Jacques Derrida, 1930-2004
‘But a reading here should no longer be carried out as a simple table of concepts or words, as a static or statistical sort of punctuation. One must reconstitute a chain in motion, the effects of a network and the play of a syntax.’
[Jacques Derrida on reading Mallarme, ‘The First Session’ in Acts of Literature, p. 144]
‘His being is a being-at-the-telephone. He is hooked up to a multiplicity of voices and answering machines. His being-there is a being-at-the-telephone, a being for the telephone, in the way that Heidegger speaks of the being for death of Dasein.’
[Jacques Derrida on Leopold Bloom, ‘Ulysses Gramophone’ in Acts of Literature, p. 273]
‘In any encounter, whether I destroy or be destroyed, there takes place a combination of relations that is, as such, good.’
[Gilles Deleuze, ‘Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza’, p. 249]
[1] I would like to offer my impressions of Derrida’s work. My engagement has been limited and I apologise if my use of concepts and terms is in fact inappropriate at any point. In order to distinguish this short piece from the obituaries offered by the English newspapers, and their ‘descriptions’ of Derrida, I shall begin with a particular concept. Then I will work from it in an attempt to show the power and radicalism of his thought to the best of my abilities. This concept is text or ‘textuality.’ Derrida was concerned with writing and its creative displacement of categories dominant in philosophy. We therefore will begin from a basic notion that is opposed to presence and is a terrain for thought (it is difficult to say general things about it since it displaces categories we might use to describe it and it is in its immanent ‘play’ that it is best seen). This of course meant that Derrida was accused, especially by Anglo-Saxon intellectuals, of destroying the distinction between fiction and reality. He is said to neglect common sense and to be obscure for no good reason. Of course Derrida must live for us by being precisely what the analytic tradition is not. He works with literature because it does not look at things from outside in order to critique them. Instead it takes hold of them and plays with them. The text-world distinction is thus displaced, as is that of outside-inside. The difficulty is to conceive of thinking without a solid and clear starting point, which would suggest that the text wasn’t already in operation. Literature cannot be limited and philosophy cannot tell it what it is. Anything can therefore become literature because there is no such thing as literature. To define it would be to practice metaphysics, to subordinate it to ontology.
[2] A further key concept is repeatability (Signature, Event, Context, 1991, p. 90). This is the structural possibility of a written mark being severed from its alleged origin or production. A chain of differential marks thus replaces pure presence. Rather than these leading to any origin they are differential in the sense of expressing an irreducible absence of any intention, context, ordinary language, presence and so on. This is something akin to Deleuze’s notion of the creative destruction, which is non-dialectical because it does not preserve the essence of anything but destroys everything. In this way a ground for complete creativity is cleared and difference is affirmed. This casting adrift of the written mark does not lead to a relativism in which different opinions are equally valid (leading to the utterly horrific notion of a ‘supermarket trolley’ approach to knowledge). The play of the text displaces categories such as the subject which relativism has at its centre. This is instead the immanent re-thinking of everything and the openness onto possibilities without limit. The potential endlessness of repeatability allows for the text to be compared to a textile or veil where there is no centre or transcendence (Dissemination, 1981, p. 240). This element spreads out and in its immanent play or activity there is only text. Text is a dynamic, not a substance because this would be to limit what it can be, to define it in relation to an outside or other. Communication becomes a movement rather than a phenomenon of meaning or signification. Only in this way is it productive through itself. It is movement concerned only with its own play and not with realising or attaining anything outside this proliferation of difference. ‘Displacement’ is textual movement that denies all fixed essences through the self-sufficiency and radical effects of this dynamic. Rather than the literature being open to the different interpretations of human beings it is instead the case that we are open to interpretation by the processes of the text.
[3] For Derrida, the autonomy of the text implies circularity and this affirms the notion of fabric or veil. No restrictions are imposed upon the text because of its self-sufficiency (it has no outside but this does not mean it has a sufficient reason, which for Derrida would be to limit it). Therefore, without dependence on any outside, circularity can be expressive of difference without limitation. Alternative possibilities flow from the freedom of the text, from the creativity of art liberated from mimesis. For example, mime in Mallarme doesn’t do anything, there is no act, no acting agent and nothing ‘is.’ In fact, Derrida writes, the word ‘is’ does not appear because ‘play’ eclipses ‘being’ (‘The First Session’ in Acts of Literature, p. 169).
