Bahar Mirteymouri

Orientation unfolds within time yet meets an inevitable limit—death! This final boundary does not merely disrupt certainty; it conditions all orientation by rendering permanence impossible, making every foothold provisional and every certainty contingent.1 Drawing on Pascal, Stegmaier reminds us that human cognition, bound by its limitations, oscillates between an unknowable origin and an infinite beyond. Metaphysics, then, arises not as a repository of absolute truths but as another form of orientation, offering seemingly fixed principles that merely create the illusion of final certainty. Unlike Pascal, however, Stegmaier views metaphysics not as a deception to discard but as a transient tool—useful for shifting between orientations but never final, as orientation itself ultimately ends with death, the absolute limit of all orientation.2

Stegmaier’s What Is Orientation? presents orientation as the solution to the impossibility of final certainties. It is framed as a dynamic, adaptive process that avoids adherence to any fixed form—whether in identity groups, ideologies, or the rigid principles of traditional metaphysics. Rather than being a static form of thinking detached from experience, orientation is a practical activity that structures human engagement with uncertainty. In chapter 13 of his book, Stegmaier illustrates its twofold operation—both practical and theoretical—through science, art, and religion as distinct modes of orientation. Science disciplines orientation through systematic transparency and controlled objectivity, art enriches and disorients it through fiction and aesthetic experience, and religion provides the strongest hold by grounding orientation in faith, despite its inherent paradoxes. These modes do not resolve uncertainty but shape what is deemed relevant, enabling practical adaptation. Far from offering absolute truths as a remedy for human anxiety, orientation provides only temporary footholds, allowing for continued adjustment rather than final resolution.3

Stegmaier’s account of orientation strikes a compelling balance: it neither assumes an ultimate fixed truth nor is entirely absorbed into contingent situations. This nuanced approach not only sidesteps the pitfalls of dogmatic certainty but also avoids falling into relativism. As he demonstrates in Chapter 3, orientation is not a passive submission to situational flux but a recursive process—one that involves both “orienting oneself” and “orienting about the relevant contingencies of a situation.”4 Conversely, a situation, at its roots, concerns the relative positioning of elements in relation to one another, lacking any stability beyond its immediate configuration. As Stegmaier puts it, “[t]he relevant matters of a situation are not presented in a way that allows for their determination once and for all” (27). Relevance, integral to his definition of a situation, is neither predetermined nor fixed; something only becomes relevant when a contingent encounter demands attention. Consider a minor remark in a meeting that unexpectedly reshapes discussion or an anticipated conflict that dissolves through unforeseen cooperation. Such shifts in attention are not arbitrary; they occur through orientation’s recursive operation. Through self-referentiality, orientation recalls past experiences to interpret relevance, while through other-referentiality, it adapts to evolving situational demands.5 Thus, orientation does not merely react to shifting conditions but actively structures how relevance unfolds, rendering situation and orientation distinct yet inseparable in navigating uncertainty.

Although orientation and situation are correlated, their distinction invites further reflection: Does orientation sustain coherence by reintegrating disruptions into established structures, or does it generate new patterns that meaningfully reestablish not only ways of acting but also thinking? While Stegmaier’s emphasis on recursiveness appears to favor the latter, the exact mechanisms of this adaptability—especially in contexts of systemic constraint—warrant closer examination. Accordingly, he frames active adaptability as the hallmark of mastering orientation, fostering assurance by enabling individuals to navigate situations effectively while cultivating stability and self-confidence.6 Over time, the unsettlement introduced by other-referentiality is mitigated as consistent self-referential patterns reestablish a sustained sense of composure.

