The French philosopher Paul Ricœur pointed out that, for the last two centuries, philosophy has been developing in the mode of suspicion. “Philosophers of suspicion” like Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Sigmund Freud, argue that when you believe you are acting for certain reasons, you often fail to realize that your actions are driven by hidden forces.
Marx suspected that all human actions were driven by economics, Nietzsche by the will to power, and Freud by the unconscious.
In other words, when you act a certain way, you may think you have clear reasons for acting this way, but in reality, you do it because of
1) economic conditions,
2) desire for power,
3) unconscious drives.
Philosophers of suspicion have led us to believe that thinking must be rooted solely in suspicion.
“What do we mean by ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’? This school of interpretation involves a radical critique of consciousness, an effort to unmask the hidden meanings behind the apparent ones. It is a mode of interpretation pioneered by Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, each of whom tried to expose the illusions of consciousness and reveal the structures of power, desire, and the unconscious that lie beneath.” Paul Ricœur
There’s nothing wrong with hermeneutics of suspicion as such. It is true that some human actions are driven by economics, some by the will to power, and some by the unconscious. But not all—and not always.
Paul Ricœur contrasts “hermeneutics of suspicion” with “hermeneutics of trust.” Instead of deconstructing someone’s meaning, he suggests assuming that there is one and seeking to recover it.
“To interpret is to render near what is far, to appropriate what is strange, to make one’s own what was initially alien. Interpretation, then, is guided by a ‘will to trust.’”
What is a will to trust? It means that when I meet someone I do not start with suspicion about the source of their actions but become a witness—someone who “endures” the other person’s presence in the hope of being surprised.
“The witness testifies to an event which has touched him or her deeply, physically or morally. As such, testimony is more than a recounting of facts; it is an expression of responsibility, a call to remembrance and a summons to the ethical imperative of remembering.” (Memory, History, Forgetting)
A person’s actions may be motivated by economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives, but my goal in meeting them is to become a witnessing presence to encounter something wonderful. I become a witness because my primary motivation is to encounter a witness—someone so full of wonder that you can’t miss it.
The Greek word for “witness” is μάρτυς (martys), from which we derive the word “martyr.” In ancient times, a martyr was seen as the ultimate witness. Martyrs witness to Wonder so profoundly that you can’t help seeing it. Wonder is contagious. You read it off their faces. Their faces testify that they are above economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives.
Philosophy of suspicion cannot survive in the presence of a true witness. A true witness turns you into a witness too. As Wonder passes from one person to another, suspicion dies. When you see wonder in the eyes of a martyr, you stop seeking “explanations” for their behavior. You simply stand there, stock still, smitten by the “will to trust.”
As the Roman centurion exclaimed, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
You are not naive—you know that at a certain level, a person’s actions may be caused by economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives. But not now. Not when you see “that.” When you see that, you don’t interpret. All hermeneutics ceases—you simply witness. You feel touched, moved. There is nothing in your mind except “the ethical imperative of remembering.”
