection is
the area of the mysterious because here we enter into the realm of the personal. What is needed
in secondary reflection is an ingathering, a recollection a pulling together of the scattered
fragments of our experience.
 The secondary reflection is strictly speaking, the phenomenological method of Marcel,
whereas the primary reflection would seem to correspond to the natural attitude of Husserl.

Some examples:

Who am I? from primary reflection, I can answer the question by mentioning my name,
date of birth, height, weight—the items I would normally fill out in a registration card. But all
these are contingent, relative to the inner self that I am. In secondary reflection, I would have to
penetrate into inner core of my person.

My body. Primary reflection would look at my body as a body like other bodies,
detached from the self that would make it unique. My body would be the body examined by a
physician, or perhaps the body that I sell in a prostitution house. But is this my sole experience
of my body? Secondary reflection tells me that my body is mine. The way I carry my body is
very unique. The dentist cannot experience the pain I feel when he pulls my tooth because my
tooth is mine. And if I am a prostitute and still have a conscience, I experience (when I sell my
body) a terrible feeling that I am selling myself.

Here are two true-to-fact examples of primary and secondary reflection from two
students:

Examples I:

Once, during the early years of my adolescence, I had a pet canary. I kept him in a small
cage, which I placed on the porch table. I never forget to feed him regularly a task, which I
never entrusted to anybody else.

I remember the time when I used to sit there to sit there on the porch, just listening to his
beautiful singing. Whenever my friends called on me, I very often showed them my prize canary
with pride. I had taught him to sing whenever I whistled a tune that was similar to his song.

Then one day, a terrible thing happened, after I had fed him I did not notice that I had left the
cage door open. In a matter he was gone. My favorite pet had flown away, leaving behind him the empty
cage, which I thought was so beautiful, and was not a mere reminder of the happy days when I used to
hear him sing.

My first reaction was to try to get him back, no matter what it cost. I saw him perched on
the fence, his wings not used to flying over long distances. I immediately rushed into the house
and got my air rifle. I was desperate, and the only thought that was in my mind was capture the
creature even if it meant that I had to kill him. Fortunately I was too late, when I returned, he
was already gone.

I was angry at everything. I kept on telling myself that it was unjust, after all the trouble
I went through taking care of the bird. I could not bear it if I was to see him in the possession of
another person. Maybe, that was the reason why I wanted to kill him rather than to let him fly
away.
 Several days passed. One afternoon, just as the sun was about to set, I was sitting out on
the porch. Suddenly, I heard him singing, I was surprised to hear it because canary birds are
seldom seen here, and when you hear one singing, you cannot just mistake it for some other
bird’s son. And my canary’s singing, I cannot mistake for some other canary’s.

I looked up and saw him, perched on one of the limbs of a tree. That time I felt a longing
inside me, a longing to have him back. He was so close, yet it was almost impossible to catch
him. But the feeling quickly passed, because I realized that the song I was hearing was just the
same as, if not more beautiful than, the song that I heard from the cage. The song was still mine,
mine to hear, mine to enjoy for a moment.

As I looked at that yellow bird high up on the branches of the tree, it seemed as if he was
happier then, because he was free. He was still my bird, yet he was free. That was the time I
began to realize that every bird can, and does, sing a truly beautiful song. Unlike before when I
only know how to listen to the song of a bird in a cage, now I have learned how to listen to every
bird I hear. As long as I could hear them, they were mine.

From that day on, I never saw my canary again. However, I was glad that he was able to
escape from his prison because, through that, I was able to see the real value of possession. My
property does not end at the place where the fence surrounding my house stands. A creature, as
long as it gives me pleasure whenever I see or hear it, belongs to me.

My neighbor’s dog is rightfully mine if he wags his tail in joy when he sees me coming.
Real possession can be mine to a greater degree than the master’s if the bond of friendship
between that dog and me is greater.

Beauty can also be the object of possession. When I see a flower blooming though it
does not grow in my garden, I own it. Before, I would be tempted to pick that flower and bring it
home with me. But now I realize that it is better to let it alone to bloom for me, rather than to
have it within my reach only to see it wilt in my hand. Since I put value in it, it is, in a sense, my
own.

Even spider’s web is a thing of beauty. Very often, I would watch spiders spinning their
webs. I would be tempted to destroy the web. I think that it is in man’s nature to have a sadistic
tendencies. However, I would hold back my hand for I know that the fulfillment of my savage
tendency is nothing when compared to the pleasure of appreciating the beauty of nature. Only
then can I say that I am the richest man on earth.

Example II:

I really did not know that I was like this. Its Christmas eve, in the morning. We have just
eaten breakfast (the first time I eat breakfast in a girl’s house). Marilyn and I have just been to
Misa de Gallo. I don’t know how it happened, but it all started at the Expo ’67 fairgrounds. Then
she thought of the Old-English tradition of twelve days of Christmas, the exchange of gifts
somehow bound us closer. Yet, I really do not know whether I love her or whether I should start
planning and remolding my life for her. It’s only been less than a month.