When presented in this way, one might argue that Stegmaier’s account risks obscuring the role of power relations in conditioning orientation. For example, Sara Ahmed’s illustration of the family table offers a counterpoint: a queer child’s presence disrupts the assumed heteronormativity of the space, unsettling its perceived stability.7 If, as Stegmaier suggests, orientation operates recursively to reestablish coherence, does this not imply that the child must conform to dominant norms to maintain composure? Such a reading suggests that self-referentiality reinforces existing expectations, framing queerness as a deviation to be eliminated or corrected. Nevertheless, Stegmaier might counter that his account prioritizes recursiveness over repetition. Unlike Ahmed’s model, where repetition ossifies norms and excludes what does not fit, his recursion allows for dynamic adjustments. Seen through this lens, the queer child’s presence is not merely disruptive but a moment in which orientation recalibrates, expanding the very contours of stability itself.

That said, returning to the mechanics of adaptability, it seems to me that Stegmaier’s emphasis on neutrality and indirect communication might serve to downplay systemic power structures, even if he acknowledges identity as a social process. More precisely, his tendency toward neutrality as a safeguard against self-referential extremes appears to suggest an implicit premise: that identity is always an adaptable and negotiable process. While this model captures the interpersonal dynamics of identity, it fails to account for how dominant norms define whose identity can be fluidly negotiated and whose is structurally constrained. As Ahmed points out, whiteness and heterosexuality function as inhabited spaces, privileging those who conform to dominant norms while restricting those who do not.8 Those who benefit from these structures rarely perceive their constraints, whereas marginalized individuals encounter them as exclusionary.

Indeed, Stegmaier acknowledges how power regulates footholds and conditions intelligibility; his advocacy for neutrality, in fact, aims to prevent self-referential identity from ossifying into such a hierarchical ideology. However, as I see it, this position assumes neutrality is equally accessible to all. In reality, the ability to step back from structures is unevenly distributed—some move freely, while others must navigate a world that excludes them, thereby obscuring how certain bodies are shaped by that very exclusion. Furthermore, for individuals whose identities expose them to the limits of structural power, oppression is not merely an external constraint but a force that conditions the structure through which orientation becomes possible. Neutrality, in this case, is not a safeguard but a limitation—it stabilizes, rather than unsettles, the ideological fixity that recursive orientation is meant to challenge. Therefore, while I sympathize with the author’s view of recursive orientation as a dynamic process, I believe that refusing to neutralize certain identities exposed to the limits of the structure creates a productive disorientation—one that unsettles the status quo and opens the possibility of surpassing it, fostering a genuinely new recursive orientation.

To further illustrate my concern with neutrality, particularly in the context of identity-based oppression, consider academia—an institution that presents itself as open to diversity while maintaining hierarchies that determine whose presence is accepted and whose is contested. This hierarchy can appear through Stegmaier’s concept of indirect communication: dominant groups use it to signal neutrality and deflect accountability, preserving existing norms, while marginalized scholars adopt it as a safeguard, inadvertently reinforcing the very structures that oppress them. This further echoes Deleuze and Guattari’s critique of fascicular systems, where apparent diversity remains structurally contained.9 Likewise, Stegmaier’s neutrality, though enabling adaptability, risks becoming an adaptive mechanism that sustains exclusion by avoiding direct confrontation.

The necessity of shielding orientation’s recursiveness from the entanglements of power becomes particularly urgent in The End of Orientation, where Stegmaier situates death as the ultimate limit. As noted earlier, for Stegmaier, orientation ends with death, but only the process of dying is experienced. However, if death is understood not merely as the loss of existence but as the loss of a particular mode of being, it is not a singular event, as the author suggests, but an ongoing process. We “die” each time we leave our home country, lose a loved one, or experience a rupture that dismantles an established way of living, making space for new ways of becoming.

