The Hupomnemata

HUPOMNEMATAHypomnema (Greek. ὑπόμνημα, plural ὑπομνήματα, hypomnemata), also spelled hupomnema, is a Greek word with several translations into English including a reminder, a note, a public record, a commentary, an anecdotal record, a draft, a copy, and other variations on those terms.[1]

According to Michel Foucault, "The hypomnemata constituted a material memory of things read, heard, or thought, thus offering these as an accumulated treasure for rereading and later meditation. They also formed a raw material for the writing of more systematic treatises in which were given arguments and means by which to struggle against some defect (such as anger, envy, gossip, flattery) or to overcome some difficult circumstances.

Another name for hupomnemata is journal, a much broader term than diary, which is a first person narrative of events in chronological order.

Michel Foucault (1926-1984), was an influential French philosopher who made major contributions to postmodernist thought (Madness and Civilization).

He wrote a fascinating essay on journaling entitled Self-Writing (available for download in pdf), in which he describes journaling as a “weapon in spiritual combat,” a brilliant phrase.

Doesn’t that overstate the matter; after all, is it really such a big deal to write down some of our thoughts in a notebook?

In the past, the practice of journaling was so common that it would be easier to mention great men who didn’t keep journals than those who did.

Among some famous men who kept journals one can mention in no particular order Marcus Aurelius, Leonardo da Vinci, Isaac Newton, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Ludwig van Beethoven, Charles Darwin, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Mark Twain, Pablo Picasso, John D. Rockefeller, Ernest Hemingway, and many, many others.

In most cases, the journals these men kept were not meant for publication but were a kind of dialogue with themselves on their encounter with the world. These journals provide fascinating insights into the minds of these great men.

So It is a big deal. As Foucault puts it, “writing constitutes a test and a kind of touchstone: by bringing to light impulses of thought, it dispels the darkness where the enemy’s plots are hatched.” He quotes Seneca and Epictetus, both of whom believed that simply reading or listening to philosophy wasn’t enough.

To the Stoics, philosophy was not just “practical” but designed to be practiced. You had to write it down, you had to show your work. You had to put the issues you were contending with down on paper and go through the motion of articulating the solution that you’d heard from a master or a teacher.

Why should I care? Foucault explains that this process has two benefits. First, it takes the philosophy from “meditation to the activity of writing and from there to...training and trial in a real situation--a labor of thought, a labor through writing, a labor in reality.” The second part, he says, thus becomes an endless, productive cycle.

“The meditation precedes the notes which enable the rereading which in turn reinitiates the meditation.”

It’s quite beautiful. You learn. You struggle. You journal about the struggle. You apply what you’ve journaled about to your struggle. You reread your journaling, and it teaches you new lessons to journal about and use in future struggles. It’s a truly virtuous feedback loop.

To be sure, this process can only happen if you do the work. If you make time for the journaling and the writing, if you submit to the cycle. Too often, we are unwilling to do that. We claim we don’t have time. We are too self-conscious. We don’t have the right materials.

It’s easy to find the right materials but not so easy to discipline oneself to carry out such a task. To see how it’s done, start reading the journals of any great man. Each day acquire one thing that will fortify you against misfortunes, poverty, and death.

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