Today is the twelfth day of Christmas. I plan to give my gift tonight. She just gave me a
brightly wrapped thin rectangular box—her gift to me.

It is the evening of Christmas Eve. I have just opened my gift. It is a bit of a let-down for
me. He has given me only a set of pastel coloring sticks. I don’t think I should feel this way. I
don’t want to feel as though I am belittling her gift, but I still do feel this way.

Why is it she gave me only a set of pastel coloring sticks? I was expecting more. Am I
not becoming somebody special in her life? So, why just a set of “adult crayons”?it is not than I
do not value her gift, or reject it, or even ridicule the emotion behind it, but I am bothered
because I expected something more, a gift with more emotional and sentimental impact than a set
of coloring sticks. I am happy about her giving but I am a little sad about the gift. Not sad,
maybe, but puzzled. I think I have shown I like her, maybe even love her (I don’t know) and I
think she has shown her own receptive feelings towards me. But still I feel a let-down.

It has only been a month. What really do I know of her? Do I really know her quirks, her
likes, dislikes, inside out? Do I know what touches her and what does not? Do I know her now
beyond the surface of her smiles, deeper than the joy of talking and being with her?

And in my choice of a gift for her ( I bought her a book of French poems that pun on
English nursery rhymes), was I really sure it was theI gift for her? I know I was looking for
something meaningful, a gift that would be close to her. Yet, I realize I am only hitting that
humorous side of her person (which is primarily evident in these first encounters) with this
choice of gift. My choice of gift shows I really don’t know her yet.

I realize it must be the same for her. She doesn’t know me beyond my smiles, the kooky-
colored shirts I wear, or the jackets I’m so fond of and the posters I love to make.
She doesn’t know the lazy labyrinth that is me. She hasn’t traveled through it yet. It has only
been less than one month, and she knows for sure I like to make posters.

Now I know I should not feel this way. There should be no letdown about her gift. It is a
gift of beginning, a gift that symbolizes the state and the depth of our incipient relationship. It is,
in fact, most significant now, more significant than a tie, a wallet, or a set of hankies can be. I
know there is a lot of time to learn about each other a lot of time to explore and discover, a lot of
time to learn to love the best way we can. But as of now, this gift speaks for us.

I can say that this experiences is a real one and that what I underwent was what has been
compartmentally designated “primary and secondary reflection”. I underwent both steps, tough I
did not see them as two steps, then, or that I was using a philosophical method.
 My primary reflection came when I was “jolted” at the kind of gift I received. It was a
break from the flow of my existence, or to be more exact, a break in the way I thought of
Marilyn. I had to stop and think—why “only” this? I think I expected more, now that we are
growing closer to each other. Isn’t there something wrong somewhere? I feel a let-down.

Together with this first reflection is the “wrenching” feeling of anguish. A part of me is
threatened. That part of me is the way I think of Marilyn. I may have to review things and
change my feelings, and the anguish that comes with change is beginning to overwhelm me. My
“self” is threatened.

In this reflection, too, I have cut myself off to an extent; I become a sort of a judge above
my receipt of a gift. I seem to sit back and view this gift and ask “by this only?” I am indifferent
to a certain extent in posing such a question. I have cut myself off in this indifference. I seem to
be above the question I pose.

Yet, I reflect further. I think of how I regard Marilyn at this stage. I realize I really do
not know her myself. I only know I like her through a mere presence, which I have not fathomed.
Even my choice of a Christmas gifts shows this.

From this realization I make another one—that she herself does not know me inside out,
that we have known each other as deeply as a few weeks can afford, and ultimately her gift is the
best symbol of this knowledge she has. Thus, I should not feel this way.

From my secondary reflection, I experience a sense of liberation. I am not apart from and
above the question. I have seen it in greater totality. I have confronted the question, seen the
question with my own self-involved, consequently enlarging my view. I am at one with the
phenomenon of this gift. I can grasp it and have united myself into this phenomenon, and
furthermore I feel at one with the giver, Marilyn. I am no longer part from and above it.

I feel free now because I have removed the anguish I had before. I see the phenomenon
in a greater totality and my anguish is gone. I can now go on in my discovering Marilyn. The
obstruction has been surmounted.

Lastly, the result of these two steps, primary and secondary reflection is that I can now
give a greater significance to the gift. I seem to have transcended the phenomenon of this gift,
and have enriched it with this greater significance:

It is a gift of beginning. It is a symbol of what we both are to each other at this stage.
We shall have time to learn and to discover and to give gifts that do not come in brightly-
wrapped boxes but still pierce our hearts more deeply.