To expand our view of death in this way—as the end of one way of living, not life itself—reveals how power shapes even our understanding of the ultimate ending. In fascist regimes, death is not an existential boundary but a tool of control. As Deleuze and Guattari argue, fascism drives societies toward a “line of death,” imposing rigid closure and reducing the complexity of existence to narrow categories like racial purity, national unity, and militarization.10 In these regimes, genocide and extermination are not merely enacted but legitimized through ideological and scientific justifications. Thus, insofar as death is subsumed into structures of power, remaining faithful to the dynamic within recursive orientation, as the author rightly suggests, may indeed require us to shift from indirect communication to a more direct interrogation of the structures that govern intelligibility. Without this critical examination, our thinking risks reflecting dominant frameworks and solidifying into fixed paths—ultimately rendering us “dead” while we still exist.

References

Ahmed, Sara. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others. Durham: Duke University Press, 2006.

Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Translated by Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987.

Stegmaier, Werner. What Is Orientation? A Philosophical Investigation. Translated by Reinhard G. Mueller. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2019.

Werner Stegmaier’s investigation of orientation is an enlightening rediscovery of the notion that captures our position in the contemporary era of innovation and attempts to offer pragmatic guidance for us to navigate through uncertainty. As I have been largely convinced by Stegmaier’s exposition of orientation and his application of the concept to society and our real life, I would like to pose some broader questions on orientation’s practical implication in relation to education, both in the sense of Erziehung and Bildung.

Let me start by discussing Erziehung as the easier and plainer concept for us to work with. Whereas Stegmaier finishes his book with a beautiful and thoughtful reflection on death as the end of orientation, I would still love to see him inquire into the beginning of orientation not solely by providing a general biological and cultural archaeology that explains our shared needs for orientation as humans (as is seen in the earlier chapters), but also by elaborating on the particular phenomenon where we are born into the world not as mature and independent individuals competent at orientation, but rather as vulnerable infants who still need to acquire the skills necessary for orientation from their caretakers. Just as first language acquisition has long been an important research topic in the field of linguistics, the preliminary formation of orientation at children’s early age is equally intriguing as a process that is both familiar and strange to us. Our childhood memories serve as perfect examples here: although we are able to grasp an extent of identity and continuity in our process of growing up and to construct a narrative account of our life, it is still impossible for us adults to fully understand our actions and thoughts as children, namely how and why we modified our horizons, standpoints and/or perspectives and thus refined our orientations even when we were not conscious of ourselves. Sometimes our parents or caregivers directly influence our orientations (such as by means of teaching or punishment), while other times we ignore them and make decisions for ourselves instead, and the latter scenario happens more often as we enter puberty and adulthood. Still, we cannot declare independence from our guardians until we have been brought up by them, and the formation and alteration of orientation thus seems to be continuously affected by the dynamic opposition between individuality and dependence during the process of upbringing.

On the other hand, the birth of a new child appears to have a significant impact on its family members as well. The duty of parenting certainly requires new fathers and mothers to rearrange their orientations significantly by incorporating the children’s wellbeing into their horizons. Furthermore, when the child grows up and learns from its living environment, the parents also seem to have an opportunity to become more mature as they share the child’s perspective and reflect on themselves. A father may learn to express his love for the family more affectionately on listening to his son’s complaint that he is too stern, whereas a mother may learn to set healthy boundaries and respect her daughter’s privacy when the latter blames her for being too controlling. At the same time, the parents get to see their offspring navigate the world with an orientation that has been more or less cultivated by them. In other words, the child’s orientation becomes an extension of those of the parents. Though Stegmaier talks about mutual orientation and respect in Chapters 10 and 11, his portrayal of the parent-child relationship still seems generic and not much different from other kinds of relationship, such as friendship and colleagueship. More importantly, he argues that the birth of a child signifies the prototype of separation of orientations, and while this assertion correctly captures the goal of Erziehung as rearing the naive child into an autonomous adult, it unfortunately misses out the element of love and care that is uniquely found in families and is essentially distinct from respect. Would it be possible, then, for Stegmaier and us to redevelop a theory of orientation that takes the process of Erziehung and the role of care into greater consideration?