[4] In a way, Derrida can be seen as taking further Merleau-Ponty’s notion of ‘universal flesh’ by retaining this notion of a continuous fabric but as a more decentred and decentring practice. The text avoids being related to the human being in the way that flesh is and this may undermine Merleau-Ponty’s concern with the body. The text bypasses intentionality since it does not attempt to realise phenomenology in a more radical way. The operations of the text can be said to concern the workings of experience and not simply language. This has to be the substance of Derrida’s greatness. He wasn’t simply using the text as a helpful tool. Instead the human being is decentred, if anything we are the tools of the text (although this implies an intentionality, and thus a duality, that has no place in the play of the text). Therefore, to decide where to begin is always to commit an act of violence. With no natural beginning, the text is not a ground but much more like a situation of ongoing movement. The movement is one of difference and thus of displacement. Circularity cuts off any grounding of textuality and any beginning. Without the categories and essences structuring experience there is the task of thinking equally to difference. This means not conceiving of sufficient reason because to do so would be to ground textuality and violate its circularity.
[5] Perhaps Derrida’s greatest achievement is to have been a ‘philosopher of language’ and actually to have thought equally to language. Like Lyotard and Wittgenstein, he is magnificently able to see, within the limits of language, the liberation of philosophy rather than its severe limitation. Instead of the death of metaphysics being a cause for reaction and retreat, as it was for Moore, Russell, Ayer and others, it was the key to thinking in radically new ways. He really asked what kind of thinking can happen in a language, how has it been limited and neglected in philosophy. This was a positive and utterly non-reactive response to a serious problem for thinkers of his generation. Indeed, for Derrida it is really any kind of thinking that happens in a language. If perhaps language philosophy is for some a negative retreat in the idea that we can only know what is human and scientific - the philosopher as narcissus or ‘bourgeois’ as Adorno would assert - it is for Derrida the overcoming of this state. The pure affirmation of language is his greatest legacy.
[Jacques Derrida on reading Mallarme, ‘The First Session’ in Acts of Literature, p. 144]
‘His being is a being-at-the-telephone. He is hooked up to a multiplicity of voices and answering machines. His being-there is a being-at-the-telephone, a being for the telephone, in the way that Heidegger speaks of the being for death of Dasein.’
[Jacques Derrida on Leopold Bloom, ‘Ulysses Gramophone’ in Acts of Literature, p. 273]
‘In any encounter, whether I destroy or be destroyed, there takes place a combination of relations that is, as such, good.’
[Gilles Deleuze, ‘Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza’, p. 249]
[1] I would like to offer my impressions of Derrida’s work. My engagement has been limited and I apologise if my use of concepts and terms is in fact inappropriate at any point. In order to distinguish this short piece from the obituaries offered by the English newspapers, and their ‘descriptions’ of Derrida, I shall begin with a particular concept. Then I will work from it in an attempt to show the power and radicalism of his thought to the best of my abilities. This concept is text or ‘textuality.’ Derrida was concerned with writing and its creative displacement of categories dominant in philosophy. We therefore will begin from a basic notion that is opposed to presence and is a terrain for thought (it is difficult to say general things about it since it displaces categories we might use to describe it and it is in its immanent ‘play’ that it is best seen). This of course meant that Derrida was accused, especially by Anglo-Saxon intellectuals, of destroying the distinction between fiction and reality. He is said to neglect common sense and to be obscure for no good reason. Of course Derrida must live for us by being precisely what the analytic tradition is not. He works with literature because it does not look at things from outside in order to critique them. Instead it takes hold of them and plays with them. The text-world distinction is thus displaced, as is that of outside-inside. The difficulty is to conceive of thinking without a solid and clear starting point, which would suggest that the text wasn’t already in operation. Literature cannot be limited and philosophy cannot tell it what it is. Anything can therefore become literature because there is no such thing as literature. To define it would be to practice metaphysics, to subordinate it to ontology.
