THERE’S NOTHING unusual about a new book by French celebrity philosopher Bernard-Henri Lévy causing a media stir or provoking anguished debate in left-bank intellectual circles. But never has his work given rise to an existential question quite like this one.
In his latest title, Lévy launches a scathing attack on the 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant, calling him “raving mad” and a “fake”.
The book, De la guerre en philosophie (On War in Philosophy), has been greeted with the customary rapture, and its ubiquitous author has been a fixture on television and in the press all week.
In framing his case, Lévy – BHL to the Parisian cognoscenti – drew on the writings of the little-known 20th century thinker Jean-Baptiste Botul – author of The Sex Life of Immanuel Kant, and a man Lévy has cited in lectures.
The problem? Botul never existed. He was invented by a journalist from the satirical newspaper Le Canard Enchaîné10 years ago as an elaborate joke. And since the hoax was revealed, BHL has become a laughing stock.
"As it turns out, it was a hoax," admitted the author in a blog post after the blunder was spotted by a journalist from Le Nouvel Observateur.
The man who wrote in Botul’s name, literary journalist Frédéric Pagès, has made little attempt to keep it a secret.
Botul's Wikipedia entry describes him as "a fictitious writer" whose seminal work on the sex life of the 18th century German philosopher was followed by a pamphlet titled La Métaphysique du Mou( The Metaphysics of the Flabby).
Lévy, a philosopher with a penchant for elaborate hair, open-necked shirts and pronouncements on every conceivable subject, evidently missed the joke.
In his new book, he cites a series of lectures Botul supposedly gave to “the neo-Kantians of Paraguay” after the war, in which he said that “their hero was an abstract fake, a pure spirit of pure appearance”.
Speaking after the error came to light, Lévy said he had always admired The Sex Life of Immanuel Kantand that its arguments were sound.
He conceded that it was “a truly brilliant and very believable hoax” by a journalist “who remains a good philosopher all the same”.
Doubtless enjoying the moment, Pagès said: “It has never been firmly established that Botul didn’t exist and it cannot therefore be ruled out that one day history will prove Bernard-Henri Lévy right.”