I shall now move on to contemplate the connection between orientation and Bildung, or what I will broadly interpret as the educational or schooling system in society for the sake of conveniently introducing my questions. While Stegmaier offers a comprehensive account of the modern social structure through the lens of orientation, much seems to have been left out when it comes to education as an indispensable mechanism of cultivating acknowledged politicians, journalists, scientists and artists besides well-informed individuals who are fluent in orientation. Unlike Erziehung that mainly involves the parents’ care and teaching for their own children, Bildung understood as the schooling system is inevitably standardized to fulfill the various requirements that society has for its members. Even though there is still leeway, for parents and students can choose between public and private education or decide to have homeschooling, the students still have to be evaluated by certain criteria, which are usually quantified to ensure that the given learning objectives are met satisfactorily and efficiently. Now this preference for efficiency within educational systems certainly resonates with the same distinctive feature of orientation, for not only do most students begin to calculate the return of investment of higher education degrees (especially in countries like the US where one often has to afford their own college education) and choose to major in disciplines that will make them more competitive on the job market (which partly explains the decreasing popularity of humanities in universities), but it has also become more commonplace for educators to be evaluated for their teaching quality, whether through direct observation of their lectures or indirect but quantitative assessment of their students’ performance (e.g., the PISA exam). With the continuous growth of population worldwide and the emerging trend of studying abroad or global education, it is therefore understandable that the schooling system in most countries has reoriented itself toward efficiency to best accommodate people’s needs for education, and the incorporation of technology into classrooms is but another instance of this tendency.

Yet it has also become questionable as to whether such pursuit of efficiency today has led Bildung astray, for the fierce competition among students at school and on the job market seems to not only strengthen the neoliberal self-entrepreneurialism that already dominates the global economic system, but also contribute to the prevalence of mental health problems and disorders among the younger generations themselves. Although Stegmaier gives a persuasive rationale against suicide toward the end of the book by arguing for the irreplaceability and uniqueness of individual orientation, it does not seem to convince the numerous young people across the world who have chosen to end their lives and thereby conduce to the cold statistics on increased suicide rates among youth. Furthermore, whereas Stegmaier acknowledges the indispensability of digital literacy to orientation in Chapter 16 and highlights that the older generations’ unfamiliarity with technology has put them at disadvantage, these facts still do not indicate that the young digital natives are more competent at orientation or comfortable with their status quo. On the contrary, the overwhelming flow of information and appeal to negative emotions on the Internet seem rather to disorient younger generations and worsen symptoms of stress, anxiety, depression and addiction to technology that have been widely found among them, while recent research has highlighted a plunge in the level of happiness among young people in North America and Western Europe in comparison to their elders.1 The plight that young people are facing nowadays hence poses significant challenges to our schooling system and the way it is oriented. How, then, can we reimagine Bildung according to the concept of orientation? Is our aim at efficiency in orientation still applicable when it comes to education? Lastly, how might our educational system reorient itself in the face of widespread feelings of disorientation among youth that probably correlate with the (mis)use of technology?

In “Orientation in the Public: Overviews Produced by Mass Media,” Werner Stegmaier outlines our orientation toward information as it’s affected by mass media.1 He touches on several topics including our ability to foster anonymity, mass media’s ability to abbreviate the world with precision, our orientation toward the public sphere, and the dissemination of information. As the technology which disseminates the news has evolved, from newspaper to radio to television to the internet, the quality of news has changed. According to Stegmaier, news, which once aimed at information, has now shifted to becoming entwined with entertainment, so much so that the line between news and entertainment has become less defined. Stegmaier also emphasizes the unique ability of mass media to distance the viewer from what is viewed, granting the viewer a certain anonymity in what he calls a distance situation of orientation.2 This anonymity allows viewers a sense of freedom which they’ve never had before. But this comes with a price: our global orientation is now controlled through mass media, and mass media only shows us what it deems newsworthy and entertaining.3

