What it is not and is not what it is

“What it is not and is not what it is” expresses the For-itself’s defining distance from itself: consciousness is neither a self-contained thing nor a settled identity, but a being that relates to what it is, projects beyond it, and exists through these inseparable movements. The formula gathers the book’s account of intentional consciousness, facticity, and possibility into a paradox of being that is never simply at one with itself.

A Being Divided from Itself

The expression belongs to an account of the For-itself as existing across three interrelated dimensions: not being what it is, being what it is not, and being what it is not while not being what it is. These are not separate stages or detachable parts. They are simultaneous ways of relating to being, held together in a perpetual reference from one dimension to another. The For-itself’s distance from itself is not a measurable gap or a hidden inner object; it is a nothingness that separates it from itself and makes this relation possible.

That distance also explains why the formula resists a fixed definition of consciousness. A thing that simply is what it is has only one way of being its being. Once a being is no longer identical with its being, however, several ways of relating to it arise. The For-itself must be its being without being its own foundation, and must reach beyond what it presently is toward what it is not. Its apparent contradiction names this structure rather than an inconsistency to be resolved.

The Three Dimensions of Existence

The first dimension concerns facticity: the For-itself has to be its being behind itself, as something already there, without having established that being as its own foundation. It cannot erase this contingency or merge with it. Its being is thus both irretrievably given and present to it only at a distance. The For-itself is responsible for the way it takes up its being, but it does not create the fact that it has been given this being.

The other dimensions make that given existence inseparable from projection. The For-itself is what it is not because its being extends toward possibilities not yet realized; it is not what it is because no present state exhausts what it can become. The three dimensions therefore clarify one another: facticity is not a closed identity, and possibility is not detached from the being that must take it up. Each is a distinct way the For-itself projects toward the Self it can never simply become.

Consciousness and the World

The expression also belongs to the book’s account of consciousness as intentional. Following Edmund Husserl, it rejects the idea that consciousness contains objects as inner contents: a table is not inside consciousness, even as a representation, but exists in space, beside a window. Consciousness is positional because it transcends itself toward an object, and its judgments, practical activities, and inclinations are directed toward that object rather than gathered into an enclosed interior.

This outward directedness does not make consciousness unaware of itself. Knowing consciousness must be conscious of itself as knowing its object; otherwise it would be an unconscious awareness, which the argument treats as incoherent. Yet the table is not reducible to the consciousness that knows it. It exceeds any inventory of its appearances, and remains the transcendent limit, reason, and end of the synthesis through which it is apprehended. The expression’s self-distance thus accompanies a relation to a world that is not absorbed into consciousness.

Appearance, Passivity, and Significance

The book’s broader account of appearance rejects a hidden interior that would stand behind an object’s manifestations. Force, for example, is not a secret metaphysical power behind its effects but their totality; an electric current is the totality of the physical and chemical actions through which it manifests itself. Appearances refer to other appearances, without any one appearance serving as a privileged surface over a concealed reality. The expression’s refusal of a fixed, self-contained identity belongs to this wider rejection of hidden essences.

The discussion of perception further shows why being cannot be reduced to passive reception. If the being of the phenomenon were simply its being perceived, that being would be passive: it would undergo a modification whose source lay elsewhere. But even to remain offended, the text argues, the person must persevere in existence and take up the offense; sustaining passivity is itself a conduct. The relation between perceiver and perceived therefore cannot explain the perceived being’s existence as though it were created and continuously supported by consciousness. Together, these arguments make the expression a compact statement of the book’s central distinction: consciousness is related to being and to the world, yet is never merely an object fixed in what it already is.