[2] A further key concept is repeatability (Signature, Event, Context, 1991, p. 90). This is the structural possibility of a written mark being severed from its alleged origin or production. A chain of differential marks thus replaces pure presence. Rather than these leading to any origin they are differential in the sense of expressing an irreducible absence of any intention, context, ordinary language, presence and so on. This is something akin to Deleuze’s notion of the creative destruction, which is non-dialectical because it does not preserve the essence of anything but destroys everything. In this way a ground for complete creativity is cleared and difference is affirmed. This casting adrift of the written mark does not lead to a relativism in which different opinions are equally valid (leading to the utterly horrific notion of a ‘supermarket trolley’ approach to knowledge). The play of the text displaces categories such as the subject which relativism has at its centre. This is instead the immanent re-thinking of everything and the openness onto possibilities without limit. The potential endlessness of repeatability allows for the text to be compared to a textile or veil where there is no centre or transcendence (Dissemination, 1981, p. 240). This element spreads out and in its immanent play or activity there is only text. Text is a dynamic, not a substance because this would be to limit what it can be, to define it in relation to an outside or other. Communication becomes a movement rather than a phenomenon of meaning or signification. Only in this way is it productive through itself. It is movement concerned only with its own play and not with realising or attaining anything outside this proliferation of difference. ‘Displacement’ is textual movement that denies all fixed essences through the self-sufficiency and radical effects of this dynamic. Rather than the literature being open to the different interpretations of human beings it is instead the case that we are open to interpretation by the processes of the text.
[3] For Derrida, the autonomy of the text implies circularity and this affirms the notion of fabric or veil. No restrictions are imposed upon the text because of its self-sufficiency (it has no outside but this does not mean it has a sufficient reason, which for Derrida would be to limit it). Therefore, without dependence on any outside, circularity can be expressive of difference without limitation. Alternative possibilities flow from the freedom of the text, from the creativity of art liberated from mimesis. For example, mime in Mallarme doesn’t do anything, there is no act, no acting agent and nothing ‘is.’ In fact, Derrida writes, the word ‘is’ does not appear because ‘play’ eclipses ‘being’ (‘The First Session’ in Acts of Literature, p. 169).
[4] In a way, Derrida can be seen as taking further Merleau-Ponty’s notion of ‘universal flesh’ by retaining this notion of a continuous fabric but as a more decentred and decentring practice. The text avoids being related to the human being in the way that flesh is and this may undermine Merleau-Ponty’s concern with the body. The text bypasses intentionality since it does not attempt to realise phenomenology in a more radical way. The operations of the text can be said to concern the workings of experience and not simply language. This has to be the substance of Derrida’s greatness. He wasn’t simply using the text as a helpful tool. Instead the human being is decentred, if anything we are the tools of the text (although this implies an intentionality, and thus a duality, that has no place in the play of the text). Therefore, to decide where to begin is always to commit an act of violence. With no natural beginning, the text is not a ground but much more like a situation of ongoing movement. The movement is one of difference and thus of displacement. Circularity cuts off any grounding of textuality and any beginning. Without the categories and essences structuring experience there is the task of thinking equally to difference. This means not conceiving of sufficient reason because to do so would be to ground textuality and violate its circularity.
[5] Perhaps Derrida’s greatest achievement is to have been a ‘philosopher of language’ and actually to have thought equally to language. Like Lyotard and Wittgenstein, he is magnificently able to see, within the limits of language, the liberation of philosophy rather than its severe limitation. Instead of the death of metaphysics being a cause for reaction and retreat, as it was for Moore, Russell, Ayer and others, it was the key to thinking in radically new ways. He really asked what kind of thinking can happen in a language, how has it been limited and neglected in philosophy. This was a positive and utterly non-reactive response to a serious problem for thinkers of his generation. Indeed, for Derrida it is really any kind of thinking that happens in a language. If perhaps language philosophy is for some a negative retreat in the idea that we can only know what is human and scientific - the philosopher as narcissus or ‘bourgeois’ as Adorno would assert - it is for Derrida the overcoming of this state. The pure affirmation of language is his greatest legacy.