According to Stegmaier, our orientation toward the media, just as with other orientation modes, relies on surprises, little interruptions to our everyday lives. These surprises irritate us enough to cause a shift in our focus; they turn our attention.4 Mass media is not oblivious to its surprises. News outlets compete to grab the audience’s attention, making sure something new is constantly being provided and new audiences provoked, hence the almost exhaustive coverage of “breaking news.” Consequently, mass media is responsible for the urgent to seem minor and the trivial to seem pressing. For example, Stegmaier notices how local news is often presented as more critical than major world events, ” . . . the results of a local baseball game may seem more important than a famine on another continent.”5 Such feats are achieved through the organization of the news. News stories are organized in a way that expresses their relevancy. Newspapers feature the most important news on the front page; television highlights their top story of the night during primetime, before commercial breaks, manipulating the audience to sit through ads if they want to see the rest of the program. Electronic media has social media, which holds, through a personalized feed, the conversations “everyone is talking about.” In short, through these forms of technology, mass media expresses information in a way that predetermines our orientation toward it.

I want to focus on one aspect of the above description: the fluidity between news and entertainment. As this line becomes more fluid, as the news completes its metamorphosis into entertainment news, our media orientation will, and has, become devoid of seriousness; serious world events will comingle with easily accessible entertainment, and both will be treated with the same kind of consumption. As Stegmaier points out, and as said above, news of famine will have the same, if not less, importance than local baseball scores. In short, our orientation toward world events is decided for us before we even learn of them.6 The presentation of our news, really information in general, effects how it is perceived. A common example of how our orientation toward something can be affected by its presentation are surveys. The way survey questions are phrased or ordered can have an impact on the answers. Questions can be leading, guiding the answerer toward a preferred answer to skew the results in some favor, this same action applies to the news.

This characterization of the news is nothing new. However, Stegmaier’s approach is unique as he puts it in terms of orientation. In Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman points out this very characteristic of the news, specifically televised news.7 Postman writes,

Of course, in television’s presentation of the “news of the day,” we may see the “Now . . . this” mode of discourse in its boldest and most embarrassing form. For there, we are presented not only with fragmented news but news without context, without consequences, without value, and therefore without essential seriousness; that is to say news as pure entertainment.8

The “Now . . . this” mode of news is a direct consequence of the fast-paced nature of mass media. Postman’s classification of “Now . . . this” news is the organization of news, specifically radio or television, to jump from story to story as though they hold no importance, solely for entertainment’s sake. Only a minute or two is devoted to a story before another is presented. News media offers us information in an anonymous, distanced and rhythmic way.9 No story is deemed important enough to break the cycle of “Now . . . this” news. News sites, for example, present stories of natural disasters, followed immediately by restaurant recommendations.

The slipping of news into the genre of entertainment strips it of its seriousness. The anonymous orientation that Stegmaier writes about may be partially to blame for this. Stegmaier highlights the increasing fluidity between information and entertainment contributing to the meshing of fiction and reality.10 Information expressed through mass media can orient its viewers without them having to put any thought into why their orientation relative to something has shifted in such a way.11 A viewer is entangled in a web of easily consumable information that seems to indiscriminately make up their mind for them. Stegmaier points out that when reading a newspaper a person can skim, choose what story to read or stop reading all together. While television has eliminated the option of skimming over a story, a TV can be turned off or played in the background. Still, even if you try to avoid the hand of mass media, you might catch a headline on the magazine or over radio, walking to work. It’s not clear how one can escape the reach of mass media. Turning off the TV may not be enough.

While Stegmaier’s chapter does point out how our orientation is altered by mass media, I wonder what the true implications of this altering are. The influence that mass media has over our orientation toward world events, for example, how the news is presented to us with predetermined value, gives the audience little room to orient themselves toward such events.

A more complex account might be needed of the extent orientation toward the news, information, through mass media negatively effects its viewership especially now with an increasing number of people shifting their primary news source from television to the internet.